Microstory 2718: Whatever it Takes

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Isavet has been allowed visitors, but she hasn’t allowed anyone in. She said what she wanted to say to her family, and heard what she wanted to hear from them. She may see them again one day, but she might not. Until then, she wants to be alone. That is evidently not an option this time. The so-called owner of the entire planet is here. He wants to speak with her personally, which sounds incredibly ridiculous to her. She has to remember, though, that genuine murder is all but impossible these days, out here in the real world. The fact that she attempted it probably shook everyone to their core, so it makes some sense that he would want to meet the killer.

“May I sit?” a man named Hrockas Steward asks. He’s flanked by his personal bodyguard, Azad Petit, who is the one who warned the family about Talus’ indiscretions.

“It’s all yours, sir,” Isavet replies. The way she sees it, the sentence has been handed down. She’s going to the same place where her brother is. She doesn’t have to pretend to be unhinged anymore. She can be polite and cordial.

While Azad remains a statue next to him, Hrockas sits and adjusts his outfit. “Has anyone ever explained to you where you’re going in terms that you understand?”

“A friend of mine told me about Varkas Reflex,” Isavet begins, referring to Caleb. “It’s not like a regular prison. For most people, only their minds are there. They convert your thoughts and memories into tiny flashes of light, and throw your body away.”

Hrockas smiles, and doesn’t quite chuckle, but he clearly wants to. “That’s one way to put it. If you choose the right simulations, you will one day understand it even better. And I do hope you do that. I know that Danmörk speaks to you, but there is so much more out there, and you can have it all without moving a centimeter. Miss Truett, you’re special. That body you’re in right now is the only one you have ever had. It is for that reason that it is illegal for anyone to destroy it. Even if your mind is safely uploaded to a server, it just can’t be done. So where you’re going, you get to keep it.”

“Yes, my friend told me about that too, before the lawspeaker explained.”

Hrockas nods and leans forward. “On the planet in question, there are very few people in quarantine. It’s just not something that needs to be done. The majority of the population are there for recreation. It’s not unlike Castlebourne, except you the world can be anything you want, even if it would break the laws of physics. Honestly, it’s technically better than what we have. One day, my planet will be shut down. It’s cool, doing all these things in base reality, but it’s not gonna last forever. In millions of years, the idea of having a physical body at all will probably seem quaint. Until then, if you want your pick of VR, you go to Varkas Reflex. The initials are a very lucky coincidence.

“Anyway, the quarantine zone, as you might imagine, is far separated from everyone else, and it’s quite small. They anticipated a few guests such as yourself and your brother, but not many. My primary adjudicator has a particular affinity for it. There actually are still physical penal colonies for those who have also not been digitized. She almost sent you to one of those. I’m glad she chose otherwise.”

“Sir?” Isavet asks. Why would he care where she goes?

Hrockas leans forward even more. “I know what your plan is.”

“Sir?” she repeats.

“You are not as opaque as you believe. Don’t worry,” Hrockas assures her, “I don’t think your family sees it. They’re young. They don’t know what life was like when we had scarcity. They tend to see the best in people. I’ve seen the darkness. I see it in you. And you’re smarter than they give you credit for. I know you knew what would happen when you killed that couple. I know you wanted to get sent to Varkas Reflex, and I know why.”

“I just want to pay for my transgressions,” Isavet lies.

He doesn’t hold back a laugh this time. “The Viking boy must have told you a lot about virtual quarantine. When you go there, you will not be in the same room as the younger Talus. You will not see him unless I let you. I’ve made quite a name for myself in this galaxy, so I have friends. I can give you what you need to do what you are hoping to do, but in exchange, I’m going to need something from you.”

Oh, there it is. “And what’s that?” Isavet asks.

Hrockas turns his head towards his bodyguard, but doesn’t actually look up at him. “Plausible deniability.”

“Sir,” Azad protests.

“I’m backed up. Go,” Hrockas insists.

Azad clears his throat, and looks at Isavet. “I have a license to kill. I’ll need it to fight in the war that’s coming, but I’ll use it now if you give me a reason, even if he survives anyway. So think about that before you do something stupid.” He disappears.

Isavet is so shocked. Are they already in the mind prison, or is there more going on with this world than she understands?

Hrockas turns back at her. “You and Talus Junior are not the only people in quarantine. Most of the people, I don’t care about, but there is one which threatens every living being in the universe. She’s smart. She was born in a virtual world, and she is incredibly patient. She will find a way to break out one day. What I need you to do is break out first. You can kill your brother, but I need you to kill this other entity as well. It won’t be easy, but I can give you the tools. Are you up for it?”

“This feels like a trick; like you’re waiting for me to confess to my intentions so you have a reason to imprison me somewhere else,” Isavet worries.

“I own the planet. If I want something to happen, it does. I don’t need a reason. This is real. You don’t have to admit to anything. Just submit to a simple procedure.”

