The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 23, 2536

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Leona walked back into the lab. Ramses wasn’t there, at least not in the main area. He did have that room in the back that he asked others to stay out of. Surely that didn’t apply to her, though. They were partners. She contributed a lot to rebuilding his lab, and the slingdrive array, which were their most important assets. She opened the door to find him naked on an exam table, at a high incline, a gaping hole in his abdomen. “What the hell are you doing?”

The robosurgeon stopped moving out of an abundance of caution since Leona did not step into this room decontaminated, or even very recently showered. Ramses wasn’t under anaesthesia, though, so he was annoyed. “Get out!” he demanded. He looked at the little surgical arms. “Get back to work!”

“Belay that order!” Leona countered.

“You don’t have control over this thing,” Ramses dismissed.

“Tell me what you are doing to yourself.”

Ramses sighed. “This was incredibly tedious and irritating. I cannot lose my forge core again. So no more pocket dimensions, no more bags of holding. This thing is being stored safe and sound inside of me, and if I lose that? Well, that means I’ve lost my entire substrate, so I don’t know what else I could try.”

“This is insane. You don’t have room to spare. What are you taking out to make space?” she questioned.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m sick of repeating myself! What will you have to take out!”

“Just some of my voltaics, and my sleep regulator. Okay, most of my voltaics. And my nutrient booster, and my water recycler, and two of my metallic oxygen reservoirs. But that’s it.” He stopped, but it looked like he wasn’t done yet. “And part of my liver, but it’s fine. I’ll just have to sleep more, and eat more, and I won’t be able to survive the vacuum for as long as normal people do. Not a big deal.”

Leona shook her head. “I know that this was hard on you, but this is not the way.”

“I’m already using an upgraded body,” Ramses reasoned. “It’s not like it will reject it, or go septic, or something like that. People have all sorts of implants, and some even use artificial organs all the time, mixed with their organic ones. It really is okay.”

“Do you know why we aren’t telepathic, Ramses?”

“Because I couldn’t figure it out.”

“That’s a lie, and we both know it. You didn’t give us telepathy, even though it would make a lot of the things we do easier, because you decided that that was a bridge too far. Every posthuman has their line, and that was yours, whether you’ll admit it or not.”

“It’s not a spectrum,” Ramses argued. “It’s an array, so if your claim were right, it would be more like excluding something from the array.”

“Metaphors aside, you’re not a mech.”

“And this isn’t cybernetic. It’s a...flesh pocket.”

“That’s not what that term means,” she warned.

“A storage cabinet,” he amended. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m doing this, so you can either squirm and watch, or get out and breathe.”

“It’s a slippery slope. That’s what I’m trying to say. Because there will come a time when you have to escape this body unexpectedly, and it will prompt you to try something more drastic. You could lose a part of yourself trying more and more. You could lose our pattern. You would be off the team.”

Ramses frowned. They stared at each other for a while. “It wouldn’t be the first time a version of me lost the team.” He looked at the arms. “Keep going, surgeon. Take out the legacy parts.”

“There’s a better way. I think you should take more time to think of it.” Leona opted to leave. She didn’t want to watch the procedure. She didn’t know if she was in the right, or if there was nothing wrong with what Ramses was trying to do. She just didn’t want him regretting it, or doing something that couldn’t be reversed. She stood in the main lab for a couple of minutes, hoping that he would change his mind and come out. When it looked like he wasn’t going to, she started to walk away.

Ramses came out, still pulling his shirt down over his bandaged incision site. He set his forge core on the counter.

“Ah!” she screamed, “I changed your mind!” She reached out and took him into a bear hug.

He pulled away, still rather sore. “Careful, careful.” The local anaesthetics conflicted with the liquid bandage, so he would have to switch to painkillers. “Yes, you did change my mind.”

“What was it? Tell me what did it exactly...in case I need to say it again.”

“You told me I should look for a better way, and I think you’re right,” he answered. “I think I have one.”

“Lay it on me,” she encouraged.

“Bioprinting.”

“Bioprinting?”

“Bioprinting.”

“What does the method of substrate fabrication have to do with anything?”

“The science wasn’t there before, but it is now. What we need are brand new upgrades, complete with new parameters. Instead of just a handful of nanite implants, they will be evenly distributed under the skin, ready to emerge and form even faster than now. The forge core is still a part of the plan, but I don’t have to take anything out to make room for it. I just need a new design. I’m going to work on it now.”

“We were hoping to leave now,” she reminded him. “We need to take Meyers to his new home on the other side of the galaxy.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Ramses said. “Someone else can handle that. I need to focus.”

“I thought you didn’t want this to be a permanent lab.”

“And it won’t be. I have a new idea for that too. But I can’t waste time going off on a side mission for some hermit that I have no strong feelings about. You can go if you want to, or collaborate with me on my new projects. But from where I’m standing, the other five can handle it without us.”

“Four,” Leona corrected. “We need at least three at each location.”

“Sure, sure, sure, let’s do that. You make that call, but I’m not going to be on the away team. Not this time.”

Leona studied him as he turned around, and started pulling down tools, preparing his workspace for his new plans. He was instantly engrossed in the flood of ideas, he wasn’t paying attention to her, and didn’t notice when she snagged the forge core before teleporting away. She jumped to Olimpia, who was alone, but she wanted to talk to everyone. Well, most everyone. She tapped and held onto her comms disc, opening up for a voice command. “Group call to all team contacts, except for Ramses.”

“What?” Olimpia questioned. “Why?”

“All team contacts except for Ramses Abdulrashid. Channel open...” the operator announced.

“Everyone convene at my location. Don’t tell Ramses.”

“Why are you leaving him out of it?” Olimpia asked. “What’s going on?”

Leona waited for everyone else to arrive before explaining herself. “Ramses is obsessed. He’s working on a new project, which places him in danger. He wants three or four of us to take Mr. Meyers to his new home, but I am not comfortable with that. I know what’s going to happen. If we use our new slingdrive array for the first time ever to separate, we will stay separated for an extended period of time.”

