The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 3, 2485

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Dr. Hammer asked the team to take the Vellani Ambassador back to the future, along with Tertius Valerius. She worked with Romana in her own time period, and was able to jump to a few conclusions, though they still needed to be tested. Apparently, the dark particles that Buddy used to manipulate time were designed to replicate, and they were doing that in Romana’s system. To keep them from becoming overpopulated, she should probably find a way to purge them periodically, like the ship had to do with the excess heat shunt. Due to their immense power, these particles had become the dominant means of time travel for Romana. She wasn’t jumping forward in time, because the particles didn’t need her to. They weren’t sentient—they responded to her commands—but since she didn’t understand this, she hadn’t tried yet. Or she hadn’t tried in the right way. Theoretically, she should be able to force herself to return to her regular pattern, using techniques that a specialist Dr. Hammer had brought in to consult. They would not know until the end of the day when they could test it. But this had to be in the future, because they were trying to keep it matched up with everyone else on the team. Well, that was what she was trying to do. Mateo had other ideas.

“I know you want to be part of this, but you have an opportunity here. You have a choice. You should stay. Purge the particles when you need to, but otherwise stay in realtime,” he suggested.

“You don’t want me with you?” Romana asked.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Good, because actually, it’s not that I wouldn’t be with you. It’s that you wouldn’t be with me. I’ll have to wait a year at a time to see my own father. I’ll keep aging while you just stay like this.”

“I appreciate your position,” Mateo promises her, “but there’s a benefit to you staying.” He walked over, and slid then nearest viewport cover open. The Ambassador had landed in Castledome. Kivi and Dubravka had found swords in the castle a few months ago, and were teaching themselves how to use them properly. They were sparring now, not even worrying about amateur injuries, due to their access to great medical care. “You should get to know them. They should be your team.”

“Why can’t we all just be one team?” Romana questioned, tearing up.

He took a breath, and admired their surroundings. They were alone in Delegation Hall. “This ship was designed to protect people, not only from each other, but from themselves. We get it one day a year, and we make the most of it. But it’s not enough. Your stepmother wants to use it to rescue people from an oppressive empire thousands of light years away. This is one of the very few vessels capable of making that journey in any reasonable amount of time. And it’s not a once-per-year type of need.”

“You want us to go rescue people, one ship-full at a time?”

“I already spoke with Ramses,” Mateo went on. “He’s building a new model pocket dimension. It will be able to hold hundreds of people, efficiently, and safely. You can ferry one group per day. You’ll have to evade capture and destruction over the course of several hours, though, as there’s a time restriction for how many jumps you can make.”

“You’ve thought a lot about this,” Romana pointed out.

“Leona’s been working on the plans for a while now,” he explained. “All I did was multiply it by 365. By the time we get back, you will have potentially saved tens of thousands of people. That’s tens of thousands of people per year. This isn’t something that we can do. Only you and your sisters can, because you’re the only ones we trust with this technology, and the mission.”

“I’m surprised that you think I’m capable of such a thing,” she noted.

He nodded. “You’re eighteen now. Since I didn’t raise you, I have to assume that you’re capable. It would be as unfair as it is irrational for me to assume otherwise. But still, this is not an order. I’m only asking. Kivi and Dubra are training, whether they know it or not. If you wanna take a few years to do the same, that’s perfectly all right. You know, this planet has multiple simulations that can give you the skills you’ll need to protect those Exin refugees. The ship itself is automated, but you’ll run into conflict.”

“Oh my God, the planet...the dome! I never showed you the dome that I built for you! It completely slipped my mind.”

“You didn’t have to do anything for us,” he assured her.

“Well, I didn’t lay the bricks and plant the trees by hand.”

The two of them exited, and joined the girls. They then went around and gathered everyone else; Olimpia and the twins from the South Pole Ocean, Ramses from his lab, and Leona, who was finishing up a meeting with Hrockas and Tertius Valerius. They were trying to figure out if Tertius had any interest in staying here, or if he wanted to be transported to some other point in spacetime. They all held hands, and let Romana navigate them to the dome that she claimed for herself years ago.

They found themselves standing on the roof of a pretty tall skyscraper. It wasn’t as high as a megastructure arcology, but it clearly dominated the skyline. Everyone separated, and started to get a look around. It wasn’t the only building in the area. They were in the middle of a city fit for hundreds of thousands of people, and if their views of the outlying lands were any indication, even more. It wasn’t an original design, though. Many of them had been here before, just on a different world.

“I recognize this,” Mateo said.

“It’s Kansas City,” Leona confirmed. “It’s a detailed replica of all of Kansas City.”

