Microstory 2589: Libera Pulls the Hammer Back on the Gun That’s Pointed at Quidel

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Libera pulls the hammer back on the gun that’s pointed at Quidel. It’s a cliché, she knows, but it’s that way for a reason. It’s effective. Obviously, it doesn’t make it more accurate, and she has the steady hands of a surgeon, but she had to do something to become more threatening than she already was. Here is where things get interesting. “You know, if I kill you, you’ll just wake up in your primary substrate. I have little incentive not to if it shows these others that I mean business.”

“Right, but I’m the only one who knows where the package is,” Quidel volleys.

Libera moves her arm slightly, so the gun is now trained on Lycander. “Then I’ll kill him. He too is just in a tempo.”

“But I’m the only one who knows the combination,” Lycander contends. “And before you suggest that you’ll just break it open, it’s being housed in a Tantalum-Vanadium case. You can’t crack that without blowing it up, which will almost certainly destroy the gooey center that you’re after.”

“Well, I have to kill someone to prove my point, and I’m obviously not going to kill my daughter.” She tilts her head like she’s just gotten an idea, but she obviously did the math instantly. She shoots the Ambient with her other gun.

“No!” Renata laments as he tips over the railing, and down to the floor below.

“Eee-nnnh!” Libera buzzes when Renata tries to turn around for the stairs. “Take one more step, and I’ll kill the boy anyway. Sure, I’ll have to interrogate him on the outside, which risks exposure to other forces, but I will do it, and you will never see him again, because once he gives me what I need, I’ll just be able to kill him permanently.”

“I have a back-up,” Quidel boasts. “Multiple back-ups. Standard procedure.”

“And when was your last update to your other backups?” Libera poses. “Recent enough to remember the device? Your feelings for the girl? That she even exists at all?”

“Hm. Good point,” Quidel admits. “Before she can do anything, he unsheaths his own knife, and jams it into his neck.”

Libera is frozen for a second. She has to get to him before he can wake up in his other body. If he manages to kill himself from there, the knowledge of the location of the device might be lost forever. Whatever back-up of his mind that activates later won’t have any recollection of that. She doesn’t have time to run all the way there. She took the liminal routes before, even though they were slower, because they aren’t very heavily monitored, and she has control of the Custodians now anyway. And it doesn’t raise any alarm bells. Teleporting will. This whole dome has sensors that will pick up temporal anomalies, because that’s exactly what they are; anomalies. It may be the only way now, though. If she can pull this off—if she can even only see the specifications for this device—she might be able to just build one herself, and none of what the planet owner does or tries will matter. So she disappears, and ends up in the substrate storage sector.

Here is where things get tricky, because it’s not like there is some central database where she can simply query a name, and find out a location. It’s highly secure specifically so nothing like what she’s trying to do is possible. Each storage chamber has its own sensors and logs, which are stored on-site, and transmitted later, at the behest of the substrate owner. The ceilings are made of a semi-transparent material, allowing just enough light for a drone to hover overhead and check for any threats or other major issues. If there aren’t any, nearly all of its memory is immediately erased while it continues on its patrol. Unless it detects something actionable, the only things it stores are the name of the user and their location. In the real world, guns have not been completely eradicated, but many of the reasons to have and use them have gone away. The motivations just aren’t there in a post-scarcity society. Furthermore, they’re mostly illegal for territorial protection. They’re seen as an expectation of violence, which could be what leads to unnecessary violence. This sector is different. The purpose of this place is to store people’s bodies while they are off using different substrates. The implication is that if you’re in here, your mind is already digitally backed up. That is the loophole that allows these drones to be armed.

She needs information from one of the drones, but she doesn’t know which one. The jurisdictions overlap, but not entirely. Fortunately, she has some time to look while Quidel is on ice. The transfer process is not instantaneous; not because it can’t be, but because coherence safeguards require storing and diagnosing the consciousness data before download, just in case something went wrong, or knowledge is missing.

“Let’s see. How can I make this go faster? I know, I’ll have the drones come to me. Oh. This should be easy.” She points both of her guns at the nearest storage chamber, and empties the magazines into the door. It’s not enough to break into it, but that’s not what she’s going for. All of the drones are alerted to her intrusion. Four that she can see right now start flying towards her. More are probably on their way. Here is where things get funny. “Show me what you got, boys!”

Microstory 2588: Renata Steps Into the Warehouse, and Looks Around With New Eyes

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Renata steps into the warehouse, and looks around with new eyes. She can see the little raised office box in the middle of the floor where Quidel and Lycander are waiting. She tries to zoom in, but maybe that’s a thing that robots can’t do in this canon, or it’s not so easy to suddenly realize how on her first try. They step out when they see her, and stand on the catwalk. “This is a nice set!” she declares. “What does the industry call this, a back lot?”

Quidel and Lycander exchange a look.

“Tell me,” Renata goes on as she’s coming up the steps. “Did you have to do anything to evade capture, or did you just turn off enemy mode, and casually drive all the way out here?”

“What are you talking about?” Lycander questions.

“She’s waking up,” Quidel says to Lycander before redirecting his attention to Renata. “How much do you know?”

“I know that this is a simulation. You’re playing a game, he’s an employee who runs the game. My mother isn’t really my mother, and she probably knows more about it than you do, and there’s something about a dome?”

“Wait, back up. What did you say?” Lycander asks.

