Microstory 2493: Eldome

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They call this a train, but that doesn’t really do it justice. A train involves separate cars linked together, following each other along a track. This, on the other hand, is more like a big-ass disc that spins around. It’s not just like that, that’s exactly how it is. It does have the feel of a train while you’re inside, except the seats can be adjusted so you’re facing any direction. To get the full experience, they expect you to look through the window the whole time. The window is slanted, so you can really get a clear view of everything. It’s about 11 kilometers up in the air, so there is nothing that you can’t see on the surface of the entire dome after the nearly four-hour trip. It moves pretty slow, which some might find boring, so just be aware of that before you sign up. I mean, I don’t think I thought that it was going to be a fast ride, but four hours is a long time to look at some hills and trees. It was lovely, to be sure. I just don’t know if it’s any better than a sim, or a holographic window. I guess I just wasn’t sure if I was meant to feel something. The idea is that you turn your chair so you’re looking through the window at the beautiful landscape below. I just think that it was too high up. Yeah, so I can see the center from here, but so what? It would be better if we were lower, and could see the geography in greater detail. The prospectus doesn’t do a rating system because they, like, did studies long ago, and determined that they were no longer necessary when an AI is just gonna summarize all the reviews for a deeper focus on quality, but if they still allowed them, I would give this place two stars. It wasn’t bad, and I don’t feel like I wasted my time, but as far as leisure domes go, this one is not my favorite.

EDIT: I’m such an idiot. There are multiple discs. Not all of them are that high up, and the lower ones go faster. They’re all still four hours long, which I think was the source of my confusion when I was misinterpreting the description. One of them actually is a train, and it’s situated on the ground, so you can only see what’s right in front of you. I’m gonna try that one next. Glad we got that cleared up. Sorry, ignore me.

Microstory 2395: Earth, January 4, 2180

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Dear Velia,

I know that the blackout is coming, and I really hope this letter gets to you in time. I don’t have very much time to write it, so pleaser excuse any spelling or grammar mistakes, nad anything that I probably should have said, but failed to. I’m working with a really old spellcheck program, so it misses a lot of thing, and doesn’t even autocorrect a lot of the time. I feel like I’m using a lot of the same words over and over again, but whatever. I can’t slow down. I won’t have time to proofread before it’s time to cleave. There I go again, using the word time. It’s been so many times. Speaking oftime, we did not get enough. There’s still so much that I don’t know about you, and vice versa. What do you find most and least attractive in a person, not necessarily romantic, but just with people in general. Like, what are your pet peeves? What annoys you about people. These are rhetorical questions. Even if you have time to respond to me before the Valkyries, I won’t be Abel to receive any messages at all. I’m going away on a little trip, and there will almost no technology there. I don’t know what it’s going to be like, but I am as scared as I am excited and enthusiastic. It’s going to be a real adventure. When I get back, and you get back online, we’re going to have a lot more to talk about. And who knows, we may be able to do it in realtime next time. They’re working on faster-than-light communication technology, but if that doesn’t work out, there may be other options that we haven’t even ever thought of before. You said it before I could get the chance, but let me say...officially and without any reservations, that I love you. I want to do all the things you said you wanted us to do, and more. I could get pretty graphic, but I really don’t have time to get everything out. They’re starting up the engines, and we’re about to leave. I need to make sure I’m in range of the towers before we take off, or it will be this whole thing. I promise that this isn’t over between us. I’ll wait for you. But as I’ve said before, if you can’t...if you find someone else. Don’t let them walk away. I just want you to be happy.

I’ll be seeing ya, sweetheart,

Condor

Microstory 2391: Earth, December 20, 2179

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Dear Velia,

You only sent a list of eight movies, and I wanted to get through every single one, which is why my reply is a little late, but attached, you’ll find my thoughts on each of them. If it’s going to be a shared experience, then let’s share it. I don’t have all the time in the world, so to speak, but I’m not constantly bogged down by my responsibilities. In fact, I quit my job just today. I’m still working there, since it’s customary to give two weeks notice before you stop going into work. I just had to stop tying my identity to my father’s. I love the guy, but I’ve lived my whole life in his shadow. I moved when he moved, I say the kinds of things that he would say. He didn’t do that on purpose, and when I told him my plans to leave, he was one hundred percent supportive. He still sees me as his little baby boy sometimes, but he recognizes that I am well into adulthood, and I can make my own decisions now. They may be bad decisions—you may even call them mistakes—but it’s time that I fly the nest, and find my own way. I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to do with myself now, but I think I’m gonna go back on land. I’ve saved up enough resource vouchers to keep myself going at least for a few months without having any official work. The dome where we brought in all those immigrants isn’t the only settlement there is on the Australian continent. Some aren’t doing so great right now, and they’re always looking for good hard-working people to help them repair their infrastructure. The platform is about to leave and head back towards the Atlantic Ocean, so now is my chance to get off. Don’t worry, though. Unlike on the ocean, there are towers that people use to stay connected. I won’t be out of communications range, and will pretty much always be able to link up to the server to check my messages, and send replies. I might have a harder time accessing entertainment, like those movies we both watched, but we’ll worry about that later. I’m more anxious about the Valkyries. My scientist friends really think that it’s going to happen any day now. The next time we speak, I may be in a very different living situation than I am now. I’ve been thinking about doing this for a while now, especially since hearing from Corinthia for the first time gave me some much-needed perspective. I didn’t quite decide until yesterday, though, which is why you’re hearing about it before she does. You can tell her if you want, or I will. I appreciate the little video clip of your introduction. You’ve sent me some nice photos before, so in return here’s one of me to remember me by.