“What kind of procedure would this be?”

“An undetectable implant in your brain,” he answers. “When you’re digitized, you become code, and killing code isn’t easy, but it is possible. With a zero blade.”

Isavet leans back and eyes this strange little man. She has met many strong and powerful men in her day, but none who owns a planet. Everyone she has talked to about him says he does. That obviously doesn’t mean he can be trusted, but he should definitely be respected. Even if there is only a remote chance that he’s being truthful, she has to say yes. She always knew that she might need help. Caleb acknowledged only knowing so much about the prison. “Okay. Show me.”

Hrockas snaps his fingers, and they’re suddenly in a different room. A doctor there named Telman explains the procedure. He can cut into her brain, insert a hidden, dormant little bead, then seal it back up like magic. It sounds crazy, but necessary, and Hrockas says it will help her with Talus too. As long as it gets her what she needs too, she’ll do anything he wants, or anyone else for that matter. So she lies back in the chair, and accepts whatever weird thing they’re going to put in her head. She’s not scared. She and pain go way back. After she’s settled, she breathes deeply. “Do it.”

Extremus: Year 135

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Waldemar was different for about a year. At first, Silveon thought that maybe someone had supplanted his mind with their own, or was mind-controlling him. Or that it was just straight up a clone. But his doctor could find absolutely no evidence that he had been tampered with. The doctor used all sorts of lingo that Silveon didn’t understand, but the parts of the brain responsible for things like impulse control and empathy were lighting up, whereas they didn’t do that before. And then suddenly, it was gone again. It wasn’t entirely gone. He did not go back to the way he was before, but Silveon was present for another scan, and the parts of his brain he used during that year have returned to the way they were. It’s sad and frustrating. The hope was fleeting.

Silveon has been trying to figure out a way to get that back, but he still doesn’t understand what happened. He’s going to have to bite the bullet and reach out to Sable. He hasn’t cut her out of his life, but he has kept his distance. As much as she will tolerate. Maybe it’s time for him to try to gather some new allies. They won’t be like the originals, but no one possibly could be. That doesn’t mean they can’t help. She’s powerful, and while she denied being responsible for Waldemar’s change before, maybe she has some new insights. He’s at her cabin now, trying to work up the courage.

Before he can reach up to ring the bell, he suddenly finds himself teleporting to the other side of the door.

Sable is sitting on the couch, dressed in revealing clothing, looking at him with a smirk. She sets her tablet down. “My oh my, Steward. Aren’t we the hesitant one?”

“I didn’t come for whatever you think I’m here for,” Silveon explains.

Sable looks down at her attire like she forgot what she was wearing. “Oh, this? This isn’t for you. This is just comfortable. I change for no man, and I mean that both figuratively and literally. What do you want, Silveon? Help with your boy, the Captain?”

“You said you wanted to help, so here I am, reaching out.”

Sable dismissively picks her tablet back up and starts swiping through it. “That was a long time ago. I’m not sure if I’m interested anymore. You’ll have to convince me.”

“Well, what can I do in service to that?” Silveon asks.

Sable stops a moment and looks back up at him. “You can tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me everything,” Sable says, not really clarifying.

“Everything about what?”

“Everything,” she repeats. “Tell me how you knew Waldemar was going to be captain, and what kind, and what he was going to do. Tell me what you did to stop him, and why you didn’t do a very good job of it. Tell me what my mother knows, what Audrey knew, what your parents knew. Everything means everything..”

He has avoided this conversation so long, but she’s a lot older now, and as he was just contemplating how he needs people on his side, now that he has lost everyone else. So he sits down and takes a breath. “Okay, I’ll tell you everything. If you use it against me...well...then I guess that’s what happens. I’m an old man now, and I’m tired, and as you pointed out, it didn’t really work. I mean, I think it did a little. Things are better than they were in the previous timeline.”

“The previous timeline?” She was intrigued.

“Yes,” Silveon says. “The reason I knew what Waldemar was going to become was because I already saw it. And I’ve been trying to stop it my whole life.”

Sable curls her legs in and leans towards him. “Finally. Let’s get into it.”

Extremus: Year 133

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It has been months since the paradigm shift, and the Extremus is thriving like it never has before. Waldemar has been living as a completely different person than he was. His ability—or curse, rather—to absorb other people’s psychic darkness is entirely gone. He only trusted one medical professional with this information, and it’s because he had to. She said she doesn’t know what caused it. She doesn’t know if it’s permanent either. They checked the sensors. If anyone did this to him on purpose, they did it remotely, perhaps remotely in time, or in space. He wants to be mad. He wants to call it a violation, but that’s the old him. He doesn’t want to hurt people anymore. He doesn’t want to throw people in the brig. And that is what he’s calling it still. What happened to him, it doesn’t change the fact that the traditional word has always been more logical. It doesn’t change who he is in every single sense. He still holds many of the same beliefs.

