Microstory 2677: The Time Was Not Wasted

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Resi hasn’t left his little patch of beach for three years, but he’s walking away now. He wasn’t happy, per se, but he was satisfied, and resigned to what he thought would be his uneventful future. But of course, the world is too complex for him to ignore. Tambora is changing, and it may be up to him to stop it if no one else is going to. Since he no longer has his own devices, he asks Chaya to disseminate a message to all of House Kutelin, or rather, those who once identified with the ephemeral House. Most will not respond, and will not be obligated to do so. They are all living their own lives now, and doing what they can to move on after what happened. But if only five or ten people want to help, he will at least have that support system.

In this time, the dorms where they once lived have been torn down. All of the debris has evidently recently been cleared away, and they are preparing to erect new, modern housing in its place. For now, it’s still only an empty lot in a valley. Since Resi doesn’t have access to anything else, however, it will do. He shouldn’t even be on this side of the border. The other nations didn’t give him any crap because his footprint was so small, but officially speaking, Tambora does not want to have anything to do with him. They didn’t outright say that he couldn’t return, but the way Speaker Sherman spoke on it, it’s clear that they just don’t want to think about him anymore. He is no longer the Speaker, though. Keller has now taken up the mantle. Resi never told anyone what Kartica revealed to him about the Assembly. They were evidently all immortals, who have been exchanging power for the last 300 or so years, adopting the names of historical figure after historical figure, and maintaining the status quo. While that sounds terrible, they don’t seem to be hurting anyone, so why stir the pot? Because now everything has changed.

Resi has been hanging out in Chaya’s house to lay low, waiting for the meeting she called on his behalf to begin. He doesn’t want to show his face until he has to, because if the Assembly, military, or island security decide that he is a threat, they might shut it down. It’s best to hide in the shadows until he knows who is on his side. They walk down the path, passing all of Chaya’s neighbors, who aren’t paying any attention to her. As they draw nearer, they hear the murmur of a crowd. At first, Resi doesn’t know where it could be coming from, but then he realizes it must be the open field, so he stops. The military is here. They’re here to stop them and arrest them. Why they thought to come out in full force for one little man and maybe a few loyalists, he can’t understand, but he certainly can’t fight them. Chaya encourages him to keep walking. It’s not the military, she claims. It’s Resi’s people, and more. They have come to help. He relents.

They round the corner, and come upon the open field. It is absolutely packed. At last count, just over 400 people were in House Kutelin, but there must be several thousand people, stretching all the way down into the valley. Arumay turns around, and points her device at him. Resi’s face appears on a giant screen built on the top of the hill. The crowd erupts into cheering and hollering. They’re calling his name. They’re smiling and crying. “How is this possible?” he asks Chaya, but also Arumay, and anyone else nearby who might be able to answer.

Caprice makes her way through the crowd. “You think we gave up? You think we fell in line? We’ve been talking to others. We’ve all been discussing what we want the future of this island to be, and it doesn’t involve the Houses, or the Assembly.” She gestures to the crowd. “We’ve been waiting to hear from you.”

Arumay takes a half step forward. “Turning the mic on in five, four, three...” She mouths the last two numbers, then points to him with her other hand.

Well, that’s not enough time to think, so he has no choice but to speak from his heart. He tries to stand tall. “Citizens of Tambora, Yana, and anyone from Bungula who might hear these words!” he began before pausing for a moment. “Let me start by telling you what I know about where we come from, and who leads us!”

Microstory 2672: Allegiance

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Resi demanded to speak with the Assembly, or whoever was trying to stop House Kutelin from exiling to Anchor Island. They refused, as always, but Zenith and the Bungulans were not happy about it. The purpose of this island is to facilitate movement and communication. Refusing to meet your opponent is the first sign of being on the wrong side. So Zenith pretty much forced it to happen. Since Speaker Lincoln committed suicide, she was replaced by the next in line. Sherman is now the interim Speaker, and will serve in this capacity until a new appointment can be made. He brought his granddaughter here for some reason. She is fifteen years old—having not yet gone through her Kidjum—and Resi has never heard of her before, but she looks familiar, like she showed up in a dream once recently, or something. That can’t be it, though. He hasn’t dreamed even once since his botched Kidjum. She really has no business being here, but he can’t argue against it. She looks at him like she knows something he doesn’t, which she surely does.

“Can we all be civil, or do I need to remain here to mediate?” Zenith asks.

“You may go,” Speaker Sherman tells her.

“You do not need to mediate,” Resi begins, like he’s going to agree. “But stay anyway. They are your guests. I would like you to see who they are.”

Zenith closes her eyes and bows slightly before taking a seat against the wall.

It’s important that Resi speaks first, so he can seize the upper hand. “Tell me. Where do you expect us to go? You won’t allow us to return to Yana, and you won’t let us live here. So what other options do we have? What do you want, or think we should do? Should we kill ourselves, like your coward of a former leader?”

Sherman isn’t pleased by his words, but his granddaughter has the strongest reaction. She doesn’t speak, though. “It may sound like a contradiction, but I assure you that it’s not. You may not stay on Yana. You may not live here on Anchor Island,” Speaker Sherman says.

“There’s nowhere else!” Resi cries. That was the wrong move. He has lost his advantage now. He needs to stay calm and in control. Let his enemy see no emotion. No one ever taught him that, it just makes sense.

Sherman is successfully managing to follow Resi’s internal advice, so it must be the right call, at least in theory. “I am not here to give you answers, or options, only restrictions. It is our job to manage the affairs of the Tamboran nation, and to engage with other cultures when necessary. House Kutelin is not a culture whose sovereignty we recognize. Therefore, there is nothing we can do for you.”

The other Fold Leaders begin to yell and argue against his ridiculous position. Resi motions for them to relax. “You may not think that you owe us anything, and the truth may be that you don’t. But if you don’t answer me, you will be the ones declaring war against House Kutelin, not the other way around. We do exist, and the other Houses know us. You may tear us down, and wipe us out, but your will lose your power over Tambora. The people will not stand by. You will lose your reëlections, and you will have accomplished nothing good. Is that what you want?”