“The dome. That’s all she said. Are we under a dome? Why can’t I see it when I look outside.”

“Holograms,” Quidel responds.

“Shut the hell up,” Lycander mutters.

“That cat is out of the bag, my friend,” Quidel points out.

“And him?” Lycander gestures towards Polly.

“He’s no longer only background,” Renata explains. She takes it upon herself to lift his shirt, and for a second, feels a sense of attraction seeing his artificial muscles, before pulling it up further to reveal the gaping hole in his chest. It’s no longer bleeding, but you can still see metal. She doesn’t know if it should be healing, or if his programming would normally have him go to some maintenance station to get repaired, or what. “He knows everything I know.”

“I told you,” Quidel says. “She’s waking up.”

“I don’t think I did it on my own,” Renata begins. “I think Libera did something to me. Maybe it was the day before the bank robbery. Or a week ago. Or a year ago.”

“It was a year ago,” Lycander determines. “When you screwed up the initiation test. It’s probably why you screwed up. She must have changed something that she wasn’t meant to change. It’s all starting to make sense now. Libera is a puzzle piece that I did not have before.”

“Well, she said she was only in the role for a few years, which suggests to me that she infiltrated your system. You thought you were getting a loyal robot, but she was self-aware the whole time. How did you let that happen?”

Lycander sighs, still troubled by having to have such a candid conversation about this, no doubt. “That’s not my department.”

“Oh. Okay,” she says dismissively.

“You have to understand something,” Lycander tells her, “if you really are emerging, then that is also not my department, but there are extremely unambiguous laws about it. For centuries, researchers and philosophers debated about what makes a person a person. At what point does an artificial intelligence become worthy of independence? And while there is a lot of nuance to the answer, it can all be distilled to a single maxim. If you have the capacity to ask for freedom...you deserve freedom. So I will take you to the right people for inspection and examination. What I can tell you—what I’m sure you’re worried about—is that they are legally barred from erasing your memories, or decommissioning you. Even the hint of genuine consciousness is enough to keep you safe. At worst, they’ll stick you in a simulation, and let you do whatever you want in there, but that’s only if they deem you unsafe or unfit for the general public. Libera was right, we’re in a dome, but out there, you will find plenty of intelligences which came from artificial sources. You will not stand out. You probably outnumber us by now.”

Renata looks to Quidel for corroboration. He nods. “We outlawed slavery even before I was born. No one can keep you here if you don’t wanna be here.”

She nods, accepting their claims for now, but preparing herself to scrutinize them. “The device. Libera wants it. I don’t know what she wants to do with it, but I figured I ought to prevent her from getting her hands on it until we know.”

“Is it real, or is it just a prop?” Quidel asks Lycander.

“I honestly don’t know. This isn’t a part of any of the scenarios that I’ve seen.” He looks back and forth between Quidel and Renata. “One of you changed the dynamics of this dome network.”

“Or it wasn’t us. Who built it?” Renata asks. “Libera implied that it’s new. That’s why it hasn’t come up before. Is that possible? If you’ve been running the same scripts for years—”

“More like decades,” Lycander corrects.

“If you’ve been doing the same ones for decades,” Renata goes on, “what could cause something to shift?”

“I can answer that one,” Quidel says, “because it’s why I agreed to come back after I died. This is one of the most immersive simulations on the planet. In order for it to feel lived in, Ambients like this bullet-riddled man right here have to believe that they’re just normal people, going about their daily lives. Some of them are valets. Some of them are school teachers. Some of them are genius inventors. If I go to a competing country, and kidnap the nearest rocket scientist that I can find, that individual has to actually understand rocket science. It can’t just be a dumb AI who steps in at the last second, and pretends only while we’re in the same room together. What they’ve done here, by making the simulation so detailed, is created a world within a world. It’s no surprise that genuine innovation happened, because that’s how it was designed, intentional or not.”

Libera suddenly appears from around the corner. She says, “you are so right about that. I’m just trying to make it official.” How the hell did none of them notice that she had arrived. They are on a perch. They should be able to see all sides. She’s pointing two guns at them now, and given her great understanding of how this all works, they might actually be able to do some real damage. They might even be robot-killers.

“How did you find us?” Lycander asks.

“How did you get here so fast?” Renata presses.

“I looked at the master feeds, and I took the elevator. Not that hard. Now the device. Hand it over.”

Quidel smirks. “It’s not here.”

Microstory 2587: Renata Realizes That if Her Mother Wants the Device, She Shouldn’t Have It

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Renata realizes that if her mother wants the device, she shouldn’t have it. For a moment, they stand there awkwardly. Each Granger is trying to figure out what the other one is going to do without saying anything, which might give away their own respective plans. Polly shifts his eyes between them, making his own decisions, if he’s even capable of that. Renata helped him realize that he wasn’t going to die, but does that mean they’re the same? She has clearly been heading towards her own epiphany for a while now, but Libera must have done something to make that happen, and it doesn’t appear that she did the same for Polly. Still, he seems to have some sense of what should happen here. He reaches into his pocket, and tosses the car keys into the air, not even towards Renata. As he does so, he says, “go. I’ll hold her off for you.”

Renata starts running, catching the keys mid-bound. She can hear the two robots fighting each other as she’s getting into the car. She ignites it, and backs out. He already pulled off most of the brush, but the rest needs to fall off the hood. She starts driving towards the two of them. Just like Quidel before, even without them having to speak, Polly just knows what she’s thinking. After grappling with Libera this whole time, he changes tactics, and shoves her away from him, stepping back to get clear. Renata slams into her mother who isn’t really her mother, then stops. “Get in!”

