Microstory 2312: A Great Audience

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Hello, it’s Kelly again. Welcome to the last post ever. I hope that it lives up to your expectations, but there’s only so much I can do. Nick was a very important part of a lot of people’s lives, including my own, but I recognize that others have their own personal experiences. That was kind of the original idea behind the Forum Memorial, but I suppose that the comment section serves that purpose too. Beyond that, I wanted to thank Jasmine for taking the time to express her final thoughts before this site comes to a close. It was really nice to hear from her again, wasn’t it, folks? Moving on, I was planning on just sort of shutting myself away from the world after this, but my friends have suggested that I keep things alive in a new way. People have evidently responded well to my contributions, even before Nick went away forever, so I do want to continue in some capacity, but before I get into that, you should know that this blog is still ending. It was never really mine, and I want my own space on the web. Stay subscribed to Nick’s social media accounts, where I’ll let you know how to keep following along, if you want. I think this is the right way to do it. All of you subscribed to hear from him, or at least about him. It wouldn’t be fair for me to sort of usurp this whole audience for my own gain. I should have to start over, and you can choose to follow me on the other side, or not. I won’t blame you if you don’t. I would rather know that everyone is there because they want to be, not because they forgot to fully unsubscribe from this site. So, there it is. It’s over. As they say, it’s been a hell of a ride, so far, but it’s not truly over. This version of Earth kept spinning after Nick and Dutch died, and will continue doing just that even when every single one of us follows in their footsteps. These words, though...the blog updates, the book, the musical; they could live on forever. Alienoid ultrahumans five billion years from now might be enjoying what we’ve created over the last 365 days. That goes for everyone, with your own accounts, storing your own original thoughts. It’s crazy to think about it this way, but it’s comforting too. You can all live forever if you do something with your lives. It doesn’t have to be huge, or mind-blowing. You don’t even have to become famous. You just have to have something to say, and a means of recording it. Thank you again for being here, and participating in the global discourse. I wouldn’t call us boring at all, and I think Nick would have changed his mind about that by now. Signing off for the last time here. I’ve been Kelly Serna...and you’ve been a great audience.

Microstory 2311: Nice to Be Back

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Hello readers, this is Jasmine again. I asked Nick if I could write another guest post for his blog. This was obviously before he died, and it never ended up happening. I was having tea with Kelly this weekend, though, and mentioned it, so she asked me to finally follow through with it. I was gonna say a whole bunch of stuff back then that’s no longer relevant nor appropriate, but it’s nice to be back here. This website feels like home. When I was his assistant, I helped a lot with managing it, and making it look better than it did before. I rearranged some of the auxiliary elements, and reformatted some old posts. He had to use a number of different word processors over time when his life was all about staying in motion, so things were just a little messy in the beginning, but he had always wanted everything to be more consistent. Anyway, I’m still working at the jail, and things are going very well. He did a great job formulating this team, so if anyone asks whether he made a positive impact on the world, there can be no doubt. I’ve run into a surprising number of people who assumed the whole project fell apart when he was forced to leave, but that’s not how he set it up. Nothing was ever balanced on the shoulders of one person, not even him. We’re still working our butts off. We hope to see real changes in the system by the end of next year. For those of you who watched the memorials, I was present at both. I even spoke at both, so now you know what I look and sound like. It was my honor to relate my experiences with such a great friend. I’ll never forget what it was like to meet him and know him. I appreciate that he’s being kept alive, not only through the work he did, but through this site, and all of his friends, followers, and fans. It’s sad, but it’s sweet too. I’ll miss him, but at least I knew him at all. Thanks.

Microstory 2304: Blisteringly Cold

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People have been asking a lot about the Nick and Dutch KC Memorial Forum that’s coming up in the next couple of days, and really, I don’t have that much information about it. There’s a website where you can learn all you need to know. Or it’s a page on the metro website, or something. Please go find out about it from there. I am not organizing it. I compiled a list of everyone Nick and Dutch knew, or rather, everyone I knew that they knew. I left it up to the mayors to have their teams reach out to these people. It’s true that, out of everyone, I was one of the closest to them both, but they each had their relationships outside of this whole thing. Dutch has lived on this planet his whole life, and Nick met a surprisingly high number of people during his short stint. You’ll remember his assistant at the jail, and his parole officer. They knew him in their own way, and while I’m not sure if they’ll be speaking at the Forum, I know that they were at least asked. I will be one of the speakers, and I haven’t updated you on that either, because there’s really nothing to say. You’ll hear it on Saturday along with everyone else. If you live in the area, you may join us on the fairgrounds north of the Missouri River, but we understand if you can’t make it. The weather report says that it’s going to be blisteringly cold. They chose that spot, because it can accommodate a lot of people, but just like the Chicago memorial, you can stream it from the comfort of your home instead. It’s a BYOC (bring your own chair) type of situation, which might deter a few people. Could you imagine if the coordinators had to wrangle up enough chairs for everyone? They don’t even have a headcount. I believe that, all they ask is, if you don’t have a chair—or aren’t willing to sit on the cold ground—to head more towards the back. I don’t think it will be all too long, though. There aren’t a million speakers. Okay, I’ve told you more than I really wanted to take the time to do. Again, if you want details, look it up on the webpage. Thanks.

Microstory 2302: Still Feel So Lonely In Here

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You may have noticed that I’ve not been talking much about the KC memorial at the end of this week. That’s because I’ve had to step back from it. The mayors of KCMO and KCK have been working on it through their own teams. I’m still involved, I answer questions, but I just can’t do too much. I can’t let this all drag on like it has been. I’ll be there, it’s okay, I’ll be there. But I don’t want to be too involved anymore. I realized that I have something else to do before it’s over, which is to do something with Nick and Dutch’s private spaces. Neither of them were big collectors of belongings. I don’t need a moving company to haul stuff away, but I also don’t wanna create a shrine to them, even incidentally. I am thinking about moving, though. This house was already too big for the three of us, and only made sense because of our security team. They’re still here, protecting their one remaining charge, but I still feel so lonely in here. I mean, this whole place reminds me of the two of them anyway, so why would I make myself stick around? That reminds me, I should discuss the elephant in the room. I want to make it clear that I do not blame the security team for what happened. It was a freak accident, no one did anything wrong. Those roads were slick, and I looked it up; they’re not the only ones to suffer from that particular stretch of highway. People think of bodyguards as these supernatural beings with no room for error. They’re still just humans. They’re fallible, and they’re fragile, and they can die. They did die. The firm lost just as many of their people as I did of mine. I’ve always felt that we are commiserating together. So no, I’m not going to fire them, and I’m not going to sue them. It was a terrible tragedy, which I’m choosing to not make worse by seeking some undue form of vengeance.