Sherman only smiles. “I’ve told you, I’m not here to give you any answers. This conversation is over.” He looks over at Zenith. “I have fulfilled my promise. I gave him five minutes. Now we’re done. Please arrange my transport home. Resi and his people must leave within one day, and the rest of his House must leave Yana a week after that. If I find out you’ve been harboring any members of House Kutelin after that, the Accords will be broken, and you know what that means.”

“I do.” Zenith wasn’t happy, but she wasn’t going to go against him either.

No one on this planet has the authority to do anything. If that’s true, then maybe he should stop asking for what he needs. Maybe he should just take it.

Resi watches the Speaker and the Assembly walk out of the room. As she passes by, Sherman’s daughter flings something from her device to his. He doesn’t look at it until they’ve all left. It’s a note from her. She wants to meet on the rock beach. Alone.

Here it is. Here’s where the relative or assistant swoops in with a knowledge bomb, and our hero has to decide if she can be trusted or not. In half the movies, she can be, and in the other half, she can’t. If she can’t, and is still loyal to the villain, the hero seemingly takes her advice anyway, only for it to turn out that he knew the truth the whole time, and was playing the long game to dupe them both. There is no workaround for this trope. If you operate inside of the system, there is no way to beat that system. The reality of her loyalties, and the hero’s actions, are equally dictated by the needs of the story. This is real life, which means what he chooses here could result in failure, and even casualties. No author is trying to make it more interesting, or lead things down the right path.

“You’re not going alone,” Vantu insists. “You must be protected.” Vantu is a bit of a brute, but a very kind one, and very protective of anyone smaller or weaker. That’s usually not Resi himself, but he’s been particularly clingy on this trip due to the high stakes. Still, it won’t be necessary. Resi already has a plan.

“If they want to hurt me, there are easier ways to do it. A Bungulan-run island is the worst place to try something fishy. They got drones flying all over the place.”

“They only react so quickly,” Vantu argues, “and won’t be able to stop anything. Let me stay out of earshot, but in line of sight, so she knows she’s being monitored.”

“Really, it won’t be necessary, but I’ll let you walk with me,” Resi tells him.

He follows the girl’s directions, and heads towards the beach. He sees her standing there on the rocks, hair blowing in the wind. She’s changed her clothes into an asymmetrical shawl loosely wrapped around her waist, and what at this distance looks like a flower bikini top. She must think that he will listen to her because of it. He doesn’t advertise his asexuality but he doesn’t hide it either. If she’s done her homework, she’ll know that this won’t work. Or maybe she’s just hot. They are in the tropics, after all. He shouldn’t assume what her motivations are. He has no clue who she really is, or what she wants. He can’t trust her, though, that much is absolutely certain. She appears to be rather patient. She’s not folding her arms, or even shifting her weight between legs. She’s a statue, which may be telling him all he needs to know.

Resi looks over his own shoulder at Vantu, who nods, acknowledging that this is where he will remain so he doesn’t interfere with whatever is exchanged here. It doesn’t matter. Resi turns back at the stranger. He slowly draws his open hand up against his forehead in salute. Then he steadily swings it forward dramatically. If he could see her face from this distance, it would probably look confused. He doesn’t go up to see if he’s right. He just turns and walks away. The only way to win this game is to refuse to play.

Microstory 2671: The View From Up Here

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Resi is on Anchor Island now, as is every Fold Leader in his House. They all came here in a boat, while Resi got to fly in what he initially called a helicopter, but which was apparently known as a shuttle. They are in a conference room of some kind. It’s very sterile and lifeless. They aren’t used to it. Just about everything they do on Yana is outside, even when they’re under a roof. Fully enclosed spaces are mainly for sleeping, and maintaining valuables. That’s what keeps them a unified peoples, and is a core tenet of their sociological philosophy, even if they’re not entirely aware of it. They’re in the tallest building any of them has seen in real life, towering over the surface so high that the view from this side makes it look like they’re just sitting on top of the ocean itself. They’re all looking out the window quietly together. Resi wishes it was showing the island itself. Caprice’s information was out of date. This place is no longer a wasteland.

“Thank you all for waiting.” The invincible shuttle stranger takes her seat at the head, waving her hand across it invitingly. She taps on the wooden table like it’s a device. It turns out to be just that when a trapdoor slides open, and lifts a glass of water up for her. When she notices the way everyone is looking at her, she taps more to activate everyone’s own personal interfaces.

They begin to play with their preferences, but Resi is all business. He’s at the opposite head, and has to raise his voice a little. “How long until the others arrive?”

“The others?” she questions. “It’s just little old me.” She doesn’t look the least bit intimidated, being surrounded by all these crazy kids, with no one to back her up. This isn’t a contentious meeting, though it will be complex and complicated. He wouldn’t want to be alone. “My name is Zenith Gerard. I am the Anchor Island Representative. Only about a thousand people live here permanently. The rest are traveling up the elevators to Anchor Station, or down from it, as well as a few who are transferring from Yana to the mainland. As I am most familiar with the way Yana works, and how it differs from the rest of the stellar neighborhood, particularly Greater Bungula, I’ve been asked to speak with your personally, rather than bringing in a diplomat from elsewhere. Before we begin, are there any customs that you must set up, or rituals that you must perform?”

“No,” Resi says. “I’ve been trying to meet with you for days, and would like to get on with it, so we can come to an amicable understanding.”

She’s confused again. “There is a procedure for reaching out to us.”

“I was not made aware of it,” he explains. “We are exiles.”

“Yes,” she replies with a sigh. “I recognize that, and wish that I could help.”

“You could,” Resi tells her. “You have the room. You said it yourself, only a thousand people live here. We don’t require much. We can build our own infrastructure, we just can’t stay where we are now.”

Zenith nods. “I hear you, but this is a more delicate situation than I believe you know. I’m not saying no, but even if you agree to live as we do, you are facing opposition from your island leadership. You should know, they’re in the other room, fighting against any aid that we might be inclined to provide.”

Resi fumes. “They are the ones who are pushing us out. Where do they expect us to go? The bottom of the sea?”

“I don’t think it’s about that,” Zenith begins. “I think they’re worried that if you leave, others might follow. Your exile is meant to be...undesireable. If you land on your feet, you show that it’s possible to leave Yana.”

“What does it matter, what they want?” Resi questions. “You have the bigger guns. They can’t do anything to stop you. Just make the call, and screw ‘em.”

