Microstory 2263: A Long Road Trip

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In 2008, city planners from Kansas City, and those from Chicago came together with an idea. There were, of course, ways to travel between the two domains, but these pathways weren’t built specifically for this purpose. They twisted and turned to stop at other places, which was fine, but KC and Chicago enjoyed many special political and business relationships with each other, so they wanted something new. They began planning what would eventually come to be known as the Heartland Expressway, with a numbering designation of Interstate-56. It took sixteen years, but that highway is now officially complete, though people have been driving on sections of it for years. A couple of months ago, they held an event that was publicized as the Maiden Voyage of the Heartland Expressway. The current mayor of Kansas City, Missouri drove the roughly seven hours to Chicago with her whole family. Meanwhile, the mayor of Chicago did the same with his own family, stopping in the middle to have lunch with each other in a border town named River City, Illinois. It was a little funny, because the Chicago mayor’s family took too long to get going, and drove a little slower, so they were just a little bit late. His kids are younger, and you know how often they need to stop and get out during long road trips. Once they were finished with their meal, they went their separate ways, and ended up having dinner with each other’s deputy mayors. I’m sure you probably already heard about this, because it was a fun and innocuous story in the midst of all the bad news. It’s just relevant to today, because Kelly, Dutch and I just drove that route. It’s 428 miles from start to finish, which was perfect, because my EV gets about 450 miles to the charge. I wanted to test it out, and also just go somewhere. It was just a day trip, if you can believe it. We left at 5:00 in the morning, spent some time wandering around the city, particularly the pier, and waited for the car to charge up before leaving at around 14:00. We got home fairly late last night, and we were pretty tired, but we’re millionaires, so we didn’t have to worry about going into work today.

Microstory 857: Drive Out

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My best friend and roommate, Deena Norup comes up with the craziest of theories, and as absurd as they sound when you first hear them, they start making a bit of sense the more she explains her reasoning. And she has been right every single time. She thought that our neighbors to the North were cheating on each other with our neighbors to the South. She insisted that the North house husband was sleeping with the South house wife, and vice versa. I didn’t believe until the truth finally came out a week later, and we watched the four of them get in a huge screaming match on our lawn. Deena also predicted that the mayor of our town was actually featured in a number of scifi B-movies in the early 90s, but always while wearing some alien or monster costume. This turned out to be one hundred percent true, and I still don’t know how she discovered it. He only ever did it to help his second cousin, who was a filmmaker, and he was never credited for his parts. She just sees connections that other people don’t. So when I tell you she believed the paralegal at the law firm where she works as a receptionist was secretly an inventor with hundreds of patents, you know I was on board with proving it. The paralegal dressed in modest inexpensive clothing, treated everyone as if they were his boss, and didn’t seem to have a personal life. No one but Deena would expect this guy to be a multimillionaire who carved out an extensive underground lair under his one house, but it turned out to be there, just as she said. We put on our comfortable black clothes, broke into his house, and snuck downstairs, where we found a massive garage full of rare classic cars. We went another level down to find a laboratory with tons of equipment and machines that neither of us could name. The third level was finished, but almost completely empty, like it was waiting to be designated for some interesting purpose. The only thing in it was another car, but it was of no model we recognized, by no apparent make. He must have built it himself from scratch.

The car gave Deena a bad feeling that only increased the nearer she got to it. She begged for us to leave, but we were this close, so how could I not at least check it out? I opened the door and crawled inside. Right away, I could see that this car must have come from the future. The windows turned opaque, and displayed full 4K screens. There was a coffee maker, and a stove; both of which were built into the interior. The passenger seat lifted up to reveal a toilet, and the back seat turned into a tub. Once my foot was clear, the front door closed on its own and locked itself. I couldn’t open it from the inside, and Deena couldn’t let me out either. The screens indicated that the vehicle was in vacuum mode, which freaked me out, but I could steal breathe, so maybe I was misinterpreting what that meant. Still, I needed to get out somehow. By now, alarms were going off in what must have been the whole lair, but Deena was just standing there, as calm as ever. “Drive,” she said simply. What the hell did that mean? I continued looking for an exit, but there was nothing. The only way I was going to solve this problem was with help somewhere else, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s to trust what Deena says. I turned the engine, and started driving forward, hoping to find an exit somewhere. The wall in front of me opened on its own, and let out to the yard above. There waiting for me was a horde of angry men and women with guns. They were all wearing suits, so I assumed them to be federal agents. The paralegal was there too. He spoke to me through his wrist watch, “Miss Norup should not have shown you that. It is not for you.” I was desperate to get out of there, any way possible, and it was like the car read my mind. It started hovering over the ground, then rose higher and higher. Through cameras on the side of the car, I could see that the wheels had turned into rocket engines, and were flying me away. It just kept going and going, high above the atmosphere, and I finally realized what vacuum mode was. I looked at the back camera feed, and could see the agents had followed me with their own flying cars. This must be part of some secret government program. A friendly voice spoke to alert me that the drive-in theatre was now populated, and that the end had come. The screen showed me footage of a parking lot filled with a bunch of vans. Then the Earth disappeared...literally. All that survived were that parking lot, and these spacecars.