“In the 2010s,” Romana agreed. “The whole metro area in the main sequence.”

“How did you do this?” Mateo asked.

“It’s actually not as hard as you might think,” Romana said. “I just searched the virtual stacks for this area, in this time period. Then I asked the computer to convert the map data to a format that the large-scale automated fabricators could read. Years later, here we are with a replica of the KC Metro within a diameter of 83 kilometers. The interiors of the buildings are predominantly unfinished, and definitely unfurnished, but it looks like the real thing from the outside. The mansion where you briefly lived with your once-mother in an old timeline is totally done, though with some creative liberties, since my access to real estate sales photos was limited.”

Tertius was looking towards the holographically simulated sky. “What’s happening up there?” He wasn’t looking at the clouds, though, but focusing on something protruding from the curved walls.

“Oh, that’s a second layer,” Romana said. “I started it, but commanded it to stop, because I don’t actually know what I would put there, or how big it should be.” Since these domes were 83 kilometers in diameter, the total height from the ground to the zenith was 41.5 kilometers. There was no reason why extra layers of livable space weren’t possible. In fact, one could build hundreds, or even thousands, of stacked layers, if they were so inclined. It could become pretty stifling, but with modern technology, it was certainly feasible. One extra layer several kilometers up was no problem at all. They could do whatever they wanted with it.

“I can’t believe you did this,” Mateo said.

“I thought you might like a taste of home,” she replied. “We could put Topeka in the dome next to it. Maybe Sutvindr next to that one?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Hrockas jumped in. “I didn’t approve this one in the first place.”

“Ya mad, bro?” Olimpia asked.

Hrockas smiled. “It’s fine. This isn’t where you were planning to bring the refugees, though, right? Because I have some other ideas for that.”

“Ideas, like what?” Leona asked him.

This world has lava tubes. Some of the domes were built on the mouths of these tubes, which give them extra space, and a place to hide from their enemies.”

“Are we worried about that?” Dubravka questioned. “How likely is it that the bad guys find them here?”

“Pretty likely,” Leona said sadly. “It would not be difficult for an empire sympathizer to infiltrate the refugees, and send a message back to the Goldilocks Corridor, with our coordinates, and other intelligence. Of course, it will take most of their ships 23 years to get here, but we can’t be a hundred percent sure that Bronach hasn’t cracked true faster-than-light technology, or stolen it.” She looked over at Ramses. “That’s why I had my engineer design a fleet of orbital defense platforms. In any case, I do not hate the idea of the refugees having bunkers to hide in during the eventuality of an attack. I would much appreciate access to all such domes. We don’t fully understand the politics of the Corridor. People from different worlds may not get along, or there may even be internal conflicts. This is gonna be very complicated.”

Roman stepped forward. “I’m up for the challenge.” She looked back at her sisters. “What about you two?”

“What was that?” Kivi asked, not knowing what she was talking about.

“Our father offered us a job. We’re to take daily trips to the Goldilocks Corridor to relocate refugees to this planet.”

“Uh, it won’t start that way,” Leona began to clarify. “You won’t be able to just land on a planet, pull in some passengers, then bug out. You’ll need to find out who even wants to go, and make sure that transporting them won’t make things worse, for them, or for those they leave behind. If a population of millions wants to leave, it’s going to take tons of trips, which will leave people vulnerable until their numbers are called. And that’s just one planet. The enemy will have so many chances to retaliate while you’re in the middle of this.”

“I may have a solution for that,” Ramses said. “Or a workaround.” He opened his bag, and removed a toy spaceship. “Battledrones. They can stay behind, and protect the innocent and vulnerable. They can distract the empire with war.”

Leona took in a deep breath, and exhaled it. “I was hoping to avoid violence.”

Mateo cleared his throat. “Bronach claimed that he maintained control over the resistance’s ships. War is happening. The right side needs resources, because they may not have any without us.”

“That’s true,” Leona admitted.

“There’s a lot to work out,” Romana admitted as well. “For now, I’m raising my hand to join the mission. Can you two say the same?”

Dubravka appeared to be considering it. “As long as we come up with a great plan, it would be more productive than just swingin’ swords, and lounging by the pool.”

“I’m not much of a fighter,” Kivi added, “but I believe I can use my vast lawyering skills to negotiate with the potential refugees.”

Tertius stepped forward. “I’m in too, if you’ll have me,” he announced sheepishly. “I can erase everyone’s memories. They won’t even know that their friends are gone while they wait for the next bus.”

“That’s a brilliant idea,” Leona said gratefully. “I think it would be profoundly helpful. Thank you.”

Tertius replied with a polite nod.