“Did you speak with a seer, or something?” Marie asked.

“It’s not that I know it for a fact. It’s more that that’s how our lives always go. We don’t really know where we’re going, and I’m formulating a hypothesis about how the slingdrives work, which I don’t even think Ramses has noticed. I believe that their scope is smaller than we once thought, and every time we use them, we risk running into someone that we don’t want to. I would rather we all be together when that happens. I’m sure you won’t like it, but I have admin access to the array, so we’re going to sling, and Ramses is coming with us, whether he wants to or not.” She held up the forge core. “Wherever we end up, we’ll at least be together, and we will rebuild from there. Even if that means ending up back here anyway, I would prefer not to take the chance.”

“You’re the captain, honey,” Mateo pointed out.

“I’m not asking you to be on my side about it,” Leona went on, “but I wanted to tell you ahead of time, because after we land, he’s going to be angry, and he’s going to have questions. I don’t want to have to answer to you five while I’m dealing with him. So ask your questions now, so when we do go, we’re only worrying about him.”

“I have a question,” Romana said, holding up her hand.

“Okay...” Leona prompted.

“Can I go warn Ramses?” Romana couldn’t keep a straight face with that.

Leona scoffed. “Any serious questions?”

“Yeah, when is this happening?” Angela asked.

Leona asked her husband. “Is Meyers in stasis?”

“He is,” Mateo confirmed.

“Then we’ll leave right now, or as soon as you all have everything you need.”

“Our pocket dimensions are back in order,” Angela said, “so I suppose there’s nothing more to pack.”

Leona’s gaze drifted over to her wife. “Oli?”

“I don’t agree with this. We don’t keep secrets from each other. We don’t trick each other. We have enemies, and we treat them how we must to survive, and protect others, but we’re only able to do that because of the trust that we’ve built within the team. I wouldn’t have asked you to marry me if I thought you were capable of something like this.”

“You didn’t see what I saw,” Leona tried to explain. “He was mutilating himself.” She shook the forge core. “He was going to stuff this thing under his liver, and take out a bunch of his transorgans to do it.”

“That sounds like his call,” Olimpia argued.

“And this is mine. I’m still the captain here, even without a ship. You all spent a great deal of energy convincing me of that. So which is it? I’m your leader until you don’t like a decision I make?” Leona questioned.

“Yes, exactly,” Olimpia concurred. “That’s what good leaders do. They listen to their people, and change their minds when reasoned with.”

“I’ve not heard a good reason not to do this,” Leona decided.

“Then you’re not listening. Captain or no, I have my own agency, so I’m going to go talk to my friend. I agree that we should stick together, but we’re not going to do it as a surprise. Thank you for making sure he keeps his forge core with him, but he may want something else, or he may need to turn off some machines, or place an AI in dormant mode so it doesn’t go insane in the void of time. This is irresponsible, and I won’t stand for it.” And with that, she disappeared.

There was an awkward silence in her absence, which Mateo broke. “She has a pretty good point.”

“I know that!” Leona snapped back. She tapped and held on her comms disc again. “Team lurk mode. Admin authorization Dolphin-Racecar-Kangaroo one-niner-three.”

She listened to the conversation between Olimpia and Ramses in secret. The former wasn’t selling Leona out. She just appealed to the logic side of Ramses’ brain, reminding him that the slingdrives were brand new and untested, and it was too dangerous to let them go their separate ways. They all had to go together. She promised that they would find a place for him to continue on with his projects, either here, back on Castlebourne, or somewhere else entirely. Ramses was understanding, and persuaded. While everyone was making sure they had everything closed up and secure, Ramses shut his lab down, and gathered the last of his belongings. He told Leona to go ahead and keep the forge core that she had taken as it was only one copy, and he had another. He was considering making five more of them so everyone could have their own. They were fairly user-friendly, and getting easier to operate with each iteration. Their main function was to rebuild his lab, but they could also just construct some other structure, which could come in handy if they did ever end up getting separated, and stranded somewhere hostile.

Pribadium glided into the room. “All ready to go?”

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Mateo said to her.

“Is that what you would call it? I was pretty combative,” Pribadium noted.

“Let’s just call it passionate,” Mateo decided.

She smiled. “Thank you for doing this. If he wants to be a hermit, I don’t have a problem with that. I just don’t want him to go back into the system, and try to scrounge up the energy credits. He’s not much of a contributor. He’ll never save enough if he relies solely on passive income.”

“Energy credits?” Romana asked Leona in a whisper.

“I’ll explain it later,” Leona whispered back. “We don’t worry about credits. We generate our own energy.”

“No problem,” Mateo said. He pressed a button on the stasis pod so it started hovering over the magnetized floor. Rambo, could you take the other end? Leona can drive.”

“Yeah.” Ramses held onto the pod, just enough to make sure it was transported with them. He was still a little perturbed, but hopefully he would be able to return to his work quite soon. Perhaps they would carve a chunk out of Linwood’s new celestial body, or something nearby, and stick around for a bit while they rebuilt.

“Wait,” Pribadium said. She went over, and planted a kiss on Mateo’s lips. “I know you like the ladies.”

“What has become of my reputation!” he questioned rhetorically.

“Better step back, Pri-Pri,” Leona suggested.

Pribadium saluted them, and then disappeared.

“Prepare to sling,” Leona said as she was tapping on her arm band. “Yalla.” They left.