Microstory 762: Snowman

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In the late nineteenth century, a group of people with a lot of money got together and started questioning the future of planet Earth. They did not believe in the bible, or any other religious theory on the end of the world, but they could not deny that it was a possibility. Something happened to the dinosaurs, and the surface of the planet was not always as hospitable as it would become. New technologies pose new threats, and humans are fickle and dangerous beings. They didn’t know for sure what might happen to humanity, if anything at all, but they figured the only safe bet was to find a way protect the continuity of the species...just in case. They formed an institute, and started recruiting. They developed plans, and built facilities. They started watching over people. At first their subjects were random, but as science progressed, they were able to choose the right subjects with the right genetic makeup. They weren’t looking for perfection, nor any superficial trait shared by all. What they were looking for was diversity. What they realized was that the healthiest people in the world came from genetic diversity, which was why inbred offspring often come with defects. It was absolutely vital that their subjects be compatible with each other in a way that no algorithm could, or should, predict, because that was how evolution operated in an uncontrolled environment. Afterall, they weren’t trying to save this small sample, but the future of the human race. As the years went by, they continued their work, in complete secret. They monitored people they now deemed inheritors at a one to one ratio. They built underground bunkers capable of surviving any number of extinction-level disaster scenarios. These bunkers were placed in strategic locations, far from each other, for if one, or even almost all of them failed, perhaps one might survive.

They calculated the optimal population, turned over older inheritors to new generations, and kept the system alive for decades. Over a hundred years from their beginnings, nearly all bunkers were complete. They still had an interstellar vessel planned, but technological limitations prevented them from constructing it yet. Should civilization have ended before such time, they would just have to do without it. While they were waiting, a woman noticed a problem that others had seen without voicing their concerns. Inheritors were being protected half their lives by people called sentinels. These brave men and women were fully aware of the contingency program, and knew that there would be no room for them in the bunkers, should they be activated. But this woman, named Nevra Adkins decided that she was unhappy with this scenario. Though she was no sentinel herself, and would be lucky enough to be placed in one of the bunkers in a leadership position to help the inheritors acclimate to their new lives, she sympathized with them. She did not feel it right for the institute to demand loyalty from their sentinels, knowing that their jobs would end only in death. She broke away from the organization, and formed Project Snowman. With no intention of designing a repopulation strategy, she wanted to create a special bunker, just for the sentinels, and perhaps their families, as sufficient compensation for their dedication. She carved out some land in Antarctica, and broke ground within months. Unfortunately, she spent all of her money on this, and was unable to raise significant funds beyond it, so she would not be able to actually build the damn thing. And so her former institute started allocating money to help her build Snowman. A couple of years later, the coordination efforts were becoming needlessly complex, and Adkins was reabsorbed into the original organization. She had successfully convinced them that this was positively necessary to not only maintain good relationships with their sentinels, but to keep their souls clean. They were there to save humankind, should they be needed. They recognized that they would not be able to save everyone, should they be able to save anyone, but if they didn’t even try to save the true heroes in their ranks, then perhaps humanity did not deserve to be saved at all.

Microstory 761: Trey

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Trey Austin was a dancer. More importantly, he was a performer. He never felt quite as comfortable as he was when he was up on stage. He was having a rough go of it, though. Though he was brilliant with his craft, he had had no formal training. His family did not have enough money to send him to the schools that would help jumpstart his career. He tried performing in the park for passersby, but there was nowhere in his mid-level Kentucky city like Central Park. People were around, but no one was watching. He considered just buying a bus ticket up to New York City, but without a guarantee of success, he didn’t feel it was worth it. Besides, he was too anxious and insecure to give that a shot, and he certainly had no naïve delusions that he would just one day suddenly become famous. Still, he kept dancing in the park—not to hip-hop, like one might expect, but interpretive, and contemporary. He preferred slow and rising music that felt like it was telling a story. One day, a woman appeared in the park, and started admiring his number. He noticed her right away, but wanted to continue with his piece, so he would look self-assured, and professional. Once he was finished, she walked towards him, and clapped. Then she handed him a business card that felt much heavier than it should have. She told him she would like to hire him for a special tour coming soon, but that it was far away, and he might not see his family for weeks. She left, and he returned home to discuss it with his parents. Before he arrived, though, he had already decided. This was his chance, he had to go. He at least had to call her back and ask for more information. As soon as he dialed her number, the business card began to glow. The light started crawling up his arm, and then all over his body, and when once again he could see, he found himself in an empty auditorium. She was a time traveler, who was planning performances all throughout time, but only for people like her. Only they would be able to see him dance. He was amazed by what he was learning. It took some getting used to, but he eventually found his footing. He never knew dancing could be even more exhilarating and magical than it already was. The theatre was packed with people, but not everyone was there to see him. Only those wearing special glasses were able to witness his movements, for he was performing from another dimension. The woman made it look like he was floating in the air, high above the stage, where a band was playing that was entirely unaware that he existed. Trey swayed and spun to the music, like he had in the park, but this time, just because the floor was one direction, it didn’t mean he had to be pointed towards it. Gravity could be altered towards any direction, so he had to choreograph a special routine to account for the invisible sphere. He became a hit, and more spacetime locations were added than his superior had originally planned. He was the first in a special class of people with time powers known as The Zephdancers.