Still under your spell,

Condor

Microstory 2384: Earth, November 23, 2179

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Dear Corinthia and Velia,

It’s been a long time since I’ve heard from either of you. I spoke with some friends that I made at the Mauna Kea observatories after our birthday parties, who told me that the Valkyrie short-cycle disruption has come into play. So there’s this dumb rogue meteoroid out there, blocking your communications, and preventing us from staying connected to each other. It seems to be lasting longer than it did the first time. I don’t know if that’s normal—if there’s significant variation—or what. I just know that I hate being so far from both of you, and unable to even speak. A two-week delay between your messages is bad enough. Corinthia, I received yours about how Velia and I are talking to each other. I understand that the distance is an issue, but I’m not going to hold back because of it. In fact, I’m going to be more bold, because you’ve got me thinking, and so have the Valkyries. If there’s only one thing that I’ve learned in my four decades of life, it’s that time is the only thing that matters. We don’t have enough of it, and when you add space into the mix, we end up with even less. Velia, if you lived a few decks down, we could see one another regularly. We could meet for coffee, and we could stroll along the perimeter of the dome. We could spend time getting to know each other. Frustratingly, we don’t have that luxury. So I’m just gonna say it. I’ve developed feelings for you. You’re gorgeous and sexy, but I don’t even care about the photos. It’s about the words that we’ve exchanged. We have so much in common despite our vastly different upbringings and environments. I don’t know how we could possibly have a real relationship given our restrictions, but I don’t think that’s reason enough not to try. I think the opposite is true. I think we owe it to each other, and ourselves, to give it a shot. If we’re not willing to do something crazy in the name of love, then we don’t even deserve it, do we? If this was just you being funny and flirty, that’s okay, it doesn’t have to be awkward. I will be able to move on. But if this was real for you in any meaningful sense, then write back when you can. And Corinthia, you’re just going to have to be okay with that, even if it’s a little weird for you, or if you continue to believe that it’s a mistake.

Thinking of you both in greatly different ways,

Condor

Extremus: Year 85

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This is it. Tinaya and Lataran are going to tell the general public of Extremus that they have maintained a permanent connection to Verdemus. Having a Nexus on the ship was always an option, but the people who first developed the idea of the mission ultimately decided against it for obvious reasons. There was never any law that said they couldn’t build one, probably because doing so takes the intelligence of a lesser god, and the patience of a saint. It was sort of against the spirit of what they’re trying to do here, but since the two they have access to were built for a rescue operation, it’s okay. Things might change in the future, but for now the council says that it’s fine. They have already been briefed on the subject. The braintrust lied to them too, though. They ended up making the claim that, since the two Nexa weren’t constructed by the original designers, they couldn’t be on the network. They could only connect to each other. So people will be able to travel from one to the other, but nowhere else.

With the council’s input, it has been decided that travel will not be a free-for-all. For a period of exactly one year, anyone who wants to visit Verdemus will have to apply to do so. The application that they submit will either be for a temporary stay, or permanent residency. They will have the chance to upgrade or downgrade later, should they change their minds. Some will be excited for the chance to live out their lives on a real planet, only to realize that they don’t really like it there, with all the bugs and everything. Others will go just to see what it’s like, and ultimately fall in love with it. Nothing has to be decided today, but it does have to be decided in 396 days. At that point, the connection will be completely severed. The Verdemusians, both new and old, will have to fend for themselves from then on, and the Extremusians the same. They’re dropping people off, like a bus, and this proverbial bus will not be turning around again. But buses do turn around. They do it all the time, it’s a specific route. So this is not really a good analogy, which is what Tinaya struggled the most with when she was writing her speech. The final draft has her just explaining the situation in no uncertain terms.

They’re going to tell the general population that the Nexa will be destroyed on both ends. What the council believes is that the Nexus will simply be disabled, and can be turned on again for emergencies. What only the small group of the original non-clone, non-secret explosion survivors knows is that the connection will just stay up the whole time, and they’ll be free to move back and forth however they please. They probably won’t do it much, but they’ll at least be able to communicate with each other. Lilac, Aristotle, and Niobe are staying on Verdemus. The latter two feel that it is their home, and the former wants to be with her son. Vaska will be staying too, not only because she isn’t on the Extremus manifest, but also because she wants to keep studying it. Omega and Valencia will be working on Jaunemus for now, but if anyone’s going to be using the Nexa after the one year grace period, it’ll be them. They have important jobs to complete, and they need the leeway to complete them. Tinaya will be staying on Extremus with Arqut, and of course, the Captain will too. Spirit and Belahkay have not yet made a decision, but they’ll surely stay together.

This is a joint presentation, but Lataran will only be responsible for answering questions at the end, since this is just for the crew for now. Tinaya is the one who will be explaining everything. She’s pacing on stage, nervous but using her breathing techniques. The curtain that separates her from the audience is soundproof. She could scream as loud as she pleased, and no one would notice. She almost wants to do this, just to recenter herself. She’s not dealt with the crew much as of late, since her leadership experience has been mostly relegated to the civilian side, and she’s been away for so many years anyway. Very few currently on rotation were there back in the day, so he doesn’t know many of these people.

