Microstory 2785: It’s Actually About the Whole Planet

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As people are activated in their pods one by one, Jande steps up and takes charge. He asks about everyone’s experience. They all had the same one—the exact same one. The room looked the same, the executioners were the same, even the audience sounded identical, save for their loved ones, who were swapped out respectively. Even the loners saw their parents, or someone else they once cared about. It’s unlikely that some were brought here on such short notice. Quantum casting is relatively easy, but people have their own lives, and the real slowdown would be explaining that this was a performative execution, and they should remain stoic the whole time while they watched.

For the most part, the contestants are fine with Jande playing the leader for now. They still think he was part of the operation from minute one, and they’re hoping he will share what he knows. It’s a fine line he’s walking here, letting them think that just enough to keep them cooperative, but not so much that it paints a target on his back.

They’re all wearing their birthday suits, and it’s rather cold in this room. It’s not until the last pod opens that a wall parts in half, revealing a hidden doorway. The other side is a locker room. It’s even colder, but they find clothes. They are t-shirts, shorts, and skirts, but they’re better than nothing. They get dressed, then start to look around for clues. There is nowhere to sit, which is weird for a locker room, and also frustrating because they’re still wobbly from the mind transference process.

Even the pros say it’s hard on them, probably because this is the weakest they have ever been. Jande spent all that time working out because he didn’t know this would happen. He already was in a baseline model. He should have realized that the coordinators don’t just want them to be unenhanced; they want them to be evenly matched. They’re all slender and lanky, but also short now. Everyone is pushing each other to get to the one mirror, but Jande doesn’t spend too much time in front of it. He’s uncomfortable, seeing himself with the same face but a wildly different body.

Ersence is running her fingers along the walls, looking for another seam for a door. She’s doing it carefully and methodically, and hasn’t used the mirror even once.

“What does it matter?” Jande asks her. “Whatever will happen will happen, and we won’t be able to control it. I think we have all seen that by now.”

Ersence doesn’t look away from her work. “We just died, I recall. I don’t like the feeling of being trapped. Everything my people want could be achieved with a rotating habitat. We could plant trees, and fill lakes. We could even have mountains. But a planet just hits harder. I don’t like enclosed spaces. If I can find a way out before these people let me out, then that’s what I’m gonna do, if you don’t mind...husband.”

“You two are married?” It’s the hermit who should not have even known that this competition was happening. “Forgive me, but, what’s the point? Are you just trying to maximize your chances? You have an 18% chance of winning, compared to my 9%?”

“Marriage is different for us,” Jande explains to the hermit. “It can be for love and partnership, but it doesn’t have to be. I mostly needed an employee.”

Ersence is not offended by this, but the hermit looks over as if in anticipation of her sadness. “Well, then I suppose my odds haven’t gone down, so that’s good.”

“Actually, they have,” an Eyrenlander jumps in. “Their odds are not only 18%. Working together gives them an advantage over whatever is coming to us. If we’re asked to push boulders up a hill, each of us is stuck alone, and it may be physically impossible in these raggedy bodies. But if you team up... Same number of people, same number of boulders, but two of us can actually get both of theirs done.”

“I just said, we are not a team,” Jande reminds the asshole Eyrenlander.

“Yeah, you did say that,” the Eyrenlander replies. “The other day, I was in a virtual construct where I told people I was a zookeeper.” He drops down to a whisper. “Wanna know a secret? I’m not really. Zoos don’t exist anymore.”

They stand in silence for a moment before the hermit breathes in and extends his hand towards Ersence. “Anyway, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Dare Finnian, but you can call me Dare.” He shakes Jande’s hand after hers. “Dare Finnian, call me Dare.” He starts going around the room, repeatedly saying the same thing in slightly different ways.

His ice-breaking triggers a massive wave of introductions. They don’t all shake hands, and they definitely don’t provide their life stories, but everyone gets a say. Except for one man. He’s standing off to the side, looking smug, but not making any reaction to anyone else’s words. He’s just standing there like he knows something no one else does.

Jande walks up to the mysterious stranger, who must be the last guy to register for this. “You’ve been quiet, cowboy. You got a name, or what?”

“Or what,” the man responds without blinking.

Jande looks him up and down. “You look a little familiar. Is that your real face?”

“What is real anyway?” Oh, he’s so mysterious and intriguing.

“I’m gonna need a name, sir,” Jande insists. “It’s a safety thing. No one here is anonymous, and I won’t let you be the exception, so out with it.”

“Found it!” Ersence has her hand behind a corner locker. “Here, help me.” A Bidan woman goes over and helps her remove the entire locker from its socket. Without hesitation, Ersence reaches for the recessed toggle and pulls it down.

The entire ceiling cracks in the center. The two halves lift up and away from each other. Simultaneously, the floor pushes the contestants up like an elevator, leaving the walls and lockers behind. The coordinators are truly leaning into the tropes with this thing; it happens in every movie about challengers in a deadly competition.

The floor reaches the surface, but it doesn’t stop. It keeps ascending towards the sky as a crowd of tens of thousands cheer from the stands. Jande just thought this was going to be a low-key, private matter, but it’s a spectacle. Cameras imply that they’re being watched by people all over the world, and maybe beyond. They really are taking a page out of the classics, like Gladiator and The Hunger Games series.

Not too far from their platform, a smaller one rises in tandem. Vantu Hidayat is on it alone, which is who Jande figured would serve as the third-party judge. “Assembled minds and remote viewers, thank you for bearing witness to this occasion! We have been working on this program for the last four months, and have finally reintegrated our candidates into new substrates!”

It’s been four months? It’s already spring, that’s not good.

“I know you’re all anxious to get going, but first, we have to inform the candidates of something we discovered while we were researching the charter!” Van looks over at the larger platform, and lowers his voice. “You believe that you will be competing for the fate of Quiratan, but centuries ago, it served as the first settlement on this planet. The Superintendent position would not oversee only one community. Winning this will place you in a supervisory role over all of Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida.”