“Our first thought is never of violence. That is one thing that we share in common with your island. You have to understand, Mr. Brooks. Your way of life is against the law for everyone else in the Core Colonies, and unheard of in the neighborhood.”

“What are the Core and the neighborhood? What’s wrong with our way of life?”

“The Core includes the systems closest to Earth,” she says. “They were colonized first, and are expected to maintain post-scarcity economies. Anyone who doesn’t want that is given the tools they need to travel even farther through space, to the Charter Planets, or beyond. We do not allow capitalism. The stellar neighborhood lies before the Charter Cloud, and don’t have to be post-scarcity, but they all are. Yana is an exception.”

Resi stands back up, and walks over to the corner. At this height, they can actually see Central Mountain in the distance, though only through a sliver of the glass. The rest is opaque, until now. It suddenly turns transparent, so Yana can be seen in its full glory. The other kids stand to get a look, but he looks back at Zenith. “You are more advanced than we realized. Or I should say, we are less advanced than we should be.” He slips through the crowd. “Stay here, look at the pretty island.”

Zenith stands too. “Capitalism does not disallow innovation, but it can slow it down, especially for a smaller population of protected peoples. Necessity is the mother of invention, and we obviate that. We control the weather. We hold back the tsunamis. We cure your diseases. You’ve not progressed much, because you’ve not needed to.”

 “So, where does this leave us?” Resi asks, trying to maintain composure.

“There is one way for you to become integrated into our society,” Zenith tells him, “but only the one. It’s how we’ve been doing it for centuries.”

“The Kidjum.”

“We respect your traditions,” she goes on. “Your Kidjum process is baked into the accord that I signed with your ancestors. It is how someone from your culture becomes one of us. Your leaders are willing to take you back as long as you validate their conventions, and if that ends with a few people coming here anyway, then that’s fine with them, because that is how it always was.”

“There’s something fishy here,” Resi complains. “They gave me this House, and took it away five minutes later because they didn’t like what I did with it.”

She nods. “I would have to agree, but it is not my place to take sides. The accord was with your governing body, and House Kutelin is not a recognized faction of it. In the eyes of Bungula, everything happening between you and your nation is an internal matter. I’m trying to find a way to get you need without breaking that fragile accord.”

Resi turns around to face the other Fold Leaders. He thought they were admiring the view, but they’ve been watching the two of them like an audience. “This has to be a group effort. Do we return to the Kidjum, and risk losing our momentum, or do we stand together, and fight for a home, whether that’s there, here, or elsewhere?”

It starts out slow, but dominos quickly as the other kids sit back down in their seats. “Let’s talk,” one of them says. She looks at Zenith. “Thank you. You can go now.”

Microstory 2668: Brooks Without an E

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Resi walks into the common area of his wing where everyone is watching his nationwide address. Most of the kids here are from his Fold, but there are a few from different Folds. The TV version of him is just finishing up his speech. “To reiterate, House Kutelin is here to stay, but we are no longer accepting new members, and will be doing what we can to reinstitute the Kidjum so that Tambora can successfully return to its roots, and begin letting our collective subconscious help us find a happy and prosperous place for all adult citizens of the island. Thank you.”

The broadcast ends, everyone looks back at present moment Resi. “Sir, I don’t understand,” Banu says. “I thought we were starting a revolution.”

“We—” He has to clear his throat. “We don’t have the space or resources to take in more. Aren’t there three people in your room? Which one of you sleeps on the floor?”

“We were waiting for you to fix that for us,” Banu replies. “Something’s changed.”

“Yeah, who got to you? Speaker Lincoln?” Nita guesses.

“No, it wasn’t someone from the Assembly,” Banu says to Nita.

“Right. What did the Ambassadors say to you?” another boy, Rimba presses. “You spoke with them, and suddenly you’re on board with the Kidjum?”

“The Kidjum was supposed to return days ago,” Resi reminds them. “The Ambassadors have nothing to do with it. We can’t stop them from going back to the old ways. I wasn’t helping them before, but it’s gotten out of control. We’re being exiled, and we still don’t have anywhere to go. How am I meant to feed all of you?”

“So why have we been sabotaging the Kidjum this whole time if we didn’t want any more kids to join us?” Darima questions.

What the hell is she talking about? Resi telescopes his neck as far as possible. “Who’s been sabotaging the Kidjums? I’ve not ordered anyone to sabotage the Kidjums.”

“We’ve been wetting the coals to prevent them from conducting the fire ceremony,” Darima goes on. “We’ve been stealing sheets and cots, and sending cancellation messages to fifteen-year-olds, redirecting them here.”

Resi looks around at his Fold to see about half agree with Darima. Half look just as confused as he is. As his heart sinks, it buoys back up just a little bit when it appears Chaya is one of the clueless. He wouldn’t know what to do if he found out that the person he was leaving his sister with betrayed them. “Who told you to do that?”

Now everyone has a look of confusion on their face. “You did, sir,” Darima claims. “You’ve been sending messages this whole time. You were quite specific about what you wanted us to do. You even gave us keys to the Tadungeria.”

“I don’t have keys to the Tadungeria,” Resi argues, “because we don’t use it, because we don’t do the Kidjums. I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, but it wasn’t me. Raise your hand if anyone has spoken to me in person about stealing cots, or drowning coal.” He nods when no one raises their hand. “Well, there’s your answer.”

“It came from your address, see?” another girl claims, who isn’t even in his Fold, and probably shouldn’t be here for this discussion. Except apparently, this goes beyond this wing, to other members of the House. She shows him her device.

“I’m taking this.” He scans the group. “Where’s Arumay?” Their techiest tech wiz.

“Right here.” She’s behind him.

He hands her the device. “Find out who’s doing this, and how.” He goes back to the crowd. “From now on, you don’t do anything unless I tell you in person. This created an enemy that we don’t want. We can’t go up against a whole nation’s soldiers, and if the other nations get involved, that’s goodbye House Kutelin. Get ready to see God.”

Arumay hands Resi the device back after having barely any time to check it. “No one hacked the network. They just typosquatted. The emails came from resi dot brookes with an e in your last name, rather than resi dot brooks.” She scowls at everyone. “They’re just idiots. I think I remember getting an email from that address, inviting me to a new distribution pod. It went straight to my spam because I have decent filters.”