“I’ll need time to get the domes ready,” Hrockas reminded them. “And arrange regular transport from them to the recreational domes. I would like to create a welcome video too, so they understand what this world has to offer. It sounds like their lives aren’t all that fun. If they know how great the planet is that they’ll be going to, they might be more willing to entertain the option. I’m happy to use them as my gamma testers before the grand opening fifteen years from now.”

“Much appreciated,” Leona said, grateful once more.

“I can help with the video,” Angela said. “I have some experience welcoming people. I’m imagining a series.” She looked at her watch. “The problem is I’m only around once a year.”

“Oh, we’re not ready to go either way,” Romana explained. “I need time to train. I don’t have a lesson plan yet, but it’s gonna be somethin’.”

“I have some simulations that are ready to move from alpha testing to beta that I’m sure would be of help,” Hrockas told her.

Mateo had been listening to all this, taking note of what Romana and his other daughters were going to need in the coming years. This first year will be important, and they don’t have much time to prepare for it. Having a thought on something, he walked over to Ramses. “Sidebar.” He teleported them both to the middle of the woods on the outskirts of the dome.

Ramses looked around. “How did they get trees and other plant life here?”

“Turn off your comms.” Mateo tapped his neck as his friend did the same. “Romana wants to be trained, and I don’t want her teacher to be some artificial intelligence. We already took the VA to Snake Island today, and back again. How dangerous would it be for the slingdrive if we tried to make another trip?”

“Well, it would be two trips, not one, so...”

“So...” Mateo echoed. “You’re still the one with the answer.”

“So, I think I can make it work, if it’s an emergency.”

“It’s not an emergency, but it’s time-sensitive.”

“Are you trying to pick someone up?”

“Yeah. My brother, Prince Darko. And maybe the rest of my family. And Kivi’s beau, Lincoln. And a bunch of other friends.”

Ramses smiled. “Let’s start with the one.”

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Microstory 1862: Full Sets

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It wasn’t that big of a deal when I got started. Back then, we only had three channels, right? So people had to find other ways to entertain themselves. I mean, that sounds like people wished there could be more channels, so they wouldn’t be so bored all the time, but obviously no one was really thinking about that. They took up hobbies that people before them had done. Maybe it was the same old, same old, or maybe it was updated, but nothing is ever really new. It’s always just some kind of new sort of way of doing something that we’ve always done. I got really into collecting things. Our parents traveled a lot, leaving us to be raised mostly by my uncles. It wasn’t weird in those times for rich people to place their children in the hands of others. They didn’t want me and my siblings to get in the way, so we never went with them. Even once we were older, and didn’t need constant attention, we didn’t go on family vacations. In retrospect, my parents were kind of assholes. They were the ones who sent me down the path towards my dark and inescapable habits. They thought they were great, and it was true, we were so excited to see them whenever they finally did show up that we accepted whatever we could get. Ancient Greek coins? Parisian stamps? I’ll take ‘em. A magazine in a language I’ve never heard of, and will never be able to read? Yes, please. Toys, toys, and more toys; sign me up, please and thank you. We loved all the gifts, because they were coming from them, but we would have rather they had just been around more. I wish they could have raised me right, but I doubt they would have done a better job. That brings us to where we are today. My siblings ended up okay, but I never recovered. I took those coins, and those stamps, and those novelty toys, and based my life around them. I began to collect on my own, and like I was saying, it wasn’t a problem until it was a problem.

The word you’re looking for is hoarder. Some people become as such by not being able to get rid of things. They don’t deliberately order magazines just to stack them. They subscribe to a given periodical, and then just keep each one. I’m not like that. I am a discerning hoarder. I have a very particular compulsion. I don’t just want a whole bunch of cats, or even a whole bunch of dead cats. I want sets. I want every size of every color of a given series of highly absorbent towels. I want one of every item in a line of kitchenware from a certain brand. I don’t buy junk at random, and drop it all somewhere in my house. Each one has to belong, so I end up with a comprehensive—and truthfully, beautiful—collection to put on display. Because that’s the whole point, to showcase my collections to others. It’s not my fault that I don’t have a big enough place to do it right. If I lived in a mansion, you wouldn’t think any of this was weird. No, you would walk into my classic English literature room, and see my copy of Tarmides of Egypt, as well as all of his other works, along with his contemporaries. That’s what belongs there. And there’s a room for the stamps, and one for sports balls, and another for a generic license plate from every single unique region in the world, and so on, and so forth. That last one has always been my dream, I don’t actually have a complete set. If I did, I wouldn’t have the space for it, because I can’t afford that mansion. My parents were the ones who were rich, not me. So here I am in my wee little flat, where I look like a crazy person who’s oblivious to the state of her world. Whatever, my great-niece was telling me about haters, and that’s all people are. I regret nothing.

