Microstory 1373: Scope Creep

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Reporter: Are we live? Okay, thanks. [...] Mall Security Guard, you’re here because the clock recently started counting down on your fifteen minutes of fame because of a daring rescue you executed after encountering a victim you caught shoplifting under duress. Is this an accurate summary?

Mall Security Guard: That’s right. I would say I got about five minutes left on my fame clock.

Reporter: Why would you say that?

Mall Security Guard: Well, I would say a minute, but the investigation is ongoing, so it won’t be over until that’s over.

Reporter: The investigation into the criminals you helped apprehend, or the investigation into your involvement?

Mall Security Guard: The latter. Obviously, I am a security guard...or rather, I was. I don’t have the authority to arrest people, investigate crimes, or pursue suspects. The real police are currently investigating me, and if they choose to press charges, I’ll have to go to court, and I could be facing jail time.

Reporter: Jail time, really?

Mall Security Guard: My lawyer says that’s unlikely, because no one got hurt after I became involved; not even the suspects. I did technically break the law, though, and the judge may want to make an example out of me. That’s a long ways off, though. There are still a lot of steps before we get to sentencing, if it even comes to it.

Reporter: What have you been doing in the meantime? Are you still working at the mall?

Mall Security Guard: I am indeed working at the mall, but I’m not working for the mall. I’ve been put on unpaid suspension, but janitorial services at Hillside Mall is run by a contractor. I’m holding a position with them, and still eating lunch with my old crew. Theoretically, the mall could ban me from the premises until the investigation is over, but they haven’t done that. They’re not proud of what I did, but they’re not actively working against me either.

Reporter: Has your life become harder after the incident? You got a new job, but I imagine it pays less, and it’s not what you really want to do.

Mall Security Guard: Eh, it’s okay. It doesn’t pay much less, and I can’t complain. I know a lot of people are out of work right now, so I still count myself lucky. I recognize the awkward position the executive leadership is in.

Reporter: Have there been any other negative effects because of what happened?

Mall Security Guard: Not really. I mean, the kidnappers are none too happy with me, but they don’t hold much sway on society right now. The community has been really supportive, though, so that’s not great.

Reporter: How is that not a good thing?

Mall Security Guard: Well, vigilantism is illegal. It helps that I was in a public safety position, but it hurts my case that people have been so supportive. The local government doesn’t want a bunch of costumed superheroes running around, gathering fans, and putting themselves, and others, in danger. They don’t want to encourage this behavior, so they would rather the story just kind of go away.

Reporter: I see. So what’s next for you, assuming you don’t end up going to jail? Will you go back to being a security guard?

Mall Security Guard: Oh, no doubt. If Hillside doesn’t rehire me, I’ll find someone who will, even if that means I have to move. It’s in my blood to protect people. I just have to be careful about how exactly I go about doing that. I’ve learned my lesson in that regard.

Reporter: Well, thanks for talking to us. I appreciate your time.

Mall Security Guard: No, thank you.

Microstory 1371: Detained

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Mall Security Guard: All right. You can go ahead and sit right there.

Shoplifter: Am I being arrested?

Mall Security Guard: I’m not the police, so I can’t arrest people. My co-worker has already called them, though. This isn’t exactly an emergency, so it may take them a little while to get here, but I’m sure it won’t be any longer than thirty minutes.

Shoplifter: Are you allowed to hold me here then?

Mall Security Guard: I am, yes. I caught you breaking the law, so I can keep you in here until the police arrive. Are you okay? Do you need some water?

Shoplifter: You seem a little too nice for someone who’s just been robbed.

Mall Security Guard: Well, I’m concerned. You were stealing medical supplies. None of it was particularly expensive, but based on my limited training, I can presume that someone you know is hurt.

Shoplifter: I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just stole that stuff so I can sell it.

Mall Security Guard: That’s not a very believable answer. Gauze and hydrogen peroxide doesn’t go for much on the black market. Well, I think that second one can be used to make drugs, but you weren’t stealing a case of it; you took one bottle. Tell me what happened.

Shoplifter: Nothing happened. I needed that stuff, so I took it. I’m just trying to keep my house stocked, but I don’t have enough money for it.

Mall Security Guard: That’s a different story than the one you told me just before.

Shoplifter: What can I say? You caught me in a lie, so now I’m telling the truth.

Mall Security Guard: No, I don’t think you are.

Shoplifter: Please, just let it go. I’ll wait for the cops to get here.

Mall Security Guard: I can help if you’re honest with me. You look scared, and not in the way I’ve seen people in your position look. They’re scared of going to jail, of their parents finding out what they did, or of this impacting their chances of finding a job. You’re scared of a person. Who were you stealing these for?

Shoplifter: No one. Myself.

Mall Security Guard: I don’t believe that either. Like I said, you look scared. But you don’t look worried. What happens when you don’t go back to wherever you came from with what you were supposed to take? Does someone come looking for you, or do they just come to replace you?

Shoplifter: Well, it’s like I said; I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Mall Security Guard: I may not be a cop, but I’m pretty good at judging people’s responses. I’m going to start making some guesses, and you’ll tell me if they’re true, or not. You won’t have to say anything out loud. It’ll be written all over your face.

Shoplifter: Do what ya gotta do. It’s a free country.