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Microstory 2563: Injured Visitor

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Let me start with my backstory, so you’ll understand why I was at the Foundation in the first place, because it wasn’t to be healed. It’s a complex situation that my family has been grappling with for years, and questioning whether we should attempt to correct the issue since Landis Tipton first showed up. My brother was born with a genetic condition known as T21. Its full name is hard to type out and pronounce, but it’s also often known as Trisomy 21. This is when the patient develops an extra copy of chromosome 21, and it results in a particular facial look, as well as neurological differences. My brother is a functioning young adult, who can put his own clothes on in the morning, and make his own meals. There are things he struggles with, though. He doesn’t need anyone to take care of him—he’s not going to forget to breathe—but he does need some help. It has been hard for him to learn skills that others take for granted, like managing his finances, and navigating the world around him. The biggest problem he faces is discrimination. He has needed assistance finding work, and keeping it, because people don’t understand him. They don’t understand that, while he’s not so good in an interview, he’s good at the work that he’s looking for, he can follow directions to a T, and he’ll never let you down. They keep firing him, because he doesn’t want to engage in certain adult-oriented conversations, and I think that some people just don’t like the way he looks or talks. You can tell that he has T21, because of its defining characteristics, and instead of being accepting, they just want everyone to be the same. One other area he needs help with is healthcare, which is where I come in. He lives with me, and I accompany him on his appointments, which he needs, because he’s at a higher risk of developing true medical conditions. This is what happened. He now has Leukemia, and we’ve been treating it accordingly. We wanted to get him cured, but we were worried what it would do to him. What exactly are Mr. Tipton’s limits? What exactly is a “disease”?

Trisomy 21 is a part of who my brother is, and he does not need to be “cured” of it, but we weren’t sure if the healing process did consider it a disease. The literature says that Landis doesn’t control it. He breathes, and the breath cures everything. After further research, however, we felt assured that he would be all right. They called T21 a condition of state, and not within Mr. Tipton’s purview. As always, I took him to his appointment, and we stayed in a tent, with plans to be there for two nights while we waited. When we woke up one morning, my brother wanted to go on a walk, which we do regularly. Unfortunately, we are not familiar with this area, and didn’t know what to expect. I slipped on some wet leaves on a hill, tried to grab a log on instinct to keep from falling, and ended up with that log on top of me. I was impaled by a sharp snag. I told my brother to run for help while I, dazed and confused, pulled the snag off, stood up, and started limping back. Here was the new question, would Landis agree to help me since I was injured on the property? The answer was no, but he was not without mercy. He used his other gifts on me instead. He sang me to contentment, and soothed my pain through touch. This allowed me to make it to the hospital, which was pretty far away, without being in agony the whole time, but also without breaking their rule against healing injuries. They even let my brother cut in line, so he could get his cure in time to go with me in the ambulance. I think they keep an ambulance on hand now because of this incident, so that’s kind of cool.

Microstory 2522: Patient Advocate

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I don’t work for the foundation. I am a professional Medical Advocate working for a medical outreach agency, which is commonly employed for patients who need a little extra help navigating the process. I’ve been doing this job since long before the Foundation was even the spark of an idea. Some patients get confused, or know their personalities and skillsets well enough to not trust themselves with being solely responsible for their own medical data. A healthy fraction of such patients have family members or friends who can help them through such difficult and complex processes, but there are others who aren’t so lucky. My agency has a long history of providing chaperoning service to patients who don’t want to be in the exam rooms alone with their medical providers. We help them ask questions, and understand the answers. We help them make their follow-up appointments, and fill their prescriptions. This is typically a paid service that you can find all over the world, but we can do it free of charge for Breath of Life patients through a special program where the Foundation pays for our services on behalf of their neediest patients. Again, I don’t work for Landis, but I’ve become particularly familiar with their practices and procedures, and can help each client get through the process safely and comfortably. Some of them are suffering from dementia, or related conditions, and require that one-on-one care. I tell ya, this is the most rewarding job I’ve ever had. Before this, I did a lot of crying, because I was handling patients who were at their worst. They weren’t getting better, and many of them remained my clients until they died. I’ve been to a lot of funerals throughout the run of my career. Well, not anymore. All of my patients live now, which is something I never thought I would see in my lifetime. I watch as a client with Alzheimer’s becomes suddenly lucid, and in a way that is not going to be undone the next time she sneezes or closes her eyes. This is it. This is what people like me have been hoping for our entire lives. I absolutely love it when a client stops needing my services, not because they die or can’t afford it anymore, but because they’re healthy now. And it gets me every single time. I guess I’m still crying, but they’re tears of joy now. I feel for my colleagues in the industry who don’t work here, who are still going through what I was before. They wish they could have my job, but there are only so many positions. They’re excited about the panacea. Even though it will mean the end of their jobs, they can’t wait for it, because it’s the best outcome possible. I’m pretty excited about what the future holds too.

Microstory 2515: Appointment Coordinator

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Hello. I have been the Appointment Coordinator here for about two years. Before that, I was the Assistant Appointment Coordinator, which is a position that is no longer offered at the Foundation. Don’t worry, no one was fired. My boss, who had this job before me, had to move with his family to a different part of the country. His son secured a job working at a prestigious university, and the family wanted to stay together, even though the son is obviously fully an adult now. We’re still friends, and stay in contact. There is a reason why my previous job wasn’t backfilled, and it’s because it’s no longer necessary. Over time, we’ve incorporated more and more technology—specifically artificial intelligence—into our operating procedures. We are nowhere near a place where the application process is automated, but I no longer get a look at most appointments. I predominantly handle what we call Appeals. When you apply to get a healing from Landis, the system goes through a number of checks. First, it needs to confirm your identity, which you do either with a credit card, or facial recognition. You have to upload your medical records to make sure that you legitimately have a condition that even qualifies for healing. The system has to handshake a number of various medical databases to confirm this legitimacy. If we’re not partnered with your provider, you will have to upload your documents to them instead. We don’t need your entire life’s story. We don’t need to know every time you went in for a broken arm. We just need to know what’s wrong with you now, and what—if anything—you’ve done for it in regards to treatment so far. Similarly, you are expected to provide your financial records, and we have partnered with many financial institutions for the handshakes on that side of things too. We need to know if you’re rich, not-so-rich, or very not rich. That determines whether you pay for the procedure, or qualify for additional charity. I coordinate with other departments, like Patient Experience and Finance, to make sure everything has gone through smoothly. If everything is processed correctly, and there are no errors, the AI will find a slot for the candidate, give the patient all the necessary information, and everything will be ready to go. I only need to step in when an applicant is not only rejected, but also appeals this decision. We have an automated system for them to log their appeal too, but a human has to see all of that, so they can make a decision on the matter. I am that human. I look through every single appeal, and reach out to the applicant as necessary, as well as their associated institutions. I am not at liberty to divulge what percentage of applications are rejected, but if you think about it, I’m only one person. There is only so much time in a day, and I can only do so much with that time. Most rejections come from fraudulent claims, which the computer almost always catches appropriately. If I’m looking at it, it’s probably because the fraudster is still hoping to complete whatever scam they’re going for. I also can’t tell you how many appeals overturn the original decision, but...it’s very rare. It’s really only when there’s some missing data in the application that the computer couldn’t catch, because it doesn’t know what it wasn’t told. When this happens, I submit a reapplication, and it goes back through the automated system, but it’s flagged for me so I can keep an eye on the progress. In case it runs into another issue, it holds priority, and doesn’t end up at the bottom of the appeals list again. That’s just a little bit about what I do here. It’s a lot, but I absolutely love it.