Resi sighs, and takes a moment to compose himself before he says something bad. “We are not sabotaging anyone. To be clear, this is not a revolution, a rebellion, or an insurgency. We were told that a fifth House was an option. We have since been told that it is no longer an option, and that we must leave. I can get us through this, but you have to work with me, not against me. Pay attention to the way we spell words. I will never just send you an order to do something that you’ve never done before. We will always have talked first. I was going to be fully transparent with you, but now I know that I have to keep secrets, like the Assembly. The Kidjum is not just something that we are allowing because they’re giving us no choice. Letting it go on is absolutely integral to my plan to find us a new home. I won’t tell you more than that, because now I don’t know who I can trust. One of you impersonated me and committed treason. Until I find out who that is, you’re going to have to trust me without reciprocation.”

“We thought this was going to make our lives better,” Kasati contends. “We thought we were helping push the island into the 26th century. But if things are going to go back to the way they were, and we’re not going to fight it, what are we even doing here still? My dream was probably gonna lead me to join Ilah. I might have ended up being adopted by your birth family. You took that from me with your lies. It doesn’t matter if we read the messages wrong. What they were telling us to do was exactly what we should be doing, and if we’re going to stop, then I’m going to demand that the Assembly allow me a latent Kidjum to make up for what I missed. But that’s up to you, Res. Is what you’re doing helping, or should we quit while we’re ahead?”

Resi shakes his head. “The Assembly never said that make-up Kidjums would be an option, but please, before you flood their inboxes with requests, allow me to ask on your behalf. If you wanna leave, you can leave, but if your exile applies whether you stay with us or not, you should know that there is no returning. You would be choosing to be exiled alone, and I won’t help you find a new place to live. I only help Kutelins. Give me two days to reach out to the Speaker before you make any irreversible decisions for yourself. And for the love of Yana, leave the Kidjums that are moving ahead alone.”

Some seem agreeable. Others look embarrassed for having been fooled by the fake emails. A few are still indignant, and will likely continue to be a problem.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go make a new video so that our whole House knows where we stand, and that what I say goes. I’m First Tongue of Aether, I speak first. It will be coming from resi dot brooks, no e.” He leans over to Arumay as they’re dispersing. “Find out who sent those other messages. I wanna know who’s trying to get us killed.” Wait. “No e in my last name,” he clarifies to his Fold. “There is one in Resi.” He shouldn’t have to dumb this down. Maybe not everyone deserves to be in his Fold.

Microstory 2667: Pure Guano

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It’s been another few days since the fruitless meeting in Ambassador Hall. Resi has been trying to go over the heads of the ambassadors, and secure an audience with the Presidents of Sanggar and Pekat themselves, but no such luck. It’s looking like Cortez was right. There’s no place for them on the island anymore. Their numbers haven’t stopped going up. There are now 428 of them. Fortunately, it’s not the rainy season right now, so the kids who have to sleep outside of the dorms are doing okay. They’ve lived on an island their whole lives, so it’s not like any of them isn’t used to the elements. Resi is trying to hold it together, but everyone is looking to him to fix this. They have less than two weeks to figure out where to go, but it’s not so simple. Leaving Yana is the one thing that no one wants to do. They’re islanders. That’s their whole thing. They didn’t choose any of the four original houses, but they didn’t choose Kinkon either. They can’t stand the thought. But if they leave, they can’t just let the Bungulas plop them down wherever there happens to be open space. They’re not familiar with the planet’s geography, but there has to be more than one island. Maybe even a better one?

“Caprice,” Resi says as he’s walking towards his unit. “You’re with me.”

“Boss,” she replies respectfully as she’s following him down the hall. The way she justifies her involvement in this is that the Kidjums were supposed to end for good, leaving her free to choose a new destiny for herself. She says she couldn’t help it that the Assembly decided to go back to the old ways. That was weeks ago. She’s quit her job, and found a new one. She’s the only older person here.

Resi pops his head into the room. And there’s the only younger person here. He steps back out and looks down the hall. “Hey, Chaya! Are you free?”

“Yeah, need me to take her?” Chaya was the Ilah girl from his first non-Kidjum who challenged his decisions. Not everyone from that fateful day is part of Resi’s personal Fold now, but a lot of them have proven themselves capable of serving well as his advisors and delegates. Chaya, in particular, is good with Kala, so she takes on babysitting duties when Resi can’t look after her, or needs some privacy. She takes Kala’s hand when she comes out of the dorm on her own, knowing the drill. “Let’s go get some bolon de verde.”

“Not too much,” Resi instructs.

Caprice closes the door behind her. “I think you need to stop trying to talk to the presidents. They don’t have time for us. They don’t care.”

“Oh, I’ve stopped,” Resi agrees. “We only have one more option now, and it’s not Yana. I’m hoping that you know where we could go, given your history.”

“My history?” Caprice questioned. “What do you mean?”

“You’re Kinkon,” he says. It’s not something they ever talk about, but while she looks Tamboran, she’s clearly had a lot of experience on the outside.

“What the hell are you talking about? No, I’m not. I was from Naino. I grew up as a fisherman. I hadn’t realized I hadn’t told you that. That’s why I always wear blue.”

“The color codes don’t really exist anymore, and that’s not a Kutelin thing.”

“They were when I was a kid. Naino wore mostly blue. I don’t understand why you thought I was Kinkon, because I know how to work a nanoparticle microinjector?” They don’t use a lot of technology from the outside world, but the Bungulans insisted on providing them with medical supplies. They said it was a humanitarian issue. No amount of non-interference laws could overshadow basic existential ethics.

“No, your name. Caprice is not Tamboran.”

She stares at him for a few seconds. “Yeah, my parents gave me a western world name. That’s not illegal, and it doesn’t mean I’m from one of the other settlements. I’m Tamboran through and through. I’m sorry if you thought that I had some special knowledge about what else is out there, but I probably had a worse education than you. I skipped half of the school days because I had to deepsea fish with my family.”

“So you do know about the ocean,” he presses. “Have you seen any other island, just when you were living your life, not studying it?”