Tinaya checks her watch, not wanting to be late. The seconds are ticking by, but she still has about twenty of them left, which is more than enough time for her to get over her nerves, and figure this out. Right? Why is she so anxious about it? She’s been around people. Well, in a different way, sure, but not like this. Extremus is a hollow chunk of metal hurtling through space. It has to be a structured well-oiled machine, or everything falls apart, and everyone dies. They had so much more freedom on the planet, and life was a lot more forgiving. Holy shit, how did ten seconds pass so quickly? Okay, get ready. There’s the button to open the curtains. Why isn’t Lataran here with her? Oh yeah, she’s greeting people by the door. That’s stupid, and annoying. The only thing worse than speaking in front of a huge crowd of people is being alone. She needs support. She needs Lataran. “Lataran.”

The Captain’s hand pushes Tinaya’s out of the way just before she can open the curtain. “Don’t push the button. Button is bad.”

“What are you talking about?” Tinaya questions.

“We’re not doing this. Trust me, it’s a bad idea. I’ll explain everything, but we need to get you out of here right now.”

“What about the crew?”

“I’ve sent them back to their assignments,” Lataran replied.

“You have?” A completely different Lataran asks. “That’s news to me.”

“What the hell are you doing back here?” The first Lataran shoves Tinaya behind her as if trying to be a human target.

“Well, one of the new Forest Rangers was running a little late for the presentation when he saw me sneak backstage, and then immediately saw me again at the entrance. I could have teleported, yes, but it didn’t look like that’s where I was headed.”

“Well, shit.” The first Lataran lets go of Tinaya, and holds up her hands defensively. “Now, I know you have to place me in hock, but you should know that I’m not here to hurt anyone. I’m not an impostor. I’m a time traveler.”

“I’m not taking you anywhere,” the second Lataran corrects. “Tinaya is taking both of us, because neither of us can be trusted.”

Tinaya doesn’t move.

“Tiny, that is protocol. You have to assume that we’re both bad guys.”

“She’s right,” the first Lataran says. “I never meant for the two of us to be in a room together. I wanted to get us away from here before I explained why I came back.”

“That’s a great idea,” the second Lataran says. “So stop talking!”

Tinaya removes the magcuff from her belt loop, which is standard issue for all crewmembers, and some key civilians. It’s so thin, she forgets that one is in every pair of pants that she owns. She only has the one, so the two of them will have to share. They look like twin sisters holding hands, but not for long. Tinaya teleports into the hock entrance, and checks them in with the Hock Watcher. He’s totally indifferent to the situation. He quietly locks them up in two separate interrogation rooms, and alerts the council, as well as First and Second Lieutenants. While he’s doing that, Tinaya reaches out to the current crew consul. She’s actually never met Icarus Faulkner, but he’s said to be just the nicest guy in the world.

In these uncertain situations, both copies of the same person will be treated equally until the authority can determine which one of them belongs, and which one doesn’t. But one version of Lataran is claiming to be real, and from this time period, while the other is admitting to being an interloper. So they’re starting with the assumption that both of them are telling the truth, and focusing their efforts on the latter version. Consul Faulker pulls Tinaya’s seat out for her, but doesn’t sit down next to her right away. “Can I get you two anything? Water? Tea?”

Tinaya reaches her hand towards him. “That’s not your job anymore, Consul.”

When he was still young, before he began his apprenticeship, he really did serve as an assistant to an earlier consul. That was so many years ago; he should not be experiencing a conditioned response like this. “It’s quite all right, I’m still standing.”

“We’re both fine,” Tinaya insists.

“She’s right,” Lataran is forced to say when Icarus looks over at her so she can answer for herself.

He finally relents, and takes his own seat. Poor eyesight is virtually a thing of the past. It really just depends on what you define as normal. Almost no one needs to wear lenses. Those who do almost always want some sort of enhanced vision, like telescopic, microscopic, or otherwise augmented. Icarus, however, is legitimately farsighted, and has not elected for corrective surgery, apparently because he doesn’t want to put the surgeon out. Yeah. There is such a thing as being too nice. He puts his reading glasses on, and inspects his tablet. As he goes through his spiel, he skims through the early report, and doesn’t look up at anyone. “This is Consul Icarus Faulkner of the VMS Extremus, sitting with former First Chair, Tinaya Leithe. We are interviewing a purported time traveler who has appeared in the form of current VMS Extremus Captain, Lataran Keen. The interviewee has been magnetically bound to the table, and is being treated respectfully and humanely. She has been offered refreshments, and...” Now he looks up. He quickly taps on the screen. “Do you need to use the restroom?”

“No.”

Tap. “...an opportunity to use the facilities, which she has so far declined.” He leans back in his chair, and carefully adjusts the microexpression detector attached to the one-way mirror behind them. “Okay, here we go.”

Tinaya instinctively holds to the back of his chair in case he tips all the way back.

“Thank you kindly.” He goes back into the formal questioning. “Please state your full name for analysis.”

“Lataran Keen.”

“Middle name included.”

“Don’t have one.”

Icarus looks back at the detector over his reading glasses, which doesn’t really tell him anything, of course, so he looks down at the results on his tablet. “Very well. Are you a time traveler?”

“Indeed.”

“What was your date and time of egress?”

“October 12, 2355 at 15:52.”