Mall Security Guard: Are the medical supplies for someone you care about? Is it for someone you don’t?—Someone you hate? Yeah, that’s it.—Is this person a threat to your wellbeing? Only a little. But maybe that’s because you’re here right now.—Are they holding someone you do care about against their will? Bingo.—Do you know the threat personally? Did you see something you weren’t supposed to? Were you just in the wrong place at the wrong time? Okay.—How many people are threatening your loved one? One, two, three...? Three.

Shoplifter: Stop doing that.

Mall Security Guard: I can’t stop until we get answers. I really do want to help.

Shoplifter: You’re just a mall cop.

Mall Security Guard: I can get you out of here before they show up.

Shoplifter: No, you can’t. You already called them.

Mall Security Guard: [into radio] Other Mall Security Guard, have you contacted the police yet?

Other Mall Security Guard: [through radio] They’re looking for someone who has the time to come down here.

Mall Security Guard: [into radio] Cancel the request. We worked something out.

Other Mall Security Guard: [through radio] Are you trading her freedom for sexual favors?

Mall Security Guard: [into radio] God no, Other. She’s just agreed to never do it again, and I believe her. This is her first offense, and I see no reason to involve law enforcement.

Other Mall Security Guard: [through radio] All right, Mall. Fine. I’ll cancel it. I’m sure they’ll be relieved they don’t have to come all the way down here.

Mall Security Guard: There, it’s done. Now tell me everything.

Shoplifter: Not here. He has eyes everywhere.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 3, 2028

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After Leona exited the homeportal, the first thing she did was look around for Mateo. He was nowhere to be found, so the second thing she did was consult her watch. May 3, 2028. This was the day she disappeared from her old life, and became a time traveler, at least in one reality. Her mind possessed memories from different realities, so the portal must have just chosen the most recent one. It likely did the same thing for Mateo. She should have realized they wouldn’t end up in the same place either way. His special moment was on a different date. Now all she needed to do was find a time traveler who could get her back to him. Hopefully someone in this restaurant would let her borrow a phone. She walked over to the counter to ask, but stopped when she realized she recognized the guy on the other side. “Allen?”

He slid his finger underneath his nametag. “Funny, my mom used to say that all the time. I never figured out why.”

She chuckled. “Is Richard here?”

Allen’s eyes narrowed. “My husband is in the back.”

This was Richard and Allen’s place. She had heard about that once. It was at Mateo’s memorial. They owned a restaurant together, which was fitting for them, but this building was much more than that. “When you say he’s in the back, do you mean he’s in the other restaurant?”

Allen’s eyes narrowed further. “He’s cooking up some salmon.”

“Ah, yes. So you know already. Good.” They heard the bell ring from the door opening. Leona turned her head to find her own younger self walking in with a friend. Fortunately, she wasn’t paying enough attention to see Future!Leona. This was the day she became a time traveler, and that was going to be stressful enough for her. “Let’s just say, she’s not my twin. It would be nice if she didn’t see me at all. Could you get me out of here?”

He smiled. “Come on back.” He opened the counter, and led her through the kitchen, to the other side, where the second half of the restaurant was. This was a secret dining area, designated only for time travelers, or time traveler-adjacent people.”

“What can I get ya?” he asked.

Richard stopped wiping down one of the tables, and stepped over to join his husband.

“I actually just ate breakfast.”

Richard looked at his watch. It was late afternoon.

“It was morning when I stepped through the portal. Anyway, I didn’t really mean to come to this time period. I could use some helping getting back to my husband. Who else set up shop in this little mall?”

“Salmonday Club is next door. Post office is down that way, across from The Switcher’s office. The Forger works in that one over there. Might try him if you’re not just lookin’ to send a message.”

“Hey, thanks!”

“No problem,” one of them said after she turned away. She couldn’t tell which one.

She opened the door to the Forger’s den, though this new location wasn’t a den at all. It looked more like a DMV. It was larger, and more professional. Duane was sitting in one of the waiting area chairs, carrying on a conversation with... “Julius?”

Duane smirked. “Oh, please, call him that again.”

“I’m sorry, I forgot. Saxon.”

“Yes,” Saxon said, “how may I help you?”

“I actually came in here to see the Forger. I need a ride.”

Duane stood up. “Sure, when and where do you need to go?”

“I don’t know,” Leona replied. “I ultimately need to get to March 21, 2014, but I need to find something first.”

“What are you looking for?”

“The Insulator of Life. Do you know of a moment in its history when I could take it without interfering in anyone else’s need for it?”

“Hmm. Have you tried the bank?”

“What bank?”

“Gregorios.” He leaned forward, and pointed in the general direction of the hallway. “It’s that way. It used to just be a regular bank for humans, but they shuttered the entire business, and the woman who owned it switched the whole thing over to a special vault where time travelers can keep their valuables, and access them from the future, or the past.”

“Well, who owns the Insulator?”

“No one can own something like that, but anyone who has used it before, according to their own personal timeline, can requisition it.”

“I’m one of those people.”

“Perfect. You do still have to be approved, so there’s no guarantee.”

“Okay, cool. Thanks for your help.”

“Wait. You come back with what you need, I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go...for a price.”

“What’s the price?”

“I need you to get me a ret-gone coin from the bank.”

“I think I can guess, but what exactly does one of those things do?”