Waldemar is not reversing every decision he’s made, but he’s trying to put things right. He’s better—he believes that now—but he doesn’t hate who he once was. He understands it better, and unlike in the beginning, he is no longer actively trying to go backwards. He accepts his new reality, even though it’s scary every day just to wake up.

Some people are upset. They’re not all entirely upset about the decisions themselves, just that they’re reversals. He’s basically putting the ship back to how he found it. No, he’s almost putting it back to the pre-Jennings days, when Tinaya was captain. Oh, Jennings. Waldemar has killed people. Here’s the thing, if was totally cured of his problem, he would confess to his actual, unambiguous crimes, wouldn’t he? But he has no plans to do that. He’s not even telling anyone about them, even though it might be pertinent to his new situation. He used to have a drive to kill—not like some serial killer, but it was always an option if he needed it. Now he doesn’t want it at all. Now he has a strong aversion to it. A part of him regrets those past actions, but he still remembers why he crossed those lines. He was protecting himself, and honestly, the Extremus. What good would it do to throw himself in the brig now, and risk someone even worse than him coming in as a replacement. No. Stay in charge, just do better.

He is no longer trying to figure out what happened to him, or if it can be undone. He mostly fends off his critics. That’s a big downside. He has lost a lot of support, which he’ll need if he decides to move forward with the secret master plan. The people who didn’t like him before were either in the brig or better about hiding. Just because he’s let them out doesn’t mean they’re grateful and happy. And the people who agreed that the old critics should be there are now mad that they’re not. He can’t win; not since he didn’t start out this way. It’s his mother’s fault. She made him this way. If you have a curse, you don’t risk passing it on to a kid. You leave it as it is. That’s really why he killed her, and if he regrets nearly all of his kills, that one will remain an exception. She had to go. She was hopeless. But then again, so was Waldemar, and look how that has turned out. Every once in a while he grows terribly curious about who might be responsible.

Sable may be a good candidate. She’s special. She’s special and powerful. He doesn’t know how, but there’s definitely something different about her. He has a strong memory of killing her too, but then she was totally fine the next day. He wrote it off as only a dream, but what if it wasn’t? What if she has actual temporal powers, and is the one who changed him? Now his curiosity is returning. Should he confront her, or simply continue to accept the gift? He has to be strong. If he starts playing with fire, he will get burned. He doesn’t want to change now anymore than he wanted to change before, even though that change was good. Stay the course. Save lives. Thrive.

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 14, 2558

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After a couple of hours, close enough to midnight central for the sling to factor in their timeskipping, Team Matic left Tartarus, and returned to Ramosus. They found themselves just standing there, blinking at each other, but not talking. While it took longer than expected, their experience on the colony was mundane, and didn’t amount to anything. The fact they were researching aliens was interesting, but the research itself was kind of boring? “Why do I feel so weird?” Mateo asked. “I felt a little weird there, but coming here has suddenly made it actually weird. Fully weird. Weird, weird.”

“I know what you mean.” Leona looked over at Ramses. “I think we need to run some times.” She breathed deeply, and couldn’t help but yawn. “Tests. Run tests.”

“Maybe it’s the cold?” Marie suggested. “Has the cold made me...”

“Loopy?” Leona suggested. “We would have other symptoms, like frostbite. We wouldn’t be able to stand if it were cold enough to affect us like this.”

“I’m sorry, guys,” Romana said. “I made the wrong choice.”

“No, no,” everyone said. She had nothing to apologize for. They would never know what was on the other side of the sling. It could be interesting, it could be boring, or it could even be dangerous. Whatever they found, they would get through it, and they would do it together. They were starting to feel like explorers, after all.

They all went to the medical wing of Ramses’ lab to get themselves checked out. They discovered something mild, temporary, but very strange about their neurochemistry. Ramses relied quite heavily on his automated machinery to do the work for him, because he wasn’t in a state of mind to operate them himself. “Um. I can’t read the data myself right now, so I’m going to rely on the summary to explain it to us.” Ramses tried to point at the screen, but gave up. He was too weak. “Basically, what it thinks is that our brains were running at optimum efficiency on Tartarus. If we had stimuli, we might have been able to be really productive. But since the environment was pretty much just snow, we didn’t have any problem to solve. I mean, we were lost, but we didn’t have any tech to work with, so our brainpower was wasted.”

“So it’s like a drug?” Angela figured, “and now we’re in withdrawal?”

“Yes. That’s the word the computer thing said,” Ramses agreed. “Don’t worry, though, I don’t think we’re dependent. It would be like if you went to your college quantum physics class, and they handed you a kindergarten math sheet. It’s easy, and takes the cognitive load off, and you might get a little lazy if they keep giving you the same silly tests, but you’re not going to get addicted to it. The day they hand you a real test, you’ll need a little time to readjust—which is what we’re doing right now—but you will ultimately be fine. Because in this scenario, you knew quantum physics before, so you know it now. It will just take time. Sleep too.”