Extremus: Year 99

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Tinaya is in a little trouble. It’s not enough to get her fired, or stripped of her rank, but she’s been in a lot of meetings over the last few months. Everyone in these meetings pretty much tells her that it’s no big deal. Which is weird. Because if they’re being honest, who exactly thinks that it is a big deal, because someone keeps prompting more discussions. She thought it was over, and the crew and the council had moved on, but Captain Jennings is presently walking down Admiral Hall, and she doesn’t know what to make of it. He might be here to see Lataran instead, but given the circumstances, probably not. Thistle knows that the man needs no introduction, so upon Oceanus’ approach, the door opens automatically.

“Captain,” Tinaya says, respectfully with a nod.

“Admiral.” In every single other iteration of organizational ranks that include captain and admiral, the latter is the superior officer. It seems obvious. It’s a promotion, after all, and that is no less true here. But the whole point of the captaincy is to have a singular voice in charge of the ship. This relegates any admiral to an advisory role. They had their opportunities to enact policy and procedures, and now that is over. As clear and unambiguous as the responsibilities are listed in the handbook, it can make moments like these somewhat awkward. The book doesn’t, and can’t, encapsulate how these two should behave around each other. If they were robots, it would be easy and obvious, but at the end of the day, they’re both just people, and they can’t take emotions, or their history, out of the equation.

“How nice of you to visit our corner of paradise.” She means this genuinely.

“Yes, that’s what I would like to talk to you about.”

She nods silently.

“We’ve been in meetings for the last million years, but we’ve not had the chance to talk one-on-one. Where’s Lataran?”

“I dunno,” Tinaya replies. “Somewhere else.”

“I just—can we sit?”

“Of course. Right here.” Tinaya pivots her guest chair so he can sit down, then instead of going around to the other side of her desk, sits down across from him in one of Lataran’s guest chairs.

“I wanted to make sure you understand that I am not angry at you, or embarrassed for myself. I appreciate your candor, and admire your dedication to transparency. I would like to model my shift on it, and will be leaning on you for your guidance in such matters.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she explains. “I wasn’t complaining. Truthfully, I don’t know how we ended up in that part of the interview. He asked me a question, and I answered it. My only filter was whether it was classified information or not. I should have been more careful.”

“I’m the one who should be apologizing,” Oceanus goes on. “It bothers me that they kept making you do it over and over again. Every time they brought someone new in, they acted like the interview was a personal attack on this person too, and that isn’t what was happening. If I can be truthful, I didn’t realize that you were missing in my life. Perhaps if I had made an effort to meet with you once after my induction ceremony, it would have been encoded in my memory, and I would have come to you more often. There have been times over the last few years where I’ve struggled, and I could have used the counsel. I placed too much burden on my lieutenants, and did not recognize your value. For that, I’m sorry.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Tinaya says, “and graceful.” That doesn’t seem like quite the right word, but she’s not going to find a new one, and correct herself.

There’s a brief unawkward moment of silence before Oceanus speaks again. “I would like to set up regular meetings with the two of you. Perhaps you and I can talk on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and I can have Lataran on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays?”

“I’m sure she would be amenable to that,” Tinaya says. While Lataran has gotten better at busying herself with other tasks, her number one job is to be available every day, so Tinaya doesn’t have to ask her if the proposed schedule will work.

“Perfect. And on the seventh day, God rested.”

“Who is God in this metaphor?”

Oceanus averts his gaze to consider it. “The ship itself.” He pauses another moment. “Or one of the zebra fish that the secondary school first years genetically engineer to learn about digital DNA.” Now it’s a bit awkward.

“So, uh...it’s Tuesday.”

“Yeah,” Ocean replies quickly, standing up. “Let’s start next week. You can fill Lataran in, and if she wants to change things up, we can talk about it.”

“Okay. It was nice to see you, Captain. Thanks for stopping by.”

“Are we okay?” he asks.

“We’re great. Don’t worry. I don’t know if you need to be transparent with everyone all the time, but as long as you’re honest with me, we’ll be okay.”

“Thanks.”

Lataran walks into the room with her head down as she’s unsealing the front of her uniform. “Oh my God, the self-sizing function on my suit is acting up. I can’t breathe.” Finally, she looks up, surprised. “Captain, you’re here.” She looks back down. “And my bare breasts are out.” She closes her uniform back up.

“Forgive the intrusion, Admiral.” He starts walking past her to the door. “I’ll wait one day to file my report with the Conduct Department, so you can get your side of the story in first.”

“Thank you, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“It doesn’t bother me on principle. I just want to ensure that you feel safe and comfortable.” He exits.

“Am I in trouble now too?” Lataran asks.

“Exposure isn’t illegal,” Tinaya reminds her, “even in the workplace. Conduct just needs a record of the incident. I’m more worried about what I just saw, and what it means. Or what it could mean.”

“What do you mean?” Lataran questions. “What does what mean? Mean. What did I just say? Just tell me what you’re talking about.”