“What was the purpose of your journey back in time?”

“To stop the announcement of the true nature of our relationship to Verdemus.”

“Why should this announcement not be made?” he presses.

“It becomes disastrous for both the ship, and the planet. Four months into allowing passengers to visit Verdemus, attacks begin. It starts with individual killings, and quickly escalates into full-on bombings. We believe that a message was recently sent to the Exin Empire, alerting them to the survival of the planet, and its inhabitants.”

“You believe that a spy infiltrated the visitors in order to sabotage whatever harmonious society has, and will have, been established there.”

“That’s correct,” Lataran confirms.

“Do you know for sure that it was one of the visitors?”

“Who else would it be?” Lataran asks, very confused.

“Well, when I was briefed, I was told that there are already thousands of people living there. Clones of Mister Omega Parker?”

“Omega Strong,” Tinaya corrects.

“Apologies. Let the record reflect that I misnamed Omega Strong.”

This sounds like the stupidest thing that Lataran has ever heard. “It wasn’t the clones. They were there for years before the passengers began to show up.”

“I am afraid that you have proven a correlative connection, but not a causal one. That two things occurred in sequence—”

“I understand how logic and causality work,” Lataran interrupts. “Thank you, but I did pass second grade.”

“You will show respect to the Consul,” Tinaya warns.

“I’m sorry,” Lataran says. “I understand that I have not given you enough information. Tinaya, you confiscated a flashdrive from me when I checked in?”

“Is that what that is?” Tinaya asks. “It looks ancient.”

“Intentional obsolescence,” Lataran explains. “For security purposes. Reach out to the Technology Historians Club. They’ll know what to do. It will have all the evidence you need to cancel the announcement. We were wrong. No one can know that Verdemus still stands. We don’t know who we can trust, but someone is not on our side.”

“We’ll review the data you submitted,” Icarus goes on, “and the claims you have made. In the meantime, the other Lataran Keen will remain in hock on the ship, and you will be transported through the Nexus for indefinite detainment on world.” He switches off the recording, and stands up.

“That’s it?” Tinaya asks him. “No more questions?”

“Until the data can be verified,” Icarus begins, “I would not like to contaminate my investigation with more, possibly corrupt, information. I’m sure that we’ll have more to ask once we learn more from that...flashdrive thing.” He begins to leave the room. “I’ll arrange for covert transport. I’ll let you two have a moment for a private goodbye, but Miss Leithe, you are not leaving the ship, and you are not speaking with the other Captain.” He exits the room with a polite nod to the both of them.

Tinaya and the visiting Lataran do say their goodbyes, because it really feels like they’re never going to see each other again. It could be that Lataran’s image has been forever tarnished, and that the real one will be relieved of her position as well.

After a thorough investigation—with the help of time travel experts Omega and Valencia, and the current temporal engineers—it’s determined that the time traveler was telling the truth. The announcement is postponed until further notice. Five months later, though no passengers are ever allowed to visit Verdemus, the murders begin, and the planet falls under attack.

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Microstory 2211: See Reason

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Hey, it’s your girl, Kelly. Nick still can’t bring himself to return to the site, so I’m keeping his seat warm. Today, there has been no change to his condition, but this last weekend was rough. I’ve followed through on the occupational therapist’s advice, and installed all sorts of ways to help him be more independent in his own apartment. As frustrated as he is, he’s doing pretty well with the suggestions. He recalls what his grandparents were like as they aged, sometimes less than willing to adapt to their ever-changing needs. He doesn’t want to be difficult. I think he’s always been pretty observant, trying to learn from other people’s mistakes. He has a lot of experience staying out of people’s way, and trying to be the smallest burden possible. That’s very admirable, but he’s literally paying me to let him be in my way. I’m here only to help him. He doesn’t have to do everything for himself anymore, and I think he’s getting the hang of that. For the moment, we’re gonna relax, and not move too much. I’m taking him back into the hospital tomorrow to meet with a specialist who may have an idea of what’s wrong with him. I think just not knowing what the problem is is causing Nick great distress. Speaking of which, I’m also looking into finding him a new therapist. The one he has now is great, but given his new condition, in my professional opinion, he would be better off working with someone with the education and experience in this specific area. He doesn’t like to make people feel bad, so he’s fighting me on this, but I think he’ll see reason. I’m sure his current therapist will agree with me as well. None of the problems that he faces now is going to be solved overnight. This is an ongoing process, and I think one of the biggest issues is that he knows this. He thinks that his pain will never end, and I truthfully can’t prove otherwise. But I can promise to be with him every step of the way, and help him in every way possible. Serna out.

Microstory 2189: Not There by Choice

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We’re moving along with this process. Interviews, interviews, and more interviews. It’s not showing any signs of slowing down, but it will have to stop soon, and will do so rather abruptly. At some point, we’re going to have to make some hard decisions, and unfortunately that means a lot of great people won’t get the chance to be part of this pilot program. We can’t hire them all, it wouldn’t be practical, and that’s true of any organization. But here’s the good news: it is a pilot program, and if it goes well, you may be able to do something similar on a different team somewhere else. The analytics team in my company has looked into this for us, and have estimated that this program need only last for eight months before they would have enough data to reach some real conclusions about its efficacy. All eyes are on us right now to see if we succeed, but there are rumors of others who are considering building their own programs before our data comes in. We’re not sure if that’s the right thing to do, but we can’t stop them, and it may not be right to want to if we could. I think it’s fine to try to take your own shot, as long as you don’t spend too many resources on it, and come at it from a place of trying to make things better. Now, what do I mean by better? Well, here’s what it’s not. We’re not here to save the taxpayers money. That will hopefully be a consequence of our changes to jail and prison population procedures, but it’s not what we’re going for. We could accomplish that in any number of easier ways, by only feeding them slop, or doubling up on cell assignments, or not letting them have any yard time. You don’t need to pay many guards if you don’t allow your inmates to leave their cells, do you? Obviously, that would be inhumane, and I hope that no one else is suggesting it.