Microstory 2737: The Whole Universe

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Sora takes half a step forward. “You—”

“I will handle this,” Pribadium!One insists. “You have done quite enough, Mr. Shimizu.” She looks at her alternate self. “You were killed in a streaming dead zone,” she explains bluntly. “You were on a manned mission to explore and investigate a dimensional barrier. There is a gap between your memory and the moment of cessation. It is not entirely clear how long, though. Your consciousness may have been transmitted to the afterlife buffer. You may be a duplicate. I am sorry for your loss.”

The other Pribadium blinks as she looks between the two of them. “What is the last thing I should recall? Because I don’t remember any of that. I don’t know this dimensional barrier, I don’t know him, and I don’t know you.”

Pribadium!One winces. “I’m Pribadium, an alt of you.” She gestures towards her own face. “This is how we originally looked.” She stops for a moment to think. “Well, it’s not exactly how we used to look, but it’s fairly close. Who do you think you are?”

“I’m Pribadium,” the dupe contends, almost combatively. It doesn’t seem right to think of her as Pribadium!Two since so much has evidently been lost. “I don’t recognize your face at all. I don’t know what you mean by alt. I’m the only me that has ever been.”

Pribadium!One points to a nearby mirror. “Do you recognize that face?”

The other Pribadium walks towards it and touches her own chin and cheek. “Yes, this is the Stonehenge model. It explains why I have a British accent I suppose.”

“What did I do?” Sora questions. “Did I pull the wrong backup? I grabbed the second most recent one. I assumed the most recent one was you. It was time-stamped earlier today. There were no other iterations. How did this happen?” He is distraught.

Pribadium!One sighs. “There should have only been two, and you’re right, the most recent one would have been me. If you had pulled the wrong one, what should be happening is that she thinks she’s me. But she doesn’t think she’s either of us. Her mind has been entirely corrupted.” She clears her throat. “Pribadium!Three—that’s what we’re going to need to call you—I need to run some tests on you. Do I have your consent?”

Pribadium!Three stares at who she perceives to be a stranger. “I will run the tests. I don’t trust you, and I don’t need you.” She strips off what little clothing she has on, climbs into the nearest medical pod, and begins to operate it herself. She programs it for a full diagnostic run, which will include periods of unconsciousness. “I’m locking you out of the pod, but I would like you to leave the room as well.”

Pribadium!One starts to pull Sora away when he doesn’t move immediately.

“I’m sorry,” Sora desperately apologizes to the mysterious duplicate in the pod.

“It’s okay,” Pribadium!Three replies. “Je pense, donc je suis.”

Sora’s eyes widen, recalling that as the phrase he used for her as well. Still, he allows himself to be dragged out of the room. “Did you hear what she said?”

“Yes, it doesn’t mean anything. It’s only a coincidence,” Pribadium!One is not sure she believes that, though. She opens her mouth to continue, but he interrupts.

“Don’t say what you’re going to say. I know, I was rash and impulsive. I’m sorry.”

What’s done is done, so they just wait out in the corridor for Pribadium!Three to finish. She comes out half an hour later. “I know what I am now. I’m not Pribadium.”

“Who are you then?” Pribadium!One presses.

“I’m the universe.”

Microstory 2721: What Are You in For?

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Pribadium is in what passes for a cell around here. She thought this might happen, but she ordered her people to make no attempt to rescue her. It’s not like they can do any real damage. Even if she didn’t have a secret means of escaping, they would be dealing with a virtual immortal. Her consciousness is streaming to a backup body on her ship. Well, it’s not streaming at this very moment. They were at least smart enough to install a signal jammer. Which is illegal, of course, and more than enough grounds for her to remove them with prejudice. She still doesn’t want to do that, though. She sees this as a challenge now, and solving it means more than the outcome itself.

She could teleport out, no problem. If it were anyone else, she probably would. Time travel isn’t entirely a secret anymore, though most view it through a technological lens. This guy acts like he knows something about the biological component. That’s one reason she’s sticking around, because it’s the best way to get Sora to explain what he knows. So she will stay here and play the prisoner as he asserts his dominance. And while he believes that he’s gaining the upperhand, she’ll learn what she needs to know.

He opens the cell door. “Are you ready to talk?”

Pribadium yawns. It wasn’t part of the plan, but it’s a nice touch, so she doesn’t fight it. “Close the door, you’re letting all the darkness out,” she jokes.

She imagines that he’s frowning, though she can’t see his face. He shuts it, and doesn’t open it back up for another four days.

Pribadium has barely moved a muscle. That’s what people like her can do. They can statue themselves up, and remain almost perfectly still for days on end. She still has to breathe, and blood continues to flow through her veins, but she doesn’t need food or rest, and she certainly doesn’t need to talk to him, so when he asks her again, she remains silent. He is so mad that he leaves her in there for eight more days.

When he opens the door again, he doesn’t say a word. He gruffly walks over to the wall that she’s been leaning against, scoops her up, and drags her back to the diplomacy room, which has been altered to make it look more like an interrogation room. The artwork on the walls is gone, and was replaced with a mirror. It might be an actual two-way mirror, or it’s just designed to resemble that. If these mortal humans are young kids who were only born a few decades ago, they might not understand how that technology works. “Why have you not tried to escape yet!”

“You locked the door,” Pribadium points out.

“How would you know?” Sora questions. “You never even checked it.”

“I guess I just assumed you weren’t dumb enough to keep it open. Was I wrong?”

“Of course not, but it pisses me off that you just sat there the whole time.” This is the thing about mortals. Two weeks is long for them. It takes time out of their short lives. She remembers feeling like that when she was normal. She doesn’t anymore, and these people have the same choice. Why are they not exercising their rights?