“It’s incredibly dangerous, but I need it for a client, who’s willing to take the risk. You flip it. Heads, no one remembers who you are. It erases your entire timeline, past and future. You can do whatever you want, and no one will remember it long enough to do anything about it. You won’t be able to maintain a single relationship, but you can’t be stopped either. You’ll also be immortal. You hit tails, though, it is your memory that will be wiped; both retrograde and anterograde amnesia. Like the Insulator, no one owns the coins, and no one knows how many there are, but rumor is that Alexina is in possession of all of them. It’s impossible to know whether anyone has ever used one, and they’re each single-use.”

“What will I have to give her for it?” Leona asked.

Duane shook his head. “I don’t know. Obviously, you can decline. You’ll just have to catch a ride with someone else.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Thanks again.”

She walked down the hallway once more, and entered Gregorios Bank. Alexina was standing behind a pedestal deliberately, as if she had been waiting for her. “Hello,” Leona began. “I know you from the future.”

“Are we friends?”

“We have a mutual friend, but we didn’t talk much.”

“Oh, okay. How can I help you today?”

“I need two things, and you might not want to give them up. The Insulator of Life, I believe, is the only thing that can save my husband from two psychics who have hijacked his mind. I was told I would be allowed to take it as long as I’ve used it before, which I have.” Alexina seemed inclined to accept her plea. “This is the thing that I really need. Once I have it, I’ll then need to go find my husband, before the psychics make him do something else against his will. The Forger has agreed to provide transport...if I get him a ret-gone coin.”

“Do you know what a ret-gone coin is?” Alexina asked, noticeably upset about being asked something so despicable.

“He filled me in, yes.”

“There’s a reason I spent twenty years of my personal timeline hunting them down,” Alexina explained. “I didn’t want to use them myself, or have control over them. I wanted to keep people from using them. I’ve been trying to figure out how to destroy them ever since.”

“I have no personal interest in them either,” Leona told her. “The only question you have to ask yourself is whether you trust Duane Blackwood with one.”

“No, I have to decide whether I trust whoever it is he wants to give it to. I know he doesn’t want to flip it himself.”

“That’s a fair perspective. I can get by without his aid. I can find another time traveler. I can’t survive without the Insulator, though. In fact, the whole timeline can’t. The people who took over Mateo’s body are not going to do good things with it.”

“Your husband is Mateo Matic?” Alexina asked.

“Yes. What do you know of him?”

“I know he rescued one of my best friends from a prison he didn’t belong in with his bare hands.”

Leona didn’t say anything as Alexina was thinking hard about what she was going to do. After a full two minutes of this, she removed one of her earrings, and held out her hand. “Give me yours.”

“I’m not wearing an earring.”

“Your hand. Give me your hand.”

Leona did as she was asked.

Alexina used the sharp end of the earring to prick Leona’s finger, letting only two drops fall onto the pedestal. She then pricked her own finger, and dropped some of her blood. She looked back to watch the vault door behind her swing open on its own. Finally, she removed a key from around her neck, and handed it to Leona. “I took two drops of blood, which means you are entitled to two withdrawals. You are not entitled to any specific item, however. What you are seeking, you will only be able to find using your intuition. Walk into the vault, and pick a safe deposit box. Open it with this universal key, and see what’s inside. It might be the Insulator, or the coin, or something else, or nothing. A lot of the time, it’s nothing. Your blood donation only gives you access to the vault, not your desire. That’s up to you, and the covenant you’ve made with time.”

“I understand.” Leona walked into the vault, and took a deep breath. She didn’t waste too much time trying to look for the best deposit box. This was about her intuition, so the only way she was going to find the right one was if she just let it happen without thinking too much. She was right. The Insulator of Life was waiting for her inside the safe. She closed it back up, then quickly went over to the next box. Inside was not a coin, however. It was the HG Goggles. She had once used both of these objects in tandem, along with several other things, to bring Mateo back from nonexistence.

Alexina regarded the withdrawal as Leona was walking out. “Hm. Interesting choice.”

“What does it mean?”

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly.

Curious, Leona placed the goggles on her face, and looked around. The room now appeared in an indigo tint. She could see lights dancing along the edges of the safe deposit boxes as the vault door was closing back up. The whole bank was a little more lit up than the rest of the building that she could see from in here. There was one particular spot over by the hallway that led to the bathrooms that was particularly bright. “Do you see that over there?” she asked.

“I’m not wearing the goggles,” Alexina said.

Leona crept towards it carefully, then stopped just centimeters in front of it. It was like a silent miniature lightning storm. She pushed her hand towards it, but nothing happened. This made a bit of sense, because spacetime anomalies were reportedly all over the place, but most people didn’t just accidentally fall through them. You had to have some means of opening them up. The goggles seemed to only be good for illuminating them. There were points of light among the lightning that looked like rescaling buttons in a photo editing program. They moved as well, but at their own pace, which was much slower than the rest of the lights. She took two of them with her index fingers, and deliberately pulled them apart. Yes, this was it. This was opening the tear. She stepped through, and found herself in the foyer of Fletcher House.

“Madam Matic,” a man said to her. He executed a manual flourish as he bowed to her reverently. “My name is Old!Declan Aberdeen. Your husband is waiting for you downstairs. I have contained him so that his psychic invaders can do no one any harm.”

“Thank you very much, Old!Declan,” Leona said to him. She walked down to the basement to find Mateo wasn’t alone. Arcadia was there as well, though she was glowing, so she must have been a psychic manifestation, rather than a physical presence. They were standing in some kind of glass chamber.