“Is there anything we shouldn’t do in the meantime?” Olimpia pressed. “Should we not have sex, or should we not eat carbs, or should we get warm, or get cooled off?”

“Carbs would be very good for your prefrontal cortex right now,” Ramses answered. “Sex would be fun, but you might find yourself disinterested. Just listen to your body. If you’re cold, warm up. If you’re hot, cool down. It knows what it needs.”

So they left the lab, and returned to their separate abodes. They were mostly still sleeping in their joint pocket dimensions, because they didn’t have any better ideas. They certainly weren’t going to come up with any today. The next year, they woke up totally okay, and actually rather enthusiastic. They were all ready for the next adventure.

Romana asked not to pick this time, though.

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Extremus: Year 132

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Something just woke Waldemar up. He lifts his hand and performs the gesture to raise the lights, thinking there has to be something in the room. There’s not. His heart is racing, which has never happened before. His heart rate has literally never spiked in any situation besides exercise. Was he exercising in his sleep? That’s ridiculous, but possible, right? “Computer, health report.”

“You are experiencing sinus tachycardia, acute diaphoresis, neuromuscular hyperactivity, and an apparent acute stress response.”

“Laymen’s terms, asshole! I’m sorry,” Waldemar says. “That was rude.” Wait, what? That was rude? So what? It’s a computer, it doesn’t matter. Even if it were a real person, it wouldn’t. But...wouldn’t it, though? It seems to have a personality. It may be artificial, but it’s still an intelligence, and it deserves respect. No, why is he worried about this? There is something seriously wrong here. “I think I’m having a heart attack.”

“Elevated heart rate, sweating, shaking, fear,” the computer translated itself. “My initial assessment is that you are experiencing a panic attack.”

“That’s literally impossible,” Waldemar argues. “My brain is not wired to panic, it just isn’t. I don’t understand fear at all. I’ve never worried about things. Check again.”

“From this vantage point, I am unable to measure your neural patterns to make a deeper medical evaluation, but I am not detecting myocardial ischemia, or—”

“That’s enough!” Waldemar orders. He sits on the edge of his bed and massages his face. It’s slick. He has to pick his sheet up and use it as a towel. His mind begins to dwell on everything bad he’s ever done in his life. Everyone he’s sent to hock, ever policy he passed which caused harm to the ship; all for his own self interest. How could he have been that way? None of it makes sense anymore. He doesn’t even want to think about it. The horror—the suffering he caused. He killed people. They weren’t saints, but he didn’t have the right to end them. He doesn’t know what to do now. His body seems to choose for him. He feels more sweat on his face, so he grabs the sheet again and wipes it off. It’s all under his eyes, and just keeps coming. Is there a cluster of sweat glands there? He doesn’t remember that from school. Hold on, it’s not coming from his skin. It’s coming from inside his eyes. Is this crying? Is he crying? That’s impossible too!

The door opens. In walks Silveon. “Captain. Captain, are you okay?”

“How are you here?” Waldemar asks. Definitely crying, he can hear it in his own voice. He’s heard it before from others, and it was always very annoying. “Why?”

“The computer told me something was wrong,” he says. “It thought it was better that I come than a doctor, a therapist, or anyone else. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“Feeling?” Waldemar questions. “I don’t have those. I...I don’t know how to articulate it. It’s...heavy? It’s like a darkness over my face. I can’t stop thinking about the people I’ve hurt. Audrey. Audrey’s in my mind, and I can’t get her to go away.”

Silveon nods. “Do you know why you have not been able to feel in the past?”

“I’m psychic,” Waldemar answers. “I can sense everyone’s darkness. But it’s...it’s all jumbled together, so it’s not like I feel their emotions. Am I broken?”

“You’re not broken,” Silveon replies. “I think you’re healed. That kind of psychic power is a curse, not a gift. I don’t know how, but it looks like it’s gone, and the real you can finally come out. You are a deeply thoughtful person. You’re intelligent, and strategic. It’s what makes you a great captain. What you were missing was empathy. You cared what happened to people, but not how they thought about it. Now you do.”

Waldemar stands. “If this is true, then there’s a lot I need to make up for.

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Microstory 2698: Color to a Blind Man

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The conversation was over with the kids. Isavet was excited to learn. She wanted to see the big diamond wall that separated her tiny corner of Castlebourne from everyone else. It’s not, strictly speaking, forbidden, but it’s frowned upon since it breaks the immersion. It’s also kind of impossible to get to. Not really, but sort of. You can only reach it by water, but the walls curve down like a soup bowl. So yes, there is some kind of metamaterial or concrete that you can touch, but the sides are so sloped and slippery that you can’t get out and walk around. The environmental hologram, meanwhile, makes it look like there’s miles and miles of more water and land, even though you’re probably less than two meters from the projection. Still, he would be open to taking her if she really wants to, but only when she’s older. Every time they talk about the outside world, it takes Ronan out of it, and undermines the purpose of the simulation.

