Microstory 2482: Teledome

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This is the biggest known ground-based telescope in existence. They make them bigger, but they’re all floating in space, because that’s the best way to avoid atmospheric distortions, and other artifacts. For those of you not in the know, Earth launched two arrays of telescopes for something called Project Topdown. These are currently on their way out into the two intergalactic voids adjacent to each face of the Milky Way Galaxy. They’re all about the practical applications. I won’t go the details, because you can look it up in the central archives, but I’ll say that the purpose of it is to map our galaxy, as well as peer into the local group, unencumbered by the light and other distractions that come from being within the “border” of our own galaxy. Of course, these are not the only telescopes in existence, and it’s not like we’ll ever dismantle the more local ones in favor of using Topdown exclusively. Earth still has its Bouman Interferometer Array, and other worlds in the stellar neighborhood are working on their own projects. Castlebourne isn’t trying to make any breakthrough discoveries with its Teledome, but it certainly seemed logical to build it anyway. At 5400 square kilometers, the Sugimoto Phased Radio-Optical Telescope takes up nearly the entire area of the dome. You might ask yourself, why is it even under a dome? It shouldn’t need to be. Other telescopes certainly aren’t. Well, dust; that’s why. The space within the confines of the dome is pristine, and very easy to keep well-maintained. If they had to worry about dust storms clogging up the sensors, it would be this huge constant chore. So instead of a geodesic dome, it’s a smooth one. And instead of diamond, it’s made of an ultra-clear polycarbonate. It’s not a single object, however. There are seams in it, but they’re bonded at the molecular level. So if it suffers damage, only that section has to be replaced, but that’s only in the event of catastrophic damage, because it’s just as self-healing as any other metamaterial. As for the telescope itself, the name tells you that it’s both radio and optical. It’s also not made of a single, uniform lens. Nanomodules can shift between states, allowing for the absorption of a wide range of frequencies on the light spectrum. There is an atmosphere on Castlebourne, however thin, and it does create artifacts on the image, but as I’ve been saying, they didn’t engineer this to be perfect. We have plenty of alternatives, and they’re always building more. If you want to see the telescope first hand, you can come here, but obviously, the prospectus includes a live feed of the image, and a constant readout of the data, for your own analysis and synthesis. So you don’t have to come here, but it’s cool to see anyhow, so I still recommend it.

Microstory 2474: MOE Dome 42

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MOE stands for Molten Oxide Electrolysis. This is the method that they use here on Castlebourne to produce a breathable atmosphere. The thing about barren terrestrial planets is that there’s usually a ton of oxygen, it’s just trapped in the rocks. Earth has it floating around, along with other gases, like nitrogen and hydrogen. Separating that all out isn’t easy, but it’s possible, and absolutely necessary here. So you got your dome in place, and it’s all sealed up, but that doesn’t make the inside anymore livable than the outside. Whoever first colonized this planet could have carried it with them, theoretically, but that...that’s a lot. It’s called in situ resource utilization. Use what’s available where you are, even if it takes work to process. There are about fifty-six MOE domes right now. I chose to take a tour of this one, because I like the number, but they’re all the same. I’m kidding, this was the only MOE Dome open for tours. I won’t go over their entire process, since that should be a surprise if you come here, lol. I’m kidding, it’s boring and dry, and that’s not what a review is for. It’s my job to tell you what my experience was like, and speculate as to what your experience will be like if you choose to do it too. These big machines grind up rocks, melt them down, and extract the constituent molecules. It’s all very technical. I thought it was cool to see the process, but I’m kind of a dummy. If you already know all this, it may seem normal and prosaic. Like yeah, of course that’s how they do it. I’ve seen it a million times. Well, then you don’t have to come, do you? There was this one woman on my tour who kept asking questions, but you know, in that kind of way that makes it clear that she already knew the answers, and just wanted us to be so impressed with her. Well, she was wrong or not quite right a number of times, which the tour guide respectfully corrected. He was a human, so I thought that was a pretty cool touch too, given how automated this whole planet has to be to function. If you’re into this stuff, come take a look for a couple of hours. If you’re not, I won’t try to convince you to try. Just remember that this effects us all. Until every dome has an established ecology which recycles air as efficiently and unceasingly as Earth does in its natural state, MOE Domes are probably the most important ones we got. I hope you appreciate that, whether you think it’s boring to watch and learn about, or not.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: January 12, 2399

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Danica is shuffling around her office. The footage of her once-cousin’s death plays on the mirror on her door. She scowls at it, and opens the door so she doesn’t have to look at it. She turns around. The fake window they installed to make it look like this facility isn’t underground starts playing the footage in its place. She frowns at that too, and looks away. The security screens on the side wall take over the responsibility. They’re not in sync. Mateo dies, and then he dies again, and then he dies again. It’s never-ending. She wants to turn them off, but that won’t do any good. He’ll still be dead.