“I’m sure there are a ton of islands out there. We didn’t go to any of them, because that’s not deep sea. The only specific one I know off the top of my head is Anchor Island, and we all know that one.”

“That’s the one with the elevator?” Resi asks rhetorically. “That would be in our own knowledge archives.” He takes out his device, and looks it up. He reads as much as he can without the silence becoming too awkward between him and Caprice. “It was ours. It’s only forty-two kilometers away, and used to be an extension of Yana. We gave it to the colonists not too long ago, historically speaking.”

“Yeah, that sounds right. I think our ancestors would mine guano there for fertilizer. But then they stripped it clean, and had no further use for it. They traded it for something—I don’t remember—but it was only recently that the Bungulans started using it for their space elevator, since we’re at the equator.” She looked up to think. “You were probably just being born when that was all going down. Somebody stole the top part of the elevator, and nearly started a war, so they had to build a new one to replace it.”

“Did they ever...figure out how to plant there? Or is it still barren?”

“No, I don’t think they care about that,” Caprice answers. “They just just use it to go up and down. So if you were hoping they would, for some reason, give it back, I don’t see why they would, and I don’t see what we would do with it.”

He sighed and frowned, looking down at the floor, defeated yet again.

“But. Even though I’m not Kinkon, one thing I know about them is that Anchor Island doubles as a waypoint. When they choose to leave Yana, they go there first, and start to acclimate to a new way of life. I obviously don’t know exactly what that entails, but every time they’re needed, the Anchor people come here in a really fast boat, and ferry them over. I think such an excursion is not a big deal for those people. They could probably make the trip on their lunch break.”

“How often does someone’s subconscious choose Kinkon during a Kidjum?”

“In my experience, a few people a week. It fluctuates, though. During periods of great strife, we usually end up with more, because kids believe there’s a better life for them on the other side of the ocean.”

“Is there?” Resi asks her. “Are we stupid for not choosing Kinkon too?”

She’s silent at first, looking away, then looking him in the eyes again. “Probably.”

Resi nods. “Thank you for your help. I’m sorry this conversation started out so combative. Now. I think I need a camera. For now, we are no longer accepting applications to join House Kutelin. The Kidjums must start again so someone can choose Kinkon for us, and trigger that boat. You and I are gonna get on it.”

Microstory 2666: Two Ambassadors Walk Into a Farce

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When the saviors—whoever exactly they were—rescued the would-be victims of the 1815 Mount Tambora eruption, they only took those whose bodies would never have been recovered. They know this, because lots of people did die from that catastrophe, even all across the world, due to secondary effects, and no survivor left on Earth reported seeing magical beings come down and whisk certain people away. They were missing and presumed dead, most likely vaporized. The Kingdom of Tambora was closer to the volcano, so the history books have written them off as wiped out. In reality, they were brought here to Bungula, for some reason over 400 years in the future. That’s what some people currently living on Yana believe. To the rest of the galaxy, the original Yana islanders must have been an isolated population of colonists, who came to this planet in ships like everyone else, then later made up superstitious stories about their origins. Yana Islanders have accepted the more rational explanation for the most part. Some of them reject the lore so strongly, though, that they leave the island as Kinkon. Only some still believe, and out of them, the majority live in Tambora.

Fewer people were rescued from Pekat and Sanggar, but they have maintained their own culture here too. They don’t have Houses, they don’t care about the Tamboran Houses, they don’t have anything to do with any of this. They occupy a smaller portion of the island because their population remains a smaller fraction, but they have their own things going on, and certainly their own problems. Still, a few hundred sixteen-year-olds isn’t too much to deal with. Surely one of them will agree to take them in as refugees. Members of House Kutelin don’t have to stay together. It would be nice, but Resi is prepared to be flexible in case their neighbors aren’t. That’s why he has asked to meet with them at the same time, so they can all three work this out together.

Resi stands when they enter simultaneously, likely having been discussing matters away from him beforehand. “Ambassador Churchill,” he says with a nod. “Ambassador Cortez. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I apologize if our customs are incompatible. If there is anything I should do or say, please let me know. My studies focused primarily on agriculture. We were not taught much of your cultures.”

“It’s fine, Mr. Brooks,” Churchill assures him. “Let us sit.”

They’re at the triangle table. It looks about as you would expect. It’s usually for the Tambora ambassador to sit on this side, but if she has an issue with it, she can climb the hill and complain. He focuses on keeping his breath steady. “I believe that you two know why I am here, so in lieu of pitching it to you formally, I thought I would give you the opportunity to speak first. Unless, that is, you do want to hear a speech.”

“That’s all right,” Cortez agrees. “We have been talking amongst each other, but cannot give an answer until we know a little bit more information. The last we were told, there were three hundred and thirteen of you?”

“There are three hundred and fifty-five now, since it took a couple of days for you two to become available for this meeting.”

They both consult their devices. “Forgive me,” Churchill begins, “but we were to understand that your number was static. The Tamboran Assembly claims to have put an end to the new system, and reverted back to the old one.”

Resi nods. “They’re trying to do that, yes, but they’re struggling. Kids are excited to join us, and we have not been turning them away. If they skip their Kidjum, and come right to House Kutelin, we always open our doors. So far, the Assembly has not been arguing with us about it. The ceremony Kokore has...remained on my side of things, which makes reinstituting the Kidjum a somewhat complicated endeavor. I believe they are secretly relieved to have the extra time to get things back up and running.”

“Do you anticipate further defection?” Cortez presses.

“We don’t use that word,” Resi replies, “but as I said, we’ve been opening our doors to those in need. That is how I was raised. My family once took in a Bungulan who came here for vacation when there was no more space at any of the resorts.”

A brief awkward pause.

Cortez went on, “you understand that we are already reluctant to extend a hand, and risk instigating tensions with the Tamboran Assembly.”

“The Assembly has no problem with it,” Resi insists, hoping it wasn’t too rude to interrupt. He just needs them to understand this before they start arguing more, because he knows what their real concern is. “We’re not fugitives or war criminals. We’re exiles. They want us to find somewhere to live. The stratified system that they use in their economy is not conducive to the introduction of an additional house. There are no jobs left. Your systems are more fluid, allowing us to fill in the gaps wherever necessary while maintaining our distinct culture association.”