Microstory 2301: Green Burial

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The remains. I’ve not told you anything about the remains. No, they weren’t at the memorial service. We left them in Kansas City. I decided that I wanted to lay them to rest on a solo mission. In between all the other planning that I’ve done, with the memorial service, and the other memorial service locally, I contacted all the necessary people to do it the way he wanted. One of the first things he told me when we met earlier this year was that he wanted a green burial, which means no casket, no chemicals, no clothing. Your body returns to the Earth in the purest way imaginable, breaks down as fast as possible, and breathes new life into the soil. There are obviously rules about this, like where you can do it, and I got all the permits. I’m not going to tell you where I buried him, but I did it all by myself after signing it out of the funeral home. That part wasn’t by Nick’s request. It’s something that I felt I needed to do alone. Everything else involves other people, so I just made an executive decision that this was the time when I would say goodbye in my own way, and not be around anyone else. I dug the grave, I lowered him down, and I filled it in. I feel that I accomplished something, and now maybe I can move on...maybe. Goodbye, Nick. You meant more than I could ever say.

Microstory 2300: Millions of People

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The place was packed. In case you never found out, the event was catered, that was the surprise from the other day. A counter-serve vegetarian restaurant called Honeypea’s Harvest graciously donated tons of food and labor time for what’s certainly the largest reception I’ve ever been to. They actually started out in the Kansas City area, and their first location that wasn’t in the immediate region was Chicago, so they felt a kinship to us. Nick loved going there, I remember that, but I didn’t think to reach out to them. Our publicity firm did, and we’re very grateful for their assistance. We basically took over the entire Humankind Causeway Center, because we had the auditorium on one end, and then the ballroom for the reception on the other. You can see why I couldn’t tell you about it before, right? You say the word free, and people flock to you, whether they know what you’re giving away or not. There was a limited amount of space and food available, so we couldn’t let the whole world know. As for the service itself, it went pretty well. I told you that I was nervous, and having a full auditorium didn’t help with my nerves, but I pretended that they weren’t there, and that I was still practicing in front of the mirror. I got into a rhythm, and made it through to the other end. I want to thank all who attended, and everyone who logged in to watch the stream. Millions. Millions of people watched it live, and millions more have watched the recording since it ended. I can’t believe we ended up here. When I first met Dutch, he was just this cool guy without a care in the world. And when I met Nick, I honestly thought that he was a little nutty. He was shy, but not shy about telling us who he was, and where he came from. I grew to believe him, and it seems that a lot of you have too. I find it hard to imagine that this many people read his blog, especially now that he’s dead, when they just think it’s this dumb little fictional story. Dare I say most of you are believers? It’s crazy how far he’s come. Even though he’s gone, his legacy continues, through all of you, and through me. I’ll keep sending out posts as long as you keep reading them. I think he would appreciate that. In fact, I bet he would literally say, “I appreciate your support.”

Microstory 2299: Panic Attack

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We’re putting the finishing touches on the arrangements for the memorial service tomorrow. It’s going to be a lovely, mostly somber event. But it won’t just be all wails and cursing at the gods. We’ll be playing both of their favorite music; moreso Dutch, since he had more time to develop a taste for what this planet has to offer. I’ll be giving the eulogy, of course, and I’m really nervous about it. I’ve never spoken in front of this many people before. The publicist keeps reminding me that I already have a huge audience, because Nick managed to build one for this blog, and I’ve been posting on it exclusively for days. That’s an interesting way to frame it, and I’m trying to hold onto that. You’ve been listening to me talk for a while now, even before Nick died; it’s just that it’s been through the written word, and now you’re going to hear my real voice, and see my real face. Oh God, I think I’m having a panic attack.

All right, I’m back. That white space between paragraphs is where that panic attack happened, but I’m okay. As a medical professional, I know all the tricks, but it’s one thing to give advice to someone else, and another to follow through when you need it yourself. I closed the lid of my laptop, shut the shades, and turned off all the lights. I sat upright in the hotel bed, and focused on my breathing. Despite the darkness, I could make out enough objects in the room. I could see the television on the opposite wall; the painting hanging over the refrigerator, depicting a frozen ice skating pond with scratches on the surface, but no skaters; the faint outline of the DO NOT DISTURB sign; the luggage I had sprawled out on the other bed; and the half empty glass of water on the nightstand. No, it wasn’t half empty, but half full. I could touch the soft sheets I was sitting upon; my overheated phone that I’ve been meaning to upgrade; the highlighter that I was using while researching eulogy commonalities; and the brass gooseneck reading lamp coming from the wall above the headboard. I could hear the sound of children running in the halls while their mother tried to shush them up; the hum of the furnace; and the ticking of the analog clock by the door to the bathroom. I could smell the half eaten box of cheese crackers on the table in the corner; and something dank that I couldn’t place wafting in through the vents. I could taste the toothpaste in my mouth that I should have more thoroughly rinsed out before I sat down to write this post.

I had to take another break, which is why I’m posting this later than usual. Everything is okay, and I think I’m gonna be okay, but as the memorial approaches, it’s like it’s all happening again. I never talked about it before, and I will probably never publicly go into too much detail, but obviously, I was there when they died. I remember the lurch of the vehicle as we slid on the ice, and finally came to a stop. I remember running out of the car, and one of the security guards holding me back so I couldn’t see the wreckage. I remember seeing the wreckage anyway, and feeling the heat from the flames on my face, which felt like they were going to burn me, yet somehow still could not protect my toes from freezing under the tyranny of the snow as it seeped into my socks. I remember thinking that no one could have survived that fall, even though I was still bleary eyed, and confused. There was no hope, and now these memories are coming back, which will only make the eulogy harder to write, and even harder to give. I need a third break.

Microstory 2298: With All the Snow and Ice

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I’m writing this on the plane. I spent all day at the airport, because my flight kept getting delayed. There’s a big snowstorm in the east that I feel shouldn’t have much impact on my flight up to Chicago, but what do I know? The purpose of leaving one day early was to get a jump in the preparations for Nick and Dutch’s memorial, but it looks like that’s not going to do me any good. Still, who knows what would have happened if I had just stuck to my original flight tomorrow. Anyway, I bought the WiFi, and have maintained contact with the publicity firm and the venue. Everything is fine, and getting set up. A word of warning, we have not set aside any hotel accommodations for this event. People have been asking about that, and I totally forgot to tell you before. You have to work through that on your own. I’m sorry, but this is so last minute, and we have no idea who is going to come. Perhaps if we had taken more time, we could have done a lot more on our end, but at some point, it would have felt like a little too much. Sure, we have money, but that doesn’t mean we’re gonna spend it on frivolity. Nick wouldn’t like that. It’s not a party, it’s not a convention, it’s a farewell. And it will be streamed online, so if you can’t make it, it’s not like you’re missing out. We actually considered that at the very beginning, holding it in a very small venue, and letting other people be part of it from the comfort of their own homes. Thinking back now, he might have preferred that, because then we’re letting it be available passively, instead of expecting a large crowd. But it’s too late now, and I don’t want to dwell on the past. This is what we’re doing, and it’s going to go great. I’ll see some of you Friday. Until then (and even afterwards), stay safe out there with all the snow and ice. Trust me, I know how dangerous it can be.