“Why did you go back to him?” Mateo was asking her. “Why are you working with your father?”

“I could say it was because he promised to undo my siblings’ deaths,” Arcadia responded after a beat. “I could claim I just want to make a better reality. The honest answer, though, is that I would do anything for a family member. If Zeferino showed up tomorrow with some conflicting plan, I would go along with that instead, because he was the last one who asked. I’m just no good on my own.”

Mateo stepped closer, and gave Arcadia a hug, even though she was theoretically not really there. “You don’t need to be with a Preston to not be alone.”

“That’s touching,” Leona finally spoke up.

They separated from each other. Can you see me?” Arcadia asked her.

Leona pointed to her goggles. “These let me see things like you, yeah.”

“I’m sorry, Leona.”

“I am too,” Mateo added.

“I understand what’s wrong with you now.” She reached into her bag and showed them the Insulator of Life. “So let’s fix it.”

Ramses Abdulrashid surprisingly walked into the room. “Can I help?”

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Microstory 1344: Reward

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Marketer: Thank you for driving all the way out here to see us. You are one of our best clients—

Customer: Whoa, when did I become your client?

Marketer: Well, we generally refer to our customers as clients, but I can use the former term, if you prefer.

Customer: I prefer.

Marketer: Okay, that’s fine. So as I was saying, you’re a valued customer, and we would really love to hear what excites you about our company. We wanna know what kinds of things you would be looking forward to in the future.

Customer: I was to understand I would be receiving a twenty-five dollar gift card that’s good at any of the shops at Hillside Mall?

Marketer: It’s actually a prepaid card, so you can use it anywhere that Charta is accepted, which excludes Hillside Mall, because it shut down three years ago.

Customer: Really? Well, nobody told me.

Marketer: I’m sorry to hear that. So, like I said, you are one of our best customers. We’re actually thinking about designing a rewards program based on customer engagement. How would you feel about that?

Customer: You said I would be getting the rewards card as long as I completed the survey.

Marketer: It’s a prepaid card, and you will. After. This is something different. I’m asking for your thoughts on a new program. It would be like this survey, but for everyone. We chose you specifically because you live in the area, and you’ve been so loyal to us. I’m talking about a nationwide system that allows our best customers to provide feedback on a regular basis, in exchange for some compensation.

Customer: I guess that would be okay. So you would be setting up new locations like this one?

Marketer: No, it would all be online.

Customer: If you can do it online, why did you have me drive out here?

Marketer: We do not yet have the new program implemented. We have the capabilities to make the online survey system but we’re waiting until we hear from people like you.

Customer: I don’t really like doing surveys online. I can’t ever tell if it’s going through. I need to speak to someone in person, so even if it’s secretly a waste of time, at least I’m not the only one who wasted his time.

Marketer: Okay, that’s good information. You like to talk to people face-to-face. What would you have to say about a video chat feature? We would still let our elite customers answer surveys online, but they would be speaking to a real person, right here in our headquarters.

Customer: I would hate that too. I mean, the government has access to webcam streams, so that would be a terrible idea. Every time I buy a new laptop, I jam a letter opener into the camera, so no one can spy on me. I also put medical tape over it, just in case it doesn’t break.

Marketer: Yes, I am aware that you buy one of our laptops about every six months. Is it important to you to have the latest technology?

Customer: I don’t care about technology. I have to buy a new one because it takes the government six months to hack into them, so I have to cycle them out that often.

Marketer: Uh, really? I’ve never heard that theory.

Customer: It’s not a theory, that’s just how it works. It doesn’t literally take that much time. But, ya know, they have to get approval, and go through all the bureaucracy. It’s this whole thing. I used to work for a satellite dish manufacturing company, so I know how all this works.

Marketer: I see. Well, I think that’s all the questions we have for you today. We appreciate you taking the time to visit with us.

Customer: That seems short considering how far I had to drive.

Marketer: You’ve given us a lot to think about already. Here is your gift card.

Customer: I thought it wasn’t a gift card.

Marketer: Right, my mistake. You can, uh, leave through the same door you came in. Thanks again.

Microstory 1336: Shot to Hell

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Product Surveyor: Thank you all for coming in. I mean, both. Thank you both for coming. Please have a seat. No, no, these are not refreshments. You’ll get a chance to sample all of the products, but I would like to start with introductions.

Tester 1: I’m Tester 1. I came into the mall to browse. I hear they’re shutting down, so I wanted to see whether it looked like a ghost town. I don’t have much to do with my life, so I figured I would come in here and see what this was all about.

Tester 2: My name is Tester 2. I too have nothing to do, but I also have no one to talk to. My landlord shut off my internet, so now I have no outlet for my opinions. I like to go around, answering surveys, so that at least someone will listen to me.

Product Surveyor: Okay, cool. Well, my name is Product Surveyor. I’ve been working for this company for two and a half years, but I’ve been using my expertise to conduct surveys for the last twelve.

Tester 2: That’s amazing, congratulations.

Product Surveyor: Thanks. First, I would like—

Tester 1: I too would like to congratulate you on your long and wonderful career.

Product Surveyor: Well, I appreciate that. Anyway, before we move forward, I want to point out that this is not an energy drink. And for legal reasons, nor is it medicine. Our marketing team has chosen to refer to these as Daily Cleansing Shots. My first question to you is, how does that name make you feel?