Our goal is to improve people’s lives, reduce recidivism, and create a healthier and more productive community overall. I hope that anyone who gets their ideas from us only accepts the good ideas, and rejects the ultimate failures. We’re going to be going through growing pains. At some point, our plans, theories, and models are going to become meaningless if we don’t actually institute the policy changes. It may not turn out well, and as difficult as it is for me to admit that, it would be unethical for me to imply that I know exactly what I’m doing. The entire point in hiring these experts for a team that has never existed before is to try something new, and by its very nature, we don’t know what’s going to happen. So I hope that other programs take that into account. Sorry to get all preachy, and maybe sound a little angry. I just want to make it clear that we’ve only just begun here. It’s going to take some time. The judicial system in this country isn’t going to change overnight, and nothing we do here is going to give definitive answers for how to handle our nation’s incarcerated with no exceptions. What we would like to do is group guests in our facilities according to predictive modeling of sustainable harmony, nonviolence, and social progress. But the fact of the matter is that everyone there will have been tried and convicted of a crime. Guilty or innocent, they’re not there by choice, so none of them is going to be happy-go lucky, and excited to be locked up for the next X amount of time, or intermittently, as it were. We’ll try to make it as safe and productive as possible, but there’s only so much we can do. It’s not magic, so don’t expect to bring the crime rate down to zero, or anything. Okay, that was a bit depressing. Hopefully tomorrow’s post will be more optimistic, or a little easier to swallow.

Microstory 2165: Professional Being Paid

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I feel like my attention has been really split lately, and I’ve been making mistakes at work. It’s nothing that I’ve not been able to fix before someone else gets their eyes on it, but it’s been frustrating just the same, and I need to get my head right. I’ve had all these things coming at me. The warden wants to hire me, though I’m still an inmate in the jail. I have to stay in contact with my parole officer regularly. He’s cool, but that’s just one more thing that I have to worry about all the time. My therapy helps, but it also contributes to the stress of my schedule. Now I have this dumb potential lawsuit with that jerk of a company who apparently doesn’t have anything better to do than go after a small fish like me. I was going to do some more volunteering with Homes for Humankind today, but I had to cancel so I could focus on my regular job. I can’t lose that, or everything good I have in my life, like a great apartment, and plenty of food, goes away. Since I’m not allowed to talk about what I do, there’s not much that I can say, so I can’t even vent. I think I need someone else to talk to. Someone who isn’t a professional being paid to be there, like a friend. Am I lonely? I think I’m just lonely. I’m going to go see if my neighbor is home. Maybe we can have an impromptu dinner together before I have to report for jail this evening. Though, there is one thing that I should really finish up for work that I don’t want to put off until Monday. I wouldn’t be fired if it weren’t done, or anything, but you know me, I don’t like to leave tasks dangling over the weekend. I think a part of me worries that I’ll never come back, so I’ll at least have reached some kind of reasonable stopping point.

Microstory 2119: A Rehabilitation Plan

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Without proceeding to a full trial, I’ve been sentenced to 1,000 hours of jail time, and 1,000 hours of community service. There’s a lot of flexibility with this that I did not expect. I can go to jail for 42 days straight if I want, and then start doing my community service. I can stay in jail every night, but spend my days performing acts of service. I can spend six months in weekend jail while I work during the week, which will allow me some time to volunteer in the evenings, but I can also put it off until I have more time. I could even put jail itself off completely for six whole months, which I don’t really want to do. I would rather get it over with. That doesn’t mean I’ll be serving my time straight, though. I still want to work on my blog, and keep up with the world, which I won’t be able to do if I’m stuck in there for all that time. I first have to draw up a Rehabilitation Plan, which includes these two things, plus therapy, an active search for gainful employment, and of course, a detailed strategy for nonrecidivism. It’s not like I can do it one way, and then change my mind later. I have to decide now, which is what I’ll be working on for the next couple of days before I have to report to jail for the first time. Regardless of what I end up choosing, I’ll be going inside tomorrow night at exactly 19:00. They have to process me first, and then release me on Sunday at the earliest, if I’ve opted to go for an intermittent plan, which I will. I already have some ideas involving finding a home that’s close to where I work, and not still not buying a car, which will make it difficult for me to leave town again. As you know, I didn’t have a car before, but I was able to make it work with public transportation, so this isn’t like a perfect solution, but it’s a start. The state is trusting me with a lot of freedom, and I’m not going to do anything to suggest that it was a mistake on their part. Once I’m finished with my plan, it might be fun to post it here, even if only a truncated version of it. It could be pretty long. The court is actually encouraging me to stay online, to document my journey, and to garner public support for my recovery. I certainly don’t have a problem with that. If I can gain enough followers, I can actually start making money off of this site from the advertisements, which could really help if I really struggle with finding a regular job. So, as I think I’ve said before, read my ish! Early and often.