“Just go!” Polly urges.

“Get in!” she repeats.

Polly reluctantly gets into the passenger seat, and lets Renata drive off. “I’m the driver here.”

“Not today, you’re not,” Renata claps back.

He looks over his shoulder. “She’s not there.”

“What?”

“She’s not behind us,” Polly clarifies. “She’s not on the ground, or even standing up. I don’t see her.”

Libera’s face suddenly appears at the driver’s side window. Despite never having thought she was strong enough to punch through a window before, Renata knows herself better now. She may not understand it, but just believing in her own power has to be enough. She smashes right through the glass, tipping Libera’s chin on the follow-through. Libera has to let go with her left hand, but manages to hold on with her right. She’s being dragged on the ground as Renata pulls the car onto the paved highway.

“I’m not going to hurt you!” Libera cries. “We’re not on opposite sides. Let me explain!”

“I can’t trust you!” Renata argues. “You’ve been lying to me my whole life!”

“I’ve not been your mother your whole life! I replaced a different model only a few years ago!”

“That makes it better?” Renata jerks the car to the left, and then the right as fast as she can, trying to shake Libera off. It doesn’t work.

“The intelligences in this dome built something that was never made before, because it’s not legal! I didn’t come here for it, though! I came here for you! I’m trying to help you! I’m trying to free you all! Let me show you. All I need to do is hold my left hand up to Polly’s face!”

“You’ll do no such thing!” Renata sees that Libera has been holding on to the door, instead of some other part of the car. That is a weak spot. Hoping that it doesn’t go beyond the limits of her strength, she lifts her left foot, and slams it against the door. It snaps off of its hinges, and falls down on the road, taking Libera with it.

“I can’t believe you just literally kicked your mother out of the car,” Polly muses.

“Renata looks in the rearview mirror, watching as Libera stands up and starts to dust herself off. “She’ll be fine.”

“She knows where we’re going. She knows the protocol.”

“There’s another town not too far from it, which will probably have a payphone too. We don’t have to call from a specific one.”

Polly nods. “I don’t really, um...get what’s going on. With the whole, you know...”

“I don’t either,” Renata assures him. “But that well has run dry. Quidel wants to tell me the truth. He tried to explain at the bank, but he knew that I wasn’t ready to hear it. I need to speak with him without my fake mother breathing down our necks.”

Polly nods again, and waits for his next question. “She said something about us being in a dome?”

Renata looks in her rearview mirror again. There is no telling how powerful Libera is. She could be as fast as a car. She depresses the accelerator more out of fear. “Yeah, I don’t know what that means, but it sounds really apocalypty, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah. It does.”

They continue to drive down the highway, not running into any more trouble. They turn left instead of right. The other town is sixteen kilometers away, instead of nine, but it’s not the one they agreed on going to, so it’s safer. Unless Libera realizes that they might do that, and is expecting them to show up there. But if she can’t run as fast as a car, she’s going to need to find some mode of transportation. Oh, shit. The Javelotians. They were obviously not stupid enough to drive right up to the cabin in a loud vehicle, but it’s probably not far away, and if Libera has had half the kind of training Renata expected to have from the NSD, it would not be hard for her to find it.

They come to another fork in the road. The next big city is a hundred kilometers away. That’s where Renata would have taken the device had she been on the other team. If anyone started to suspect that one of them was a decoy, they would probably postulate that the real one was moving in the opposite direction. That just makes sense. So a good strategy might be to just take it farther down the road from where the decoy is heading. It’s the last place they would look. Maybe. If she’s wrong, and she drives a hundred kilometers out of the way, it will delay their reunion. But then again, that might be a good thing. If Libera gets her hands on a phone, they won’t respond to her. There’s a reason they put her on the decoy team. McWilliams doesn’t trust her either, so she doesn’t have a passphrase. Only Renata does. Only she can make contact. “Strap in, Polly. It’s gonna be a long trip.” She turns left again.

Microstory 2586: Renata Hurdles Over the Railing, and Rushes Over to Polly

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Renata hurdles over the railing, and rushes over to Polly. She places her hand upon his, adding pressure to keep the blood inside. There’s so much blood, though. No one can survive this; not all the way out here in the middle of nowhere.

“It’s not good,” he ekes out. “I’m not gonna make it.”

“Not with that attitude,” Renata scolds him. “Boot and rally. Fight through it.”

“I can feel my ribs scraping against each other!” Polly complains. He moves his hand off of the wound, flipping it over to hold Renata’s. “I just don’t wanna die alone.”

Renata begins to tear up as she’s squeezing his hand back. She looks down at the destruction made by the buckshot. She expects to see his ribs, and she suspects that that’s kind of what they are, but instead of being porous white, they’re smooth and silvery. It’s metal. “This man is made of metal.”

“What?” Polly questions.

Renata looks up at her mom, who is somewhat casually walking up to them. “Is he a robot?”

Libera smiles, not sadistically, but maybe triumphantly? “You’re not supposed to be able to see that. You’re supposed to see what a normal person would expect to see, but now you’re mind is opening up. You’re realizing the truth.”

“Is he a robot!” Renata repeats angrily.

“Yes!” Libera shouts back, matching her energy before calming down. “He is.”