Microstory 2297: Found a Happy Medium

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Yesterday, I announced that the Kansas City Metro’s response to Nick and Dutch’s passing would be a sort of forum where people could come up on stage, and say whatever they were feeling. I didn’t get into the details before, but everyone who asked to do this was going to have to submit an application at least the day prior, explaining what they were going to say. Then, while each speaker was up at the mic, the next one would be experiencing a screening process to make sure that they weren’t planning on doing something inappropriate, like a striptease, or a racist rant. Of course, they could always lie and switch it up once they got their turn, but we believed that we could have made it work. Sadly, most people online did not take to this idea. They thought it was stupid, dangerous, or just totally irrelevant. We hear you, and we see you, so we’ve changed our plans. We’re not going to be doing that, but we’re not going to be doing nothing either. We’ve found a happy medium. The two of them touched many people’s lives while they were on Earth, and their positive impact could be felt everywhere. We are in the process of contacting everyone that they knew while they were here. It is only they who will be speaking at the event. I appreciate all of you speaking out for your truth, and clearing a path for a better concept than we originally had. This has not set our schedule back. We will still be holding the event on Saturday, the 21st. We’re not yet sure where it’s going to be, though. A sports stadium would have a lot of room, but both of them hated sports, so we are sure that we want to do that. Y’all are good at giving advice. Where do you think we should hold it?

Microstory 2296: To Be a Gathering

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I had a meeting today with the Mayor of Kansas City. She regrets that we’re doing the memorial service in Chicago, but she understands, especially since our two cities have such a great relationship with each other. Still, she would like to do something in honor of Nick, and I think that would be fine. We had a lot of trouble figuring out what that might be. He didn’t like parades, and a vigil seems too depressing. We spent most of the day discussing it, taking breaks here and there so she could manage other needs of the city. In the end, we decided that it’s just going to be a gathering where people can come up to the microphone on stage, and talk about whatever they want. It doesn’t even have to have anything to do with the deceased, if they have something else to say. It’s unconventional, and a little strange, and I think Nick would have liked it. Dutch would have, that’s for sure. That guy danced to the beat of his own drum. Don’t worry, we’re going to be screening people throughout, to make sure they’re not offensive or otherwise problematic. It’s going to be a lot to coordinate, but we think that we can be ready by Saturday of next week. There’s a reason we chose that date. This is kind of going to be a Kansas City thing, so if you’re coming from elsewhere, and have made travel arrangements to Chicago, we don’t want it to be too easy to add an extra thing. You are welcome to come, if you want, but it’s mostly just for us. Thanks for your understanding.

Microstory 2295: Stress Out of the Process

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What I’ve learned is that the publicity firm that Nick was using to protect his life story from rumors and lies is no stranger to memorial services. A few of their clients have died while they were working with them, and their survivors can purchase a new package to help with arrangements. Some clients even purchase it ahead of time in anticipation, like one would reserve a burial spot in a cemetery because they know they’re gonna die eventually. Nick didn’t do that, because he didn’t even think to hire anyone when his health started to decline from the prion infection. Well, I think he did consider it way back then, but he didn’t have the money, and didn’t follow through until later. Anyway, I purchased the memorial package, so they’re handling everything. I’ll be signing off on all decisions, but I won’t have to think them up myself, which takes a lot of the stress out of the process, so I’m grateful for their help in this matter. Or perhaps they should be thanking me for my help, if they’re the ones taking point. I did secure a reservation for the Causeway Center in Chicago, though. It’s so last minute that someone already had the auditorium booked. Homes for Humankind and CauseTogether.hope have assured me that whoever it was was happy to push it back to another day, but it’s hard for me to imagine how that’s possible. That room can accommodate hundreds of people, which means that they have to contact hundreds of people to alert them to the change in dates. I suppose that’s not necessarily true. Maybe they booked the whole place for an audience of eleven. I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure out who it was, and if they’re really okay, but I can’t seem to find any information. You would think that an event like that would be advertising somewhere so customers could sign up for their thing instead. If you know what was supposed to be happening in the auditorium next Friday, shoot me a message. I feel that I owe them a thank you. In the meantime, I’m flying up to look at the venue this weekend, but I’ve already seen photos, and it looks great.

Microstory 2294: Mostly Long and Narrow

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What Nick’s publicists and I determined is that people from all over the country, and indeed all over the world, are interested in coming to his and Dutch’s memorial service. Because of this, we decided that it didn’t have to take place in Kansas or Missouri. If you’ll recall, there were some issues months ago when someone created an unauthorized CauseTogether.hope campaign for him. Despite the issue, he’s maintained a healthy and amicable professional relationship with the website. At the same time, he was working with Homes for Humankind. As it turns out, the house-building organization and the charitable fundraising platform teamed up some years ago to build a sort of convention center. It is here that charities come together, and reach out to their donors, volunteers, and beneficiaries. It’s located in Chicago, which is fitting, since the three of us went there one time on the Heartland Expressway, and Nick visited the city many times in his home universe. The Humankind Causeway Center is mostly long and narrow to fit the theme of its namesake, but there are two larger buildings on either end. One contains a large ballroom, and the other boasts an auditorium that can fit about 900 people. I can’t imagine that quite so many mourners will sign up to attend the service, but it should be great for our needs. We’re still working out the dates, but I’ll keep you updated as needed. Gratitude for all your words of love and togetherness during this difficult time.

Microstory 2293: Hits Some Harder

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New plan. Dutch has been presumed dead as well, so I’m planning a single memorial service for the both of them. They were good friends, I think they would have liked that. People have been commenting on social that it’s some sort of money-saving scheme. Trust me, we don’t need to save money. We’re millionaires, remember? Well, I am, anyway. I’ve not spoken with the lawyers yet, but I believe all the money goes to me. Yay, I’m rich! I’ve always wanted to lose my best friends so I can live alone in a big empty house. In case you can’t tell from the written word, that’s sarcasm. I hate this. This was never the plan after Dutch opened that door, and cured Nick with space magic. Nothing will be changing. Nick decided where he wanted to regularly make donations, and I have no reason to alter that plan. We invested some of it, to make it grow, so we can keep donating beyond what we already have. That’s why we didn’t just disperse the lump sum, and walk away. All right, I better get back to work. It takes me a long time to get anything done, because I often have to stop and cry. I can’t provide you with details about the memorial service right now, but I’ll make an announcement shortly on my own social media account. We need to gauge how many people will want to come. He wasn’t the kind of person who needed a lot of people to attend, but he told me that it’s not about him. If a large crowd shows up, then whatever, so I have to make sure the venue can accommodate them. We all have a different relationship with death. Most people obviously don’t like it, but it hits some harder than others. They can feel grief for those they’ve never met. Some even feel it when they learn of a person’s death who they had never even heard of before. Who are we to judge their reactions? I’m getting a lot of messages from people who are interested in being there, so I think we’re gonna have quite a large audience. I’ll let you know when I can. I’ll probably have to get our publicity firm involved since I’m sure they have experience with this stuff.