Talus couldn’t care less. Giant dome, whole planet; it didn’t matter to him. He didn’t ask questions or widen his eyes at the bombshells. Ronan is seriously considering taking him to get him evaluated by a medical and mental health professional. They would let Ronan back in after an emergency, but if something really is wrong with Talus, then he wouldn’t be able to return to the network, and if that happened, effectively neither could Ronan. Nothing has been decided yet; there’s still plenty of time to weigh their options. Right now, he has to get to the bottom of this flex display situation. Gia has been lying this whole time. “Why?”

“I did it for Isa,” Gia began to explain. “What we just did in there is precisely what I knew I would have to do one day. I never thought I would lose my first partner, and I never thought I would meet someone like you, but this was always the plan. Your plan didn’t exist. You were pretty convinced that Talus was the same as he was before, and would eventually remember everything. When you told me stories of your exploits in the real world, you framed them as things that you might be able to revisit some day, either physically, or nostalgically through reminiscing. You never considered the possibility that you would have to teach someone about domes and simulations. Imagine going back in time to the better part of two millennia ago. Explain any of this to any adult you meet in that period. It simply can’t be done. This was the best time to do it. They’re old enough to have real conversations, but young enough that their brains are still plastic. But they’re still human, and they needed a visual aid. The only other option was calling an elevator, or reaching an emergency exit. Would you rather I have done that instead?”

“No, of course not. I just don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“The display was a necessary evil. And it’s done,” Gia decides. “That’s why I chose this variant, because it will burn up in a fire just fine. See? Watch me.” She pulls it out of her pocket, unrolls it, and hangs it over the flames of the firepit. “I’m just waiting in case you change your mind, but if not, you have three, two, one.” She throws it in. It sizzles and steams as the protective outer layer evaporates from the core. It’s designed to give users a few extra seconds to save it from an accidental drop, or if they changed their minds. Because once it’s gone, it burns up quick; even faster than real paper.

A few months later, they find themselves regretting letting it go when they discover that Gia is heavy with child. Vith, Talus, and Isavet are going to have a little brother or sister to play with. They sit them down for another conversation, and tell them the good news, but Talus is not happy.

Microstory 2636: Don’t Forget To Bring a Towel

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Trilby throws a silky towel at her. “I hope you understand that I removed your clothes to provide you with medical treatment. I would have been waiting for you on the landing pad, but you showed up way too early. Why didn’t you go down on a slower trip, with the animals? That would have been a lot safer for your fragile human body.”

“They would have caught me,” Mandica explains briefly. “What is this?”

“Temporary,” he says. “I call it the cloak of invisibility. You will be perfectly visible to the naked eye while we’re out there, but the identity sensors won’t spot you. You will appear as an infrared aberration, caused normally by too many people beaming data to each other’s devices at the same time. We will take a particular route to where we’re going so that sort of thing doesn’t stand out.”

She frowns at the towel. Yeah, it isn’t a cloak, it is a towel. No hood, no draw string. It is see-through, but still just a big cloth square. “Will I not look a little odd, walking around with this thing over my head?”

Trilby laughs heartily. “Odd? Sweetheart, you’re on Castlebourne now. My next door neighbor is a giant beetle, and is probably smarter than me. They might as well call this world Substrate City. You’re not going to stand out. There is no way to stand out on this planet. Everyone is here to formulate their unique identity, and they change by their whims all the time. Now. Functionally, you’re rare. There are a few communities here who are just as unenhanced—less unenhanced, in fact—and they are not insignificant, but most people change bodies like you might change your hairstyle. But don’t worry, you can’t tell, and people are careful around each other, because there’s no way to know. No one’s gonna shoot you with a gun under the assumption that you’ll survive.” He taps his middle finger on a screen. “I took the liberty of building you your own modified prospectus. The green domes are fine. You’ll be safe in any of those. I’m talkin’ your residential areas, your museums, your educational historical recreations.

“Yellow, a little more dangerous. They have ways of protecting visitors. If they’re a normal human, the Custodians will make accommodations. They might even separate the unenhanced from the enhanced so there’s never any question. Red are no-go zones. Most of them are specifically designed for people who have disposable substrates. A visitor might even end up getting a whole fleet of bodies to switch to one by one. If someone like you without the spoof lenses were to try to sneak in, the sensors would flag them so fast, their head would spin off. Apparently, there was one guy years ago who got stuck in a dangerous game and nearly died because the people who were trying to murder him hacked the system. They won’t let that happen again. They installed new sensors all around the world, and are constantly checking. You will be walking around basically as an admin. They’ll let you in anywhere, but that’s why I made this list for you, so you can decide what you’re willing to risk. You need to understand your options.”

“You said something about spoof lenses?”