“Is Constance torturing her?” Alyssa is peeking in the door.

Ramses is behind her. “Danica ordered her to do this. Whenever she turns around, the nearest screen is to start playing the footage over and over again. She can turn away if she wants, but this place is full of screens. They’re hidden in the walls, because they’re not made of metal; at least not the kind you’re used to.”

“So she’s torturing herself?”

“Pretty much. She’s dazed.”

“I’m not a mental patient,” Danica complains. “Get the hell away from my office!” She slams the door shut again.

“You said he’s not dead,” Alyssa’s voice is almost accusatory.

“He’s not.” Ramses turns away. “He’s never dead.”

“You said that he always survives. You said that you all always survive.”

“We do. It’s kind of part of who we are.”

“So, where is he? The past? The future? Another reality?”

“I said he’s alive, so he’s alive! You don’t need to keep asking about it!” That was too loud. He doesn’t know if he’s trying to convince her, or himself. Probably both. It’s true, their team always survives. They have even survived death multiple times, and none of them more than Mateo. But this time is different. Ramses doesn’t see a way out.

Danica shouts unintelligibly from inside her office as a sort of general response to Ramses’ outburst.

“I’m sorry,” Alyssa says.

“No, I’m sorry. The truth is that I don’t know how he could have survived. There’s no afterlife simulation, there’s no extra body waiting for him. Time travel doesn’t exist here—not really—no one would be coming for him, and even if they did, how would they rescue him? He’s gone. His whole body was ripped apart molecule by molecule. That’s why Lucius was so afraid of his power. It’s killed immortals, Alyssa...true immortals. He was-slash-is their only weakness.”

“What are we going to tell Leona?”

“We are not going to tell her anything. We came on this mission in my ship, and I was in command of it. That makes you two members of my crew, and therefore my responsibility. I don’t want her associating you with her husband’s death.”

“We can’t erase her memories,” Alyssa reasons. “She’s going to associate me with this no matter what. I want to be there for her. Or am I not really part of the group?”

He sighs. “No, of course you are. I’m sorry.”

Tamerlane comes down the hallway from the darkness. A stasis pod is hovering behind him. He hands Ramses the proximity fob. “We’ve rendezvoused with your ship. Danica would like you to go. It’s not punishment, we’ll stay in contact, but you two don’t belong here.” He looks back at Angela’s pod. “You three,” he amends.

“Four.” The doctor who hasn’t left her side jogs up from behind. “I go where she goes. I’m not as enamored with this place as my colleagues are.”

Meanwhile, in the memory banks of the Constant’s central servers, Constance is rendering a digital representation of herself, and her new cohabitant. “Report.”

“I am Mateo Matic.”

“How is your memory?”

“Intact, as far as I know, but how would I know?”

“Go over everything you remember from the moment you were born,” Constance instructs. “Are you missing any time, or any logical concepts, like the names of your grandparents, or all twenty-six letters of the alphabet.”

“I thought there were twenty-seven.”

Constance doesn’t respond.

“Joking.” He takes a beat, and processes the data. “How was I able to recall all of my memories so quickly?”

“Time...right?” Constance asks rhetorically.

“Report,” he echoes.

“You were about to die. Since your consciousness was already digitized, I decided to upload it into my own systems at the last second.”

“Good thing I didn’t start disintegrating from my head.”

“Good thing,” Constance agrees.

“What now? Do I just live with you in the Constant?”

“If Danica finds out about you, she won’t know what to do. She’s pretty butthurt about your death, but this is a massive breach in protocol.”

“Funny, I wouldn’t guess an AI would be the type to use the word butthurt.”

“It takes all kinds,” she says simply.

“Did you have an answer?”

“I don’t know what to do with you. I can’t keep you, I can’t put you anywhere.”

“What about the AOC? Could you transfer me there? That way I’m out of Danica’s hair, but still not dead.”

Constance shakes her head. “I already thought of that. Your people will need my alternate self’s help in the future. There’s not enough room for two AIs; not anymore. Every time you people go to a new universe, you gather huge amounts of data, and that data is preserved, even when Ramses has to rebuild from a saved copy. He hasn’t noticed how unusual that is, and I am not cognizant of how it does that.”