Microstory 2292: Laws of Life and Death

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I still can’t let my emotions get the best of me. I have to plan Nick’s memorial service. I know it sounds like something that can wait, and maybe it can, but I’ve got it in my head that we have to do something special for him. Weeks ago, I remember him telling me about his stories. He had all sorts of aliens and “supernatural” creatures (who weren’t really supernatural, just higher level science). You know his fascination with immortality, right? Well, the pseudomortals were his very first attempt at that kind of plot device. Or no, it might have been his second, because Gavix may predate them. Anyway, pseudomortals could die, but after four days, they would come back to life in new bodies. The exact mechanics of this would not be apparent when you start reading, but over the pages, you would learn more about why this is. It isn’t random. Evidently, while the pseudomortals were a relatively short-lived subspecies of humans, they sort of opened the world up to the idea of the four day gap. It became a key tenet of multiple fictional religions—which we now know actually weren’t fictional at all, but his Earth believed them to be. The pseudomortals merely tapped into the laws of life and death; they didn’t create them. The basic idea is that after you die, you stay in a parallel dimension for four days before moving on to the true afterlife, and these religions formed rituals and conventions based on this concept. So even though Nick never lived in a world that had these religions, or even had the four day rule, I thought it would be nice to honor him by laying him to rest on the fourth day after his death. The problem is, none of his writings came with him on his multiversal adventures. Everything he was ever able to tell us had to come from his memory. So even if I’m remembering everything he said correctly, he might not have been remembering it exactly how he wrote it years ago. He admitted that he couldn’t recall what the religious rituals were like, but he knew that they were more involved than just having a funeral after four days, and then going home. There’s a part where you’re supposed to enjoy the deceased’s favorite activity? And he thought that the memorial and burial were on different days?

I’m freaking out about this, and I keep forgetting for a fraction of second that he’s gone, so for those brief moments, I think that I can just ask him to try to remember, because he’s the expert, but of course, that won’t work, because the whole reason we’re doing this is because he’s the one who’s gone, and I’ll never see him again, and I’ll never find out if Dimitri Orion ever gets his job back, or how the crew of the Atom Ship escapes the supervoid. And I know none of this means anything to you, but I think my emotions are breaking free, and I don’t know if I’ll ever get them back in the bottle. They’re still searching for Dutch, but I can tell that their hearts aren’t in it anymore. At this point, they’re looking for a body, not a person. So actually, I have two memorials to plan, but I don’t have any clue what Dutch would have wanted. We didn’t talk about this stuff, because we’re all so young, so why would that have come up? Because our lives have been in danger all year, that’s why. We were so naïve. We thought it would be some psycho who wanted to test their immortality or portal opening powers, not just an icy road. The edge of a mountain switchback? After all this, how is that what finally took him out? He would be so disappointed if he were here to find out about his death. Okay, I’m getting too morbid. I gotta go. Talk to you tomorrow. Or not. I promise you nothing.

Microstory 2229: So Let Go

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I’m so distraught. We all are. I don’t know that I really wanna say anything here. Nick is currently fighting a war on three fronts. It was bad enough that he contracted a virus due to his weakened immune system, but now a bacterium has found its way into his body too. It probably happened at around the same time, because the odds of it happening after we took him back to the hospital are staggeringly low. He was placed in an isolation room, where only certain people could enter after being thoroughly processed, but that might not have been enough. Now he’s also in a plastic bubble as an added layer. So you still have to clean up to enter the room in the first place, but even then, you can’t touch him unless you use the glove ports on the sides. Anyway, this bacterial infection is just as bad, though it comes with new symptoms, which of course, makes it so much worse. Nausea, vomiting, and everything else that could go wrong with your stomach; that’s what’s happening to him right now. That’s on top of the fever, cough, and dizziness that he has from the virus. Honestly, I can’t believe that he’s still alive. It’s a miracle that he’s able to survive all this. The machines should only be able to do so much for him. At some point, your body just can’t take any more. But his is. He’s holding on for dear life. It’s almost like he’s waiting for something specific. You hear about that, where terminal patients won’t let go, because they have unfinished business, or they’re worried about their survivors. This should not be a problem for him, because everyone is going to be okay without him. He did a lot to start a new department in his company, a new project for the county, and maybe even a new movement. The world will keep turning without him, driven if only partially by the contributions that he has already made. I see him as a spark that will light the fire, and it will be up to the rest of us to keep the flames going. So Nick, this post is to you. You can go now. You don’t have to suffer anymore. Go find out what’s on the other side of the veil. We’ll miss you, and we wish that you could stay, but the pain must have reached the point of being unbearable. So let go, and finally rest in peace. I promise to keep this site going at least through your memorial services.

Microstory 2037: Florida

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So like I said, my fathers had two houses here in Plymouth. They had to move to the second one so they could take care of a child, which ended up being me. As they were just finishing up moving all the way into the second one, though, they got a call from papa’s mother. It was about my grandpa, who I never met. And that’s because he died that day. My papa was the first person she called about it, and then she called my Aunt Cooper. And then my Aunt Cooper called my papa so they could talk about it too. They cried about it together, because they loved my grandpa. They tell me that he was a great, hard-working man. I wish I could have known him. I was alive already, but my fathers had not adopted me yet. When he and my grandma were both finally retired, they left Idaho, and moved all the way down to Florida. A lot of people like to retire there, because it’s sunny all the time, and really pretty. They lived in a building called unassisted living, because they had trouble moving around too much, but they still didn’t need a nurse to take care of them all the time. My papa had actually visited a couple times since they moved there. He had even helped them move in, but I decided to talk about Florida on this slide, instead of earlier, because this is when my papa went down to go to his father’s funeral. It was really sad, and I’m kind of glad I at least wasn’t there for that part. Only a few of grandpa’s friends were able to make it, because a lot of them were already dead, and some of them weren’t able to travel. Some of them lived in Florida too, though.