“We’ve known each other our whole lives, right? Which is why you were comfortable changing right in front of me, when you thought it was just the two of us, of course.”

“I should think so. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Exactly. And in that time, your size hasn’t changed much.”

“Are you saying I’m getting fat?”

“I’m saying that...part of you...kind of looks like...it might be. They...might be.”

“Oh my God, am I pregnant?”

“Maybe.”

“I’m sixty-four years old!”

“I was sixty-four when I had Silveon.”

“Yeah, and that was weird. You’re weird, I’m normal.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

Lataran unseals the front of her uniform again, and looks down. “Oh my God.” She looks up, and covers her chest. Then she pulls her suit away to look down again, as if she’s going to get different results. “Oh my God!”

“It will be okay, Latty. I figured it out. So will you.”

“You had Arqut!”

“Who’s your Arqut?”

“Some guy. We’re not close.”

“That’s okay. You’re not alone. Whatever you decide, I support you.”

Lataran purses her lips and nods. She’s appreciative of her friend, but that isn’t the issue. “Thistle? Am I pregnant?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I assumed you knew.”

“Why would you assume that?”

“You had a medical check-up last week, and I am not privy to those appointments. They would have been able to confirm it for you quite easily.”

“That’s true,” Lataran agrees.

“Due to her advanced age, however,” Tinaya begins, “pregnancy is unusual. They would not have necessarily tested for it. You, on the other hand, test wellness passively constantly.”

“That is also true,” Thistle confirms. “I should have said something earlier. I will be sure to do better in the future.”

“I hope that future doesn’t involve me getting pregnant a second time,” Lataran laments. “And I forgive you, Thistle. Perhaps an overhaul of our medical monitoring program needs to be addressed. I shouldn’t have to ask for any test that can be detected automatically.” She’s right. Most people in the stellar neighborhood of Earth maintain persistent diagnostic tools wherever they go using the medical nanites swimming in their blood. Even those who don’t want nanites that are sophisticated enough to treat their conditions automatically have some kind of tracking system in place, like an implant. Extremus has strayed away from these transhumanistic upgrades because they could lead to virtual immortality. That would go against the mandate of this ship, which is that everyone dies, and not everyone will live to see the home planet. Perhaps that should be reëvaluated too, though, since it’s a damn lie.

Tinaya doesn’t want to sound critical or judgmental here, but this may be the most sensitive way to put it. “There are ways to be more careful.”

“I know,” Lataran admits. “I should have kept an eye on it. But my doctor should have spotted it too. It sounds like there’s a real issue. I may not be the only one. There could be a bad batch of reproduction regulators for all we know.” Birth control has long been perfected. Like medical diagnosis and treatment, the stellar neighborhood has access to nanites to control all of the body’s functions. Since that is forbidden on the ship, anyone who wants to have purely recreational sex should receive an injection to suppress the brain signals that trigger reproduction. It can be turned back off with a second injection, and will remain in place until such time that it is reversed intentionally...except in one case. Anyone who is destined to experience menopause is required by law to switch over to an alternative variation of the injection which does wear off over time. Well, time isn’t what wears it down. It’s sex. The more often you have it, the more you butt up against the neural programming, and the less it resists, so you have to receive renewal injections accordingly. It’s an unfortunate but necessary tradeoff. Menopause can’t occur at all with the more robust silencing enzyme, and preventing menopause has been shown to have negative health consequences. Just as it has always been, though, women bear the brunt of the responsibility.

“I assume that you’ve been going to the chief medical officer?”

“Yeah,” Lataran answers. “Well, Radomil hasn’t ever been able to see me personally. The Senior Executive Physician has performed my last three check-ups.”

“This is Dr. Gunnarsson?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, he did my check-ups too. It’s unusual. The CMO is supposed to personally handle all medical needs for admirals, captains, and lieutenants.”

“Yeah. Do you want me to go over his head?”

“No.” Tinaya shakes her head while thinking about it. She looks over her shoulder, in the general direction of the secret mini-Nexus hidden in the floor. “Dr. Cernak is in charge of the entire ship’s medical personnel, including the passenger side of things. The most removed we can get from him is the Hock doctor, but they do have regular meetings together, so I’m not even entirely comfortable with that.”

“What would you suggest?” Lataran asks, not having noticed where Tinaya was looking.

“You need to go to Verdemus. That is an entirely separate team. They are not in contact. The more I think about this, the more concerned I become that there’s something going on. Two old women having babies; as you said, it’s weird.”

“I don’t think that I should go through the Nexus,” Lataran determines. “Omega and Valencia never warned us not to, but it just seems...risky.”

Tinaya nods. “You’re right, I agree. I’ll go get whoever it is, and bring them back here for a house call. We won’t tell anyone else, not even Arqy.”

Lataran has been frowning for a while, but now she exaggerates it. “Thank you.”

“While I’m gone, pull up the records. Find out how many other old mothers there are, if any. I’m not saying it’s a conspiracy—it might not be—but...it might be.”

And so Tinaya goes off to the home away from home planet of Verdemus, hoping to convince a doctor there to come back and secretly examine a patient. Everyone there is really helpful, and the doctor in question returns with no argument. She doesn’t even complain when Tinaya asks to blindfold her, and teleport her to the Admiral office, which could have been on the other side of the ship, but in reality, they were already in it. Before the exam even begins, though, Lataran has news. Women who should be old enough to be post-menopausal are getting pregnant left and right. They are crewmembers and passengers alike. It’s a growing trend with no apparent explanation, and neither of them is sure who they can go to about this, because they don’t know who to trust. They end up seeking help from the Bridger Section, but it turns out to be a mistake. They’re not just in on it. They’re spearheading it.