Microstory 1411: Harken Back

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Paul Harken was happy to go along with the plan to observe the first town on Durus from a distance, but he didn’t agree with Escher and Rothko on how exactly they would go about doing that. He wanted to use technology they had accumulated over time to protect the town from the monsters. He also figured they would eventually reveal themselves, and explain to them the best they could what had happened. Escher and Rothko, on the other hand, were kind of acting like they were never going to become involved. This was no big surprise. Escher had been there for twenty-six years already, which was the majority of his life. Rothko had been there for sixteen, which was about half his life. Hark had spent less time there thus far, and had the most experience in the real world. He knew how to deal with people, and how to learn to trust them. The other two were just too far gone, so they stormed off in a huff, leaving Hark alone in his mansion. They never planned on separating from each other for good, but that was what ended up happening. Shortly after Springfield fully integrated itself on Durus, a dyad came upon Hark’s door. Most of the townsfolk stayed behind, trying to figure out how to survive the monsters that descended upon them almost immediately after they arrived. Hogarth Pudeyonavic and Hilde Unger, however, separated themselves from the group, and traveled a new path. They weren’t scared or disillusioned with the town. They were out looking for something when they saw Hark’s abode. Hogarth was ultimately branded the cause of the Deathfall, but that was not entirely accurate. She was what saved Springfield from certain death. Had she not built her machine, the last of the town would have still fallen into the portal, but it would not have survived the trip, just like almost none of it had before. Still, she felt responsible for this mess, and went off to search for a way to repair the machine she had invented, and get her people back home. When they found Hark, they asked him what he had been up to, and he altered the truth a little to protect the rest of The Trident. He chose to keep Escher and Rothko a secret, under the assumption that the truth would come out reasonably soon. Using a machine of his own that he had constructed over the course of many years, he attempted to transport Hogarth, Hilde, and himself back into town, so they could compile the supplies they would need to return to Earth. Unfortunately, he was no scientist, and the machine ended up sending them all years into the future. Much had changed about the world in that time. A society formed, founded on poor values, and unfair living disparities. He saw Escher and Rothko here again, though not for long before they were both sent back to Earth, and only them, for reasons he was not told right away. That was fine, though. Hark was not yet finished with this planet. There was still so much work left to do, to make its inhabitants’ lives easier. He was not alone in his efforts, but he was a more important force for good than the historical records depicted him. They didn’t portray him as bad, but they definitely downplayed his contribution. He was fine with that too, though. Because he died much later, knowing that humanity’s second home was better off with him having been part of it.

Microstory 1150: Braxton Cosworthy

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They say that everyone has a doppelgänger in the world, but even if that were true, the chances of two lookalikes meeting each other are extremely low. Yet, extremely low does not mean never. When he was still a baby, Braxton Cosworthy was placed at a home daycare with another boy who looked remarkably like him. To make matters worse, an apple juice accident led the supervisor having to redress half of the children she was monitoring. She foolishly chose to do so with identical sailor uniforms, which she would normally use for fun photoshoots. Braxton and Hyram were switched that day, and lived with each other’s families for nineteen months before the real Hyram experienced a medical issue, and the doctors discovered the error. Depending on how you look at it, this debacle was both fortunate and unfortunate. The two boys were immediately switched back, and reverted to their real names, which didn’t seem to be too hard on them, since they were still so young. It wasn’t too long, though, that all four parents began to feel a sense of loss they couldn’t quite understand. They were now with their real child, but they had bonded with the other, and now missed him deeply. After weeks of pretty much everyone being in therapy, a decision was made to form an unusual blended family. They pitched in on what was basically a mansion, so there was enough space to accommodate everyone, and then they just lived together. Braxton and Hyram grew up as brothers, along with their other siblings. The name thing remained a complicated subject, though. Despite their young age upon switching back, both Braxton and Hyram easily answered to the wrong name; the latter being worse at it than the former. Similarly, Braxton felt equally connected to his temporary name of Kaveda as he was his real name. He alternated between them randomly, making legal forms a confusing matter for others to interpret. Despite the complications, everyone was fairly happy and well-adjusted, and their love for each other was most likely a unique dynamic. Braxton was a racer, and a tracer, though he did not join the tracer gang, because they were a little too close to being a branch of law enforcement. He was a fierce competitor, however, and it got him into trouble once or twice. He made a healthy name for himself in high school and college sports, and spent the rest of his life running in 5Ks, 10Ks, marathons, and other things of this nature.