Tester 2: Well, we don’t know what it is. What exactly is it meant to do?

Tester 1: I too, must know what it is before I put my name on it.

Product Surveyor: No, you’re—you’re not putting your name on it. I just need to know, when you hear the phrase Daily Cleansing Shot, what does it make you think of?

Tester 1: Needle.

Tester 2: Doctor.

Tester 1: Evil.

Tester 2: Evil?

Tester 1: Yeah, like Dr. Evil.

Tester 2: Oh, okay. Umm...pinky.

Product Surveyor: All right, it’s not a word association chain. We’re really just trying to get your initial thoughts on Daily Cleansing Shot.

Tester 1: It makes me think of a needle, I said that.

Product Surveyor: Okay, I can accept that. It makes you think of needle shots. But you have heard of drink shots, correct?

Tester 2: My father was an alcoholic, so absolutely.

Product Surveyor: Okay, so that’s important to hear too. There are some negative connotations to the word shot. I will write that down.

Tester 1: I never said his alcoholism is a bad thing.

Product Surveyor: Right. Umm, why don’t you try the first cup there?

Tester 2: Ahhhhh.

Product Surveyor: Tester 1, do you want to try it?

Tester 1: It looks like he drank the whole thing.

Product Surveyor: No, you have your own. All these little cups here are yours. They’re each just one shot. You’re supposed to drink the whole thing. Yeah, whole thing. Tip it all the way up. You almost have it.

Tester 2: Is he okay?

Product Surveyor: Tester 1? Tester 1. I’m sure it’s all gone now. You don’t have to get every molecule.

Tester 1: Ahhhhh.

Product Surveyor: Now, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate the taste of that first sample? We call it Mornin’ Orange.

Tester 1: Is it gonna make me poop?

Product Surveyor: I’m sorry?

Tester 1: Most cleanses make me poop.

Tester 2: Uh, I too, would like to know if it will make me poop. I can’t remember what underwear I’m wearing today.

Product Surveyor: Well, it’s not a laxative. It does have some fiber, which can regularize your bowels, but unless you have underlying medical conditions, you should always be able to make it to the restroom. Are bowel movements important to your daily health? Is it something you find yourself worrying about?

Tester 2: Not really. I could take it or leave it.

Product Surveyor: I’m not sure what that means. Did you two like the taste, or dislike it?

Tester 1: I love it.

Tester 2: That wasn’t one of the choices, dude. I liked the taste.

Product Surveyor: Okay. Why don’t you try the second one; the green one? While these are designed to be taken one shot each day, you get to choose when you want it, and it’s okay to have more than one, so don’t worry about that today. This one is better suited for lunchtime. We just call it...Verde.

Tester 1: Oh my God, no. Dislike, dislike!

Product Surveyor: Oh, I’m very sorry to hear that. Tester 2?

Tester 2: I already forgot what it tastes like.

Product Surveyor: So, that’s a zero from one, and a bland from the other.

Tester 1: Why are you writing this down?

Product Surveyor: This is a survey. We need to know your reactions to our products, so we can market them better.

Tester 2: I see, and then we get a cut.

Product Surveyor: This is an unpaid survey. The poster outside was very clear on that. We’re paying you with free samples of our products!

Tester 1: Well, which is it. Is it unpaid, or is it paid?

Tester 2: Yeah.

Tester 1: My brother used to be paid, but they let him go.

Tester 2: Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Where did he work?

Tester 1: I don’t know, I’ve never met ‘im.

Tester 2: I have a pretty good job. It’s called life. Maybe you’ve heard of it?

Tester 1: That’s my job too. Where do you live?

Tester 2: The whole universe is my home, my man.

Tester 1: That’s beautiful.

Product Surveyor: Would you please try the blue sample? Effervescent Evening is a dinner shot. Great, thanks; we...got it in one try. How did you like that?

Tester: I think I’m gonna go back to work.

Tester 2: Yeah, me too.

Product Surveyor: That’s wonderful. Thanks for stopping by. It was..profoundly unhelpful, and I hope you don’t find us at our next location.

Tester 1: Thanks.

Tester 2: Thanks! Hey, you wanna grab some food?

Tester 1: Nah, I just ate. It was these weird shots that you put in your mouth, instead of a needle in your butt...

Microstory 1285: The Boy and the Chocolates

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A class of young school children was on a field trip to the mall in the center of town. There were many fascinating specialty stores there that were able to keep the children busy for hours. One sold all sorts of art supplies, while another was dedicated to music. There were restaurants of all kinds, and even a small theatre where the students sat to watch a local production of a popular play. There was also a candy story, which the students were specifically warned not to enter. A half hour before they were set to leave the mall, however, the teacher revealed that they would indeed be going into the candy store, but that they would be going in together, and in an orderly fashion. The kids were all so very excited. The owners of the candy shop were a friendly couple who liked to bring joy to children’s lives. So they agreed to a deal where each student would be allowed to take on fistful of candy from one of the dozen or so jars that they had laid out on the table for the occasion. The children were very good. Each one stood patiently in line, and waited their turn. One boy amongst them was a little different than the others. Due to a condition he had had since birth, he was rather large for his age, and he always felt a little out of place. His classmates weren’t too terribly mean to him about it, but he did experience a few jokes here and there. One thing he loved was chocolate; probably more than anyone else here. He could live off the stuff for the rest of his life. Unfortunately, when it came to be his turn, he found that he could barely fit his hand inside the jar, let alone grab a fistful of sweets, and pull them out safely. It was a rule that each child would only be able to take as much as they could in one go, but it was looking like he wasn’t going to get very many. He reached as far as he could, but the best he could do was grasp one piece between his index and middle finger; one lousy piece, and it wasn’t even his favorite kind. “Surely we can bend the rules this one time,” one of the shop owners said. “We shall pour some into his hand.”