“Well, I wouldn’t want to piss off the man who is keeping me locked up in a room, now would I?” she snaps back. “Tell me, what’s your endgame here?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sora asks. “When your weapon of mass destruction shows up, you’ll be killed too. They’ll have to act, and then we’ll have the tactical advantage, and before you say anything about your backups, we took care of those. No version of Pribadium Delgado will survive. So stop smiling, and answer my goddamn questions!”

Extremus: Year 134

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The fairytale dream is over. Waldemar no longer feels emotions, but he is not back to his old self either. That experience has changed him, and he’s having mixed feelings about it. No, that’s obviously the wrong way to word it. He’s having contradicting thoughts. On the one hand, it’s familiar, so he’s much more comfortable again. This is how he grew up, and it seems right. It was working before. People weren’t happy, but he didn’t need them to be. Still, it’s not like the end of the year of empathy means that he can revert. He’s now living in a paradox. The logic in how he behaved, and the kinds of decisions he made, are still in his head. They still make a lot of sense. The darkness is fueling his rage, but it’s also...intoxicating, and he doesn’t want to give it up again. Because, now that he has spent time without it, he realizes that that’s what it is. It’s fuel. It makes him feel strong and powerful. There’s that word again, though.

He’s standing in his bathroom now, staring at the mirror. He’s looking at himself in disgust, not because that’s what he’s feeling, but because he knows others would if they knew the truth. He slaps himself in the cheek. “Feel something,” he urges.

He feels nothing.

He slaps himself harder. “Feel something!” he cries.

Nothing.

“Feel something!” he screams at the top of his lungs.

“Stop that,” comes a voice from behind him. “Stop hitting yourself.”

He turns to see his late wife, Audrey Kristiansen. “Where have you been?” He declared her dead, but he never knew what happened. When he didn’t feel anything, he didn’t care, and when he did, he wanted to leave her alone if she wasn’t really dead.

“I like the new place. I would have felt more at home here when I was alive.” During the empathy year, he downgraded himself to smaller quarters to look more like the common man, and he didn’t regret it. It didn’t really matter.

“You know I don’t like to repeat myself,” he told her.

“And you know I don’t like to be ordered around. I’m not one of your crewmembers. I was your wife, and you treated me like shit.”

“You knew who I was when you married me,” he pointed out.

“Yes, I did. That’s why I did it. I took that bullet so no one else would have to. And I died for it. Now you are at a crossroads. You are starting to believe that the only way you can get respect from both sides of the imaginary political line is if you align yourself with a new belle. I’m here to tell you that you don’t. You don’t have to be the ruthless dictator, and you don’t have to be a squirming bleeding heart. You just have to follow logic. And logically, hurting people has never made any sense. Yes, you have a darkness. You can’t ignore it, so I’m not going to try to tell you to. But it doesn’t have to define you. The year that you felt something taught you what others experience all the time. Don’t try to get it back, but don’t let it go either. Learn from it. Be better.” She paused for a moment. “And stop with the self-harm. It makes you look weak.”

“I am not..weak!” he cries, lunging towards her with the anger of a magnetar.

She doesn’t blink. “Prove it. Get out there, and do your job. Lead the people. Don’t tell them what to do. Tell them what needs to be done, so they can decide. If you don’t know what needs to be done, then lean on advisors. That is what they’re there for.”

“You’re not really here. What are you?” Waldemar questions.

“That’s not the question you need to ask yourself, Captain,” she begins. “The question is...who are you?”

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Microstory 2686: Redirected

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Resi opens his eyes. He is lying on his back, half naked and confused. A familiar face appears over him. She looks down with a hint of sadness, but also some familiarity. He tries to speak, but air isn’t passing through his lungs. How could he be alive but not breathing? He starts to panic, but tries to remain still. It all comes out in his eyes, wide like an open door. The young woman says nothing, but reminds him how with her own breath. She sweeps her hand in circles in front of her lips, down and up. Resi opens his mouth again, searching for the right positions of his tongue and throat to form the right words. Her own eyes widen encouragingly as she waits patiently, still refusing to speak first. He finally thinks he has it correct. “Report.”

She smiles proudly. “You did it. You saved us. You figured out when the volcano was going to erupt, and we were able to prepare for it. It wasn’t even that hard.”

“So you’re Bungulan? Kinkon?” he asked. “You dropped a magical bomb into the caldera, or whatever you would do to put a stop to it.”

She laughs, and tries to find her own words. “Volcanoes are not destructive beasts which must be broken. They are the means by which the planet replenishes itself. When a volcano erupts, the planet is breathing. Would you like to see? I advocated for reviving you in time to witness the eruption yourself.”

“It’s still going to happen?” He looks around, panicking again. “You’re not stopping it at all? Did you just evacuate?”

She places comforting hands on his shoulder. “No need. We didn’t have to evacuate the island. We’re just redirecting the danger.” She points to a window. She then has to help him stand and walk a little. Reviving the dead can’t be easy.

He manages to walk over there without her having to hold him up. There is Central Mountain in the distance. He’s seeing it from a high vantage point. They have really built this place up. How long has it been? “How long has it been?” he asks her.

She sighs. “Resi, you’ve been dormant for one hundred years. It wasn’t my decision, I didn’t even know you were still alive until recently. I demanded they bring you back. The brain disease you have, there’s a cure. The Bungulans weren’t allowed to use it before, but things have changed. We have new laws now. You’ll learn them.”

The mountain looks vastly different. He can see residences in the distance. They’re just regular bungalows and treehouses, but there’s all this big metal piping on the side of the mountain. He doesn’t understand what it’s all for.

“We’re going to redirect the lava and ash when it erupts. The planet will still breathe, but it won’t hurt anyone. We have had decades to plan and build it. We are far more advanced than we were in your time. There is something else you should see. Resi, your body died a century ago. There was nothing anyone could have done back then. Like I said, the laws have changed. The non-interference policies no longer apply. We are all Bungulan now. Some live on Yana, some don’t. The Houses aren’t necessary anymore. And you...are no longer Tamboran.” She flipped a switch.