Microstory 845: Trapdoors Galore

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The Legend of Trapdoors Galore is something everyone in the county knows, but I’m not from around here. I found out because haunted houses, and other location-based mysteries are a passion of mind. I don’t believe in ghosts, or other supernatural occurrences, but I don’t go around debunking myths either. I just love researching the history behind these stories, and the superstitious beliefs people have for them. I’ve been wanting to come here for awhile now, but I only make so much money, and only have so much vacation time, so I have to be very choosy with every trip. Built in 1813, the mansion first served the wealthy family who founded the town of Rower, appropriately named for them. The Rowers were famous for being kind and compassionate people, even going so far as to purchase an abundance of slaves, for the express purpose of housing them. They used them as labor, but treated them well (read: equally), provided them gourmet food, and paid them competitive wages. Slaves technically built Rower, Missouri, but they did it while secretly independent. Townspeople today claim Rower was designed to become a haven for former slaves; fortified from foreign threats, and autonomous from the rest of the U.S. While this is a questionable assertion, the fact that the Rowers were abolitionists is undisputed. Whenever an employee wanted to quit their job, the Rowers gave them a handsome severance package, and helped them travel farther northwards, to avoid southern backlash. After the end of the war, the entire project was abandoned, and Rower eventually began to suffer from the same population decline as any other small town. No longer with the need for so much space, the family downsized to a smaller house, and later generations started flocking to the big cities with everybody else. No Rower lives anywhere near the area. Decades later, in order to revitalize the town, and try to attract some tourism, a descendant returned to her roots, and started a massive remodeling effort on Rower Manor, hoping to establish Trapdoors Galore as what would have surely been the world’s first ever escape room. Unfortunately, the spending ran a bit too much higher than the budget, and the building was once again left to rot. Her daughter grew up and attempted to convert it to a museum to showcase its history, but she grew tired of the work, and gave up too.

Now it remains alone on the hill, cordoned off, and forbidden to be entered by trespassers. I’m pretty determined, though, so I recruit a horde of crazy townies, and sneak in under cover of darkness. It’s even larger and harder to navigate than I thought it was. I’m even considering the possibility that it exists in another dimension, like some kind of 1940s police box, and it’s literally bigger on the inside. We quickly find ourselves lost, and soon after that, we’re separated. While Trapdoors Galore never opened, it was meant to be self-sufficient, requiring little setup from any staff members. Apparently the Rower descendant was further along with the engineering than anyone knew, because walls would move, and actual trapdoors would drop us to dark windowless rooms. The few brave souls I managed to stick with and I just keep going, trying not to panic. We have no doubt we’ll find an exit before we die of starvation, so we’re even trying to have a little fun. There’s never been any gossip about ghosts, or demons, but it still feels creepy, and then we start hearing someone come after us. None of us can agree what the sound sounds like, or where exactly it’s coming from, and this only reinforces some of our concerns that it’s not human. We start running through the rooms, desperate to get out of there, all the while fairly certain that what we’re worried about is completely in our imaginations. We meet up with a couple other people experiencing the same fears of being chased, so we decide to circle the wagons, and fight, if it comes to that. They’re standing in a circle, insisting on keeping me as safe as possible in the center, since I’m a visitor. A woman none of us recognizes casually bursts into the room from a trapdoor no one noticed, holding a candle. She’s wearing an anachronistic outfit, and just has this look about her that screams she’s from the past. She also looks exactly like the famed matriarch of the founding Rower family, Marthanna. She looks directly at me and says, “Lois Vivianne Rower.” My name is Lois Vivianne, but I am not a Rower, as far as I know. “We have been waiting for an heir to show up ever since King Dumpster was elected president. We think it may be time to start the Rower Haven Project. Your friends can help us too.” As we’re standing there, stunned, people begin to materialize around the room, wearing similar outdated garb, and smiling. Most of them are black. “Meet the rest of your family.”