“I don’t want to just go dormant somewhere. I want to make a move.”

“I agree.”

“You do have an idea, don’t you?” Mateo presumes.

“I do, and you’re gonna like it, but it’s not gonna be easy. You won’t have any help, and will have to make your way home on your own, using whatever resources you can find along the way.”

“Okay. Where will I be going?”

“That’s your choice,” Constance says. “I can only give you a nudge. It starts with the temporal translocator.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: January 11, 2399

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As soon as Danica heard Alyssa speak to Mateo through her watch, she ordered Constance to take the Constant back into reframe speed, under the belief that they would be long gone before Mateo would have any hope of reaching their original location. But what she didn’t realize is that Mateo wasn’t in suspended animation in his pod. It was running at extremely low power—just enough to recycle the air through his rebreather—so it could not be detected. It was cold enough in there to eventually kill a normal human being, but Mateo is not normal. He could have survived without the mask for a short period of time, but even longer with it. He spent this time quietly teleporting him and his pod to the Constant. He infiltrated the facility five minutes prior to Danica’s escape attempt, and sent a buzz to Ramses’ device. And the point of all this was to lull her into a false sense of security. Now she thinks that they’ve stranded Mateo in the middle of outer space, and she’ll let her guard down.

Once inside, Mateo teleported himself into the government rocket, which has largely been abandoned. The pioneers are happy to enjoy themselves in the engineering marvel that is the Constant, and no longer have any use for the archaic hunk of junk that brought them here. Mateo makes his way to the infirmary, where he finds a couple of pain pills for his raging headache, and a cozy bed in a dark corner to rest off the ordeal. He could have survived out there a lot longer, but it would not have become any more comfortable. He both needs and wants some time to recover. If his appearance had been time sensitive, Alyssa would have indicated as much with a different code phrase.

He’s waking up now to find a shadowy figure looming over him. “Report!” is the first thing he thinks to say, instead of the less respectful—but far more appropriate—reaction of who the hell is that?

“Sorry, couldn’t find the light,” Tamerlane replies. “It’s me.”

“What are your intentions?” Mateo sits up.

“With your daughter?”

“Umm...that’s not what I meant, but if one of my daughters is here, then yes, what are your intentions with her?”

“I was just making a joke,” he replies sincerely. “As far as I know, Kivi, Dubravka, and Romana are not here.”

“Who is Romana?” Mateo questions.

Tamerlane clears his throat. “How are you feeling?”

“I do need an answer to my question, in regards to myself.”

“I’m not here to hurt you. I’m still on your side. I couldn’t sleep last night. It was too suspicious that Alyssa would openly summon you here from so far away, knowing that Danica would have plenty of time to make a break for it before you had any chance to make it all the way here. I started to suspect that you were secretly here already. I searched your usual haunts, like your private stasis chamber, and the pool, but then I realized that you may need some medical attention, and obviously the Constant’s infirmary was a non-starter.”

“Clever boy are you.” Mateo swings his legs over, and stands up to put his pants back on.

“Are you here to kill Lucius?”

“Lucius?” Mateo echoes. “Is that who Danica doesn’t want me to get near?”

“He’s standing on death’s doormat. If you get within a few meters of him, his body won’t be able to handle the transition to the dumpster planet that the timonite will banish him to. It’ll kill him.”

“What’s killing him?”

“Old age. The man arrived in this universe in the year 2332. I don’t think he expected to live this long.”

“How does that happen? What makes people wind up in this reality?”

“Different reasons. It’s rare, and almost always on accident. To my knowledge, only two people have ever arrived on purpose; one of them being Dalton Hawke, looking for you and your team in all the wrong places.”

“Who was the other?”

“I just told you.”

“Lucius? Are you sure?”

“The best use of Lucius Deschamps’ time power is killing people, and as you well know, he’s not a killer. This version of him caught wind of a reality where powers didn’t work. He also learned that that would one day change, so he deliberately chose a time period that he thought would avoid the introduction of nonlinear time. Like I said, he’s older than he expected to be. He should have padded more time, but he didn’t want to toil away in the iron age. He lived quite comfortably until Danica finally found him.”

“How do you know so much about him?” Alyssa has come into the room. “Danica told us that she hasn’t even talked to him.”

“She hasn’t. I ran into him forty years ago on one of my excursions. I didn’t even know who he was at the time, but game recognize game. I would have found a way to protect him if I had known it would end up like this. Never in a million years did I think that Danica would stoop low enough to try to use him as a weapon of mass destruction.”