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Microstory 2417: Racetrack Dome

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I’m gonna say this real slow. This is a racetrack dome, which means there are...racetracks. That’s all it is. It’s hundreds of racetracks just all over tarnation. A racetrack here, a racetrack there. There’s even a track that runs the entire circumference of the dome, which is something like 260 kilometers. That sounds boring to me, but hey, you do you, right? I would much rather stay close to the inner tracks. They’re so much more interesting. The vehicles are electric, obviously, but they’re also electromagnetic. This allows them to do all sorts of crazy stuff, like drive up the wall, or even do loop-de-loops. There are jumps and shortcuts, and drops into rivers of lava. Yeah, this particular dome was chosen for its proximity to a volcano. The volcano isn’t inside the dome, and if there were ever an eruption, there are safeguards in place to seal off the lava flow, and protect the dome. But as long as everything’s copacetic, it’s there. Plus, they have clear emergency procedures in place. I mean, this hasn’t actually happened since I’ve been here, so there’s no way to know how effective their plans are, but they claim to be ready. Of course, the lava they do have is dangerous, as are all of the other tracks. Well, almost all of them. They have bumper cars, and some go-kart tracks too, for the kids, or people who want something a little lighter. If you do get hurt, and don’t want to just jump your consciousness to a new body, they have excellent medical teams on standby. I was never injured, but I did walk in once to find someone having just crashed on one of the traditional intermediate tri-ovals. I heard the collision from the corridor, and by the time I rounded the corner, they were already loading the driver into an ambulance. I asked after him later, and he’s fine; didn’t even have to switch to a new body. I can’t even begin to describe what other kinds of tracks they have here, but if you’ve ever played a racing video game, they’re pretty much all recreated here. They don’t have boats, planes, or spaceships, though. Man, people kept asking about that. I’ll say again, it’s a racetrack dome, not races in general. Look for that in another dome. I’m sure they’re somewhere. I see all these negative reviews from morons who are disappointed when the name alone tells you everything you need to know. Just think it through, and you’ll be pleased with what you find.

Microstory 2414: Adrenadome

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TRIGGER WARNING. I want to talk about laws here, but I’m not going to say which laws specifically right away, because if my review ends up in a blurb, then it could get banned—or shadowbanned—for perpetuating harmful ideas. I think I need a few extra words to be safe sooooooo, there we go. Suicide laws. That’s what I mean. Back in the old days, when death meant the end of everything, and there was no going back, it was illegal in many places to attempt or commit suicide. Over time, these laws were changed to account for people’s unique desires and needs. Suicide and assisted suicide became necessary evils in certain situations, especially when a slow, painful death was the only other option on the table. The funny thing is, over time after that, these laws had to adapt again. Once they started sufficiently treating, or even curing, certain previously life-threatening medical conditions, the reasons for wanting to unalive yourself began to disappear at about the same rate. People stopped having very good excuses for not wanting to be alive anymore. Progress in mental health research, the proliferation of advanced medical solutions, and the drive towards a post-scarcity economy, among other factors, contributed to a healthier society overall. The development of more extreme technologies, like maximal longevity treatments, transhumanistic or cybernetic enhancements, and consciousness uploading and transference made it practically impossible to justify ending your own life, or anyone else’s, for that matter. Even the language of the relevant laws shifted to phrases like “reckless self-destruction” or “consciousness back-up endangerment”. Self-harm became illegal once again. Whereas before, dying meant taking maybe only a hundred years from someone’s potential future, now you’re potentially robbing you or someone else of the rest of eternity until the heat death of the universe. That should be profoundly immoral and unethical in anyone’s book. They’re even talking about making normal biological humans illegal, with some arguing that letting yourself die after a pitiful century is tantamount to suicide when framed as a negligible blip in the full timeline of reality. I don’t know about that. What we’re talking about is your body, your choice. Anything short of total freedom in that regard is hypocritical when you really think about it. Castlebourne is a Charter planet, which means that it doesn’t have to follow Core World Law. They still do, for the most part, having modeled their legal system on what came before, but they’re also free to make some changes, such as the definitions of those phrases above, like reckless self-destruction. What does reckless even mean? Does it mean jumping out of an airplane without a parachute—a new extreme sport, which they call skydying? Adrenadome is attempting to test the boundaries of what you’re allowed to do with your own body. I’m not gonna just list the extreme sports that can be found here. You can look them up. They’re all available, along with variants that forgo safety measures entirely, and just let you die, knowing that your mind will wake up in a back-up body moments later. Not everyone is gonna like it. I personally don’t. I came here to study the concept, because I’m a scholar of law. But it’s certainly interesting that these philosophical questions about the meaning of life and death get to play out in the real world, and no longer only on the lips, or the page.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 15, 2497

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Like a bunch of idiots, Team Matic lost the plot. Ramses and Leona were absorbed in trying to understand neutrinos, and everyone else was just relieved to have their friends back. They totally forgot the only question that mattered. Who was the scary neutrino monster, and how were trillions of neutrinos sentient? As simple of an explanation as there was for their profound overestimation of the intelligence of these subatomic particle clusters, that thing’s awareness of its surroundings could not be in doubt. It was shaped like a person. It moved like one, and at one point, it was reportedly trying to communicate. It had a mind of some kind, perhaps as a disembodied consciousness that attracted, or could control, the neutrinos, like Buddy. They had to go back to Dome 216 for more answers.

“It’s...gone,” Olimpia stated the obvious. They were standing in the space between domes, exposed to the harsh environment that was Castlebourne’s natural state. There should have been a geodesic dome here, but it was just a deep crater under open space. They didn’t know that it was going to be like this. Out of an abundance of caution, Mateo insisted on taking Romana back to Castledome for medical treatment. She was only exposed to the vacuum for a few seconds before her suit automatically formed itself around her to protect her, but she wasn’t expecting it, and could still be suffering from the effects. Hers wasn’t an upgraded substrate designed to withstand such deadly conditions unaided.

“This is it,” Leona said. “We’re where it once was. Hrockas completely destroyed it somehow.”

Ramses was checking his sensors. “No radiation, so he didn’t blow it up.”

“Could they have dismantled it?” Marie asked. “I mean, it’s been a whole year for everyone else.”

“Baudin could have taken the dome itself down relatively quickly,” Leona explained. “That’s not the problem. The question is what would have left this crater. Maybe they dug it out to be certain that all of those dark particles were gone.”