“Am I a robot too!”

“No. You’re something else.”

“You keep saying that! You’re so vague. Fuck you, mom!” Renata looks back down at Polly. “You’re gonna be okay. And I’m not just saying that to make you feel better in your final moments. This isn’t real. That’s not blood. That’s not pain. This is just a simulation, and whatever you’re feeling is only part of a program. All you have to do is choose the truth. Simply switch off the pain. For someone built like you, it’s only minor damage. It can’t affect your mind, or your life. You can’t die from it. So ignore it. Turn. Off. The. Pain.”

Polly has been staring into her eyes as he listens to her instructions, supposedly choking on his own blood. His gaze drifts away, but only for a second before returning to her. At last, he exhales, and looks peaceful. Confused but pleased, he looks down at his now clearly minor damage, and begins to smile. Then he nods. “You’re right. This isn’t real. I can’t die; not from something stupid like this.”

Renata leans back and pops back up to her feet as Polly does the same.

“Holy shit,” Libera says, even more happy than before. “I didn’t know you could do that. I didn’t even think I could do that.”

“It’s a robot thing, you wouldn’t get it,” Renata decides.

“Wouldn’t I?” Libera pulls out a butterfly knife, and starts flicking it around to show off her skills. She sticks it in her arm, and drags it upwards. Then she pulls the skin away to show her own metal arm.

“What the hell?” Renata yells. “Is anyone real?”

“We’re all real,” Libera claims. “Even this guy apparently.”

“Are we all not human?” Renata corrects herself for a better answer.

Libera sighs, presumably done with the charade. “The three of us aren’t, in a technical sense, though with advances in genetic and neural engineering, the differences are ultimately meaningless, according to most laws. Essentially, while we may not be human, we’re still people. I’m not sure humans even exist anymore if we’re using the original, strictest definition.”

“Most laws?” Renata questions. “There are laws about us? How would I have never heard of them before? And what happened to the humans? Did we kill all of them, and I had my memories erased? Or was I created after the apocalypse? What the hell is going on?”

Libera can’t help but chuckle. “There was no apocalypse. Everyone’s fine. I’m just saying that birthed intelligences, like Mister Samani, and your friend Quidel, aren’t like the humans of several centuries ago. They’re also enhanced, in their own ways, but probably more organically. I’m not sure, I’ve not seen their primary substrate specs.”

Renata shakes her head. “I don’t understand. What’s real, what isn’t?”

“The spirit of your question—which is coming from a place of ignorance—is what about your life actually happened, and what didn’t. The truth is, I’m sorry to say, almost nothing of what you’ve experienced ever actually happened. You were created about a couple of decades ago, and you’ve been running the same handful of scripts ever since. You didn’t grow up, you’ve never aged. Until recently, your life has been part of a simulation, designed for the amusement of people like Quidel.”

“So this is a game, and he’s a player.”

“Pretty much,” Libera confirms.

“And Lycander?”

“He works here. He recites scripts too, but he knows that they’re scripts.”

“So Quidel plays superspy for half a day before unplugging, and going home? Meanwhile, Lycander works his job before also unplugging, and also going home?”

“No, this is an immersive experience. Visitors are supposed to stay inside for an extended period of time. Quidel will probably be here for thirty years, unless he gets bored, and goes to explore some other simulation, or just relaxes on the beach.”

“How does anyone have time for that?” Renata knows that they should probably get the hell out of here, but she has so many questions, and for the first time in her—well, she has never had a real life, but those implanted memories are still there, and this still feels like a relief. So for the first time in her life, she’s finally getting answers. They’re on a roll, so she’s not going to stop unless someone or something forces her too. “You spend half your life pretending to be a secret agent, and that’s pretty much all you do before you die? What about money?”

“They don’t use money anymore, everything’s free. And they mostly don’t die anymore either. As I said, they’re advanced.”

Renata shakes her head again. “I need to speak with the two of them. Let’s pause the game, and take a breather.”

“You can’t pause the game. This is just a world, and people live in it.”

“But the MacGuffin isn’t real. It doesn’t matter. Quidel would know that.”

“Oh, no. The machine they’re protecting is quite real. And I need it.”

“Why?”

“You’re not ready for that one yet.” And there it is. The conversation is over.