Microstory 2080: It’s Frickin’ Perfect

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I’ve been writing kind of long posts recently, especially that one from Monday last week. I’m particularly tired today, though. I had so much to do. I had to work first shift, and then go to several appointments for my apartment search. My real estate agent was great. She doesn’t make as much money in her job as the kind that sell full family homes, but she was committed, and she understood what I was looking for. There was one particular unit that I am very interested in. You can see the entire thing from one spot. A single room quadruples as a kitchen, living room, bedroom, and office. One door leads to a closet, and the other to a bathroom. I think they said it was 27 square meters in area, which is about 290 square feet, if you like to use the WRONG measuring system. The way the building manager tells it when we met him, there was a bit of an error when calculating the number of units that could fit within the length of the complex. Every floor has this tiny little thing that they tacked on in the corner. It’s too big to be just a storage closet, or something, but not big enough for most people’s needs. I am not most people. It’s frickin’ perfect. I can already picture the layout. The building is a little farther from work than I would like, because I would prefer to walk, but I think I can invest in a bike, and still avoid buying a car. I don’t know what I will do in really bad weather, but it might be worth it.

Microstory 2068: Tongueball It

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I’m feeling much better, thank you very much. It’s been pretty hard to get to sleep, which has sometimes been all right, because I’ve not had anywhere to go, but that hasn’t been true every single day since I got here. I’ve had an itchy and sore throat, so I cough, and then just make it even more sore. I believe that my landlord can’t hear me all the way up here, but I don’t know that for sure, and I’m afraid to ask her. I probably should ask her, though, since she would be able to explain it. My guess is that, when I lie down, fluids start moving in different directions, which is why it hurts more, but I don’t really know. She’s been off work for the last few days, and as a medical professional, in a particularly high need of a real good night’s rest every time, she should be able to expect me to work hard to put a stop to my constant disruptions. I generally don’t like to take drugs, but I’ll do it when I have to. When I was in my mid-twenties(?) I didn’t know the difference between a teaspoon and a tablespoon. I thought I was taking twice the recommended amount of nighttime cough syrup, but it turned out to be six times. It’s the only time I was ever intoxicated. I did not like it one bit, and I’ve never repeated the incident. Until last night, sort of. The tiny bottle of the strong stuff that my landlord had didn’t have any sort of fill cup. There wasn’t much left, so I figured I could eyeball five milliliters—or rather, tongueball it—but I was wrong. I ended up with twice the amount, but didn’t get to sleep any easier, and I never felt drunk. I probably really should have asked her about it, huh? It’s not my fault, I took too much cough syrup!

Starstruck: When Antistars Align (Part II)

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They couldn’t see anything, but they could feel it. The inertial dampeners could only do so much to protect them from the shaking ship. Mirage ran over to release an emergency crash cocoon for Belahkay, since he was in the most danger from all this mayhem. It wasn’t long before it was all over, though. The Iman Vellani’s EM shield managed to protect them from the massive matter-antimatter annihilation that was supposedly going on all around them. Maybe they overestimated how bad it was going to be. It would certainly explain how it was at all possible for them to survive. They were drifting through space aimlessly, but apparently safe now, so they raised the viewport shutters to get a look at what had happened.

Belahkay tried to say something, but was muffled by his cocoon.

Mirage lifted her palm in front his his face. She tapped her index finger and thumb together. Then she tapped her middle and index fingers together. She continued down the line to show him how to escape from the bubble. He mirrored the steps, successfully deflating the bubble. “What were you trying to say?” she asked.

“How do I get out of this thing?”

Mirage smiled, and went back to the console. “Preliminary readings coming in. We’re definitely not in Toliman space anymore. The stars are all wrong.”

“Could we be in the wrong time period?” Sharice asked. She looked over at her mother to see if she was wearing her umbilical cord necklace, which she would need if she wanted to travel through time.

Brooke guessed at her inquiry. She slipped her thumb underneath the chain, and pulled out the pendant to show her that time travel was a possible explanation.

“Impossible,” Mirage said. “The stars are too wrong for even that. They’re too far away. I mean, we could still be in the wrong period, but we’re nowhere near the stellar neighborhood anymore, that’s for sure.” She stopped, and looked up for answers on the ceiling. “Topdown.” Project Topdown is a special endeavor that Earth created in order to map and understand this local region of the universe. Two arrays of eleven telescopes each were sent off into the voids on either side of the Milky Way. They each had their own mandates, but combined, they should be able to tell the entire story of the galaxy, and beyond. It was launched from the Gatewood Collective about ten years ago. The data wasn’t accessible by most people yet, especially since there wouldn’t be much information to pick from at this time, but the relevant time travelers were given VIP early access. She shook her head. “We’re farther than even they can see.” She sighed. “Let me try to find Sagittarius A-star.” She kept fiddling with the instruments.

“Hey, guys?” Belahkay was looking through a side viewport, trying to get a better angle on what he was seeing.

Sharice was the only one to take notice. “What is it?”

“Hell. If I. Know.” He stepped back to let her see.

“Holy crap that thing is big.”

“Yeah, I see it now. Or rather them.” Mirage had gotten control of attitude for the most part, but they were still drifting. The profoundly gargantuan megastructure was now visible through the forward ports as well. “I’m scanning it too. Three nested rings. We’re on a trajectory to crash into one of them in the next couple of days, assuming they don’t start moving, which I believe they are supposed to. They look like an aerotrim.”