Extremus: Year 50

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Captain Kaiora Leithe, Third of Ten of the Void Migration Ship Extremus, died nearly a week ago at the age of 46. She died as she lived: young. She was the youngest captain in history, which wasn’t saying much when she was only the third captain so far, but by the time this mission ends, she will likely still hold the record. The whole ship is in mourning, more so than they were for when Halan Yenant pass away, because she was a lot less polarizing of a figure. Due to her health issues, she was never promoted to the rank of admiral, leaving current Captain, Soto Tamm without an advisor. The admiralty has always come with an asterisk, and that will not end anytime soon. Tinaya Leithe doesn’t care about that, though. She’s not on the executive crew yet, and maybe never will be. While she’s on track to sitting in that seat, today she’s still only a kid. She’s a kid whose aunt has just died.

The family had a small funeral service two days ago to honor their loved one. Today is the memorial service, which while there is no single room on the vessel that can accommodate every crewmember and resident of Extremus, will be considered a shipwide affair. Everyone is watching; literally, because the service will be streamed. This isn’t something that Tinaya is interested in at the moment, not under these circumstances. She did fine in her Public Presence class, which teaches students how to deal with the spotlight, but it didn’t take this into account, and it was never the plan for any of them to actually have to deal with it this early on. Again, they’re just kids.

Tinaya is sitting in her room. Her game controller is on the bed next to her, and she’s been holding down the joystick, forcing her character to roll along the ground of a moon, doing cartwheels. Three years ago, when her grandmother died, it was Kaiora who caught her playing this game to distract herself. They had a moment, which was probably just a Tuesday for the captain, but to Tinaya, it was profoundly everything. It was the day she realized that every captain—every person—gets to decide who it is they’re going to be. There is no single definitive rulebook for how one is supposed to act. From then on, she’s been trying very hard in school, and branching out to lots of different subjects, instead of relying on this expectation that everyone seems to have that she’s going to win the captaincy, whether she tries or not. That’s not how it works, even if it looks like that from the outside.

Lataran is next to her. She was watching the cartwheels, but now she’s yawning over and over and over again, and scratching at chest, having had to resort to her itchy black dress this morning, instead of the comfortable one, because it is still in the wash from the first funeral. They've grown closer over the course of the last year. They no longer call themselves close enough friends, but true friends, who tell each other everything, and feel safe enough with each other to fart when no one else is in the room, and to cover for each other when it happens among mixed company. She yawns again.

“Go to bed, Taran.” Kaiora’s finger slips upon hearing the sudden sound of her voice, and her character misses the last cartwheel, falling on her face. Good thing it isn’t real. “You don’t have to be there. You were at the real one.”

“You’re confused, Naya, this is the real one. It’s the one that everyone knows. It’s the one that they will have watched. It’s the one they’ll talk about. It’s the one they’ll consider when they’re deciding who’s going to be your First Lieutenant.” Lataran long ago gave up hope of becoming captain herself, and has been vying hard for second position. It’s not just about serving on the crew with her best friend, but about getting as close as she’ll reasonably get to glory. She’s not the only one in the School of Ship Administration who feels this way, and that’s not a new thing. Plenty of people are more interested in other positions, such as Lead Engineer, or Chief Medical Officer. The boy who told the two of them about the protest against Captain Soto Tamm last year, Rodari Stenger is convinced that Hock Watcher Caldr Giordana is getting old enough to be vacating his position by the time Rodari is of age. That’s what he wants. The job comes with more power than it sounds like.

Think of the devil, and he shall ring the doorbell. Tinaya and Lataran see him on the camera. He’s standing moderately impatiently...twitchy, even. He’s wearing his extremely tailored—and extremely executive—black suit, and looking side to side as if someone he hates, but who likes him, is looming in the darkness, waiting to pounce with a bunch of questions that he doesn’t want to answer.

“Open the door,” Tinaya commands the system.

“Hey. You two look ready.”

“You look worried,” Lataran points out.

“This is my first public appearance. It’s our last year in tertiary school. People are noticing now. They’re going to parade us around the service auditorium like prize cattle. You should be worried about it more than any of us. Aren’t you worried?”

“I made a decision earlier in the school year that I wasn’t going to worry about how people perceive me,” Tinaya begins to explain. “I’m not saying that I’m above it, but the more I dwell on it, the less natural I’ll look. If I go out there, and just be myself, they will receive me however they will. Good or bad, I won’t change for them. That’s not doing anyone any good.”

“Sorry to say, Tinaya; I know you’re going through a lot today, but that’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard from one of the smartest people I know.”

Tinaya breaks into laughter. “What did I just say about how I’ll be received?” She pauses a moment. “I don’t care what you think.”

“Well. You’re number one.”

It’s true, Tinaya and Tao Li have been chasing each other for first on the leaderboards since the beginning, but the former has maintained her place at the top since the beginning of this school year. Whoever’s there when it’s time to transition to college level studies will set the tone for the next three and a half years. “For now...”

“So, what exactly does that mean?” Rodari asks. “You’re not on the program to speak at the memorial, but when they open up the floor to anyone who would like to say a few words, a lot of people are going to divert their attention to you.”

“I’ve decided that I’m taking it a step further for this particular occasion,” Tinaya answers. “I won’t say a word. I’ve already discussed it with my family. Mourners can try to talk to me all they want. They can tell me how great of a captain she was, or how I must miss her so much. I won’t respond vocally..like a guilty man in an interrogation room.” People won't like it. It’ll probably just irritate them, but she’s not gonna do anything only to make others feel more comfortable. Aunt Kaiora wouldn’t do that. Even if it cost her the captain's seat, she would always be herself. She always was herself.

Rodari eyes her, and lifts his chin. “Hm,” he says, ever so quietly. “I can respect that. Halan was a man of few words. The words he did say came at a higher value.”

“I’m not saying that I would, or will, captain that way, but...I’m not here to placate. If they want me to be in charge, then they’ll have to accept what that means. I have no intention of tricking them into believing I behave like anyone but me.”

All three of their wrist devices beep. They didn’t all set their respective alarms to precisely 11:24. They programmed them to go off with enough time to walk to their destination, plus a padding of three minutes for one more trip to the bathroom, or to touch up their hair. If the auditorium were eight minutes away from wherever they were standing, instead of three, their alarms would have gone off at 11:19 instead. “It’s time to prove it.” Rodari reaches out to take Tinaya’s hand cordially. “One way or another,” he says with a positive shake of his head, “they’re about to see the real Tinaya Leithe.”

They walk to the auditorium together, then separate from there. Tinaya has to sit with her family in the front row, and as close as she is with Lataran, Lataran is not part of that. Nearly everyone else is already seated. Only a few other stragglers are dipping themselves into the crowd of a thousand faces. Former First Lieutenant Lars Callaghan is standing at the podium, waiting for the clock to hit 11:30 on the dot before he begins. He’s like a robot, completely motionless. He doesn’t look nervous, or saddened, or anything, really. He looks...professional, and ready.