Microstory 760: Dime

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In 1825, a new Director of the United States mint was appointed to her new position. She was born in a small town in Kansas called Twin Hillsides, which one year prior became the site of a new minting facility; designed to be the largest ever, serving as the primary provider in the country. To commemorate their new facility, Director Isika Stawski decided to generate a new design for the ten cent coin. She opened submissions to everyone in the office, whether they were in the design department, or otherwise. The entire agency voted on the best submissions, ultimately settling on a beautiful depiction of the Ruins of Cargaley that remain standing in Northern Alabama. Due to a clerical, however, precisely ten coins were made of a completely different design before anyone realized what was happening. They are referred to as the Camel Dimes. Unlike what one might expect, no camels are printed on the coin. Instead, it portrays two hillsides, but as one worker pointed out, they better resemble humps on a camel, which is exactly why it was not chosen. Despite pressure from her superiors in government, Stawski decided that there was no reason to not place the ten mistakes in circulation. They were released into the wild with all the rest, and disappeared into obscurity for a long time. People continued to use them, usually without even looking at the one in their possession long enough to notice that there was something different about it. They didn’t start gaining notoriety until around 1921 when a history buff came into possession of one, and realized what it was. They have been increasing in value ever since, as you might imagine, and are now each worth up to 2.8 million dollars, depending on condition. The largest collection of these belongs to Magnate magnate, Manus Burke, who owns four of them at the moment, which total roughly ten million bucks. That’s why I’ve gathered you all here today; the best of the best. We’re gonna steal ‘em. Who’s in?

Microstory 411: Floor 32 (Part 1)

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Honestly, I checked out of this job months ago. Technically my disassociation with the company started from the very beginning, but it’s only been recently that I truly stopped caring. The thing is that I don’t have to care anymore. While I was still in college, I started working on software designed to revolutionize the finance and accounting industries. My goal was to attain full automation so that companies would be able to trim the fat from their workforce, cut costs, and become more efficient. Theoretically, my artificial intelligence concepts could be used in a variety of fields, but accounting is my specialty, so I used that as my focus. Obviously I knew the whole time that such software would put my job at risk, but I was comforted by the idea that, as the creator of this new technology, I would be fine. In fact, I figured I would be able to become a millionaire. But things started to change over the years. Firstly, I’ve developed a far more minimalist attitude towards life. I love to travel, but that’s really about all I need to spend money on. I only do as much as necessary to survive, I don’t care about luxury, and I don’t even watch television. By the time my software was completed, I simply did not have any interest in having millions of dollars. I’m quite happy where I am in life, and I see no reason to change my position. However, I did manage to find a silver-lining to all of the extra hours I spent perfecting my side project. Now I don’t have to actually do any work to complete my job. The best part of it, since I didn’t tell anyone what I was doing, I still get paid as if I am the one doing it. I sit in my corner, watching streaming sports, or reading the news while my program works in the background. I even offer to do other people’s work for them, and they fall for it. It’s a win-win situation, because they get more free time too, but also carry the satisfaction of pulling one over on me. At least all this was how I thought things were going. I’ve just discovered a bug in my software that might have had grave consequences for the entire organization. It seems to have made minor errors in the results that added up over time, and I think these may have had something to do with Analion’s current problems. Whoever just jumped down the atrium might have had the right idea. I’m in big trouble.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 8, 2032

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Mateo spent a few minutes just staring at Leona sleeping next to him. He felt responsible for turning her into a salmon; for forcing her into this life. But he was also grateful to always have someone with him. If they hadn’t fallen in love, it would have still been nice to have a partner.

She woke up quickly, possibly sensing his gaze. They looked at each other for a good long while, not saying a word. “I’ve been waiting to wake up next to you for a very long time.”

Mateo looked away. “Nothing happened between us last night.”

“I know that.” She sat up and leaned against the headboard. “This is gonna get awkward.”

“How so?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure you and I are together now. But our family is always going to be around, at least for a long time. We won’t be left alone very much. Even though our life will be saturated, they will have waited months to see us again. Doesn’t seem fair to take a break from them for sex when they don’t get to see us very often.”