“Yes, it’s not just those. They have multiple ways of tracking identities, the most common of which is an eye scan. They also—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Mandica interrupts. “If people are changing bodies, and your neighbor is an insect, how would a retinal scan even be possible in a place like this?”

“It’s not only a retinal scan. The retinal scan is a second stage identifier that the system will only perform if the first stage scan turns up blank. Everyone capable of transferring their consciousness is given a unique watermark, placed upon their optic nerves. I don’t know if you know this, but humans have a natural blindspot in their eyes due to where the optic nerves connect to the eyes. Your brain fills in the blanks, but you can’t see light that hits that spot. Fortunately for optic void scanners, though, light does still hit that spot. They shoot an invisible laser into it to read someone’s watermark, to know who they are. They don’t even have to keep their eyes open. It can pass through eyelids, and many other materials. For a normal person, if it doesn’t detect that watermark, it will default to the retinal scan, and register your preferences and restrictions.” He points at the invisibility towel. “The scanner can’t pass through that, so it will see infrared interference, and not see your unregistered eyes.”

“Why do I need the towel if I have these spoof lenses?”

“You don’t have the spoof lenses yet. The woman who’s getting them for me is on the other side of the planet. We have to travel to her first. Before you ask, she can’t come to us, because she’s also protecting you from brainwave scanners. That’s another thing you need in order to be a ghost. They’re becoming more common. They’ll never do away with the optic void scanning system, but spoofing an authorized watermark is easier than fooling a brain scan. Don’t tell anyone, but about zero-point-zero-zero-one percent of the time, a cloned or bioprinted body doesn’t produce the watermark correctly, and it has to be fixed, either with a new replacement, or a visit to the optomeger.”

“This woman with the brain scanner—”

“The baseline imager. A brain scanner verifies your brainwaves. The baseline imager is the thing that inputs in the data. It’s highly regulated. There are only a few of them in the world. People would notice if she borrowed it and took it on a vactrain.”

“I see. The baseline imager woman; can she be trusted?”

“She’s already done for me what she’s about to do for you,” Trilby explains. “She holds a special office in a special government for a special community. They were refugees fleeing oppression, and live here permanently, not simply as visitors. Apparently, her now-husband initially refused to be enhanced, so she’s sympathetic to that sentiment, even though he’s now just like her, and I am too. The only reason she’s keeping him out of it is so that he can have plausible deniability, but I told her about you, and she thinks you and the Superintendent would get along.”

“Okay, I think I have all the information I need. I should say, I trust you. Let’s go out there and walk around like ghosts, me moreso than you.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

And so the two of them leave the apartment. Trilby already has his spoof lenses on, but Mandica has to stay under the towel the whole time. He seems to have been right. People don’t even just ignore her. They smile and greet her as if she is just another regular person on this bizarrely accepting planet. She doesn’t see any giant beetle people, but a few who look decidedly unhuman. A lot of animals, but also alien-like beings that don’t match to something that ever existed on Earth. She’s starting to feel more comfortable here, like she can actually breathe and live a life. 

After only a few hours, they have made it to a dome that’s just called Capital. They enter a gorgeous woman’s office, who holds her hand out, sporting a very kind smile. “Hi. I’m Deputy Superintendent Yunil Tereth. I hear you would like to stay unregistered. Why don’t you have a seat?”

Microstory 2616: You Awaken in the Wreckage With No Choice but to Go On

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August 23, 2526. Breanna wakes up, still feeling the slight sting on her neck where her suit revitalized her. The IMS isn’t a full-on medical pod, but it does have waysof repairing a damaged body, from some trauma that might be caused despitethe presence of the suit in the first place. She’s not in too much pain, butit’s all over. Her suit won’t administer a painkiller automatically, because it requires the user’s permission. She could theoretically ask for an opioid, though she won’t. She sits up. “Thistle, Administer one dose of a comprehensive pain silencer. No, two doses. I need twenty-four hours at least.”

“Would you like an endorphin stimulator as well?”

“No. It’s fine.” She lies back down so the suit can flash its laser beams all over her skin. She groans as it’s happening, but is able to stop once it’s complete. She then stands up in the wreckage, finding herself on the ceiling of the vehicle. Her friends and the other passengers are strewn about. “Thistle, why weren’t we strapped in?”

“The safety straps were causing unwanted and unhealthy pressure on the users’ suits. They were only released upon landing. Everyone is alive and recovering. As leader, you were revived prematurely to make further decisions.”

“Wake everyone else up as appropriate. Tell me what’s going on, inside and out.”

“Location, unknown. Status of vehicle, irreparably damaged. Situation, dire. Medical prognoses, manageable.”

Breanna manages to find the back hatch, and open it. The surface of the planet is relatively calm, but the tornadoes could be lying in wait. “Options.”

“Walking.”

She chuckles. “Thanks. That’s great.” She takes a beat as she’s watching the wind blow the dust around. “Do you detect a methane deposit below us, or near us?”