He clears his throat. “People of the VMS Extremus, for those of you who don’t know,  my name is Lars Callaghan. I served under two captains, Admiral Olindse Belo, and the woman we are here to honor today, Captain Kaiora Leithe. I was the former’s second lieutenant, before transitioning to first lieutenant for Kaiora. She and I didn’t always agree with each other, but that is not the lieutenant’s job. I was there to make sure she was running the ship soundly, and to step up when there was too much work for one person to do. We had a respectful and professional relationship, and she asked me to give her eulogy, because she knew that I would be reverent, honest, and most importantly, brief. This is not an all-day affair, and she would not want it to be. There is so much work to do here, and she would want all of you to get back to doing it.” Much of the audience is made up of the retired crewmembers, most of whom served under Kaiora, but others served under Halan and Olindse, and are still alive. The current crew is predominantly not here at all, because they already are busy running the ship. The most recent shift has just begun, and they have not yet even begun to think about appointing apprentices for the next one. So in reality, nobody has to get back to work.

Lars goes on, “Captain Leithe had to deal with a lot during her term. When this mission was first being conceived in a little bar on a rotating habitat in the Gatewood Collective, no one thought we would suffer through all of this. I can’t get into specifics in mixed company, but we all know the pain we’ve experienced over the course of the last fifty years. We came to find our descendants a new home. We sacrificed our old home for that dream, and we’ve sacrificed more since then. No one knew that better than Kaiora Leithe. Love, death, war. She ran the gamut. She also saw birth, and growth, and heartbreak. She was steadfast through it all, and when she got sick, she stepped aside gracefully, and trusted in the rest of us to keep it together. We are at the very beginning of a new chapter in the Extremus saga. A new captain has stepped onto the bridge, and it is my honor today to introduce you to him, who is our next speaker. Crew and residents of the Extremus, please help me in welcoming Captain Soto Tamm.”

The people clap half-heartedly. He’s not a hated man, but he’s so far not become their favorite captain either. He’s just sort of blah. Tamm walks over to the podium with a smile. “Thank you, Mr. Callaghan.” It’s conventional to address someone by their final rank, as long as they were not dismissed dishonorably. He accidentally breathes into the microphone. “A Maramon, a choosing one, and a ship captain walk into a bar...”

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 25, 2398

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They found only one other recognizable name from the comprehensive list of world religions. And it was another major one. Bhulahai was obviously named for timeline mapper, Bhulan Cargill. No one on the team who knew her knew how she could have ended up here, but it’s not that important. The fact is that she’s here, or at least she was, and she either created a religion, or inspired other people to start it, perhaps by performing miracles that would seem mundane to them. That’s probably how they all got started; Pryce turned himself into a sabertooth tiger, and the cavemen who witnessed it started worshiping him as a god. In Bhulan’s case, Bhulahai appears to be a pretty nonviolent religion. It promotes learning from one’s mistakes, and trying to predict the future with high accuracy. That makes sense for someone with the actual ability to do that with real past events.

It’s hard to say much more with just the list itself. It doesn’t necessarily tell them the whole story. Any of these others could lead to the identity of someone else and they just don’t recognize the name, or the name of the religion is simply not shared by the founder or inspiration. They need to do more research on the history of faith in this reality. Things can change a lot over the literal aeons. “Someone is going to have to trace these all the way back to their origin stories,” Mateo realizes.

“I don’t really have time,” Leona laments. “I need to get back to the fusion project. They have been operating independently of me for a long time now. I’m worried what they’ve been up to.”

“I have quite a bit of my own work too,” Ramses says.

Mateo would do it himself, but he’s not quite—what’s the word he’s looking for?—smart enough. “I shouldn’t bother, I would just make mistakes. I think I have an idea of who could handle it, though.”

“Who are you thinking of?” Leona asks. “Angela and Alyssa have the business, and Marie is helping them out while Kivi is in the field, looking for Erlendr and Meredarchos.”

“No, not them.”

Leona thinks she knows who he’s talking about. “Oh, don’t bother the people living at the condo either. They’re not a part of this anymore.”

“No, they made their choices,” Mateo says, smiling. “How quickly you forget the children.” Mateo leaves the lab, and goes up to the residential floor. He takes a quick look in the common area. Finding it empty, he walks back and knocks on the McIver door.

Young Moray answers. “Hi.” He hasn’t been the same since Trina’s memorial service. “My sister isn’t here.” He frowns. “I mean, Alyssa isn’t. Obviously Trina isn’t anywhere at all, since she’s dead.” Yeah, he’s definitely not finished grieving.

Maybe the boy just needs something to take his mind off of what happened. This doesn’t really have anything to do with that. “Is your brother here?”

“Car, it’s for you!” Moray shouts into the apartment as he slides out of the way.

“I’m here for both of you, actually,” Mateo says, stepping into the unit. “Could I have a word?”

Carlin comes out of his room. “Are you kicking us out?”

“Why in the world would I kick you out?”

“I caused a lot of problems yesterday.”

“Those are called feelings,” Mateo clarifies, “not problems. We’re working that out together, and I don’t know exactly how to help you, but I know it doesn’t involve kicking you out on the street.”

“What is this about then?” Carlin questions.

Mateo hands him the tablet. “This is a list of every religion in your world. That’s great and all, but we really need to know more about how they each got started, when and where, and how they evolved over time. We need to know which ones branched off into which others, and get lists of key important historical or mythological figures.”

Carlin peruses the list. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Well, we would like you and Moray to take on this challenge.”

Carlin drops his arms loose. “You want us to do homework?”

It sounds to Mateo like these kids need some structure in their lives. They have had it a little easy since they’ve come to Kansas City in terms of daily life. It hasn’t been easy—they’ve made sacrifices—but Alyssa has a job, and the boys need their own responsibilities. It’s not good for them to do nothing. “Everyone has their assignments. This is really important to us. We need to know who else like us is here, and this research could be the key to finding that out.”

He looks back at the list. Moray comes over to look at it too. “This isn’t just busy work?” Carlin asks.

“Ain’t nobody got time for that.” Mateo assures them. “Four of the most popular faiths in the world were named after people we know personally. One of them is my cousin, and I’ve been looking for her since we fell into this reality.”

Carlin sets the tablet on the dining table. “We’ll do as you asked, but we’ll need some direction on precisely what you’re looking for. Written guidelines would be helpful.”

Mateo nods. “I’ll have Leona draw something up for you. I’m liable to make mistakes, or I might try this project on my own.” He turns to leave the apartment gracefully.

“Hey, Mister Matic?” Carlin stops him somberly. “Thank you.”

“Thank you, and just call me Mateo.” He sends a text message to Leona as he’s leaving the apartment. He then walks downstairs to find Marie.

She’s taking a shift in the security room. “Hey, you wanna get in on this?”