The window shifts to a mirror so Resi can see his own face. He is white. Why? Why would they make him white? He touches his face in horror.

“This is what you looked like hundreds of years ago, before you came to Yana to help our ancestors the first time. You have a choice. You can stay like this and retrieve all of your memories, or you can go back to how you looked when you were Resi.” She shifts half the glass back to window mode. Central Mountain erupts.

Microstory 2649: Fake, Staged, and Phony

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Mandica is looking at herself in the mirror. The costume fits—that’s not even a question—Elysia’s tailor knew what they were doing. She’s not sure if it’s her. It feels like something is missing. Maybe it’s just that she feels like a fraud in it.

“Turn around,” Reagan suggests. “Look over your shoulder.”

Mandica turns. “Oh. You can see the stone.” That might be her problem with it.

“Is that bad?” he asks.

“I think so. I don’t think I want to advertise it. I can’t explain it, and wouldn’t be comfortable trying even if I did understand it.”

“Sorry,” Elysia apologizes. “It’s partially backless for style. I obviously didn’t have a magical stone lodged in my back.”

“No, it’s not your fault. I like the outfit. I like backless. I just don’t think it’s right for this situation, assuming I go through with my first field test today.”

Reagan chuckles. “If you’re a raven, maybe you should have wings. Those would cover up the stone.” He looks over at Elysia. “I always thought you should have wings.” He looks at Jaidia. “You too, since you’re both birds.”

“They would have only gotten in the way,” Jaidia explains. “It’s not like they would have allowed us to fly. They would not have been powerful enough.”

“Ha, yeah,” Mandica agrees. Then she realizes that this is not entirely true. She has seen a human fly with wings before. They weren’t even all that big. Why aren’t there flying superheroes in this world already? It has to be possible. Mythodome is bound to the same laws of physics. They don’t have any sort of advantage. In fact, if anything, they’re at a disadvantage, because most of the technology there is archaic.

“What are you thinking about?” Reagan asks, noticing her glassy eyes.

“Oh, nothing. Nothing,” Mandica replies. Daedalus does apparently owe her a favor. But no, that’s crazy. She can’t wear functional wings. And besides, she can’t leave Underbelly anymore, so there’s not even any way to reach out to him. She has come to accept her new boundaries. Ravensgate is her home now. It had to be somewhere, and she’s grown quite fond of her friends. She has been missing Malika, however, who has opted not to return to this simulation. She’s evidently relaxing on some island in Aquilonian Deep. Mandica doesn’t know how relaxing it could be, though. Polar Tropica is the nice vacation ocean. The north pole ocean, on the other hand, is cold and rough.

Elysia returns holding something black. Is it...a bib? It looks like a bib. “So. Cleavage is common in comic book stories. I didn’t design my costume by accident. I like feeling sexy. But I have also needed to cover up more in certain situations, namely when I participate in speaking engagements at grade schools.” She shakes the bib. “This is an accessory that I have used for that. It goes under the straps, and clips onto the collar.”

“You think I should cover up my boobs all the time?” Mandica questions.

Elysia laughs. “No. It should work in reverse.” She comes up behind Mandica, and slips the bib—she’s never going to stop calling it that in her headcanon—over her head, clipping it to the back. “Yeah. You can’t see the stone anymore; not at all. How did you get it to stop glowing?” It’s been months since the original Ravensgate Rescuer was killed. She has been training Mandica to take up the mantle ever since, and being a real good sport about losing her powers. She hasn’t complained or acted bitter once. She says that passing the baton to a young protégé is a staple of superhero stories.

“It stopped glowing on its own,” Mandica answers. “I don’t know how, but I believe I know why. I could feel it happen. I think it was fully done with its job, and was ready to go dormant, like a car sitting idle until you turn the engine off completely.”

“What happens if I touch it again?” Reagan asks, harkening back to the orgasm doing this gave her, which she has not told anyone else about.

“Nothing. Nothing will happen,” Mandica tells him. “Don’t do it.” She spends another minute looking over her shoulder into the mirror, and moving around to make sure the bib doesn’t slip off on its own. She takes a deep breath, and looks out the window. “I’m ready, but are you sure I shouldn’t start out after dark?”

“No, we want people to see your debut,” Elysia encourages. “They should see that outfit, and recognize you as the new Ravensgate Rescuer. You can move to the shadows later, but I would rather find a daytime replacement for Blue Umbra first.”

“I thought that Cardinal Sin was out there now.” With Blue Umbra gone, Wave Function has been going out on the streets without her. He’s not been alone, though. Cardinal Sin performed a heel-face turn and became a good guy, which is absolutely not unheard of in the superhero genre either. The public is generally on board with the change, but some hypothesize that it’s a ruse. They think she’s preparing something evil again. They don’t know what happened to her. She had to modify her own suit to cover up the massive scars on her face with a larger mask. She’s not ashamed of them, but they can’t be seen both when she’s Mildred, and while she’s masquerading as a vigilante. She had to pick an identity to cover them up for, with the obvious choice being the one where she’s expected to wear some kind of concealment anyway.

“I like the night too,” Jaidia says. “I don’t want to stop playing a hero, but I’ve never loved the sun. On Proxima Doma, I lived underground.”

Mandica nods in understanding. “Okay. I guess I’ll go out and look for trouble.”

“Trouble is already waiting for you,” Elysia claims. She walks over to the door and knocks on it, which is a weird thing to do when you’re already inside the apartment.

Anyway, it opens, and a man walks in. He goes straight to Mandica, and holds out his hand. “Hello. My name is Grover Pecan, but in the streets, you will see me as the supervillain known as Velvet Thunder. I’ll be aiding your debut today.”

“Wait, we’re...we’re gonna plan a fight?” Mandica questions.