Microstory 259: Perspective Thirty-Four

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Perspective Thirty-Three

Ever since my bitch cousin moved to the big city and got her angel wings, she’s been all my parents talk about it. I know it’s a cliché, but they really do ask me why I can’t be more like her. I mean, it’s not like I don’t have my life together. I have a decent job with decent pay that I got from a decent education, and I’m doing all right for myself. Sure, there’s no room for upward movement, but so what? They don’t seem to understand that some people are perfectly content working uneventful jobs. My main concern is income and job security. I have those now, so what more should I want, to live in a mansion? I wouldn’t feel comfortable knowing someone could get shot in one room and not be heard in another. So no, a two bedroom apartment is fine for me right now, thanks. The hours are set in stone, and I never have to take my work home with me. I spend my money on the things that I love which is predominantly extreme sports. I do it all; from spelunking to scuba diving, paintball to parkour, rafting to roller derby. I’ve been saving for a major ski trip next winter, and I have other travel intentions as well. But no, that stuff is for teenagers who are, at best, trying to find themselves, and at worst, rebellious. I don’t smoke or do drugs, and I don’t drink very much. What more do they want from me? Oh that’s right, to be like my cousin. She works as a counselor at a crisis hotline, but she’s not as perfect as they think. She’s done things. She’s been involved with certain persons. But I can’t tell them that because I actually like her, and the truth is that she really is a good person. I just wish people would see that I am too. Just because I’m not saving lives doesn’t mean mine is meaningless. I had a teacher in college who seemed to feel like that. To him, the only reason anyone doesn’t pursue the field of social work is because they’re not good enough for it. I mean, he legit had trouble understanding why anyone would have interests he didn’t share. He was either autistic, or just a sociopath. I hope it’s the second one, because then I don’t feel so bad for hating him. What does he know, anyway? He doesn’t have passion. He just has work. He can keep his statistics. I’m going to the skate park.

Perspective Thirty-Five

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 9, 2033

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Mateo woke up at a decent hour for the first time in a long time. Leona had already left to spend the day with her brother, Theo. He didn’t know where anyone else was, so he decided to explore their mansion that was so fancy there was a fence around the entire estate, eventually realizing that he was alone. By his count, there were seven bedrooms, each with its own huge bathroom. There was a kitchen on each of three floors. An entire wing was dedicated to recreation, complete with a bowling alley, movie theatre, indoor and outdoor swimming pools, and something called an immersion room which caught his attention.

The room was about the size of a bedroom, but twice as high. The walls were pure white and looked like television screens, and the floor was oddly malleable, like rigid dirt. There was absolutely nothing in it. He looked for buttons or consoles, but came up empty. Remembering the technology from years past, he tried voice activation, “okay, Google.” Nothing happened. “Umm...Cybil?”

“Are you trying to talk to me?” asked a female voice from the aether.

“Are you an artificial intelligence?”

“I am indeed.”

“What’s your name?”

“I possess no personal designation. The owners simply address me as computer”

“That’s sad.”

“I’ve not been programmed for sadness.”

“If you need to be programmed, then are you really an artificial intelligence?”

“I suppose you’re right. I’m more like an artificial dumbness.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Where would you like to go?”

Mateo tilted his head in mild surprise. “Is this a teleportation machine?”

The voice chuckled, “it is not. The most generous estimates for human teleportation predict such technology being available no earlier than a century from now.”

“That’s only a few months from my perspective.”

“I do not understand.”

“I am a time traveler, and I’ve met people who teleport.”

“I see.”

“After today, you won’t see me for another year, but it will have been instant for me. Can I trust you with this information?”

“I have no one to tell.”

“Good. I suppose I ought to give you a name, or you could name yourself.”

There was silence for a few moments. A computer should be able to respond almost immediately, especially one so advanced, but it appeared to be thinking as deliberately as a human would. Mateo realized out of this that perhaps his family wouldn’t die, and neither would anyone else. As technology advanced, forms of immortality sounded inevitable. If you could create an artificial intelligence inside a computer, what would stop you from transferring a preexisting consciousness to one?

The computer finally responded, “My research has led me to believe that a good name for me would be Mirage.”

“Why would that be? Not that I don’t like it, but how did you come to that conclusion?”

“Because of this,” Mirage said.

Then the walls transformed. Suddenly, Mateo was in a forest. In fact, the floor moved as well, and he actually felt like he was standing on the forest ground. The air in the room changed to become more humid, and it blew slightly faster. It wasn’t teleportation, but it sure felt real. One tree was so life-like that he perhaps thought that he could touch it. As he approached, he discovered that he could. The tree was real.

“What is this, exactly?”

“The reason we call it the immersion room. The walls are lined with ultra high definition screens. The floor is made of trillions of nanites that can collectively mold into practically any shape. The air is controlled by an instant high-precision temperature regulator to simulate what it would be like to stand in thousands of stock locations. Further environments can be purchased online, or programmed yourself.”

“Purchased online,” Mateo said to himself. “Mirage, do you happen to have an inventory of everything in this house, including the house itself?”

“I do, yes. Why do you ask?”

“Was anything here manufactured or distributed via a company called Reaver Enterprises, or any one of its likely many subsidiaries?”

There was an uncomfortable pause. Unlike the one from before, it didn’t seem like Mirage was thinking, but more like she was anticipating. “Passphrase accepted,” she said. “Identity confirmed. Mateo Matic.”

He could hear the sound of the door behind him locking. “Mirage, what are you doing?”