“We could go ask,” Angela offered.

“I already tried, we’ve been cut off,” Leona contended,

“What? Why?”

“It’s nothing personal,” Leona went on. “He just has to focus on the upcoming grand opening event. We’re no longer in the inner circle. We claimed to be leaving a few years ago, so he wasn’t expecting us to still be here.”

“So the neutrino monster is his problem now,” Marie decided, “and we can finally leave.”

“I still have questions,” Ramses complained.

Leona patted him on the shoulder. “You always will. This isn’t our home. We’ve overstayed our welcome, and we gotta go.”

They didn’t leave right away. Leona allowed Ramses to take some soil samples, and other residual readings. Everyone else on the team spent the rest of the day seeing their loved ones one last time. Mateo focused on his other two daughters, but also spent a little time with his once-parents, Aura and Mario, his once-brother, Darko, and Darko’s daughter, Dar’cy. She showed up a couple years ago, but never reached out to them, for whatever reason. They didn’t even know if she still had all her special powers, which Dubra lost when her consciousness was transferred to her new body.

Goodbyes were always hard, and they never seemed to last long enough, but at some point, they just had to decide that it was over. They congregated on the outside of Ramses’ lab. To protect it, he trapped it in a temporal bubble, sunk it into the ground, and disguised it as an unremarkable rock formation. These weren’t holograms, but solid objects. People knew that it was around here somewhere, but perhaps they would forget precisely where, and after being unable to find it, give up, and move on. Or they would indeed make their way into the rooms, and cause some damage. The team couldn’t live their lives in the what-ifs, so they washed their hands of it, and teleported away.

They were floating in orbit now. Well, they weren’t really in orbit. They were just fully outside the atmosphere, and in freefall. Since they had no means of propulsion, they would eventually burn up in the atmosphere and die if they didn’t leave. They could hang here for a moment, though, and admire the planet from such an amazing vantage point.

“Do you think we’ll ever come back here?” Romana asked. She was all better now. Space exposure was an easy fix these days.

“It’s almost inevitable,” Ramses mused. “We always go back.”

“Really?” When’s the last time you were in Egypt?”

Ramses pointed. “I think that’s Giza.” It was impossible to tell from this elevation, but it could have indeed been the replica of the Great Pyramids that Baudin built under one of the domes.

Some of them chuckled. Then they continued to fall, and watch the ground get just a little bit closer. “Y’all ready for this?” Leona asked, knowing that they didn’t have much time left before it became unsafe even for them.

“I’ve been running diagnostics on the tandem slingdrives,” Ramses said. “They look good. We’re in the violet.”

“Okay,” Leona said. “Yalla.”

They decided to follow through with their plan to fly blindly by merely activating the slingdrives, and letting it send them wherever. They weren’t going to navigate, or think about where they wanted to go. They wanted fate to take over, come what may. The web of technicolors formed around them, and sent them away.

They emerged from the quintessence cocoon in a room. It was dark, with the only lights appearing over what looked like an altar on the far wall. There were other objects around them, like tables and glass cases, but it was hard to make anything out. There weren’t any dark particles flying around them, though, so they were presumably not in the neutrino dimension again. Ramses looked at his arm interface. “Atmosphere: Earth perfect. No toxins detected.” He collapsed his helmet back into his neck. Everyone followed suit, so to speak.

As soon as they were exposed to the air, an alarm blared, and a red light flashed. They all passed out at the same time, and fell to the floor.

Mateo Matic woke up in his bed. He gently lifted the blanket and sheets off of his body so he wouldn’t wake up his wife, but it was too cold in the room. Most women preferred it to be warmer than men, but Leona was the opposite. She kept turning the thermostat down. Part of him thought that maybe she did it so he wouldn’t sneak out of bed every morning. She was right about that. He quivered, and put the covers back down. Five more minutes wasn’t gonna hurt anyone. Besides, what was the boss gonna do? Fire him? He was the boss!

Leona groaned and turned over. When she saw that her husband was still there, she smiled and nuzzled his neck. Then she grabbed him by the shoulders. “I’ve trapped you!”

“Oh no!” he cried jokingly. “What can I do to escape you?”

“Kiss me.”

He kissed her.

She took her lips off of his, and tilted her head all the way back away from. “No! I know what that kiss means! That’s a goodbye kiss!” she complained.

He really did have to go. He was onboarding a new assistant today, and needed some time to get some actual work done before she came in. They didn’t make him Fleet Commander of the Central Midwest because he couldn’t make it to his destinations on time. “I promise to be home in time for dinner.”

“Good. Romana’s cooking, and she’ll be disappointed if you don’t make it.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great.” He gave her another goodbye kiss, then jumped out of bed, shivering all the way into the bathroom.

Once he was finished getting ready, he ran downstairs to catch his ride. Of course, as the big man on campus, he could absolutely afford his own car, but he wanted to support his own business, and stay in touch with his people. He always called a driver so the public would know that he believed in his company. He wasn’t famous, per se, but if he were ever to be interviewed—say, by the local news—hopefully this would help his image. He didn’t know, maybe it was stupid, but it was important to him.

“Dad, you’re missing breakfast again.”

“Sorry, I gotta go. Boyd M. is coming, and you know how obsessed he is with his q stats.”

“Wait, give me a kiss,” Romana urged, tapping her own cheek.

When he leaned it to kiss her, she faked him out, and stuffed a piece of toast in his mouth. “Thanks, honey,” he said, grabbing it with his hand so it wouldn’t fall to the floor.

“Most important meal of the day!” she said as she was running back off to the kitchen. “Your tea is by the door!”

Mateo’s watch dinged. “Thanks again!” He ran outside to find Boyd M.’s car waiting for him on the street, next to the driveway.

“Hi, neighbor!” It was one of the Walton twins, digging around in her flowers. Actually, they were his flowers, but she had a lot of time on her hands, so he never complained about her crossing the property line. He could never tell her apart from her sister, mostly because they lived together, always matched their outfits, and acted like the same woman. If he hadn’t ever seen them both at the same time, he would think she was just a crazy person who sometimes wanted to be called a different name.