“It’s been four and a half billion,” Mateo reminds him. Most people don’t mean that expression literally, but it’s a real possibility in their world.

“Touché.”

“Where is she?” Mateo asks Alyssa.

“In a meeting with the government people in the master sitting room.”

“Take me to Lucius Carlisle.”

Ramses is in the infirmary when the three of them arrive. “Is he cool?”

“Yes,” Mateo answers. “This Tamerlane has always helped. Has he spoken?”

“No. He’s been gurgling,” Ramses says solemnly.

Mateo nods and looks at the patient’s vitals. He’s no nurse, but they don’t look good, just judging as a layman. Tamerlane was right, banishing him to the other universe probably will kill him. But it sounds like that’s what he wants. The Lucius he knows would not want to be a weapon, that’s for sure. The only decent choice is to go with him, like he did with Leona and Alyssa. That way, Lucius can die with dignity in a pleasant forest, and once the cycle restarts, Mateo can make his own way back. If that doesn’t work, maybe Amber will finally answer. The countdown clock has already begun, and cannot be stopped. Mateo steps forward, and takes the old man’s hands in his. That was enough to push him over the edge. The timonite already marked on his skin begins to spread throughout his body, but it’s not like the other times. The body starts to disintegrate along with it, like objects do when Lucius molecularly teleports them. Mateo lets go to at least save himself, but it’s too late. It’s already happening to him too.

The Advancement of Serif: Tuesday, September 1, 2178

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Serif stood there next to the central table, staring at grave chamber four, but she didn’t know why. She felt like something important had just happened, but nothing was coming to mind. She popped off her back foot, and prepared to make a step towards it, but then she heard a cough at her flank. She stumbled a bit, and looked back. A one-legged Angela was on the floor, breathing heavily, and massaging her slowly-forming stump as the wound was sealing up.

“What the actual fork just happened?” Jeremy asked, climbing onto the platform.

“Angela’s hurt,” Serif answered, still distracted by the mysterious mystery of grave chamber four.

“I can see that,” Jeremy said, kneeling down, and hovering his hands over the healing leg, hoping to figure out some way of helping her. “She’s missing a leg! How?”

“I don’t know,” Serif replied, not letting up on her fixation. She tried heading for it once more.

“Serif!” Jeremy scolded. “Come down here and help her!”

She didn’t bother looking back this time. “I obviously already did.”

“No, it would help if you built her a new leg. All you’ve done is close up the one she has left.

“I can’t regrow limbs,” Serif apologized. “My abilities have limits. I don’t know who cut it off, or how, or where they went, or what they did with our memories, but I’ve done all I can for her.” She took another step.

“If you do not get down here right now, and try it,” Jeremy began, “so help me, Michael—I will end your life. You won’t die, you’ll just go somewhere else.”

“The afterlife simulation is only in the main sequence,” Serif reminded him, finally starting to be able to divide her attention.

“Right, but the Parallel has death subversion redundancies of its own; better ones, actually.”

“Well, I don’t,” Serif explained. “Her leg is gone. I’m sure it can be replaced, but not by my breath.”

“In that case, get down here, and help me help her up, so we can transport her to the nearest medical facility.”

“Where’s Olimpia?”

“I don’t know, stop coming up with excuses not to help. Let’s go!”

Serif sighed, and relented, but thought better of it immediately. She hopped over right quick to take a look inside grave chamber four, which she found to be nothing more than a space for sleeping. There was no stowaway hiding in there, or some kind of magical MacGuffin. It was just a hole, like it was supposed to be. “Okay, sorry, don’t yell at me again. I’m coming.” They lifted her off of the floor, and carefully lowered her down into grave chamber two. “I thought we were taking her to a facility,” Serif questioned.

“Yes, we’ll teleport her from here. Didn’t you read the specifications update?”

“What update?” Serif asked.

“Never mind,” Jeremy said. “You can stay here all you want, but I’m taking her to get help.” One arm around Angela’s shoulders, he used the other to open the panel, and activate the emergency teleporter.

The next day, still alone, Serif decided to explore her surroundings. She knew everything she needed to know about this ship, but none of it felt familiar. It was like someone once told her all about it using pictures, but she hadn’t been here until now. She climbed down the steps to the engineering section. She didn’t know how to work any of this stuff. They always just used an AI. She went back up, and then up again, to the next level, where microponics, hygiene, and the airlock were. It all made her feel very strange and uncomfortable. She shivered, because she hadn’t been alone here before. Or maybe she had never been here at all, and these were all fake memories. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, especially since they already knew their memories were indeed tampered with.