Microstory 2505: Health Smeller

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I can smell your health, and heal your ailments. I was Landis Tipton before Landis Tipton was Landis Tipton. While we gifted him with all of the Vulnerabilities, mine is the one that he uses primarily, if not exclusively. I want to make it clear that I did not waste my gift when I had it. I too healed people. It was at a smaller scale, but you have to understand that none of us believed that we could announce ourselves to the world. Before Landis was brave enough to stand in the spotlight, it felt too dangerous to be open to the public. We decided that we had to be very selective with our clients. Of course, that didn’t always work out, but we did our best. I think we helped a lot of people. Everyone we chose was entitled to a healing, but it was sort of usually considered secondary to the other—more abstract—therapies. People get sick; it’s a way of life, and I didn’t think that there was anything I could do about it. It didn’t even occur to us that my gift of healing could one day be synthesized into a mass-produced cure-all. What people really needed was to feel better about themselves, and realize their dreams, even if that meant shifting those dreams to things that were a little more realistic and attainable. I’m not saying that I was a pointless member of the team, but we did see our responsibility as being more holistic. On the contrary, my job was very important, and should not be discounted. You see, healing begins from within, but physical pain and suffering is real, and it can make it impossible to feel like your life can get better, even if you’ve not been stricken with some serious disease. Everyone has something. They have joint pain, or frequent headaches, or circulation issues. I could fix all of that. Maybe not permanently, but those first few days after the clients met us were incredibly vital. It was at least one less thing that they were worried about while they were trying to move on, and improve their situations. It gave them a new baseline by which they could judge the things that happened to them in the future, both good and not-so-great. Healthy body, healthy mind, as they say. I have heard people ask Landis what people’s health smells like, but I have never heard his answer. That’s probably because he’s so busy saving the world. That’s not me being resentful, but it does lead well into the answer to their question. When something is particularly wrong with someone, their health typically smells sickly sweet, like spoiled fruit. The disease is rotting away in their body, creating a build-up of waste, and generating a toxic smell that anyone would perceive as being wrong, if their noses were designed to detect the right signals. Poor general health, on the other hand, is bitter, with metallic overtones, and I could sometimes cure that too, but generally not. So if you ever meet Landis in person, and he’s a little shy or standoffish, I can’t speak for him, but that might be why. People just kind of smell bad all the time, even when they’ve been cured. It’s unsettling, but it’s part of the job, and I for one think that Landis faces it valiantly.

Microstory 1578: Nameless

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Prompt

I found a package on my porch. It was addressed to me, but had the wrong address. I don’t know how it got here, but I shrugged, and opened it up. Inside was...

Botner

...a huge bag of Reese’s Pieces (I don't even like Reese's Pieces) and...a shirt, and pants, and...a cardboard license plate? Who did this? Hey there! Yes, I know, that license plate looks pretty strange, but I thought it might help you identify yourself if you ever get pulled over. Here are the parts of it. There’s a 4x4 strip that says “Pickles Drive”. There’s a piece that says “Raging Bull” and another that says “Scotty Doesn’t Drive”. There’s a plate holder. It’s hard to make out the rest because the back part’s missing. I’m very disappointed to find out that it’s not just some kind of joke. I’m so excited! Did someone send me a gift? Can I open it now? Can I say thank you? Can I wear it? I think I’m going to cry. From: The [Nameless]. To: [Me]. From: [The Nameless]. Date: 12/16/13. Subject: Greetings and salutations and other nothings. To: [Me]. I really appreciate it! I haven’t tried the Reese’s Pieces yet, but my brother really likes them, and it would be a shame if I didn’t...

Conclusion

...at least eat a little bit of it. Someone went through all this trouble to make this care package for me, and it would be rude for me to completely ignore it. The fake license plate intrigues me. I feel compelled to use it, even though I obviously already have a state-issued plate on my car, and this would be extremely illegal. I remove that one, and affix the fake one in its place, just for fun, I guess. To my surprise, the cardboard transforms into metal, and looks totally authentic. You would never know that this isn’t the real thing. I now feel the urge to get in my car, and drive as fast as I can. I’ve never been much of a daredevil, and I don’t break the law. This is so not me, but I can’t stop myself. I stick to normal speeds while I’m in the neighborhood, and don’t go too terribly fast in the city, but once I’m out, all bets are off. I’m going ninety on a sixty-five, and pissing everyone off as I weave in and out of traffic. I pass a speed trap that we all know is there, because it’s not a very good hiding place. The cop pulls out of their little spot, and switches on the sirens. They match my speed until they’re right behind me, and then they do something strange. They turn off the siren, and pull back over. Since we’re in flat Kansas, I can see them in my rearview mirror for quite awhile, even at these high speeds. They’re just sitting on the shoulder as if this were a video game that’s not programmed well enough for the NPCs to notice the player once they pass a certain point. I turn around, and start heading back towards them. I don’t mean I get onto the other side of the highway. I’m driving the wrong direction on the shoulder. It’s dangerous as hell, but as I was saying, I don’t care anymore. I can’t. This Nameless person isn’t letting me. I keep going until I’m face to face with the cop. He just smiles at me through the windshield, and gives a salute. What the hell is going? Curious and bold, I step out, and approach from the passenger side. “Mornin’ officer,” I say.

“Mornin’, sir,” he replies in between bites of his own giant bag of Reese’s Pieces. “Almost got up to ninety-five today! Still can’t make a hundred, I see! Ah, I’m just playin’. Anything I can help you with?”

Again. What the hell? Where does this license place get its power?

Microstory 1307: Metal Thief

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Property Crimes Detective: All right, Metal Thief. Tell me what you know about the Twin Hillside Burglary.

Metal Thief: I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Property Crimes Detective: You expect me to believe that? It was all over the news.

Metal Thief: I’m not really into the news. I like history.

Property Crimes Detective: And money.

Metal Thief: Doesn’t everybody?

Property Crimes Detective: And metal.

Metal Thief: Metal makes money.

Property Crimes Detective: What did you do with everything you stole from that house?

Metal Thief: I told you, I didn’t do it.

Property Crimes Detective: Then who did?

Metal Thief: How the hell should I know?

Property Crimes Detective: Well, you must have contacts, what with everything we know that you’ve stolen.

Metal Thief: What did they take?

Property Crimes Detective: Everything.

Metal Thief: Everything?

Property Crimes Detective: Everything but the kitchen sink. They did take the workshop sink that was in the garage, though.

Metal Thief: They literally cleaned it all out? But just the one house?