“This is how it’s usually done for debuts,” Elysia explains. “You can fight the dummies in the training sector of the plaza. You can bend iron rods at The Depot. You can train in an abandoned warehouse. But nothing is like being out in the field, in a real fight. Think of it as the next—but not last—step in your training. Velvet Thunder will go easy on you, but for the sake of the civilians, he’ll make it look good. You fight as hard as you can. You do what you think you’re supposed to do. It’s staged, so if something goes wrong, you can learn from your mistake without worrying about being killed off on your first day. That used to happen constantly, so they started doing it this way.”

“Okay,” Mandica decides. “It’s nice to meet you, Grover, a.k.a. Velvet Thunder.”

He smiles at her. “I think you look great as the new Rescuer. I never got the chance to say this before, but have you thought about adding wings?”

After making a plan, Grover leaves to change into his dark cloud costume. They meet downtown and pretend to fight it out like gods amongst ants. Within ten minutes, an elevated train falls on Mandica, and she dies instantly. Maybe she does need wings.

Microstory 2643: Fresh Pair of Eyes

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Mandica awakens once more, but doesn’t open her eyes. There is something wrapped around her head, and for a second, she forgets the trauma. Then it all comes flooding back in. She’s lying in a bed, but obviously can’t see where she is. Someone brought her here, but they could be bad or good. It could be Cardinal Sin, not finished with her after mutilating her face. So she just remains relatively still—not rigid so as to pretend to still be asleep, but not getting up. She’s unmotivated, because what would be the point of doing anything? It’s a miracle that she’s still alive, but she feels no gratitude.

The bed jostles a little, and she feels something pressing against her leg. “How are you feeling?” a feminine voice asks. “Are you in any pain?”

Actually, she’s not, so she supposes that’s another miracle. “Not right now, but I’m eyeless. I don’t think you understand, they’re not going to heal. I’m not going to transfer back to another body. Or if you’re just an NPC, none of this means anything to you, and you’re either confused, or you’ve been programmed to ignore anything which might break your interpretation of the world around you. I really don’t care anymore.”

“I’m not an NPC,” the voice claims. “And you’re not eyeless.”

Mandica feels the woman’s hands upon her face, and flinches, but relaxes, because it seriously doesn’t matter. Her life is over. She made a mistake, and it cost her everything. The hands gently lift Mandica’s head off of the pillow, and slowly unwrap the bandages. Shards of light appear before her. How is that possible? Some kind of weird neural firing in her optic nerve? People are supposed to have eyes, so maybe it’s not used to being without, and is still trying to produce an image. As the bandaging becomes thinner and thinner, the light becomes more uniform and even, until it’s all gone, and she sees the ceiling above her, as well as the young woman’s face. “Did I imagine it all?”

An old man’s face appears next to the woman’s. “My finest work,” he muses.

“This is Sigurd Olander,” the woman explains. “The best tissue regenerator in the sim. Don’t worry, he’s clueless.” She looks at the man. “None of this is real. You’re just a robot with skin. I could pull off your head right now, and I wouldn’t even get in trouble.”

Sigurd doesn’t look at the woman, or acknowledge what she’s saying. He keeps smiling proudly at Mandica. “I’m sorry, I may not have gotten your eye color quite right. Unfortunately, I did not have much to work with. Your original eyes were too badly damaged. I may be able to fix the color, though, if you prefer. Can you move them?”

Mandica switches her gaze to the wall on the other side of the bed. She sits up, and looks around the room. It’s pretty bare, probably because personal lives don’t matter much to people pretending to be superheroes. There is a nightstand to her left, a desk against the far wall, a metal rack of clothes instead of a closet or wardrobe, and Jaidia. “Jaidia!” she cries. She clambers to the corner of the bed, trying to use the blanket and pillow as armor. “Get away from me! Get away!”

Jaidia holds her hands out. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. I didn’t do this to you.”

“No, I saw you!” Mandica argued. “You tore out my eyes!”

“That wasn’t me,” Jaidia insists. “I would never do that. Even to an NPC, I’m not that sick.”

“Oh, you’re gonna tell me you put on that red costume, and you turn into a different person?” Actually, that’s not that crazy of a scenario. Real world technology would absolutely allow a player to shift personalities to more fully immerse themselves into the simulation. That’s what they do in Zombiedome. If you get infected, you can turn into a zombie, and—no, why is she thinking about Zombiedome? It’s not relevant.

“No, it just straight up wasn’t me at all,” Jaidia claims. “It was a shapeshifter. We believe that she didn’t design a regular body for herself at all, but is composed entirely of interlocking nanites. This allows her to appear as anyone or anything with the right amount of volume. I don’t know why she made herself look like me, or why she targeted you, but I promise that I had nothing to do with it. I’m sorry you went through that.”

When Mandica looks over at the other woman, she nods. “She’s telling the truth. We came here to fight each other for fun. Mildred’s backstory, and Cardinal Sin’s modus operandi; they’re just figments. She doesn’t actually ever do any of that stuff. We time our battles so I show up before she can go through with it. Morgana, on the other hand, is not a part of that. She has her own plans; her own script. I genuinely had to fight her off. I shouldn’t have won, though. She’s more powerful than anyone, so that tells us she wants me to live, and she wants you to live too.”

Mandica sighs. “Morgan Le Fay was a shapeshifter in the stories, but I don’t understand why Vanore would do this to me. We weren’t in love, but we parted on decent terms, and I’m the one who should be mad at her; not the other way around.”

“We’ll help you figure it out.” She offers a hand. “My real name is Elysia MacNeil, but in here, I go by Alanis Morrissey. Unless I’m in costume, in which case, I’m—”

“Ravensgate Rescuer. Yeah, I teased that out. Your masks don’t exactly conceal your identities, you know that right?”

“We do know that,” Jaidia replies. “It’s tradition. Superheroes are intentionally dressed in poor disguises so the movie stars playing them can still be clearly seen.” She circles her own face with her finger. “No one wants me to cover this up.”

Mandica nods, and begins to climb out of the bed. “Do you have a mirror?”

“We can bring you one,” Elysia offers.