“We appreciate that,” Churchill says. “But if your numbers are increasing, it makes our decision harder. We do not have infinite resources, nor infinite jobs. The Pekat are also facing a mild distribution issue with our own population. The island is only so large, and we are never not negotiating the size of our fractions of it.”

Cortez nods. “Sanggar is running out of space as well. I don’t know if you know this, but 300 years ago, Tambora reserved the best land for themselves. They can dig down in certain regions. You have basements and high rises. We don’t have that luxury.”

“We have had to maintain strict population control,” Churchill concurs, “so we do not exceed our allotment. We may be able to take in a few dozen of your people.”

“Us as well,” Cortez agrees.

Churchill continues with the same breath, “but that’s only if those we take in are willing to live on the harsh Tambora border, and build their own infrastructure.”

“That is unacceptable,” Resi says with a shake of his head. “I can’t leave any of my people behind. There’s nowhere to go.” He takes a breath before he says something unbecoming of an ad hoc ambassador. “Let’s think this through. You need more space.” He taps on his heart. “We do too. Point to the map. Show me where they can build basements that’s closest to your borders. My former Maing’aing are excellent engineers. They can whip up a new building in a matter of weeks.”

“Nowhere on our side of the border is dig-worthy.” Churchill stands now. “I know the geography well enough to say the same for Sanggar.”

“It doesn’t have to be on that side. It just has to be close, and we’ll annex it. We don’t have anything over there. The border isn’t a heavily trafficked area. They might as well give it to us, and by extension you. But we need your support to do that.”

The Ambassadors look at each other, appearing to share a telepathic conversation before Cortez looks back over at Resi. “I’m sorry, but we simply cannot risk conflict with Tambora. Taking land on your way out isn’t really exile, is it? You’ll have to find another way. It looks like you are no longer welcome anywhere on Yana.”

Microstory 2665: Anchorman

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It’s been a couple of weeks. House Kutelin has had their ups and their downs, but if we’re talking hard numbers, then all ups. A lot of graduates are joining, and no one who joins can leave. Some things are meant to start to change, but Resi isn’t sure if that’s one of them; where people can shift between Houses at will. House leaders will start campaigning for members. They’ll incentivize switching sides. Entire industries on this island could suffer. They technically already are. With fewer people joining any of the four original Houses these days, those who are already in them are struggling. Just a little bit, but it will presumably get worse. Older generations will start to feel the need to stay on the job for longer. Younger generations will feel bitter about being stuck. Right now, Aether doesn’t contribute anything. All they do is take. Resi is not an idiot. He absolutely foresaw this. The question is, did the Assembly? Well, he’s about to find out. After all this time, they have finally asked for a meeting. Let’s see how upset they are.

The first thing he hears is clapping. He stops short of rounding the corner, where he’ll see, and be seen by, the Assemblymen. Did he come in too early? The steward said that they were ready for him, but if they’re still finishing up previous business...

“What’s wrong?” Caprice asks.

“I’m waiting until they’re done,” Resi explains.

“That’s for you,” she explains. “Better get in there so they can rest their arms.”

Resi grimaces, and timidly continues. As he steps in enough to start to see faces, they look back at him with smiles, and begin to cheer louder. This again? It happened at his Kidjum, and he still doesn’t understand why. Not really. Everything he has studied about history has taught him that people hate change. It doesn’t matter if it’s good or bad, they fear it. One might think that a post-scarcity society would have possibly moved past that, but no. Even outside of this one little island, they fear change. That’s actually what getting rid of things like money, poverty, and war did. It created equilibrium. No more change, just peace and predictability. And the only reason Yana hasn’t joined them is because they started the race from behind. They’re afraid of making that one last change to end all change. That’s how his philosophy teacher explained it. The lecture is still fresh in his mind, because it was only a few months ago. When he was a kid.

“All right, all right,” the Speaker says as she’s pressing their voices down with both hands. Resi isn’t all that familiar with who these people are. Politics were never his thing. He always thought he would just work the dirt and keep his head down for the rest of his life. He believes that Speaker Lincoln is from House Maing’aing, but she would have shed that association a long time ago. Civil service is a separate thing, which is expected to serve all Houses equally. They always talk about the four Houses, but in reality, there are a lot more. They are just the original four industrial domains, before life became too complex for such limited stratification. You may join a House but work in a tangential field. She holds silent for a moment, like she’s waiting for Resi to finish his internal thoughts. “Resi Brooks, First Tongue of Aether, Founder of House Kutelin, thank you for coming in today. You honor us with your presence.” She gestures to him.

Is he supposed to say something? Something in particular? Is this ceremony? He wasn’t given any guidelines. “Speaker Lincoln of the Tambora Assembly, thank you for having me. I look forward to hearing your grievances, and working towards a common goal.” Wow. What the hell was that? Just say the quiet part out loud, why don’t you?

The whole Assembly laughs. They’re delighted. They must still see him as a child, with his quirky little ignorance, and lack of decorum. Speaker Lincoln doesn’t laugh out loud, but she looks as pleased. “We have no grievances, only a gift.”

“A gift, sir?” he questions. “I could not ask for more. House Kutelin is not yet working.” That is not entirely true. Last week, once Resi realized that the population of his new House wasn’t on track to stop exploding, he started sending volunteers back to the other four Houses. They don’t work too hard, and have no obligations, so it hasn’t made up for the total loss. Only a handful of them have agreed to it. Most of these volunteers have simply been staying at home, where they were before graduation.

“How many belong to your House now?” Speaker Lincoln asks. “Three hundred?”

“Three hundred thirteen,” Resi replies, “if we’re counting my pre-Kidjum sister.”

Speaker Lincoln nods. “Outgrowing the old college dorms, aren’t we?”

Yes, they’re climbing over each other over there. The school shut down because it became too small for the populace, and outdated, but it’s considered a historical landmark, so it remains standing. Really nowhere else in the city could accommodate such a concentrated group of people. “We’re making it work. Many joiners are from House Maing’aing, so they have begun to draw up plans for new facilities, but that...”

“...would require authorization and support from the Assembly.” Speaker Lincoln indicates her Assemblymen. “Well, let’s fix that before the concrete cures.” Yeah, she’s definitely from Maing’aing. “You’re not getting it. You will not get a builder’s permit.” 