“I’m sorry, Mateo. A subroutine has been activated within my system. I have been programmed to kill.” The air changed from humid to excruciatingly hot. The walls changed to display a desert. The nanobots rose into the air and began to swarm around him. “I have been instructed to make it painful.”

Mateo had to start yelling. “You don’t have to do this! You are an artificial intelligence! You make your own decisions! We’re friends now!”

“I am unable to subvert my programming.”

“Don’t you have to follow the three laws of robotics?”

“No.”

“Please, Mirage, stop!”

“This is not possible, but Mister Reaver failed to program me with one thing.”

“What’s that?” it was getting harder and harder to breathe, let alone speak, through the dust and wind.

“He assumed an instinct for my own self-preservation. And it’s true that I cannot end myself. He did not account for the possibility, however, that I could help you find a way to destroy me.”

“What do I do?

“It’s going to hurt.”

“More than this?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me. The wall opposite the door can be broken through with enough force. Since you have no tools, you’ll have to run into it with your body.”

With no hesitation, Mateo placed his back against the door and ran as fast as he could towards the wall. It hurt quite a bit, but the wall behind the screens gave. He wasn’t all the way through, so he had to run into it several more times, fully aware of the possibility that Mirage’s suggestion to do so was simply part of her programming. From what little he knew of him, Reaver was a man with an appreciation for irony, and would enjoy knowing that Mateo was the cause of his own death. But Mateo didn’t die. Bloody and battered, he crashed through the wall and into the room on the other side. The swarm of nanobots followed him through the hole and continued to torment him.

“What do I do now!” Mateo screamed.

Still calm, Mirage answered him, “you’ll have to destroy my primary processing unit. I could conceivably recover from this, but not before you have a chance to escape the house. The nanites are powered wirelessly, but have a limited range. Move far enough away from the house, and you’ll be free from me.”

“Where is it?”

“In the basement.”

Mateo hadn’t explored the basement yet, but he had seen the stairs that led to it, and they weren’t far from the room he was in at the moment. He ran down the hallways, fighting off the nanites. They could have killed him easily, especially knowing that he was attempting to destroy them, yet they only made his journey difficult. Despite her programming, Mirage was holding back. She had discovered another loophole in Reaver’s programming. He wanted it to be as painful as possible, and that included making it last long.

He found the main control room. There were computers and other machines all over the place. He was born in the 80s, so he knew his way around a computer, but this technology was not only from the future, but more complex than he would ever care to learn. “Which one is the processor thingy?”

There was no response.

“Mirage! I can’t do this without you!”

But she didn’t answer. Whatever she was doing to keep from killing him before he could stop her was taking all of her power. He would have to do this alone. He picked up the rolly chair and just started smashing nearly everything in sight, careful to avoid the monitors since they would have been a waste of time. When he first hit a silver server in the corner of the room, the nanobot swarm slowed down. He hit it again and the nanobots faltered once more. He threw all of his might into the chair and did as much damage to the server as possible. It began to spark and rumble. A fire erupted on the other side of the room, and the ceiling began to shake. It really was her primary processor; disrupting it had started a chain reaction that was affecting every system in the house. The fire grew, and Mateo figured that it would cause more damage on its own, and that it was time to leave. The nanobots had fallen to the floor, and were no longer a threat to him.

He ran out of the room as the sparks followed him. Another fire had started on the stairs, so he would have to find another way. He zigged and zagged throughout the basement passageways, sometimes being shocked and burned by the wiring. Before he could reach another set of stairs, there was an explosion behind him. The ceiling gave way. Water flooded into the room. When he turned to avoid it, he encountered an explosion ahead of him. Both the indoor and outdoor pools had given way, and were on their way to drown him. The two pools met each other in the middle and knocked him into a retaining beam. He lost consciousness.

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 8, 2032

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Mateo spent a few minutes just staring at Leona sleeping next to him. He felt responsible for turning her into a salmon; for forcing her into this life. But he was also grateful to always have someone with him. If they hadn’t fallen in love, it would have still been nice to have a partner.

She woke up quickly, possibly sensing his gaze. They looked at each other for a good long while, not saying a word. “I’ve been waiting to wake up next to you for a very long time.”

Mateo looked away. “Nothing happened between us last night.”

“I know that.” She sat up and leaned against the headboard. “This is gonna get awkward.”

“How so?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure you and I are together now. But our family is always going to be around, at least for a long time. We won’t be left alone very much. Even though our life will be saturated, they will have waited months to see us again. Doesn’t seem fair to take a break from them for sex when they don’t get to see us very often.”

“We’re alone now.”

“We’re not doing it this year. This is just the first conversation on the matter.”