“I would rather get up, and get moving around,” Mandica contends. “Just point me to the bathroom.” Jaidia holds her hands out awkwardly as Mandica is slowly making her way across the room, prepared to catch her if need be. Mandica doesn’t need any help, though. Her body is weak because she’s not eaten in a while, and she wouldn’t call what she was doing before sleep, but all she needs is a sandwich. And to see what she looks like. She flips on the light, and approaches the mirror. As the man said, these are not her eyes. They’re the wrong color, and maybe shape? That can’t be right. She turns her chin side to side for different angles. Can the color of the irises make them look entirely different? Maybe she’s imagining it. Or Morgana did damage to the rest of her face, so that had to be reconstructed too.

“I’ll let you ladies help her acclimate,” the doctor says as he’s walking towards the exit door. “I must leave for another appointment, but you have my number if anything goes wrong.” He stops and stares at Mandica. “Truly my finest work.” He leaves.

Mandica was going to thank him, but he wouldn’t get it anyway. He’s a program with hands and feet. She turns back to the mirror, almost wanting to smile, but this never should have happened, and won’t again. She is not fit for this world. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Elysia asks.

Mandica looks at her. “I’m unregistered. They had to give me spoof lenses so I could move about at will. Now those lenses are gone, and I’m stuck here. Forever.”

Microstory 2601: Renata Breaks Through Her Chrysalis and Emerges Anew

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Renata breaks through her chrysalis and emerges anew. She falls onto the floor, some gunk falling out with her. She’s not slimy, but she’s not entirely clean either. The light. The light is too much. “Turn it off. Please.”

“Lights to eleven percent,” Hrockas commands.

Quidel bends over, but stops. “Do you...do you want me to help, or not touch you, or...?”

“Help would be nice,” Renata agrees, holding her hand up so Quidel can take it, and lift her onto her feet.

While they’re doing that, Azad is opening a drawer, and pulling out a towel. He tosses it to her so she can start wiping off the pilly gunk.

“Mirror?” she requests.

“Mirror,” Hrockas echoes.

One of the wall panels transitions from an opaque white to something more reflective. Renata pivots over to it to get a better look at herself. She doesn’t look extremely unlike she did before, but she’s definitely in a new body. It’s weird, seeing this stranger move exactly as she does. It’s going to take some getting used to.

“I don’t understand,” Quidel admits.

“We realized that the emergent bomb—as I decided to call it,” Renata begins, “was a product of my body, not my mind. So they uploaded my consciousness to a central server, and sent a lifeless husk up into outer space where it could do no harm when it exploded.”

“I sent it up there,” Azad clarifies. “I teleported as far as I could, above the ecliptic plane.” Funny, he doesn’t seem like the type of brag.

“I appreciate it,” Renata says to him.

“No, I surmised that much,” Quidel says. “I just mean, what is this thing? It’s not an artificial gestation tank, nor an egg sac.”

“I didn’t have any DNA,” Renata goes on. “My substrate was bioprinted, which is only now becoming viable for more organic bodies. I decided that I didn’t need to look exactly as I did, but I also didn’t just want some randomly generated genetic base.”

“This is highly experimental technology,” Hrockas goes on for her. “Synthetic Production Dome has been working on it for decades. It’s a bit over my head, but it basically assembles an organic substrate based on a consciousness entity’s intentional but abstract desires. It takes your dream, and turns it into reality. It’s still DNA, but driven by intuition, rather than puzzle-piece gene splicing.”

“I agreed to be their guinea pig for the first prototype, and so far, it’s working out for me.” She drops her towel, and admires herself again. She tries to lift her breasts, but they don’t have far to go. Naturally perky this time. She didn’t even know she wanted that. She didn’t have to consciously think about every single trait. The special intelligence who was scanning her IDcode knew what she was looking for, and probably used some kind of algorithm to fill in any blanks.

“Well, we’re glad to have you back, soldier,” Lycander says to her with a tight nod.

Via the mirror, Renata notices Quidel frowning. “Qui? Are you disturbed by this?”

“No,” he assures her. “I just...I really liked the old you.”

“She can always return to her original likeness,” Hrockas promises. “While her synthetic variant neither had, nor needed, genes, we can recreate it using the usual cloning processes. Miss Granger, I’ll send you the file, so you can do whatever you want. You’re one of us now. You can wear a new body every week, if you like.”

“I probably won’t do that, but I don’t mind having the option.” She sees that Quidel still isn’t convinced. “You’re still disappointed?”

“I’m sorry. I know that it’s you, and you are you, whatever you look like. I just...people have a different way of looking at things. When they developed cloning and bioprinting technology, some chose to make themselves into entirely different beings. Animals belong to a not unpopular niche. But I...I just always wanna look like me. I’m not religious about it, but I feel more attached to my identity than how others feel. I know, I’m projecting my sentiment onto you—”

She shut him up with a passionate kiss. It feels totally natural to her, naked amongst these three men, and kissing one of them. It shouldn’t. Her implanted memories are telling her that this is too private a moment. She should be dressed, and the two of them should be alone. But she doesn’t think things are like that anymore. The hang-ups that she was programmed to have are outdated, and likely bizarre to those living out there in the real world. This is fine. It’s fine. No one else seems uncomfortable. She lets go.

Quidel catches his breath. “Yeah, I guess I could get used to it.”

She smiles. “All right, show’s over. I need a shower, and some new clothes.”

“Shower, clothes,” Hrockas commanded.

What she thought was only a column rotates open, revealing a shower. Meanwhile, a wardrobe materializes from the wall, and opens automatically, giving her some options. It will take her some time to choose the right outfit to wear to her debut. She doesn’t know what she looks good in anymore. She doesn’t even know what her best colors are. She starts heading for the shower, and the men start heading for the door. Renata places a cheek against her shoulder and says, “wait.” She takes a beat before twisting her hip to look Quidel in the eye. “You look like you could use a shower too.”

He smiles warmly. “Maybe we wait on that.” Such a good guy.