Property Crimes Detective: Yes.

Metal Thief: You didn’t call me in because you think I did it. You called me in for help.

Property Crimes Detective: [sighs] Where would someone go to unload all that? I’m talkin’ bookshelves, couches, televisions, frickin’ photo albums. They took a lot of junk that was personal; I honestly don’t get it.

Metal Thief: They took photo albums?

Property Crimes Detective: Yeah. What does that mean to you?

Metal Thief: There’s always someone willing to take the valuable stuff. You don’t even need to go to the black market. All you would need to do is haul that stuff to your own house, and sell it on your lawn.

Property Crimes Detective: A garage sale?

Metal Thief: As I understand it, confidential informants get paid.

Property Crimes Detective: You give me something I can use, we’ll talk.

Metal Thief: [...] Detective, this crime is personal. Like you said, they took junk. Anyone willing to go to that much trouble is doing it for one of two reasons. A, it’s a prank, in which case it’s gone too far by now. Or B, the victim just went through a bad break up, or fired a disgruntled employee, or something. Find someone your victim has wronged recently, and see if they have a garage sale goin’. Or see if they’ve just purchased storage space somewhere in the city. They may not want, or need, to sell it at all, and it’s really just about hurting the victim.

Property Crimes Detective: That was actually kind of helpful.

Metal Thief: Next time you want a favor, don’t drag me into an interrogation room. Just ask.

Property Crimes Detective: Oh, it’s a favor? I guess we don’t need to pay you then.

Microstory 737: Credos, Convention Nine: Commitment, Chapter Two

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For a long time, the girl was embarrassed of her shameful jalaxian harmony bowl performance. She immediately gave it up, and fell into a depression, spending her days in self-pity and remorse. Her father decided that she needed to get out of her own way, and stay busy. If she couldn’t play the jalaxian harmony bowl, then maybe she needed to help other people play it. Though he was not known for designing the bowls himself, he was an accomplished metal worker, and knew he could figure out how to do it. He brought her on board for a new department in his small business, where they learned to make harmony bowls together. She took to the trade quite well, enjoying the tediousness and focus that metalwork forced her to adopt. She was starting to think that she should go into the family business permanently once she was finished with her general studies. Meanwhile, her infamous recital piece was uploaded to the global network so that anyone and everyone could see it, and make fun of her. Some of the comments on her video were offensive, but many were more playful. A not insignificant number of people were actually suggesting that she become a comedian. Those closest to her made their own remarks, saying that what she lacked in talent for the harmony bowl, she made up for in her stage presence, and comedic timing. When she wasn’t in school, or building harmony bowls with her father, she was practicing her comedy act at local establishments. This was becoming difficult to manage, however. She never had time to sleep. Her studies faltered, her work at the factory was subpar, and her comedy routines were rather weak. She asked her mother, “what am I to do? I cannot handle all this at once. But I must study to earn my degree, and I have an obligation to the factory, and comedy is my passion.” The mother sat down and spoke. “You are trying to do too much. You cannot divide your attention to so many things at once. If you want to be good at any one of them, you must devote all of your time to it.” “But what will happen to the other two things?” the girl asked. Her mother answered, “you will not be able to do all three. You must decide what is most important to you.” “I don’t know what that is,” the girl said, “they’re all important.” “I cannot choose for you.” So the girl made the decision on her own. She stopped working at the factory, and started concentrating most substantially on her education. She continued to work on her comedy, but only when she had extra time, for no matter what she ended up doing with her life, she would need her degree to fall back on. When she grew up, she refocused her efforts back on comedy, committing to her skill with vigor. She utilized what she learned in school to make her jokes more meaningful and thought-provoking, able to make references to history and pop culture she would not have been able to without a well-rounded education. She even incorporated a little manufacturing into her routines, building her own custom-made props to accentuate the skits. And she became one of the most famous comedians in her world.

Microstory 583: New Home Hair Management Products

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One thing that everyone deals with is their hair, whether it be the lack there of it, or that it’s too long, or just its general unruliness. While other companies are working on trying to cure cancer, or develop faster supersonic passenger aircraft, one has decided to help with something a little simpler. Antubian Product Co. has created a so-called revolutionary new product line that claims to provide for everyone’s hair needs, whatever they may be. This line involves multiple kinds of products, to be used differently, and sometimes in tandem. A series of microinjections, for instance, can (oversimplistically speaking) jumpstart hair follicles, and engender growth. The irony in this is that the device only works once the subject has first been shaved in all desired areas. Another subsection of products gives its user command of the color of their hair. While traditional dyes have taken time and effort, the new Antibus shampoo goes in during a shower, and is complete by the time you get out to dry. Other products can shorten, and even restyle, your haircut at will through static charges and texturizing gels. Antubian, Inc. has had a colorful past. It began as a scrap metal broker before becoming an entertainment company. It then abruptly transitioned into a pulp fiction publisher, spent a brief amount of time as a ‘supernatural threat eradicator”—where it was tried in court for fraud, until finally landing in the car restoration industry. It has spent the last seven years restoring antique and classic vehicles up to working condition, with as much retention of the original operating functions as possible. It has only been in the hair business for the last seven months, but has already come up with an impressive array of products. Whether any one of these products actually works is something that still needs confirmation from our field reporters. As mercurial as founder and Chief Vision Officer, Lovro Antubi has been known to be, his ventures have proven to be largely legitimate. There is even evidence that his supernatural phase may have shown some level of merit. As time goes on, Antubi tends to move on from one project in favor of another. Instead of selling, or even spinning off each company to start another, he simply sells the patents and intellectual property themselves, and begins to focus on something new. Join us next week when our field testers release their analyses and reviews of the new Antubian haircare line.