“What are they?” Brooke asked.

“A threat.” Mirage turned away from the controls. “I found our black hole. I know where we are. We’re around seventeen thousand light years from Toliman, on the top edge of the galaxy, looking down at the spirals from the void.” She waved her hand towards the floor, and made it disappear behind a hologram. There it was, the galaxy from a short distance. “This shouldn’t be here. We’re in trouble.”

“What makes this a threat, knowing where we are?” Belahkay asked.

“We’re too far from civilization to be seeing signs of civilization,” Mirage began to explain, “especially of this magnitude. I don’t know the purpose of these rings, but they’re designed to generate a massive electromagnetic field, and there’s something very familiar about the data from my scans.”

Sharice stepped over to the console to look over the data herself. After a few minutes, she figured something out. “Antimatter. It’s a giant antimatter containment field. And by giant, I mean the size of a star.”

“Oh my God,” Mirage said. “It was a star. It was an antistar.”

“I thought those were just a myth,” Belahkay said.

“We never really knew. From the outside, they look like regular stars, or we assumed they would. Even these days, scientists haven’t figured out how to tell for sure that they’re looking at an antistar, and it’s not particularly an area of interest for me. I can tell you that, due to their very nature, they would have to be like this, distant from anything else. So not only did someone come all the way out here long before they ought to be, they found the first confirmed antistar in the universe, and engineered a way to contain it. I sure would like to determine who the hell they are.”

“What was its connection to Toliman?” Sharice questioned. “That’s obviously why it’s been destroyed, because there was some kind of link, which became unstable, and led to their mutual annihilation.”

“We did this,” Brooke noted. “We destabilized the link. I don’t know why it was there in the first place, but we set off a few of our own antimatter bombs, and these are the consequences.”

“We don’t have enough information yet,” Mirage said to her dismissively. “The connection to Toliman might somehow be natural, in which case, sorry, our bad. If it was created by the builders of this megastructure, on the other hand, it would be their bad. What did they need with a random orange dwarf thousands of light years away, so close to Earth, and what gave them the right to it?”

Belahkay shrugged. “Let’s ask.”

“Ask who?” Brooke asked.

He pointed. “Them.”

A capital ship was heading right for them from the direction of the nearest containment ring. As it approached, a swarm of smaller ships broke off, and fell into an envelope formation. Mirage zoomed in to get a better look at them. They looked like flying police cruisers, complete with the red and blue flashing lights on the roof. All four of them looked at each other incredulously.

Mirage opened a drawer in the back of the bridge, and pulled out a stylish harness vest. “Take off your top.” Once Belahkay complied, she fitted the vest over his head. “Let me know if you ever want to upgrade your substrate. Until then, this vest mimics some of our most important features, like increased strength, durability, and a little speed. It also has limited teleportation capabilities.”

Belahkay intuitively pulled on the chest straps to tighten them up, and tight they became. He screeched in pain as a surge of energy rippled through his body. It only lasted for a few seconds, though, and he felt all right again.

“Oh, yeah, it’s gonna hurt a little bit,” Mirage added.

Belahkay rolled his eyes, and struggled to put his shirt back on. “Thanks.”

Sharice helped him secure his clothes over his new superhero suit, and then started to gently massage his shoulders.

The flying police held their position around the Vellani. Once the main ship was closer, a call came in on an open channel. “Unidentified foreign vessel. Please respond.”

Mirage snapped her fingers. “This is Captain Mirage Matic of the Stateless Private Vessel Iman Vellani, go ahead.”

“Please prepare to be boarded. You may make it easier on yourselves by extending an airlock, but it is not wholly necessary.”

“Boarding us will not be necessary either,” Mirage replied to the voice. “I know where we can talk.” She started to do some finger tuts that no one else in the room understood. The last movement featured her fingers tightly pressed against their respective thumbs, and slowly drawn away from their opposites like ripping a piece of paper in half. A section of the Vellani separated itself from the rest of the ship simultaneously, and started to float away. “Teleport into it,” she said to the crew only.

“Better not test your new power in the vacuum of space,” Sharice said to Belahkay after Mirage and Brooke were gone. She took him by the hand, and transported him.

Once they were all on the separated section, Mirage did some more finger tuts. The rest of the Vellani disappeared.

“Is it invisible, or did you teleport it away?”

“Both,” Mirage answered. She snapped her fingers again. “You may dock with my Ambassador Detachment,” she explained. “If you’ll send us your boarding specifications first, I can modify my airlock to accommodate for its unfamiliar dimensions.”

The voice waited to respond. “Very well, but we are not happy about it. We are starting these discussions on a bad egg. You will not be retaining the advantage.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Mirage closed the channel. “What do eggs have to do with anything?”

“Since when were you a Matic?” Brooke asked Mirage accusatorily.

“It felt like I needed a surname, and his was the first I came up with. Mateo and I were very close once. Like, real close.” A long time ago, in an old timeline, Mirage was created with the directive to kill a man by the name of Mateo Matic. He managed to stop her, and she managed to stop herself. She transcended her programming, and they became friends. In a desperate play to save her life shortly thereafter, he literally swallowed some of her composite nanites. It obviously worked, which was how she was still alive today. Brooke and Sharice were not cognizant of this particular story, and Belahkay didn’t know who they were talking about.