“Maybe I’ve been waiting long enough.” She turns back around, and continues towards the shower. “Your call.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 4, 2517

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The wedding was going to be a lot smaller than the last one, and much more intimate. When Mateo and Leona married in the replica of The Colosseum on Tribulation Island, over 48,000 people attended. This was at the behest of Arcadia Preston, who was forcing them to marry. It wasn’t that they didn’t love each other, but it wasn’t on their terms, so the event would always have that asterisk next to it. This was their choice. The two of them wanted to marry Olimpia, and she them. Hrockas assumed that they would want to choose a venue in Party Central, but they weren’t really interested in that. Sure, it had plenty of options. It could be indoors or outdoors, rustic or modern, big or small. But they wanted something different; something special. They chose Mythodome for Olimpia’s affinity for fantasy stories. It wasn’t the safest dome on the planet, but it was a lot of fun, and one of the more interesting ones. They also came up with a system to protect the ceremony from outside interference. Thanks to a program which Hrockas instituted, the wedding party shouldn’t have to worry about it.

Mateo, Leona, and Olimpia were getting dressed in their fancy stylish outfits in front of a wall of mirrors, the former in the middle. She was working and reworking her hair. “Where are we again?”

“Hall of Hephaestus,” Leona answered, straightening the collar of her dress. “You don’t have to keep doing it manually. Here.” She took Olimpia’s hand, and placed her palm on the glass. She turned it to the right, prompting the image to change. Olimpia still looked like herself, but her skirt was now a pale mint green.

“Ugh,” Olimpia said. “Pastels are not my colors.”

“It’s somewhere in your subconscious,” Leona explained. “I’m not making the image change. You are. It’s powered by your intuition, so just imagine what you want to look like, and this will show you.”

“Done.” Mateo playfully adjusted his bowtie.

“Great,” Leona replied sarcastically. She faced Olimpia again. “I like your hair the way it is, but if you want to change it, find your preference in the mirror, and we’ll ask Medusa to style it for real.”

Olimpia laughed. “This place is wild.”

“Hey, guys, look. I have cold feet.” Mateo was playing around with the Protean glass now too, making it look like he was standing on the snow and ice. Actually, it was probably Jotunheim.

The gigantic doors to their left opened up. Angela walked in and approached them. “I don’t want you to be mad. Romana is considering this to be her wedding gift to her father, but she doesn’t know how you’ll take it, so just...be nice.”

Mateo stepped away from his mirror. “What did she do?”

“We met two twins called the Ashvins. I don’t know how they did it, but they seem to have retroverting abilities.”

“What?” As Mateo was trying to figure out how he was going to react, Romana walked in, but it was unlike how he knew her. She was about seven or eight years old. It was quite alarming. “Romy! What a surprise!” He still didn’t know how he should feel about this.

“Before you freak out,” Romana began, “this is temporary. I just wanted to be a flower girl, instead of a flower woman.”

“I didn’t want you to change for me,” Mateo contended. That was all right to say to her, right? Right?

“I know, but you had a little ring bear at your first wedding, and I just think this will give it a better look. You’re not mad, are you?”

“No, of course not,” Mateo replied. Yeah, that was definitely the right thing to say. He stepped over to hug his little girl. “I never got to see you like this. It’s a lovely gesture, and we appreciate it.”

“This is just for you,” Romana said. “You each get your own gift. Them’s the rules.”

“We don’t need gifts at all,” Leona reasoned.

“Then you don’t need to get married,” Romana volleyed, playfully, but still trying to win the argument, since they were getting gifts, whether they wanted them or not.

“Thank you very much, little girl,” Olimpia joked. “Do you need to go potty before the ceremony?”

“It will wear off,” Romana reminded her with a frown. “I do have to go get my basket, though.” She spun around a few times like a ballerina before hopping away.

“Kind of wish it wouldn’t,” Mateo admitted. “...wear off, that is.”

“She’s still your baby,” Leona assured him.

Magnolia walked in from the other—smaller—door on the other side of the room. “Hey, wadya’ll still doin’ here? We gotta keep things moving. Where are your other escorts?”

“I believe Ramses is inventing a gift for us,” Mateo answered.

“We don’t have time for that. Gifts later. Chop-chop,” Magnolia insisted.

“Your hair,” Leona said.

Olimpia changed the mirror back to being a true reflection. “You’re right, I’ll keep it as it is. Let’s get out there.”

Angela stuck her elbow out, and let Olimpia take it. Even though it was only the three of them who were getting married, everyone on the team was involved. While Romana was throwing flowers on the ground before them, they all walked down the aisle together. Angela was escorting Olimpia, followed by Ramses with Leona, and Marie with Mateo. This wasn’t their version of a father giving away her daughter, but an expression of the love that they all shared for each other, and a reinforcement of their bond. No chief attendants, nor honor attendants; just seven people up there to advance their dynamic in a loving and meaningful way.

The Officiant was officiating, having already conducted her compatibility meeting earlier this morning. All of their closest family and friends were in the audience. Gavix was here too, as he had invited himself years ago, having known that it was coming. Three invitees weren’t in their seats, but up and about. Mythodome was an unpredictable, and potentially dangerous, place. Mythological creatures and figures from all sorts of cultures were basically tossed into a melting pot. Their customs and responsibilities were often naturally contradictory, and so a new culture emerged. There were different types of beings with the same name, for instance, coexisting here in as much harmony as anyone could expect to find. There were political alliances, and tensions threatening to break them apart. Individuals had their own motivations and agendas. Learning any given mythology wouldn’t help you all that much here. Not even studying them all would do a whole lot of good. The combination of these disparate and diverse customs created something new. A unique civilization was taking shape, and not everyone would be pleased to hear about the wedding. They chose to hold it in Takamagahara. Not only was it gorgeous and serene, but on an upper level of the dome, and not somewhere that just anyone could travel to.