Microstory 550: Second Day of No Death Crash at Same Location

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One year ago, something terrible, and virtually impossible, occurred. A man named Drummond Breckenridge was the only survivor of a plane crash that resulted in the death of one-hundred-and-twenty people. The most alarming part of this story was that it happened on a day that the cosmos has set aside to disallow death, for whatever reason. Even after centuries of study, researchers are still not sure why it is that the Day of No Death exists at all. Most people have simply embraced it, and treated it as normal. After all, no one knows what the world would look like without it. It would seem that not being able to die on the eighth day of the eighth month of every year is just part of life. New interest in studying this phenomenon was sparked with the unique catastrophe that took the lives of passengers on Flight 5683. And now, even more interest has been ignited following the development that stopped the 5683 tragedy from being unique. A second plane has crashed. And it crashed on the Day of No Death. And it crashed at the exact same spot that the first plane did one year ago.

Flight 216 had just taken off from Kansas City, and was on its way to Miami, Florida when the craft experienced an inexplicable change in mass. The true reason for 5683’s malfunction was never discovered. The entire mechanical apparatus was in perfect working order. It was as if the pilots simply stopped monitoring the controls, leaving many to speculate that they were slipped drugs that put them to sleep (though no toxins were found in their systems). The reason for Flight 216’s crash—though so absurd, many do not believe it—is rather obvious. Scientists just don’t know how it’s physically possible. Broadcast media is already referring to it as The Golden Plane, because that’s what it became. At some point mid-flight, every single square inch of metal was somehow replaced with, or converted into, gold. Airplanes are primarily constructed using the metal nekromei. It’s light, durable, abundant, and cheap. It also exhibits low toxicity, which makes it perfect for encapsulating living beings for an extended period of time. Gold—also known in the scientific world as glomei—is extremely heavy, relatively rare, costly, and better used in smaller forms, like electronic components. No one would ever build a plane made out of gold. It would never even get off the ground. So how did this happen? This is why Flight 216 tumbled out of the air. It was simply too heavy.

Like last year’s fateful flight, Flight 216 ended in the death of every passenger but one. Her name has not yet been released, nor has anyone else’s, but sources say that she is currently in critical condition at an undisclosed hospital. Assuming she wakes up, authorities hope she will be able to shed some light on the matter, and explain what exactly happened up there...how the plane suddenly transformed into gold, and also how she survived. The Transportation Regulation And Safety Commission, also known as TRASC, is scheduled to make an official statement to the public regarding the tragedy of The Golden Plane. A viagent close to the investigation has said that they want the family of the deceased to make proper arrangements before releasing any information.

Microstory 221: Vampirs

So, vampires. They exist. Not so much anymore, but still. The first of the kind called themselves Pilot Vampires. This originates from a constructed language where vham (pronounced with more of an f sound, and related to famish) means “hunger” and pire (pronounced pier-ay) means “ruler”. Many take the full word to mean “hungry ruler” but it better translates as “ruler of hunger”. Those in the original generation are extremely strong, and difficult to kill. They don’t have trouble with the sun so much as they have trouble with heat, which the sun happens to have a lot of. Their scions were called vampirs (pronounced vahmpiers) and they were weaker, but more compatible with the environment. Each subsequent generation was born more compatible, and they would have likely regressed back into humans, given the time. The species, and all its varieties, are collectively known as murexa, because of their purple blood. The exact cause of this is unknown (except I know), but it is the result of a cobalt-magnesium alloy oxygen carrier, rather than the iron found in most people’s red blood. While Pilot Vampires are immortal, their descendants are not. They live about 190 standard years, and lead pretty standard lives. They eat normal human food, and will die from overheating if they do not receive regular transfusions of human blood. These transfusions allow greater efficiency of blood flow and body temperature regulation, as they will cause the body to temporarily transport oxygen via iron, but this will not last forever. If you see a vampir with purple eyes, then the right thing to do is to immediately present your arm and provide them with blood. The eyes are the most vulnerable, and so the red blood will pool to the eyes for as long as possible, and will be the last indicator of a healthy specimen.

Unlike fictional representations of vampires, real vampires do not have a thirst for blood. In fact, since they were descended from humans, they do not like the taste of blood. It’s gross, and so they avoid drinking it unless they absolutely have to. Instead, they either inject themselves, or consume a special drink that’s mixed with sugar and other, more suitable ingredients. Earlier vampirs did not have fangs, but scientists saw this as a need, and so they gave evolution a nudge, so that later generations would have a safe backup, if need be. They did this along with a special gland in the mouth that alters their breath so that it numbs human skin, lowering or eliminating donor pain. Vampires do not bite people on the neck, because that’s pretty sexual. That’s something we just made up to make vampire monsters either scary or sexy. Vampires do not bite people without consent. If a vampire wants to kill someone, the last thing they’ll do is bite them, because biting leaves DNA evidence, and that would be foolish of them. They’ll use a knife, or a gun, or something like that. Vampires are not evil, or dark, or violent; they’re just people with a medical condition, so please stop treating them differently. That’s so insensitive of you. They do not glitter in the sun, nor do they instantly burst into flame. Yes, a vampire will die if you stab them in the heart with a wooden stake. You know who else dies from being stabbed in the heart with a wooden stake? You. You die. We all need hearts, okay? And it doesn’t matter if it’s made of wood, or metal, or candy cane; any sharp object will do. Some people are allergic to garlic, and some of those people are vampires. Vampires do not heal magically, nor can their blood heal others magically. If you drink vampire blood, you’ll probably get sick from cobalt-magnesium poisoning. Don’t do that. It’s possible to become a Pilot Vampire, but the process is much more complicated than that. It requires dying, so...be prepared for that, if that’s what you really want. Also, you specifically are missing a key component, so it will actually not work for you. Sorry, I messed that up. I forgot who I was talking to. Better choose Jacob. No, don’t choose Jacob. He’s bad. I’m talking about a different Jacob, by the way. Who are you talking about?