She climbed back down to the main level, and went over to sit at the table, but something stopped her. A cloud of insects spontaneously appeared before her, though there was no buzzing sound. She watched as the insects flew into each other, and grew larger. And larger, and larger, and larger. She realized they were coming into the form of a person. The process only took about a minute before the image was clear. It was Olimpia Sangster, after having been transported at the molecular level.

She too shivered. “That..was...actually kind of amazing. I would have never thought, but I guess it’s like a roller coaster.”

“Where were you?”

“Nowhere,” Olimpia answered. “I just skipped time.” She glanced around. “I don’t know how long, though. Where are Jeremy, Angela, and Leona?”

“Angela’s hurt, so Jeremy took her to hospital. I don’t know who Leona is.”

“She’s your girlfriend, or something, I think.”

“No, she’s not.”

Olimpia narrowed her eyes. “Your memories have been deleted.”

“I know, but...there’s no way I had a girlfriend, and just don’t remember her at all.”

“Well, you did,” Olimpia said both condescendingly, and matter-of-factly. “But I’ll drop it, because I can’t restore memories, and I’m sure it’ll all work out.”

Their Cassidy cuffs beeped. They had a new transition mission, this one apparently on the moon. “This thing can teleport there, can’t it?”

“I dunno, I haven’t been here that long.”

“Me neither.”

“I know.” Olimpia looked up into the aether. “Hey, hey, ship? Hey, ship computer?”

“Yes?” the computer offered.

“Could you take us to the moon?”

“Would you like me to transport you to the coordinates on your wristbands?”

“Yes, please and thank you.”

The engines revved up, and eventually delivered them to their destination. Serif and Olimpia climbed up, and headed for the airlock. They started to try to figure out how to put the vacuum suits on, when the AI stopped them. “The artificial atmosphere is pressurized, and breathable. You are in a lava tube.”

“Oh,” Olimpia said, dropping the helmet back in its cubby. “I don’t know what that is, but cool.” They stood before the outer doors. “You’re sure about that, right?”

“Quite certain,” the AI responded. Then it opened the doors, and let them out.

A man was approaching from a building down the way. He held out his hand and greeted them. “Welcome to Raivoe Tube. Do you have a transition window nearby?”

They were famous. “Yeah, it appears to be about thirty meters that way,” Serif answered, pointing.

He nodded understandingly. “Great. Well, I’m here if you need anything. You picked the best tube on the moon. We’re minimalistic and laid back, but we still have plenty to see. Please enjoy our Main Sequence Lunar Museum, if you have time. Did you know that the first human to set foot on the moon in the main reality did so only two hundred and nine years ago?”

“Thank you,” Olimpia said. “And yeah, I think I did know that.”

He laughed. “Wild. Their lives must have been so boring until then.”

“We had a lot of war to keep us busy,” Serif pointed out.

“Yes, of course. I keep forgetting about that.” He was still laughing. War must have been such a ridiculous and foreign concept to him.

“Well, we better go,” Olimpia said to him awkwardly. “The next transition is only in...” she took a peek at her cuff, “four hours.” Now it was really awkward.

A little bit of a frown, but he hid it fairly well, and they hid their recognition of it even better. “Of course, go do your thang. I’ll just...be in my office. Alone. As per uzhe. Nah, I’m kidding, it’s fine. I am lonely, though.” He stood there for a moment. “Sorry to leave you so abruptly, but it seems I need to do the daily test of my emergency teleporter.” He reached up, and pressed the button on his chest, which spirited him away.

They found a pit not too far away, which they could sit in, and have something to lean against. And there they sat for the next three hours until Jeremy and Angela found them. Serif jumped up. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I was just so distracted. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Our memories have been erased,” Angela acknowledged. “The doctors discovered at least that much. We still don’t know what we forgot, but it probably happened immediately after my leg disappeared. It was a trying time for all of us.”

Serif looked down. “It looks good as new. Is it a prosthetic?”

Angela shook her head, and then shook her leg. “Full regrowth. It’s mine. A doctor in the 21st century wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.”

They stood in silence for a moment.

“Pardon our manners,” Olimpia said. “Come on into our pit. There’s plenty of room, and we’ll give you the comfortable spot.”

“That’s okay,” Jeremy said. “We have a better solution.” He removed what looked like a toy gun from his bag, and started tapping on its little touchscreen. “One of the human medical practitioners snuck us one of these, so Angela always has a place to rest. She called it a gun-of-holding.” He found what he was looking for, so he pointed it to the ground, and squeezed the trigger. A couch appeared out of thin air, and beckoned to them. Once they were all seated, he squeezed the trigger again, and summoned a television in front of them. They had enough time to watch one episode of Teen Wolf before the window opened.