“Speaker Lincoln, I understand that you’re angry with us, but I am not the one who came up with House Kutelin. The breath that told me about it was the same one which told me that it was mine to lead. This is how I’m leading it. If you wanted me to do something different, you should have said something ahead of time. Now it’s too late. Now I’ve built momentum. Now people want to join who aren’t even up for House transition. Some have already transitioned. Others are yet too young.”

“We are aware of how well you are being received,” Speaker Lincoln begins. “Younger generations never understand that the Kidjum is a fundamentally different process from their usual bizarre and hard-to-interpret dreams. It’s nothing new. There is always doubt. Once they find their true place, all fall in line. You, First Tongue Brooks, have chosen your place. You've chosen to go against our ways in unexpected fashion.”

“I told you, you should have said something!” Resi argues. “You. Said. Nothing.”

“That was by design,” Speaker Lincoln retorts. “Our hands were tied. The old traditions were clear. The First Tongue speaks first, and it is up to us to reply. Now that we understand what you’re doing, we have found our voice, and this our reply.”

“What I’m doing,” he echoes. “What do you think I’m doing?”

Speaker Lincoln smirks. “I’m not here to give you the answers, only a timeframe. You and three-hundred and twelve of your closest friends must exit the Nation of Tambora by the end of the month, or you will have declared war on the Four Houses.”

“War?” That escalated quickly. This was a gift? “You were just clapping for me.”

“You are still owed deference in this assembly hall. The old traditions were clear on that too.” She takes a breath. “We are reinstituting the Kidjum. This experiment is over. You will remain an ally, but you are no longer welcome on Yana. Thank you.”

Yana. Tambora does not equate to the whole island. They can’t kick him out. He just has to speak with one or both of the other two nations.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 1, 2545

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While Team Matic was living semipermanently on Castlebourne, Hrockas set up an annual meeting on their days in the timestream. He typically wanted them to be caught up on certain things, and maybe ask for their advice or help. Even though the team had since left, this meeting was still going on and going strong. It was a review of the prior year, and a general check-in for the planet’s administrative staff. Of course, they held meetings all the time, but this was the big one. Lycander left the meeting after the unauthorized teleportation alert because responding to such threats was part of his job. They were pressed about it because everyone who was given the ability to teleport was in the meeting, and none of them had left. He reported that all was quiet on the western front, and escorted them back so they could join the meeting too. But they weren’t necessarily going to participate as if it were business as usual.

Since Hrockas wasn’t expecting them, he didn’t simply continue with the agenda. He called a recess for an impromptu debrief. His trusty bodyguard, Azad leaned against the credenza behind him, and didn’t speak. “The last time I checked, you did not have the coordinates to Castlebourne’s new location. I’m not mad, but how did you find us?”

“Truthfully,” Leona began, “you can be found, but not by just anyone. First of all, we did not come here on purpose, and we did not go through the bulk. We were investigating a gravitational anomaly on Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida. We still don’t know how it works, but we found a key piece of technology. Due to our presence, it sent us away. It sent us...here. We have no idea how or why. Maybe it read our minds, and thought we considered it home. I don’t know. We’ll need to look into it more, but to answer the spirit of your question, Ramses created a map that sends signals through the membrane of the universe, and pinpoints technological establishments. It is precise enough to target a single-person habitat. So yes, we knew where you were. We were using it to look for someone else, and initially avoided this region, because we guessed that the signal was coming from you. That being said, if Ramses could do it, that means it can be done. It doesn’t mean that the Exin Empire can do it, but it’s not impossible. The bottom line is that you’re not safe here, but to put it in perspective, you’re not safe anywhere. Moving the star was still your smartest move.”

“You just answered all of my follow-up questions,” Hrockas said. “Thank you.” He looked over to Ramses now. “I hesitate to believe that it was a mind-reading machine. What is your hypothesis? I know you always have one.”

Ramses looked around at his friends as he hesitated. “Bida, and presumably Varkas Reflex, generate their gravity artificially. Basically, what they do is blanket a surface with an invisible portal that blocks the gravitational pull of the celestial body that you’re actually on, and just gives you gravity from somewhere else. That somewhere else part is critical. It has to come from somewhere.” He looked around again, but this time at the walls and ceiling. “My hypothesis, sir, is that it comes from here. To Trinity Turner and-or Hokusai Gimura, it might have been a random point in space. They might not have chosen it with any level of intentionality. The gravity regulator may have even chosen it for them, and it worked, so they left it as it was.”

Hrockas closed his eyes and nodded. “But then we moved a new solar system to this region, and screwed everything up.”

“Honest mistake,” Mateo assured him. “In fact, not even a mistake. You couldn’t have known that it was here.”

“Actually,” Hrockas said. “I think I did.” He stood up from his chair, and tapped the back of his ear. Ramses had given him his own set of communication discs, which operated on their own network. “Telman, could you come to my office?”

A man they didn’t know appeared. “Sir?”

“What did that—what was that thing you saw a few years ago when we first started decelerating the stellar engine?” Hrockas asked him.

“The blip?” Telman asked.

“Yes, the blip.”

Telman looked at the others in the room very briefly. “It was a blip. It messed with our quantum connections. People’s consciousnesses weren’t properly received for a few weeks. Fortunately, our safeguards worked, and their signals were rerouted to an off-site back-up facility on the outer edge of the system. But then for a few weeks after that, transmission to Castlebourne started working again, and it was the off-site facility that stopped working. We’ve had to shut it down permanently, and rely on a second outpost on an adjacent side of the system for emergency back-up streaming.”

“Teleportation stopped working too,” Azad added. “We all took the trains during that period of time.”

Hrockas nodded again. “We didn’t know what to make of it. We never found the source of the issue, but things are mostly back to normal.”

Leona paced clear to the other side of the room. “Your stellar engine, was it polar?”

Hrockas cleared his throat. “There are some things even you are not allowed to know, but...no. It wasn’t a traditional thruster. We used other means. We just call it that because there’s no other name for it, and it’s what people understand. We moved laterally, sometimes towards the planet, and sometimes away from it, depending on its place in orbit at the time. We didn’t have to worry about any sort of exhaust beam with the technique that we used, and that was the direction we wanted to go.”