“Gross,” Brooke said. She was partially raised by Mateo’s future wife, Leona, and still thought of her as a mother figure.

The visitors docked with the Vellani Ambassador, and came in hot with a police contingency. A man stood amongst them who was clearly in charge. He was one of only two people with a face. The other looked like his lackey. Everyone else was wearing an opaque helmet. “To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?” Mirage asked.

“I am Ex-10. Are you the ones who destroyed the Red Heart of Exis?”

Mirage looked over through the nearest viewport. “Probably.”

“Why?”

“We didn’t do it on purpose. Have you ever heard of Alpha Centauri B?”

The leader guy’s lackey tapped on a tablet. “Origin plus 4.”

“That was our counterstar,” Ex-10 said cryptically.

Mirage emulated clearing her throat. “It wasn’t your anything. It belonged to the stellar neighborhood.”

“We are vonearthans, same as you. We had ever right to channel baryonic particles through the portal at will.”

“You are not vonearthans,” Mirage argued. “You couldn’t be. How did you come to be this far out?”

“Human ingenuity, and the visionary leadership of our Emperor, the Great Bronach Oaksent.” He stood there proudly, clearly under the impression that the crew of the Vellani should bow in fright at the sound of his magnificent name.

“Who?” Mirage questioned jokingly, doing her best impression of Djimon Hounsou’s Korath.

Ex-10 came this close to growling at her.

“I suppose you’ll want to kill us now,” Sharice guessed.

“Don’t give them any ideas,” Brooke warned.

“Oh, as if they needed my help getting there.”

“Silence!” Ex-10 ordered. “You cannot die yet. You must replace what you broke.”

“I’m sorry to tell you, Toliman collided with your antistar through the portal that you created. Those there stars are gone. Destroyed. Kaput. Annihilated.”

“We are aware of how matter-antimatter reactions work. My father’s father’s father’s father was responsible for building the Hearth Rings.” He looked up at the rings in reverence. “We found a suitable replacement. It was going to be our backup Heart, but thanks to you, our plans must be expedited. You will serve the Exin Empire in that capacity until the job is done. If your lifetimes are too short for the job, accommodations will be made to extend your lives.”

“How long did these take to be built?”

“Roughly four hundred years,” he answered.

“Pshaw,” Mirage laughed. “I can do it in two hundred. Hell, hundo-fitty.”

Ex-10 narrowed his eyes at her ominously. “I will hold you to that. But you might want to think about the fact that it will take us roughly 33 years just to get there.” He jerked his head to signal to his men that they could file back out of the room. “We will send you the details, including the coordinates to the new antistar that needs to be protected. Any attempt to diverge from the path will be met with excruciating pain, but not death. You will not be allowed to die until we’re done with you.”

Mirage nodded like that was nothing more than a word of caution, instead of what it really was, which was a major threat.

They waited for the boarders to leave before speaking again. “We’re going to surrender to their demands?” Brooke questioned.

“Just look at them,” Sharice reasoned. “If the way they look and act doesn’t scream bad guys, I don’t know what does. That man had a number, not a name.”

“They’re right,” Mirage explained. “We’re responsible for what happened to their antistar. Besides, I’m a follower of Leona’s Rules for Time Travel. Rule Number Fifteen, don’t antagonize the antagonist.”

“I don’t want to be stuck here for a hundred and fifty years,” Belahkay admitted.

“Don’t worry,” Sharice assured him. “She pulled that number out of her ass.”

Mirage looked over her shoulder at her own ass as if Sharice meant her comment literally. “I don’t know who these people are, or how they came to be here, but there are things I know about the future which no one can escape. When the time comes, the antistar containment rings we build will change hands swiftly anyway. Besides, I like a challenge. As for you, Belahkay, we won’t be doing anything by hand anyway. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, because the robots are the ones who will be doing the actual heavy lifting. You won’t have to do a single thing yourself.”

A nearby console beeped. Brooke stepped over to look at it. “Directions to the new antistar. It’s about 23,000 light years away, deeper into the void.”

Mirage nodded. “Yeah, that’ll take around 33 years with a reframe engine at maximum speed. These people must have access to such tech as well. I find that concerning considering that it was just invented recently. They didn’t even offer us a ride, which means they either know we have one as well, or they presume we do. Either one is bad. I don’t like them being able to scan my ship, and I don’t like the possible ubiquity of the technology.”

“So, what do we do?” Belahkay asked. “What can I do? I’ll be an old man in 33 years. I wanted to have an adventure, not sit on a ship for most of the rest of my life.”

“There’s plenty to do,” Mirage explained. “Don’t worry about aging. We can place your body in stasis, and your mind in a surrogate substrate. Or you can just be in stasis. We can all go dormant for stretches of downtime. We’ll play it by ear.”

“Hold on,” Brooke jumped in. “We’ve not even decided if we should really be doing this. The Vellani can turn invisible and teleport. There must be a way to escape without any hope of them pursuing us.”

“Again,” Mirage began, “we don’t know what kind of technology they have. How about we try to gather more information first? We have a few decades to change our minds. Let’s reconnect the detachment, and start heading that way. Sound fair?”

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 25, 2398

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, not them.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I caused a lot of problems yesterday.”

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

“What is this about then?” Carlin questions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chase...Palmer. Why?”

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