“The vehicle’s sensor array is inoperable, and would be insufficient either way.”

“So, you can’t find the caravan either?”

“Negative.”

“Lifesigns detector,” Breanna continues. “Look for anyone or anything.”

“None found.”

There are no more questions to ask, and she can’t make any decisions without the passengers, so she commands her IMS to focus the padding to the back, then lies down to wait. A few hours later, Cash wakes her up, thinking that she’s the last one.

“We’re lost,” Cash explains.

“I know.”

“The rover can’t be fixed.”

“I know,” Breanna repeats, but louder. “I was up before you. I just took a nap.”

“Oh. Well, what now? Do we go out and look for Tertius and Aeterna’s bodies?”

“Aeterna? We lost Aeterna?”

“She’s not here,” Cash replies. “I thought you said you knew everything already.”

“I did a headcount. I thought she was one of these people.”

“Did you remember to count the guy who we rescued from the other rover?”

“Oh, I forgot. Shit. I guess father and daughter are both dead.” Breanna looks at all the passengers, who are apparently gathering supplies. “Good instincts, everybody. We’re gonna have to head out on foot. Carry what you can. Nothing in here is useless, but use your best judgment, and prioritize. Food and water are most important, but if you find any vacuum tents, those are great too.” She yawns as she’s trying to continue. “Don’t worry about power. Your suits will recharge in all that flurry out there. I’m not gonna try to explain fusion or ramscoop nodes to you, but just trust me.”

Most of them go to work, but one sits down on the ceiling. They look depressed, but it’s hard to tell without being able to see a face. “Are you him...the one from the other rover?”

“The asshole who got your friend killed? Yeah,” he answers.

Breanna sits down next to him, and taps on both of their wrist interfaces so they can have a one-on-one conversation through comms. “Tell me what happened.”

“I can’t, I don’t remember it.” He sighs. “That’s not entirely true, but it was like a dream. I knew where I was, and I knew that I was as safe as I was gonna get. I just felt so trapped. I started panicking, reaching out for anything that could change my circumstances. My hands landed on the door handle, so I opened it, and ran out. I don’t know what I thought I would find out there. I don’t know that I entirely understood that I even was outside. I just needed to be able to move around. I’m so sorry. Someone suggested they lock me to one of the seats, but the others argued against it, because there could have been a situation where we all needed to escape. But they should have done it. They should have stopped me. I know, that makes it sound like I’m blaming them. I just wish they had. I wish they had been unforgiving about it.”

“Nothing like this has ever happened before,” Breanna begins. “I mean that truthfully. Earth, in its history, has seen its fair share of refugees, but absolutely nothing at this scale. An entire planet has never been in this much trouble. Our ancestors colonized it despite the instability of our host star because they thought they understood it. They thought they knew the risks. They were wrong. I’m far angrier at them than I am at you. You didn’t sign up for this. You reacted in a very human way, and I’m sure, if Tertius or his daughter were here, they would forgive you. They risked their lives to save people like you, even though it sounds like they didn’t know anyone personally. They seemingly did sign up for this.”

The guy is still clearly down on himself, but she’s not a therapist, so all they can do is hope to find their way back to civilization, and get him some real help. As they’re finishing packing up to take what they can, Aeterna casually opens the back hatch, and climbs back in. She is wearing a respirator mask over her mouth, but has removed the parts that go over her eyes. She’s presumably only using it for comms.

“Where did you go?” Breanna questions.

“Sorry, I was just looking for my dad. I didn’t go too far, I figured once you guys woke up, I would start hearing you talking to each other.”

“Comms are down. Radio waves are very minimal right now,” Breanna explains.

Aeterna nods. “Well, I’m back. Hopefully we’ll come across him eventually.

“I’m sorry about him,” Breanna says softly.

“Eh, it’ll be okay,” Aeterna says, not the least bit perturbed. “He knows we’re going north, so either we’ll pick up his trail, or he’ll pick up ours.”

“You think he’s alive?” Cash asks.

“He has to be,” Aeterna answers with a chuckle. “We’ve been trying to explain that. We can’t die.”

Microstory 2598: Renata Lies Back in the Exam Pod, Fully Undressed

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Renata lies back on the exam table, fully undressed. She’s never done this before. Even in her implanted memories, she never had to have a full physical examination like this. She has always just walked into the doctor’s office, and talked until they cleared her. She’s not uncomfortable, though. It’s unclear if the woman here is a doctor or a mechanic, though, which is just a little unsettling. Again, why is she internalizing it? She should just ask. “Are you a doctor, or a mechanic?”

“Both!” Evica replies confidently. She’s wearing what basically looks like a hazmat suit, but it’s fairly thin, and her face is exposed. She’s wearing a respirator mask and protective glasses, but Renata still feels safe here. “As a biocyberneticist, I specialize in cyborg healthcare. Now that I’ve performed the visual exam, we’re going to have to move on to the tactile portion. Is it okay if I touch you?”