To protect them from outside interference by troublemaking locals, they conscripted the help of Kallias Bran, Aeolia Sarai, and Jesimula Utkin. Everyone on Team Matic was what Hrockas decided to call a Regent. For programmed intelligences who were not cognizant that they were living in a simulation, a Regent could essentially control them. If a manticore, for instance, made their way here, and started trying to eat the guests, a Regent could simply command them to stop. The manticore wouldn’t understand why it had to obey such commands, but it would do so without question, and leave if asked. Since all Regents were part of the wedding party, they asked their friends to take on the role temporarily. They chose these three to be proxy regents because they could be trusted, they lived here, and they wouldn’t feel left out for not technically being part of the wedding. They also all knew how to protect themselves, in case their commands didn’t work. Nothing should go wrong, but if it did, they would be here to insulate the event from attack, or just from being bothered by a trickster god, or a kitsune.

The vows were about to begin when they heard a commotion in the back. “Stop! Stop, stop, stop, stop!” Jesi cried.

There was nothing that she could do, though. A man with wings soared over them in the air, swung around, and landed off to the right side of the little stage.

Kallias jogged up, and placed himself between the man and the wedding party. “Get out of here right now.”

The man chuckled, and dismissively said, “please. That doesn’t work on me.” He lifted a perfume bottle up, and sprayed it in Kallias’ face, causing him to fall down to his side. “Fear not,” the stranger said when some in the audience started to get defensive, particularly Darko. “He is only asleep. My name is Daedalus, and I run this dome.” He looked around at their surprised faces. “That’s right, I am aware of the dome. Did you think I wouldn’t notice? If you walk far enough in any direction, you will hit a wall that looks like a sky. Do not worry, however, as I have not told anyone else. I am not here to cause trouble. It is actually to my benefit that I should be the only one to understand what this world truly is. But my silence and compliance does not come without a price. Two, actually. Number one, I insist on respect, and a formal recognition of my authority over these lands, internally speaking. To prove to me that I have it, you must ask for my blessing to allow these nuptials to continue.”

Mateo didn’t remember much from his western civilization class, but he remembered that Daedalus wasn’t an evil guy, and he definitely remembered Leona’s Rules for Time Travel. There was no reason to antagonize this guy, whether he was an antagonist, or otherwise. “Kind sir, Daedalus. May we have your blessing to marry?”

Daedalus was a bit shocked at how easy it was, and how quickly he received a positive reaction. “You have my blessing.”

“I thank you.”

“What is your second condition?” Darko pressed. He was still ready to take action.

Daedalus smirked. “I’ll let you get on with it. You’ll find out later.” He spread his wings, jumped into the air, and flew away.

“Wow, that was weird,” Marie noted.

“Sorry, guys,” Olimpia said.

“You didn’t make him do that,” Leona replied. “This is a lovely place to hold the ceremony. I couldn’t have chosen somewhere better. Go on, Officiant.”

The Officiant opened her mouth to continue, but a small wooden box suddenly fell from the sky, and landed in the grass. “Wedding gift!” Daedalus shouted down to them.

Ramses pointed his fist at the box. Part of his suit emerged into what looked like a weapon. He fired one laser shot at the box, and it disappeared.

“Did you just destroy that?” Mateo questioned.

“Teleporter gun. I placed it in quarantine in one of my pocket dimensions. We’ll worry about it afterwards. Please, proceed. No more interruptions.”

There weren’t any other interruptions. The vows were relatively short, despite there being three people getting married today. Both Mateo and Leona were relieved to have the chance to make up for their less than stellar speeches at their previous wedding. They really took the time to make sure they came up with beautiful and profound words. They were older and more experienced now, and not feeling Arcadia’s pressure, so that had a lot to do with their success. Olimpia’s vow was just as lovely. Once it was over, Magnolia had the audience stand up, and move off to the back. She generated her black hole portals under all of the chairs, spiriting them a few meters away, so they were each now circling tables. The center area was now a dance floor, which everyone was able to begin crossing within seconds.

People were eating and dancing during the reception, and enjoying the incredible views. Kallias woke up near the beginning of it, feeling rested and energized, and ready to get back to work. He and the other proxy regents apologized for not being able to stop Daedalus from breaching the perimeter, but really, what were they gonna do? He had wings, and was reportedly a genius. Mateo tried to have fun at the party, but he couldn’t think about anything but that little wooden box. What was inside? What could it possibly be? In their world, you could fit an entire universe in there, but surely Daedalus had his limitations. Surely he didn’t know anything about that stuff. He was programmed to be familiar with ancient times, and to only be ahead of his peers from that frame of reference. “Man, I gotta see what’s in there.”

“I wouldn’t,” Ramses argued. “I’ve been scanning it, but it’s shielded. Whatever it is, it’s not something you would expect to find in Ancient Greece. Since magic isn’t real, a guy like Daedalus should still be working within the laws of normal physics.”

“If he knows about the dome, maybe he knows about temporal manipulation, and the like. He’s not the real Daedalus, since the real Daedalus didn’t exist. Correct?”

“You think that’s a better reason to open it, Matt?”

“Come on, it’s my special day,” Mateo insisted.

“Oh...you can play that card once. It won’t work tomorrow.”

“I don’t need to play it tomorrow. I’m playing it right now.”

Ramses turned his hand, and apported the box into it. “Open at your own peril.”

“You’re here too. So is everyone else.” They both looked over at the party-goers, and thought better of it simultaneously. Without speaking, they teleported a few hundred meters away, to the middle of a meadow. Mateo took a breath and opened the lid of the box. Some sort of something or other that moved too quickly to spot flew out of the inside, and latched itself onto Mateo’s chest. It spread like nanites, wrapping itself around his chest, with the two ends meeting each other in the center of his back. They continued to spread from there, though Mateo obviously couldn’t see. Suddenly, wings appeared from behind him, and spread out to the side. “Hell yeah!”

“Hell yeah!” Ramses agreed.

“Hell yeah!” they repeated in unison.

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