“Hi...you.”

“Say hi to me too!” the other twin asked after appearing from behind a bush.

“Hi to me too!” Mateo joked. He walked over to the car, and shook his head. “We talked about this, Boyd. You’re only gonna be here for thirty seconds. Park in the driveway. If someone needs you to move, you move!”

“Your door is on the left side of your driveway,” Boyd defended. “Studies have shown that they prefer to step into our cars from the passenger side.”

“Okay, I personally don’t care about walking around, but a solution would be to take a moment to back in.”

“You got it, boss.”

“Great.” He opened the front door, and climbed in. A regular customer wouldn’t do this, but Boyd was his employee. They needed to be on the same level here. It was about respect. Speaking of which, Mateo noticed that Boyd was looking around Mateo’s head, back at the house. Mateo turned to see the curtain in the parlor fall back into place. “She’s sixteen,” he reminded him.

“What? I was just admiring your flowers. Tulips?” Boyd cleared his throat uncomfortably, and began to drive away.

“Daisies.”

The regional RideSauce branch wasn’t too far away. Once he secured this promotion, Mateo could pretty much live wherever he wanted within this region, and they would find affordable office space to accommodate him. Not every region had a local office, but it was growing in popularity in recent years. That was what set them apart from their competitors. They only had corporate offices. They didn’t care about their drivers, and never reached out to the communities. Their drivers weren’t even considered real employees, but contractors. There was this whole lawsuit surrounding the status of their personnel, which cost these other companies millions. RideSauce managed to avoid all of that by treating their workers with the respect they deserved from the very beginning. It was why they were now number one in this country, as well as in many others. Boyd stopped in front of the door, and let him out.

“Thanks! Five stars!” Mateo found his new hire waiting at the door. “Miss Sangster, you’re early.”

“If you’re early, you’re on time; if you’re on time, you’re late; if you’re late, you’re fired.”

Mateo smiled as he was starting to unlock the door. “We don’t operate like that here. We’re more chill. But I appreciate the initiative.”

Before he could manage to unlock the door, it opened. His engineer, Ramses was on the other side. “You’re a bit late, boss.”

“Then I guess I’m fired.” He gave Olimpia wink. “Come on in.”

Before this, Olimpia was living in Lincoln, Nebraska. Until today, they had only ever spoken on video chat. So she needed a tour of the offices. It didn’t take long. He took it seriously, but still casually. “This is the congregation area, where we can talk to drivers if there are any questions, comments, or concerns. This is the front desk, you’ll probably spend a lot of time here. Kitchenette to the right, bathroom to the left.” He gave her the side-eye. “Sorry, there’s only one, but there are only three of us, so we should be fine. That back there is the server room, which is Ramses’ workspace, and that’s my cubicle. There’s technically a basement, but we’re only allowed to use it in case of a tornado emergency. It connects to a store next door called Pregger Craves, which uses it for storage.”

“Pregger Craves? What does that mean?”

“They’re open 24/7, and only sell foods that are most commonly associated with pregnancy cravings. You got your ice cream, but you also have...pickles.”

“Oh, that’s what that smell is.”

Mateo chuckles. “I give it a year.” There was a short awkward pause. “Well, you can drop your bag down anywhere. Rambo, please make sure her computer is set up how she wants it.” He turned around while he was taking a sip of his tea, and gazed out the window. “Let’s keep the Midwest moving,” he said to himself.

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Microstory 2388: Vacuus, December 11, 2179

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Dear Condor,

Don’t think I don’t remember what you told me the last time you sent a message to just me. I was going to address it right away, because that’s huge news, but then the Valkyries came, and Velia wanted to send a joint letter, and then you sent a joint letter back, and I’m also trying to keep up with our Winfield Files Book and TV Show Club in case the long-cycle interrupts us for years, and my mind has been so preoccupied with so many other things. Okay. So. Your nurse. Madalena. You hypothesized that she may have been tied to the twin study, but you didn’t seem all that convinced about it. It sounded like you maybe just thought that it was a possibility, which it always was. It’s crazy that you turned out to be right. I’m glad to know a little more, but I’m worried about you. That must have been a hard conversation to have. I watched the recording of the video chat that you sent, and your voice started getting a little trembly when it became apparent to you how involved she was with the whole secret program. Maybe you were just a bit cold, or needed some water, and if you tell me that something like that is the explanation, I’ll believe you. I just want to make sure that you’re okay. I don’t want to put any dark ideas in your head, but I can imagine that it felt like a violation, her taking care of you with ulterior motives. I hope she was telling the truth that she never made you sick, and was genuinely treating you for the regretful condition you were born with. It shows that she wasn’t a total monster. A true scientific observer wouldn’t allow themselves to interfere. To answer your question, Elek Katona is Velia’s father. She and I became friends because he was friends with my mother. He wasn’t even on my list of suspects, not because I didn’t think he would ever be that kind of person, but because he’s not a medical professional of any kind. He’s responsible for breeding and raising the insects that we brought with us as a protein source. I guess that’s just his cover? Sort of weird. I don’t know why an entomologist would be recruited for a human experiment, but maybe he has a secret educational background as well? I’ve not had the courage to confront him about it. I’ve not even told Velia, which I think I should do first. If it ruins my relationship with that family, I don’t want her to be blindsided. But obviously I’m very nervous. I don’t know how it’s gonna go, and he may not be the only one here. I’m already paranoid about who I’ve known all my life who might have been studying me and my behavior. Knowing about one of them has actually made it worse, because that sounds more like a conspiracy. You were able to move away from your nurse and neighbor. Whoever it turned out to be on my end, they were bound to still be here. But I’ll figure it out. I’ll build the willpower to pursue, and maybe get us a few more answers.

Thanks for lookin’ out,

Corinthia

PS: I support you and Velia, and whatever choices you make when it comes to your bond. I won’t stand in your way.