“Only if that’s okay with the rest of the students,” the teacher said.

The boy was saddened, for he did not think his classmates would let him do things differently. But he was wrong. They gladly gave him permission, with no hesitation. After all, they had already received their own candies, and weren’t going to get any more, whether he got his own fill, or not.

This story was inspired by, and revised from, an Aesop Fable called The Boy and the Filberts.

Microstory 885: Evitable

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The thing about programs like this is that you’re not meant to know you’re in a program. They hook you up, and load your consciousness into the servers, while simultaneously temporarily blocking the last day or so of your life. There won’t just be a chunk of time missing, however; you’ll have a blurry sense of being alive during that period of time, but since you don’t remember what happened, your mind fills in the blanks, to explain why you are where you are when the program begins. Most of the time, this doesn’t come up anyway, because people don’t run around rehashing their yesterdays, unless something noteworthy happened, or someone else asks about it. But for me, it doesn’t remember, because I always retain my full memories. The point of these exercises is to behave the way you would in the real world, where your actions have lasting consequences on your and others’ lives. The belief that this is all just as dangerous as anything is generally vital to the purity of the system. I never thought that I needed that, though, because the fact of the matter is that I’ve always believed virtual realities to be nothing less than parallel dimensions of reality. I’ve always cared about what happens to these people, even though they’re so-called non-playable characters. To me, just because they’re programmed to believe they are real, doesn’t mean they aren’t. Hell, we’re all programmed, in one way or the other. I’m not saying we’re living on the thirteenth floor, and just a virtual reality that happened to create its own virtual reality. I’m saying everyone grows up being taught to follow societal norms, or to rebel against those conventions. While we all decide our own morality, those decisions are—every single time—informed by our past experiences, particular our interactions with others. This is just a different form of programming. So when I walked into the mall, knowing that I was part of a simulation, that didn’t mean I didn’t care.

Everything seems normal in the mall. People are browsing the shops and eating in the food court. Kids are playing on the train, and couples are resting their heads on each other’s shoulders. A janitor walks down the promenade pushing a big, gray cart. He’s bobbing his head to his music, causing passersby to smile and dance a little with him. Then he just stops and casually walks away, leaving his cart in the middle of the rotunda. As if on cue, random people from all over the mall assemble upon the cart. Children are widening their eyes, for they’ve seen things like this before. This is a flash mob, and they’re all about to dance. But they don’t. Each of the random people reach into the cart and pulls out a gun. They start spraying bullets all over the place, shouting things like, “Trump for four terms!” and “illegals go home!” And “hashtag-NRA-Lives-Matter!” I take out my sidearm, which my current persona is fully licensed to carry as the head of a private security firm. I start shooting the maniacs in the heads, retargeting as fast as humanly possible, and desperately trying to finish them off before any more innocent people get killed. I do pretty well. Nineteen injured and twelve dead.

The programs starts over, without telling me whether I succeeded in the mission or not. I go right back to where I started at the entrance of the mall. Again, the programmers have tried to wipe my memories, so I won’t have the benefit of forethought, but my brain just doesn’t accept that. Still, in order to preserve this concept, I watch the janitor head for his mark with as much patience as before, determined to not react any earlier than any other agent-in-training would. The murderous flash mob converges on the gun cart again, but when they pull their arms back out with the weapons, they start moving in slow motion. I reach for my hip, ready to end their lives before this gets bad. All the innocents are moving in slow motion too, so it’s not like they have time to escape. I’m the only one with the ability to stop this, but I have to do it right. I look closer, and realize that this is an entirely new set of killers. They didn’t just restart the program, and they didn’t only change the speed of motion. They also changed the characters, which only cements my conviction that these people are no less real than you or me. I couldn’t save the victims in the last round, but I also couldn’t save any of the killers. I only had one choice in that scenario, but this one is markedly different. This time, I can save everybody, and I have a moral obligation to do so. I race towards the crowd of killers. As I pass by a security guard, I steal the taser that she was reaching for. I take out my own taser, and then I just start shocking the shooters in the neck. I return to my memory archives to recreate the scene from before. While the faces are different, and they’re moving at a different speed, they’re still staged in comparable positions, and acting in the same order as before. I can exploit that weakness in the program, and end this all before it starts. I keep tasing the gunmen, one by one, starting with the one I know will shoot first, and working my way down the list. My arms are outstretched, so I can disable two of them at once. By the time the program ends, all of my opponents are incapacitated, affording me the time to disarm them completely, but I never get the chance. The technician releases me from the program, and sits my chair up. I’m sitting in a circle, with all my classmates, who have all presumably been through similar, if not the exact same, thing. They’re disoriented as their full memories come back, and I do my best to fake those symptoms. Our instructor steps forward. “Yours were the worst ratings in the history of the program. You all failed.” She looks directly at me. “Except for you. You will be our only recruit. Congratulations. The rest of you can go get your memories of this organization removed from your minds.”