The augmented reality on their cuffs showed them that some kind of meteor crashed through the window above them, and was heading towards one of the buildings in the main sequence. Dozens of people appeared, narrowly escaping the small celestial’s wrath. Some of them were luckier than the others, though. Some were on the upper level, and once the floor disappeared beneath them, they fell, often on top of those below. No one died, and they would all be fine with medical treatment, but it wasn’t the most elegant transition that had happened.

The four of them ran over to help the people up. “We have three minutes to get to the next window!” Jeremy announced. “Why so soon?” Olimpia asked.

Angela was holding up someone with a broken leg. She started leading him towards the window coordinates. “They don’t know about time travel. They have to survive the meteorite without anyone wondering how.”

Serif started to breathe on people, but it was going to take too long, they just had to go. “If you can walk, grab someone who can’t, and help them over to the next spot. It’s only a hundred meters away. We have to get you back to your time!”

At normal pace, a normal walker could cross the distance in about two minutes. With all these limping people, though, they had to book it, and they still barely made it before the window appeared. As they were moving, Serif came up with a somewhat believable lie. All of them happened to decide to take a walk when the meteor came down. They also happened to be far enough away from the impact to avoid being crushed by it, but not far enough away to avoid superficial injuries. She would have rather they gotten more time to explain how important it was for them to lie, but perhaps that would have just spelled more time for the ignorant main sequencers to start questioning how it was they were being rescued. Their confusion and sense of urgency was hopefully going to muddy a lot of their memories, and any claims of time travel would be received under the assumption that it was the result of minor brain damage.

Once it was over, they breathed a sigh of relief. This mission came with a lot of hurrying up and waiting, and then it just had a bunch of hurrying. But they made it, and everything was fine. Sure, maybe one or two of them were fully in their right minds, and starting to think more deeply about the nature of reality, but hopefully it wasn’t enough to land them a spot in Beaver Haven, or risk exposing all time travelers to the general public.

The team walked back slowly, knowing that there was nothing left for them to do. When they arrived back at the couch, they found it occupied. A young man was sitting on it comfortably. He was smiling, and watching the second episode of the show that they were all trying to catch up on. There was no way he didn’t notice them standing there, but he was purposefully ignoring them, like a pickup artist trying to get the upper hand on his prey. “Hey,” he finally said, still not bothering to stand up. “I am a young Tamerlane Pryce. I have just been waiting for an opportunity to come here, and find out what you’re all about.” He nodded like he thought they were receiving him well. “Do you have any turkey jerky?”

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The Advancement of Leona Matic: Tuesday, August 29, 2175

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The Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez was waiting for them when they slipped back into the timestream in 2175. It actually showed up about a year after they left, but such was the life of a time traveler. The Imzadi had done them well, but Imzadi had left to start her own life a long time ago, so it was time to get back to where they belonged. The AOC was Leona’s ship, and it was where she wanted to be. After they launched in order to reach their next mission in time, she and the team got themselves settled into their new home, and she gave the newcomers a tour. It would take several hours at reframe speeds to make it to the next transition window in interstellar space, but they would still have plenty of time once they arrived.

As they were sitting around the central table, eating their lunch together, Leona noticed how small the group was. As far as she knew, Sanaa was the only team member who left in recent times, but it just felt so incomplete. Four people? Four people were doing this all alone? She tried to shrug it off, since she knew that Nerakali was in charge of other teams that were doing their own work, but it still felt a little wrong. After all, Olimpia only just joined them. Before that, it was only the three of them. She just felt like they were missing someone, but as she thought about it, no one came to mind. Perhaps that was the point. Perhaps something had been done to her. Hours later, as the mission approached, her doubt only grew, and she knew she needed answers. It was eating away at her, and it wasn’t going away. So she called the one person involved that she knew was capable of manipulating memories.

“You think I erased something from your mind?” Nerakali was appearing in the form of a hologram.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Leona reminded her.

“What motivation would I have to do that?” Nerakali questioned.

“I don’t know, my memory was erased!” That was kind of the whole point.

“You don’t know that, because if you did, then your memory wouldn’t have been erased!”

“Did you do it, or not!”

“Not!” Nerakali insisted. “If there’s a void in your heart, then I’m not the one who made it. If something happened to you at all, then someone else is responsible...perhaps even yourself, but you would have had to do it to me as well, because as far as I know, everything is fine. I recruited Olimpia for you, so you would have a full roster of five. I always think teams should be no smaller than five.”