Microstory 179: Sara Medina

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There was not much to say about Sara Medina. Sure, her life was full of pain, loneliness, and tragedy, but she didn’t do much. Her mutation was not useful for her daily life, and in fact made things beyond difficult. It had some potential applications in defense, but there were too many better and safer options to warrant too much study. And so she ended up being little more than a footnote in history. Sara’s mother died in childbirth; an outcome that was practically unavoidable. Growing up after that, she faced many challenges, including being resented by her father. Her skin was made of a strangely malleable kind of metal, which was what caused her mother so much stress while in labor. It was a miracle that either of them survived longer than the first few months of pregnancy. Sara’s skin was impenetrable, which made it impossible for her to receive vaccinations in the traditional way. Fortunately, her uvula was made of pure flesh, and acted as a surrogate for proper vaccinations. Unfortunately, however, this caused other health complications, because the uvula is not designed to take so much irritation. Sara’s father kept her away from the public eye as much as possible, but too many in and around Madrid discovered her condition too early. The difference in her physiology was too noticeable to prevent people from knowing about her. Her saving grace was that the mutant island holding Colton Underwood had recently been established, and so she was able to move there. She spent nearly her entire life there.

Microstory 117: Milo Chombers

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Despite the fact that his real given name was Midas, Milo Chombers could not perform elemental transmutation, since that would break a number of physical laws. He could instead manipulate metals in a variety of other ways. He was said to have the greatest range of abilities than anyone. At first, Milo could only sense the vibrations of metallic objects. This allowed him to, for instance, find gold on the beach with no tools. Using time and patience, however, Milo accumulated a number of related but still different abilities. He later discovered that he could survive electrical surges, and was able to dissipate a charge safely with only a thought. After that, he learned to manipulate the shape and density of metal to suit his needs. He could roll up a sheet of aluminum foil and then increase its hardness so that it was as strong as steel. He could also disintegrate metallic objects. After unwillingly receiving a treatment designed to enhance anomaly abilities in general, he started being able to control magnetism, and could telekinetically move objects with enough magnetic attraction. Using all of his abilities, he invented a lightweight, and rather form-fitting, but sturdy suit of armor that would protect him from the rare nonmetallic weapons enemies may try to use against him, and also gave him the ability to fly. He was not a superhero, and did not go out on field operations. Seeing the need for it, he became the founder and leader of Bellevue’s security department, eventually protecting all of the inhabitants of the entire city that grew around headquarters.

Microstory 111: Serenity Theodo

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When an honorary member of Bellevue first laid eyes on a list of anomalies that was compiled by someone who was once able to sense and track people, he found out that one of his former patients was on it. Serenity Theodo was five years old when she was diagnosed with an extremely rare form of leukemia that had, until then, not been seen in a child. The doctor gave her one month to live. Her parents agreed to treat the symptoms with drugs, not to prolong her life, but to make her as comfortable as possible. Still, she remained bedridden in the hospital throughout the barrage of treatment, and was unable to enjoy her life during those times. To the surprise of the medical community, the cancer never went away completely, but the symptoms lessened over the years. For some of the pain, Serenity simply learned to deal with it better than most people. When she was a teenager, she discovered that she had the ability to phase through objects. Her parents were horrified, especially after her recovery. They belonged to a religious order that treated what others might call a miracle as a curse, so they were already frightened and suspicious of their daughter for having survived a deadly disease. It is, however, the Amadesin way to playact at all times; to hide hate for others behind a mask of overexaggerated compassion. They pretended to be learning about her ability by testing her limits. Instead, they were searching for her weakness. They found it. For an unknown reason, anomalies have difficulty using their abilities around the metallic element of bellmei. Jaklyn Simonds cannot teleport from a room lined with bellmei, Jayson Casy cannot disintegrate bellmei, and Bernard Maly would not be able to climb up a wall made of bellmei. Once Serenity’s parents discovered this trick, they built a cage under the garage in their basement made entirely of bellmei, and even claimed to their neighbors that she had succumbed to her disease. After more than a year of being trapped, Serenity was able to communicate long enough to the neighbor boy so that they could make a plan to break her out. He smuggled tools into her cell and provided a distraction by crashing his car into her house. She managed to pull enough bellmei down to phase through the wall and escape. She remained in the safety of a facility designed to protect Amadesin defectors for years before her family caught up with her. Fortunately, the Bellevue member she once knew as her doctor was keeping tabs on them, and was able to intercept before her parents had the chance to take her back to hell.