Flurry: Déjà Vu (Part V)

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Serkan and Ace casually walked towards the exit. Ace had been right in that it was snowing outside, but it also wasn’t. It was like there were two different outsides outside; that of the present, and that of the future. They had to focus on one in order to block out the other, but they could always see that other in faded background view. It struck Serkan only then how strange their lives were. They were currently attempting to simply walk back into the future they came from in order to stop evil corporate executives from trying to control the weather. This was after some unseen force threw them back through time in the first place, which was something that apparently happened to them on the regular. This was their life now, and it didn’t feel weird, which was the weirdest part. This shouldn’t feel so normal.

Dismissing his brief existential dilemma, Serkan followed his boyfriend through the door...ending up still in 2013. “What happened?”

Ace stopped and jerked his head around like a pecking chicken. “We must have walked through the wrong one, like in Stonehenge.”

“Or we walked through it the wrong way, or at the wrong moment.”

“Let’s try it again.”

They went back into the mall. Through the glass doors, they could still see the dual time view. They agreed to concentrate all their focus on the winter dangerland, and try again. No, they were still in the past. They continued trying this several times, going through all of the doors methodically, and doing so at deliberately variable intervals. Pretty quickly, they drew a crowd of innocent bystanders who didn’t know what to make of it. One guy asked if they were here all week, and whether they needed a hat so that people could drop money into it for them. The crowd laughed and applauded playfully.

Ace bowed humbly.

“Thanks,” Serkan said to them with almost a curtsy.

“Did you just curtsy?” Ace asked after they finally left the mall to a world that was so 2013, determined to continue their mission in any way they could.

Serkan ignored his comment, and sighed. “What are we gonna do now?”

“We go to High Castle.”

“We can’t do that. The weather won’t be a problem for a full decade.”

“Well, maybe we could go there now and talk them out of ever doing it at all.”

Serkan shook his head. “No, see, what if that conversation is what ends up giving them the idea to manipulate the weather in ten years?”

“If that’s true, then we’re fated to go there anyway, and we don’t have any choice either way.”

“If that’s true then we don’t have to go there, because we’ll end up there anyway. Huh? Huh?” Feeling affectionate, he started pulling at Ace’s muscular arm, and smiling at him with dopey eyes. He was about to say huh one more time when Ace suddenly stopped and looked around. “What? What’s wrong.”

“I thought I heard something,” Ace replied. “And I thought I saw someone out of the corner of my eye.”

“We’re not at home, Ace. There are people around...as there should be.”

“People like us could do with a little paranoia, I would say.”

“I...suppose you’re not wrong.” Serkan looked around as well. “I don’t see anyone, though. Nobody walks anymore.”

“Just the same, we better duck into that service entrance, or whatever it is, so we can look at the map again. Hologram technology isn’t even as advanced as this in 2024.”

As they turned the corner, Serkan did think he saw movement out of the corner of his own eye, but when he took a longer look, again nothing was there. Okay, healthy paranoia. That’s fine. But as they were examining the hologram to determine the best route to High Castle Headquarters—coming to terms with the fact that that was their only logical course of action—they both heard a noise. It was the sound of a galvanized trash can being kicked, and was followed by the sound of someone pseudo-whispering dammit.

“Who’s there?” Serkan called out authoritatively while Ace switched the magic phone off and stuffed it into his pocket. “Come out!” he ordered.

A teenager reluctantly appeared from behind a dumpster, hands up, as if someone were pointing a gun at him. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m just some kid. Don’t worry ‘bout me.”

“What were you doing following us?”

“I was just...oh, is that Melissa Benoist?” He pointed behind them.

They didn’t look, because no, it wasn’t Melissa Benoist.

“Why? Are? You? Following us?” Ace pressed, inching forward understatedly threateningly.

“Okay, look,” the guy said. “I’m not here to hurt you, I was just curious.”

They both frowned. “Not allowed to be gay where you come from?” Serkan called back.

“Well...in my small town in Oklahoma...no, not really. But that’s not what I mean. I was curious about...time travel.”

Crap.

“I think the convention center is a ways away. You’ll find your science fiction friends there the next time they hold a comic-con, or whatever.”

“Don’t be coy,” he said. “I saw you try to walk through those doors, and it gave me the strangest feeling of déjà vu.” He clarified himself when he saw their reactions, “I mean stranger than déjà vu normally is. And that holophone sure ain’t 2013 tech. Anyway, I...think I’m a time traveler too. Or that I’m supposed to be. I was drawn to Kansas City. Skipped out on summer camp for it. I think I was supposed to meet you two.”

Serkan and Ace gave each other this look, like the eldest child in their village was trying to convince them to let him follow them into battle against the evil overlord who had destroyed their crops, but he can do better for their people if he stays behind and protects the women and children, because that’s an important job too.

“Listen, kid,” Ace started.

“Vearden.”

“Okay, Vearde—Vear...Vearden, really?”

“Yeah...?”

“Interesting name,” Serkan said. “Common in Oklahoma?”

“No...?”

“Look, Vearden,” Ace said bravely. “Yes, we’re time travelers. Mind blown, I’m sure. But we also have a job to do. So we kind of just need to get back to it. I’m sure you have a lot of questions, but we just won’t be able to help you.”