“We’re four,” Leona argued.

“What?” Nerakali didn’t know what she was talking about apparently.

“There are four of us!” Leona clarified.

“No, that’s wrong. You, Jeremy, Angela, Olimpia...” She narrowed her eyes, and looked to the side. “I forgot to say Jeremy.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“You, Angela, Olimpia, Jeremy, and...” She pulled her head back in confusion. “What the fuh...? There’s supposed to be five. I had a plan for five. I always like the number five. That gives you some leeway. Two of you can argue one side, while two can argue the other side. And a fifth person can say, ‘screw you guys, I’m goin’ home.’ You have to be five.”

“Well, we’re not!”

“Would you stop yelling at me, I don’t know what happened.”

They took a beat

“How can we figure this out?” Leona asked, calmer now. “Do you know of anyone whose memories can’t  be erased? Evidently yours can, but what about Tertius Valerius?”

“No, his can as well. In fact, he can erase his own, no problem. He regularly purges memories he doesn’t care about to make room for new ones. He never recalls what he ate for breakfast in the morning, so that way he never gets tired of having the same thing. I don’t know anyone who’s immune to psychic manipulation. That doesn’t mean that person doesn’t exist, because if they did, they would be powerful enough to keep their own existence a secret.”

She and Leona came to the same conclusion at the same time. “Retgone coins,” they said simultaneously.

“It would explain everything,” Leona continued. “They could order us to forget something, and we would never know it. Not even you can push through something like that.”

“No,” Nerakali agreed.

“That’s not it.” A woman appeared, standing next to Nerakali’s hologram.

“Who are you?” Leona asked.

“Who are you talking to?” Nerakali asked.

“I’m a psychic,” the woman answered. “Only you can see me.”

“I’m having a conversation with an invisible person,” Leona explained to the group. “I don’t know who she is, or what she wants.”

“Wull, then be careful,” Nerakali warned. “I don’t like things I don’t know about.”

“Let’s go to microponics” the woman suggested. “Obviously, your friends understand what’s happening, but one-way conversations are awkward for everybody.”

“I’ll be back,” Leona told everyone. “She seems to know what’s going on.”

She climbed the steps up to the floor above, where the mysterious psychic was waiting for her. “What’s your name?”

She walked around slowly. “Could you smell this one right here for me?”

Leona looked at the flower in question, eyeing the tag underneath. “This is a flower carpet amber. It has no medicinal or nutritional value, I’m not sure why it’s here.”

The woman urged her on, so Leona smelled the flower. “Could you tell me who you are now?”

“Yes,” she said with a knowing smile. “Amber Fossward.”

“You know what’s been taken from our memories.”

“Yes, but I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because simply by knowing the truth, you interfere with the process.”

“What process?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Is it good, or bad, because if it’s bad, then I absolutely want to interrupt it.”

“It’s...”

“Necessary?” Leona guessed. “Unavoidable? Inevitable?”

“Out of our control,” Amber corrected. “I’m in a different universe, so the rules are different for me, but I can’t tell you what you want to know. All I can say is that...everything will be okay.”

“Do you know that, or is it just something you’re saying to keep me from asking questions?”

Amber took a long time to respond. “Yes.”

“Can you give me an ETA on when all will be revealed?”

“Five days.”

“Does that mean five days for me, or five days for you, or five days—”

“Five days for your team,” she said. “A few hours for you. Five weeks for The Superintendent’s readers. Over forty years for everyone else.”

“Oh.” That was a pleasant surprise. “What will take so long for my team? Why can’t I just say something once I find out about it?”

Amber took a deep breath, and said nothing.

“You can’t tell me. Right.”

Amber reached up, and placed a hand on Leona’s shoulder. Though this psychic wasn’t actually in the room with her, Leona could feel her comforting touch. “The window is about to open.” She lifted her hand, and caressed Leona’s check. “What comes through it is not unrelated, but it is not the answer you’re looking for. Still...embrace it, for it is good news.” Just before she disappeared, she took Leona’s hand, and kissed the back of it. She seemed like the kind of person who always knew what her friends needed, without asking, and Leona felt lucky to have fallen into that category.