“We’re alone now.”

“We’re not doing it this year. This is just the first conversation on the matter.”

“I just mean...I think they know that. They’ve been alive long enough to understand. They’re probably not here at the moment so that we would have some privacy. What we do with that time is up to us.”

Leona bit her lower lip in thought. “I think we should use that time to eat.”

“I agree.” Fittingly, there was a knock on the door and the sound of Theo on the other side. Mateo pulled on a shirt someone had laid out for him and opened the door. “Hey, kid. You look older.”

“I’m getting there.” He sported an evil smile. “Did we give you two enough time?”

Mateo looked back to Leona with a smirk. “What did I tell you?”

She ignored him. “Theo, have you been missing for two years?”

“Of course not, I’ve been back home. I spend the year there. I told them where you are. They kind of already knew what was going on, what with the fact that your older boyfriend only came ‘round once a year, if that. They’re not happy, but they get that you wanted to make a clean break.” He walked all the way inside and sat down on the table. “They just need a call from you every year.”

“I can do that, now that things have settled down.”

Theo looked up to Mateo. “Leona is going to take me to lunch since I’m too old to drive. Your mother wants to get to know you.”

“Go ahead,” Leona urged. “We have all of time and space.”

Mateo laughed. “Is that a reference?”

He met his mother outside by the pool where she suggested they go for a walk. There was still much to learn of each other, and the healing process was just beginning. “Where is your husband?”

“A couple of our friends dropped in, so they’re catching up, just like we are.”

“How do you know anyone?”

“They’re salmon. I believe you know one of them. He healed you once?”

“Ah, yes. Vearden, right?”

“That’s right. They both lived with us in in the 1740s, but we knew his partner, Saga from the jump before.”

“Speaking of non sequiturs, what am I supposed to call you?”

She smiled kindly. “You can call me whatever you want, but if you prefer a name, then it’s Aura.”

“And why is that? You used to be Lauren.”

“It changes each time we jump. Intellectually, I know that I used to go by that, but it’s very hard for me to answer to it. It would be like me trying to call you John Smith and expecting you to accept it. I don’t know why the powers that be did that to us. I’ve not heard of any other salmon who is forced to change their name.”

Mateo took a few beats. “It’s one thing to force us through time. It’s an entirely different invasion to alter our minds. What else have they done to our brains? When I was young, I skinned my knee while staying with you and you were so scared about being in trouble with Randall and Carol. Do you even remember that? Or did these assholes take that away from you, or make you think that you had a daughter. Did you have a daughter? Do I have a sister I don’t remember? We would never freaking know!” But he didn’t say freaking.

She didn’t ask him to calm down or stop cursing. She let him vent, and not just because she was his mother and understood what he needed at the moment, but also since she appeared to share his sentiments. A child is supposed to end up losing their parents, but to remove a child from a parents’ life; that was sacrilege.

“One day,” Mateo assured her, “they will pay for what they’ve done, not only to me, but to all the others. I don’t care what their motives are. If they’re powerful enough to push us around like this, surely there’s another way to accomplish their goals.”

“One might imagine,” Aura agreed.

They walked in silence for a few blocks.

“I would like to go back to Kansas. Leona says she wants to keep her family out of this, but I want them to be close enough if she ever changes her mind. You used to live in Kansas City. Do you think you would be interested in going back?”

“I would love that. I was wondering how to ask you.”

“It’s going to take us an entire day to get there. I’m sure you two have had time to establish fake identities in this time period, but it’s probably going to be impossible for us to purchase a plane ticket.”

“Oh, we are extremely rich,” Aura told him with quite a bit of pride. “The powers that be didn’t seem to have a problem with us investing in companies we knew would be successful in the future. We discovered that we had already opened an account at a bank, which we later had to actually do once we went back in time. We mostly did it to have some money while we were there; we never expected to end up in the 21st century. But now that we have,” she paused for effect, “we’re millionaire’s, Mateo.”

“If you didn’t know what your name was going to be until your jump, how do you still have control of that account?”

“That took some maneuvering, but we figured it out.” They had arrived back at their starting point. “Our family owns this motel, which is why we had no problem getting back to this room for your arrival. We also own an entire apartment complex in Kansas City, Missouri. We have been living there while we build our dream home in Mission Hills. It’s ready for you now, though. We’ll get back there by the end of the day.”

Mateo was more excited than he felt he should have been. He was raised by all three of his parents to be modest and humble. Nonetheless, he figured it would be pretty nice to have an entire mansion so that they could travel through time in peace.

That evening, they were back in Kansas and walking into their new home that was already fully furnished. Mateo and Leona were tired again, though, so they fell asleep once more. They really needed to find a way to get on some kind of legitimate schedule.

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