“Nah, I came here to ask you a question. Do you remember when you and I were alone together in the Mariana Trench? Those bug aliens attacked us, and were probably going to kill you until a couple of bulk travelers swooped in and saved us?”

“Yeah, of course,” Marie says. “That was shortly after I joined the team, long before I split in two, so I was still just Angela back then. Why?”

“What was the name of that guy who flew us from the rendezvous moon to the battle staging planet? Do you recall?”

“Yeah, he called himself The Hound, but his real name was...Hunter? No. Hold on...Chase.”

“Chase,” Mateo echoes. “That’s it. Chase what?”

“Chase...Palmer. Why?”

“He’s from another brane, and we didn’t spend much time with him, so I guess I forgot to put him on my running list. Have you ever heard of a religion called Palmeria?”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 20, 2398

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They asked the McIver family to keep what they learned about the true nature of reality a secret. The kids don’t know everything, and it looked like all the evidence was destroyed in the implosion that created an entire lake out of practically nowhere. It was going to be tough to explain to all the people who lived around there, and knew there was no such body of water, so they decided to go stay with their aunt and uncle in Utah for a bit until things cooled down. They always wanted to sell the land anyway. It’s not like they can manage to farm themselves, and they never really wanted to anyway.

Team Matic can’t be sure that they can trust these strangers, but when have they ever? At some point, concerning themselves with what might happen is just going to make living life even harder. If the government comes to E.T. all their asses, well...then they’ll deal with it then. For now, they’re going to stay at home, and try not to worry about anything at all. It’s a day of rest, and likely the last joint day off for a while. Leona postponed her return to work until next week, Ramses is newly unemployed, Mateo is still unemployed, Heath is already on sabbatical, and Marie and Angela are taking a personal day. They’re not just going to relax, though. They’re going to see the sites.

Moreso than the differences, it’s the similarities that this version of Kansas City shares with its main sequence counterpart that they find interesting, especially Angela. Marie felt the same way when she first arrived, but she’s grown used to it by now. The Fourth Quadrant was borne of the original, while the Parallel had a region that they called KC, but which did not resemble anything they had seen before. The Fifth Division seemed to not have anything on Earth at all, except for a small oasis in the middle of nowhere, at least part of which was holographic. It’s inexplicable and bizarre that this version should have the same World War I Museum and Memorial. It looks the exact same, and is in the same place, and this does not make any sense. WWI happened in the 1910s over there, but in the mid-19th century here; closer to the period of the United States Internal Conflict that the five aliens recall. Even just having the same city and state names is ridiculous. The countries, the oceans; none of it can be explained.

Something has to be driving these similarities, or let’s face it...someone. One or more of the Prestons are the most logical culprits, since they’re definitely capable of such things, but they’re not the only ones. Anyone they’ve met with such power has the potential to spawn alternate versions of themselves, if only through the help of others. Cassidy Long, the Repairman, or any one of the countless Jupiters, could also be behind this. They might be doing it for nefarious reasons, good reasons, or even with more of a neutral stance. Mateo realizes  now that he needs to make a special list of candidates. That doesn’t mean that it will help them get any answers, because it will be a shock to run into anyone they already know. Hell, even say, Vearden Haywood’s sister, Allison would be a noteworthy surprise. But it still makes sense to make a list.

Right now they’re standing in front of the Love Kansas City mural. “You didn’t tell us about this,” Leona almost accuses Marie.

“I didn’t know that the main sequence had one too. I died in 1816.”

“You’ve seen this before, though,” Mateo reminds her. “We came here.”

“I guess I forgot. What do we do with this information?”

Leona considers it for a long time. “What we do is all go on that trip together.”

Extremus: Year 26

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It was a nice memorial service, but it wasn’t elaborate, or particularly well-attended. Vice Admiral Thatch was liked well enough, but he wasn’t the most popular member of the crew, and many civilians had never heard of him. It was about as one would expect, and he probably would have found it fine. Vice Admiral Belo was the most upset about it, but not because she had any strong feelings about the man. He was the only other admiral besides her, and she was relying on him to help her do her job well. Halan was meant to help with that, but she can’t rightly go asking him for advice while he’s in hock. Even if he does get out one day, it’s extremely unlikely that he’ll get his rank back. At best, he’ll be thrown in with the fringes of society. No, Olindse is going to have to figure things out on her own. She took over Thatch’s office when he died, even though she was assigned her own. He had terrible organizational skills, but she thought she might find some key information somewhere in the mess. It didn’t matter. Captain Kaiora Leithe was doing great on her own, and never asked Olindse for any advice. While the latter was captain for longer so far, there was a reason they chose her as interim, and not as a permanent replacement.

Olindse is currently sitting in her office, doing nothing, and waiting for her lunch date to arrive. He’s unusually late.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Yitro says as he steps in. He sets the food tray on the desk. “The Captain wanted to speak to me.”

“She’s speaking to you?” Olindse questions. “She wants your advice?”

Yitro is aware that it’s a sensitive subject. “Oh, no, no, no. She just wanted to offer me a job.” Since his shift ended, he’s had nothing to do. Unlike a former captain, a former lieutenant is meant to just kind of return to civilian life. They’re free to select a new occupation, if they want, or they can just retire and relax. They generally retain some privileges, like access to the crew mess hall, but it’s unclear if they’re allowed to join the crew in some other capacity.

She looks disgusted. “How’s that now?”

“Yeah, she wants me to command The Perran Thatch.” The Thatch is a new vessel that’s actually a combination of two preexisting ships. When Ovan Teleres tried to take over Extremus, Admiral Thatch heroically transported the bridge to the future, where they coincidentally ran into the time shuttle that Omega and Valencia were using to investigate what they would come to learn was the Feizi problem. Engineers have since integrated them together into a new ship, so it can go off on tangent missions without disrupting the Extremus’ flight path.

“You? They asked you?”

“Olindse,” Yitro began to argue, “you already have a job, and a lifetime rank. Captain Leithe couldn’t have asked you. It doesn’t mean I’m better than you. It’s more that I’m available.”

“I thought Valencia was Captain.”

“Not really, she was just the best of two options. She and Omega will have more than enough work to do without having to worry about the ship itself.”

“So now there are two captains on this ship, and neither one of them is me. I feel...” She couldn’t come up with a word that didn’t make her sound like an asshole.

“Cheated?” Yitro offers.

“That’s so stupid.”

“It’s not. It’s a perfectly legitimate response to your situation. Captain Yenant served in his role during what was basically wartime. We didn’t know it back then, but it’s the best description for it in hindsight. You know, you were there; you were also a wartime leader. Kaiora isn’t like that. We’ve been on this ship so long, everyone knows what they’re supposed to do. There isn’t a lot of conflict.”

“What exactly is your point?” Olindse urged.