Serkan wanted to try a gentler approach. “We barely understand what’s happening either. Someone else is doing this to us. We’re really just along for the ride.”

“Speaking of rides, do you need one? Nobody walks anymore, and I have car.”

Yes, they could do with a car.

Vearden continued, “if I take you to wherever you’re going, all I ask is that you tell me as much as you can about how this stuff works. I just know that I’m supposed to be part of this. I can feel it. I heard your bizarre conversation, but it was you walking through those doors that really got to me. I assume you thought they were portals.” He started mainly talking to himself, “door portals. That feels so right. Please, ya gotta give me something.”

Serkan looked to Ace, knowing that he would know that he was fully prepared to agree to Vearden’s plea. So it was really up to Ace at this point.

Ace looked back and forth between them. Serkan could tell that he had already made his decision, but needed to make it look like he needed more time to consider it, so that they would understand how serious the situation was. “Okay. You give us a ride, and we’ll give you the name of the only person we know who might—might be able to help you. He’s kind of cagey, though.”

“Thanks, you won’t regret this,” Vearden said. He clapped once at his own accomplishment. “Okay, wait here, I’m not parked too far away.”

“Are we sure about this?” Ace asked once Vearden was gone.

“Maybe he’s right. Maybe he was meant to find us.” He looked over to his love. “Maybe we’re literally here for a reason.”

“Maybe,” Ace nodded, on the fence with whether this was a legitimate possibility.

Vearden returned with his vehicle and asked for the address, inputting it into his GPS. He drove it with his hands and feet, like an animal. Serkan couldn’t understand how anyone could stomach living in a world where cars didn’t just freaking drive themselves. It seemed stupid from his perspective.

“Ooooookay, we’re here,” Vearden said as he put his car in park with his hand.

“What is this?” Serkan asked.

“This is where my GPS took us. Lenexa, Kansas.”

“Well, your shit 2013 GPS obviously sucks.”

“I didn’t build it, I just bought it.”

Ace calmly took Vearden’s phone and pinched the map to zoom out. He then compared it to the map on Effigy’s skeleton key. “Yeah, this is the right place.”

“Horace, this is a field,” Serkan argued. “We saw High Castle; it’s a giant building. There’s no way this is right.”

“What’s High Castle?” Vearden asked naïvely.

“It’s a company,” Serkan answered impatiently. “Surely you’re heard of it.”

He shook his head. “Nah, sorry. Maybe it’s not founded until the future?”

“That doesn’t make any sense. The company was founded in 1969.”

“Oh, maybe I have heard of that,” Vearden said. “It was a miniseries...on the BBC?”

“No.”

“Or was it SyFy?” Vearden asked himself.

“No, that’s not it.”

“I don’t think they made it,” Vearden continued thinking out loud. “It was based on a book, though. Men in a High Castle. Or no. The Man in the High Castle, there was just one man. It was about time travel.”

Serkan had nearly tuned him out while watching Ace trying to figure out what was going on. “What?”

“The book. It’s about, like, an alternate Nazi world, or something. I never read it.”

“Oh my God,” Serkan said. “Oh my God,” he repeated. “The company wasn’t founded in 1969. Vearden was right.”

“I am?”

“He is?” Ace asked.

“It isn’t founded until the future, but somehow, since they’re time travelers, they find a way to make everyone think they’ve existed for decades. Hell, maybe they opened their doors on the day the winter snow began.”

“It snows in winter?” Vearden asked. “Wow, I guess global warming really is fake.”

“We think High Castle created the snow to stop global warming, actually,” Ace explained.

Serkan jumped back in, “this is why we’re here, not for Vearden. The Gravedigger. He can move people in time. He was first traveler I met.”

“Is that the guy I can talk to about my case?” Vearden asked.

Serkan went on, “we can’t get into the Headquarters, so he sent us back in time to sneak into the building before it’s even built!” He pointed towards the middle of the field in front of them. “I bet if we walk over there, we’ll be thrown back to the future, and on the other side of security.”

“But we have the skeleton key anyway,” Ace pointed out.

“That must not be good enough,” Serkan suggested. It’s best if we’re not seen walking to the building at all. I doubt other employees get in this way, they probably just have regular badges.”

“We don’t need no stinking badges!” Vearden interjected a little too loudly.

Serkan ignored him. “Or Effigy was screwing with us, and that thing isn’t a skeleton key at all.”

“Or he’s screwing with us right now,” Ace suggested.

“Who’s Effigy?”

“I say we try it,” Serkan said definitively. “The worst that happens is we stand in the middle of a field and look stupid for a few minutes.”

“Touché.”

They got out the car. Vearden insisted he follow them, claiming that he never liked 2013 anyway. Apparently ABC cancelled some really good show called The Neighbors. Serkan turned out to be right about what was going to happen. The outline of a building started fading into view, like the dual view in the mall doors.

Unfortunately for Vearden, he wasn’t able to see it, which meant that he would have to stay behind. “Wait! You owe me a name!”

Serkan smiled at him as a wall began to form between them. “Lincoln Rutherford, Esquire! You can find him at Kyle K. Stanley & Associates!” The wall finished forming, followed quickly by all the other walls. They were finally back in 2024, evidently hiding in some kind of closet. Gay joke. Funny.

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