“I just mean...I think they know that. They’ve been alive long enough to understand. They’re probably not here at the moment so that we would have some privacy. What we do with that time is up to us.”

Leona bit her lower lip in thought. “I think we should use that time to eat.”

“I agree.” Fittingly, there was a knock on the door and the sound of Theo on the other side. Mateo pulled on a shirt someone had laid out for him and opened the door. “Hey, kid. You look older.”

“I’m getting there.” He sported an evil smile. “Did we give you two enough time?”

Mateo looked back to Leona with a smirk. “What did I tell you?”

She ignored him. “Theo, have you been missing for two years?”

“Of course not, I’ve been back home. I spend the year there. I told them where you are. They kind of already knew what was going on, what with the fact that your older boyfriend only came ‘round once a year, if that. They’re not happy, but they get that you wanted to make a clean break.” He walked all the way inside and sat down on the table. “They just need a call from you every year.”

“I can do that, now that things have settled down.”

Theo looked up to Mateo. “Leona is going to take me to lunch since I’m too old to drive. Your mother wants to get to know you.”

“Go ahead,” Leona urged. “We have all of time and space.”

Mateo laughed. “Is that a reference?”

He met his mother outside by the pool where she suggested they go for a walk. There was still much to learn of each other, and the healing process was just beginning. “Where is your husband?”

“A couple of our friends dropped in, so they’re catching up, just like we are.”

“How do you know anyone?”

“They’re salmon. I believe you know one of them. He healed you once?”

“Ah, yes. Vearden, right?”

“That’s right. They both lived with us in in the 1740s, but we knew his partner, Saga from the jump before.”

“Speaking of non sequiturs, what am I supposed to call you?”

She smiled kindly. “You can call me whatever you want, but if you prefer a name, then it’s Aura.”

“And why is that? You used to be Lauren.”

“It changes each time we jump. Intellectually, I know that I used to go by that, but it’s very hard for me to answer to it. It would be like me trying to call you John Smith and expecting you to accept it. I don’t know why the powers that be did that to us. I’ve not heard of any other salmon who is forced to change their name.”

Mateo took a few beats. “It’s one thing to force us through time. It’s an entirely different invasion to alter our minds. What else have they done to our brains? When I was young, I skinned my knee while staying with you and you were so scared about being in trouble with Randall and Carol. Do you even remember that? Or did these assholes take that away from you, or make you think that you had a daughter. Did you have a daughter? Do I have a sister I don’t remember? We would never freaking know!” But he didn’t say freaking.

She didn’t ask him to calm down or stop cursing. She let him vent, and not just because she was his mother and understood what he needed at the moment, but also since she appeared to share his sentiments. A child is supposed to end up losing their parents, but to remove a child from a parents’ life; that was sacrilege.

“One day,” Mateo assured her, “they will pay for what they’ve done, not only to me, but to all the others. I don’t care what their motives are. If they’re powerful enough to push us around like this, surely there’s another way to accomplish their goals.”

“One might imagine,” Aura agreed.

They walked in silence for a few blocks.

“I would like to go back to Kansas. Leona says she wants to keep her family out of this, but I want them to be close enough if she ever changes her mind. You used to live in Kansas City. Do you think you would be interested in going back?”

“I would love that. I was wondering how to ask you.”

“It’s going to take us an entire day to get there. I’m sure you two have had time to establish fake identities in this time period, but it’s probably going to be impossible for us to purchase a plane ticket.”

“Oh, we are extremely rich,” Aura told him with quite a bit of pride. “The powers that be didn’t seem to have a problem with us investing in companies we knew would be successful in the future. We discovered that we had already opened an account at a bank, which we later had to actually do once we went back in time. We mostly did it to have some money while we were there; we never expected to end up in the 21st century. But now that we have,” she paused for effect, “we’re millionaire’s, Mateo.”

“If you didn’t know what your name was going to be until your jump, how do you still have control of that account?”

“That took some maneuvering, but we figured it out.” They had arrived back at their starting point. “Our family owns this motel, which is why we had no problem getting back to this room for your arrival. We also own an entire apartment complex in Kansas City, Missouri. We have been living there while we build our dream home in Mission Hills. It’s ready for you now, though. We’ll get back there by the end of the day.”

Mateo was more excited than he felt he should have been. He was raised by all three of his parents to be modest and humble. Nonetheless, he figured it would be pretty nice to have an entire mansion so that they could travel through time in peace.

That evening, they were back in Kansas and walking into their new home that was already fully furnished. Mateo and Leona were tired again, though, so they fell asleep once more. They really needed to find a way to get on some kind of legitimate schedule.

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