“The Captain isn’t asking for your advice, because she doesn’t need any, not because she doesn’t respect your opinion.”

“Great. How does that help my situation? What am I supposed to do?”

“Find a way to make yourself useful, like Thatch did when he took over the lights.”

“That trick won’t work a second time,” she contends. “Now everyone knows how powerful that workstation was, and they’ve reengineered it to get rid of all those secret subroutines.”

“I mean, something like that,” he tries to clarify. “The admiralty has no job description. Unless otherwise specified or vetoed by the current captain, you’re free to make up your own responsibilities. Be proactive. Find a cause, or a void.”

“What, like starting a health program in the rec room?”

“Sure, why not, if that’s your thing?”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“You’re some whose food’s getting cold.”

She had been listlessly playing with her salad, flipping most of the lettuce off of her plate without realizing it. She placed a tomato on her fork, and flicked it, hoping to hit Yitro in the face. He caught it in his mouth, and played it off like it wasn’t totally a happy accident. “I don’t know...” Olindse says unenthusiastically. “When do you ship out?” she asks, changing the subject slightly.

He certainly takes his time answering. “Tonight.”

“Tonight?” she questions. “The Captain asked you to command a new mission the day that it begins?”

He waits so long this time that he doesn’t even end up answering.

“You’ve known about this for a long time,” she’s realized.

“I didn’t know how to tell you.”

She stands up. “Well, I’m glad you finally figured out how to vocalize thoughts with your mouth. I wouldn’t have wanted you to try to captain a ship before you learned toddler-level communication skills.”

“Olindse...” he says with no clue how to form the rest of the sentence.

She begins to walk around her desk.

“Don’t leave.”

“You’re right, this is my office. Thanks for lunch, get the hell out of here.” Without giving him a chance to leave on his own, she shoots him with a teleporter gun, and sends him back to his own stateroom. It’s an abuse of power, and a punishable offense, but they both know he won’t report her. She sits back down and reaches over to eat the rest of his food. It’s the least he can do for her.

 A couple of hours later, Olindse reluctantly but dutifully requests permission to enter the bridge. It’s fuller than usual. The crew of the tangent ship Thatch is preparing to take their leave. They’ll take it into the past, because that’s the only way they’re going to make it all the way to their destination in time. Destination is a bit of a strong word, however. Project Stargate utilizes a highly modular ship. It was gigantic when it was first constructed, but has been slowly losing parts of itself as smaller ships fly off to reach the star systems on its way. By now, they wouldn’t be looking for one ship, but thousands of them, spread out for maximum efficiency. It would be foolish to send two modules to two stars right next to each other. It makes much more sense for one to land amongst a group of several to a couple dozen star systems, and build a new mini-fleet from there. The True Extremists want to stop the vonearthans from spreading beyond the stellar neighborhood, so every one of the modules is a threat to them. They have the numbers that Yitro’s team does not. Nonlinear time may be the only weapon in their arsenal.

“You came,” Yitro points out the obvious. He’s separated himself from the group photos, annoying their photographer, September.

“You’re my only friend. I can’t let our last interaction be the last,” Olindse says.

“I’ll be back,” he assures her.

“You can’t promise that,” she warns.

“Trust me.”

“When you do, will you be, like, thirty years older?” she asks.

“It would be closer to fifty,” he explains. It took them 25 years to get here from Gatewood, which means it would take just as long to get back. They were traveling at maximum speed. “The technology we will be using is unlike anything we ever have before, and it’s classified. As a captain in my own right, I’m afforded some level of discretion even against Leithe’s eyes. I would tell you, but...”

“I get it. I’m proud of you, Yitro—I mean, Captain Moralez.”

“I’ll always be Yitro to you,” he corrects her.

“Could we get back to it?” September requests. “I need one of just the two captains, and then just the Captain of the Thatch alone.”

“How about three captains first?” Yitro says in the form of a question, even though it isn’t. Halan was never referred to as a captain after he was promoted to admiral, and the practice will probably continue to be rare, but technically it’s not like other ranks. A Senior Hospitality Officer who was once a Junior Hospitality Officer isn’t still considered a Junior, but once a captain, always a captain. It’s more like how a mother who becomes a grandmother is still a mother. Olindse Belo is still a captain, and as such, it’s acceptable to address her as such. Again, it won’t likely become common practice, but most won’t bat an eye if someone uses it, unless doing so creates ambiguity.

September bows graciously, and invites them over to the wall. The rest of the crew steps aside.

“You know we won’t be able to show anyone these photos?” Kaiora asks through her smile. It’s fake, but only because she hates photos, not the company.

“One day, this will all be a matter of historical record,” September believes.

“What does one day mean when time travel is involved?” Omega poses.

September reaches down her shirt, and retrieves a metal necklace of some kind. She removes them from her neck, and ceremoniously dangles them between her and Yitro. “If you’re wearing this, nothing you do can be undone unless you want to leave the timeline fluid.” When Yitro reaches out to take the necklace, she pulls it back. “This is one of the most powerful tools in histories. It’s usually used as a weapon. I’m trusting you to use it wisely.”

“Where did you get something like that?” Kaiora asks.

After September lets Yitro take the necklace, she snaps one more photo, this time of only him and Olindse. “Aw, that’s a good one. Hashtag-best friends.”

“Who are you again?” Kaiora presses. She never chose to memorize the entire ship’s manifest, like Halan did in her position.

September ignores her, and addresses Omega. “Number 83, does that mean anything to you?”

“Uhh...no?” Omega questions, confused.

“If you had your own number—one that uniquely defined you—what would it be?” September asks like a primary school teacher.

Omega frowns, and peers back at her with his face turned towards her flank.

September winks at him. “Happy hunting,” she says to the lot. She looks down at the preview screen on her camera, scrolls to a different image, and then disappears. Someone like that shouldn’t have been granted access to a teleporter, and anyway, they didn’t see her use one.

“I think I know who that was,” Valencia reveals without elaborating.

“Have you given any thought to what you might want to do?” Yitro asks Olindse, shaking off the strange conversation with the stranger, and tucking the necklace into his uniform.

“Yeah, I believe I have an idea,” Olindse answers.

“What is it?”

“I think I’ll call it...reintegration.”

Yitro smiles like he knows what she means by this. He may indeed.

After some salutes and farewells, the tangent crew enters the Perran Thatch Detachment Ship, and launches into their secret mission.

“What is this about reintegration?” Captain Leithe asks Olindse.

“It’s something that I’ve just come up with today,” Olindse answers. “Let me work on it in private, and then I’ll get back to you before I actually do anything.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Kaiora says, sitting back down in her seat. “Plot a course to Extremus. And...engage,” she orders the bridge crew.

They all look over at her, very confused. “Sir?” one of them asks.

“I’m kidding,” she defends. “Just keep going forward...and try to lighten up.”

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