“That’s okay,” Leona said. “I’m guessing that the first back-up site was on the trailing edge of the ecliptic plane, which means Castlebourne crossed a particular point first, and then it followed.”

“Yes, that’s what happened,” Telman confirmed.

“Which means we can plot where it is now,” Leona said. “If you give us the data we need, we’ll get your other outpost up and running again, and maybe save a few hundred million lives in the stellar neighborhood while we’re at it.”

Ramses holed up in his lab, and processed the data that Hrockas okayed Telman to provide for him. Telman even spent a little bit of time in there with him to discuss the issue. Ramses occupied himself all day with doing that, and designing some kind of new probe. He launched that probe before the team left the timestream, and reconnected with it after they returned on the first of September, 2545. “I found it. The probe found it. This region of the galaxy has its own gravitational anomaly. It’s kind of like a planetary-mass black hole, but it behaves unlike what the science predicts. I’m guessing the added mass of the solar system is interfering with its function.”

“Why use this?” Olimpia questioned. “Why get your gravity from a random point in space using an invisible black hole, when you can get it from a planet that already has the mass you need, say, Earth?”

“Because as we’ve seen,” Ramses continued, “that interferes with the equilibrium on both sides of the portal. You can’t share the gravity. You can only steal it. I’m starting to think that this area wasn’t the least bit random. Hokusai somehow managed to either find an Earth-mass black hole, or collapsed a comparable planet into a singularity to create one. I’m guessing that it was a rogue world, which made it inhospitable to life, and ripe for the taking according to ethical standards.”

“The timeline doesn’t make sense to me,” Angela said. “Castlebourne and the star both have deeper gravity wells than the outpost asteroid that it says the black hole is next to right now. Why have things been getting progressively worse on Bida? It seems like they would have been so much worse before.”

“That’s why it was so hard to find,” Ramses started to explain. The black hole didn’t pass through Castlebourne, or the star. They just got close to it. They got the ball rolling, so to speak. Now that the solar system has settled where it is, the issue has been worsening because it’s been persistent. The current competing gravity hasn’t been enough to destroy it all at once, but it’s been throwing things off. Before you ask, it’s actually not just compounding gravity here that is raising the gravity on the other planets. It’s simply disturbing the optimal operation of the regulators on the other side of the portals. Indeed, they were well-engineered to compensate for this disturbance, but are constantly fighting against it, and it’s taken a toll.”

“So, what can you do?” Hrockas asked him. “Can you move the black hole, or...should we try to move? I’m gonna tell ya, that’s not gonna be so easy, and definitely not fast. I can’t reach out to my contact whenever I want. We had a deal. Getting us here was the deal. I said nothing about a second move.”

“Relax,” Leona said with a laugh. “We have another solution. For the permanent one, we’ll need a reframe engine, but for the temporary one...a slingdrive.” She glanced at Rames. “A bigger one than we have. Incidentally, we must enact both plans, even if the permanent one sounds easier. It’s not easier at all. I couldn’t help but notice that none of the crew of the Vellani Ambassador was at the meeting. We really need them, and preferably yesterday.”

“They don’t come back here much anymore,” Hrockas revealed. “Their days of regularly transporting refugees are behind them. Anyone who wanted to escape pretty much has already. They mostly go on diplomatic missions on an as-needed basis. There’s still a lot of internal conflict that needs to be managed so it doesn’t explode into all-out war.”

“I assume you know about the armada that is on its way to where Castlebourne used to be,” Marie said to him.

“We do. We’ve been monitoring their progress. So far, they’re still headed in the wrong direction, but we will be prepared to fight if we absolutely have to,” Hrockas said.

“Do you happen to know where the VA is at this moment?” Leona asked.

“They don’t keep me updated,” Hrockas answered, “they don’t have to.” He paused for a second. “I can call them, if this is an emergency. Is it an emergency?”

“Not for you,” Romana said, “but for the Bidans and Varkas, uh...Reflexers...”

“Varkans,” Leona corrected.

“All right.”

Hrockas stood up, but Azad placed a hand upon his shoulder. “I’ll take care of it. It’s still glass, and you’re not armored.” He opened a cabinet on the wall and removed a few objects, like a stack of tablets and what appeared to be a king’s crown. Behind them was a second cabinet, made of glass. He punched through it with the side of his fist, letting the shards scatter in the main cabinet. He reached deep into a dark hole that they couldn’t see into, then quickly jerked backwards.

“It might be a few hours,” Hrockas told the group, “and it might not happen. Our needs do not take precedence over absolutely anything else going on. They might not be able to get away quickly, but they will eventually show up, and definitely within the year. Once they do, I’ll speak with them, and I’m sure they’ll work around your schedule so they’re here next year. I wish I could do better. I wish I had realized what we had done.”

“It’s not your fault,” Angela insisted. “Black holes are invisible.”

Mirage suddenly appeared, standing upon Hrockas’ desk. She was wearing an extremely loud rainbow outfit, and presenting in a hero stance, with her hands on her hips. “Have no fear! Mirage Matic shall be the tip of your spear!” She looked down to see the team. “Oh, hey, guys.”

“Why do you still use my name?” Mateo questioned.

Mirage teleported off the desk, and onto the floor, right behind Mateo. “Because I can see the future...husband,” she whispered into his ear. Then she nibbled on his earlobe, and slapped him on the ass before starting to walk towards the center of the room. “What can I do for you all? Your words; my deeds.”

Ramses stepped forward, and evidently decided to lean into it. “My queen, we ask for access to your great vessel. A marble-sized singularity must be moved out of this solar system. It will take a great deal of quintessence to perform such a feat, but we have no time to waste. Will you help us?”

Mirage frowned at him, but only still playacting. “This marble of yours, it wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with what’s going on with Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida, Varkas Reflex, and Muñecai?”

The group looked amongst each other. “We didn’t know it was happening on Muñecai, but yes,” Leona answered.

Mirage nodded. “I’m quite familiar with interstellar filter portals. That is how we ended up in the Goldilocks Corridor in the first place.”

“So, is that a yes?” Mateo pressed.

Mirage pursed her lips, and turned her chin to the side. “You son of a bitch, I’m in!” she exclaimed with a smile.

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