“Go ahead, I’m not shy,” Renata replies sincerely.

Evica lays her hands on Renata’s body. She pats and rubs all over, quite systematically and carefully. She sometimes tilts her head away, not in shame, but to let her fingers do the understanding, and not cloud her interpretations with sight. “Standard humanoid shaping. No protrusions, tears, or injuries.” She taps on the side of her glasses twice, implying that they’re showing her an augmented reality. “Preliminary scans indicate a carbon-fiber endoskeleton and polymer muscles. The skin is wholly artificial, but still organic. I’ll need a deeper scan to see your brain—wait.” She reaches for her glasses again, with her thumb and index finger. She slowly rubs them together. Maybe she’s zooming in? Evica reaches over with her other hand, and starts tapping on the medical pod screen.

“What? What is it? Is something wrong?”

Evica makes another tap. Red scanning lights appear from the foot of the pod, and sweep across Renata’s body back and forth a couple of times. “Can you turn off your sensitivity to cold?”

“What? Why would I need to be able to do that?”

“To save my life,” Evica explains cryptically. “Can you turn it off?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never tried before.”

“Try it now,” Evica urges. “Don’t just lower the sensitivity. Turn it all the way off.”

“Tell me what’s going on.” Renata demands as she’s trying to comply, using her intuition alone, and maybe the clear sense of urgency as motivation.

“I’m gonna take it out, but I can’t do that unless I cool you down to extreme temperatures first.”

“Okay, I think I can’t feel cold anymore, but even if I can, just do it. I don’t care.”

Evica hits the button. Nozzles lining the inside walls open and begin to flood the pod with some kind of fluid. She can’t feel the cold. It just feels wet. She breathes a sigh of relief, but she’s still anxious. “Have you ever heard of an ATP bomb?”

“No, but it sounds real bad.”

“It’s not bad for you. You don’t have any mitochondria, but I do. If that thing goes off, and I’m still in here, the agent will get into my system, and basically disconnect my mitochondria from their partner cells. It doesn’t stop the mitochondria from producing power, it just prevents them from channeling it into energy. All of it becomes waste heat. So not only will I not be able to move, breathe, or do anything anymore, but I’ll burn up with a fever that kills me within minutes.” She watches the screen for a moment. “Okay. We’re safe, for now. And I don’t need to call in any help, so we’re going into lockdown.” She moves over and lifts the lid from a button on the wall. She then pulls it. Metal shutters slide down in front of the windows, locking them in.

“If that’s good enough,” Renata says, “then just leave and leave me in here. That’s what bomb experts sometimes do. They activate it from a safe distance, so the energy is wasted.”

“Sounds good in theory,” Evica agrees, “but we’re talking about a biological weapon. We inspect it first. She takes a breath. “I’m going to cut you open, okay?”

“I can’t feel pain anymore either. Do what you gotta do.”

Evica sterilizes her instruments, and herself, then begins the procedure. She cuts into Renata’s abdomen very slowly and carefully. “It’s located where your gall bladder would be if you needed one. Your artificial liver is a little bit smaller to make room for the device too.” She pulls the skin apart, creating a giant gaping cavity.

“Why do I need a liver at all?”

“Your liver processes all liquids, so they can be purged safely. Except for water, you don’t need to consume anything, but you think you do, so you do. And that has to be filtered out.” Evica takes some kind of wand and slips it into the cavity. She suddenly steps back in fear, dropping the wand on the floor. “It’s worse than I thought.”

“Worse than something called a freaking ATP bomb! What could be worse!” Renata questions.

“I thought it would be an aerosol. Everyone in the vicinity would absorb it into their pores, and they would die from it, and I wish that were the case. You just close the door, and it’s fine. But this...this has a gamma pulse delivery system. Much more sophisticated, and orders of magnitude more dangerous. I couldn’t detect the intensity, but it would pass through the walls, and surely everyone in this building would die. Probably the dome too. Maybe not further than that since the dome walls are hardened against radiation, but they’re designed that way to protect us from space. I don’t know if they work in the reverse. That’s not my department.”

“What can you do? Throw me into a volcano?” Renata suggests.

“That would be unethical, and unwise. I don’t think the bomb is designed to trigger via heat, but enough heat would likely break the seal anyway.”

“Then jettison me into space.”

“Same deal,” Evica reasons. “Gamma ray bursts happen all the time in space. They can’t be stopped.”

“Not by the domes?”

“Actually, you’re right. This bomb is powerful, but it’s not a quasar. Still, we’re not entertaining this. I don’t have to send you into space. I just need to extract this thing from you.”

“That won’t work. My mother did this to me, and she is no fool. Her contingencies have contingencies. I’m gonna have to talk to her about it. Only she knows how to fix this, and she’ll only tell me. I know her well enough to know that too.”

“That’s not my department either.”

“Then get Hrockas Steward on the phone.”

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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