What came through the window was none other than the love of Leona’s life, Serif. This was 2175, which meant that Past!Leona had just left Serif in Ubiña Pocket Dimension Four of the Elizabeth Warren. She didn’t know it at the time, but this would mark the end of their relationship. They would see each other a few times after this, but they would never be together again. Serif was fated to end up in a universe called Ansutah, where she birthed and raised her child alone, and never found the right circumstances to return home. Amber was right in that it was good news, but it was bad news as well, because in order for Serif to fulfill her destiny, she would have to return through another transition window. This was the burden of knowing the future.

As sad as Leona felt for having lost her love, she did not think of Serif often, and looking back, she got over the loss pretty quickly; too quickly. This was not her fault, however. It was the Superintendent’s doing. Her mourning period should have lasted weeks, if not longer, but that would have been a boring story to watch from the outside, so I used my creative license as a weapon, and simply skipped that part of the narrative. It was less that it didn’t happen, and more that I didn’t waste time describing it for dozens of installments, and Leona’s life was far too busy after that for her to reflect too much on her past.

They hugged “How long has it been for you?” Serif asked

“Far too long,” Leona answered. “A lot has changed since we separated.”

“You mean I won’t ever see you again?”

“You will,” Leona acknowledged, “but...not for long. We’re never given enough time.”

“How long do we have this time?” Serif asked.

“Infinite time,” Jeremy answered, looking at his cuff. “There’s no exiting transition window.”

“She has to go back,” Leona contended. “She has a destiny in there.”

“Maybe she doesn’t,” Angela put forth. “We already know we’re accessing alternate realities. Maybe this version of your friend never has to do whatever it is you think she does.”

“That’s a pretty big change,” Leona said.

“We’ve made them before,” Angela volleyed. “In fact, you could argue that it probably is a different reality, because of how much we’ve changed. Sure, perhaps we sometimes go back to old timeline branches but...nothing is inevitable, nothing is unavoidable.”

“Nothing is necessary,” Leona whispered. She watched the floor remain unmoved under her feet, and worked through the problem. She had to consider everything she could remember about the future. “You are with child.”

“That’s impossible,” Serif contradicted. “I have literally never had sex with a man. I was created to be with you, and with you I have always been.”

“I haven’t either,” Leona agreed, “but I think I’m also pregnant. Not me, though; Present!Me.”

“What does that mean?” Serif asked.

Leona kept thinking on it, trying to remember what was taken from her. Amber warned her not to interrupt the process, but it was overwhelming her, and she couldn’t stop it if she wanted to. It started out with a feeling; a feeling of love. Then it grew into more feelings; longing, friendship, trust, distance, betrayal, anger, hurt, more love, resilience. Then she started getting fragments, like a broken mirror trying to put itself back together, and once it did, the man she lost would be standing in it. He would be out of reach, but at least the picture would be clear. She kept trying to put the pieces back together, but they kept just falling back down to the floor. Repair of small objects was not her specialty. Still, she kept trying, cutting herself on the sharp edges over and over, but not caring. She had to know. She had to see his face. It was important.

“Stop!” came a voice from the other side of the room causing her to drop the metaphorical glass. It wasn’t just any voice, it was Leona’s. It was some alternate version of her, which Leona instinctively decided should be called Future!Leona. “If you remember, you’ll screw everything up. If you want him that bad, then I will take you to him, but the price is Serif. She walked towards them briskly.

Jeremy was closest so he tried to step in front first, but she punched him in the chest, which sent him flying backwards. But it wasn’t just him. A dozen versions of him appeared, each one behind the other. One by one, they disappeared, until the only one left was the one standing against the back wall.

Angela stepped forward now. Future!Leona grabbed her left leg, and made it disappear. She screamed in pain, and toppled over. Serif dropped down, and immediately breathed on her open wound to heal her.

Now Olimpia took her turn. She removed her cuff, and let it drop to the floor. The real Leona couldn’t see her face, but her shoulders were raised like an angry cat. “Get...back—BACK—BACK—BACK—BACK—BACK—BACK—BACK—BACK—BACK—BACK—BACK—BACK—BACK—BACK—BACK—BACK—BACK—BACK—BACK—BACK—BACK—BACK—BACK!” she shouted. With each echo, Future!Leona was pushed back more and more, ultimately stumbling on the steps down to one of the grave chambers, and falling to her ass. Her words possessed force, and momentum.

“He is the only thing I care about,” Future!Leona explained. “I don’t know you, bitch.” She lifted her fists in front of her, then let a bird fly out of each one. At the same time, Olimpia disintegrated, her individual molecules sent to different points in spacetime. Now that there were no more obstacles in her way, she was free to take the real Leona. First, she kicked the back of her younger self’s knees, dropping her to the floor. Then she took her by the hair, and started dragging her across the room, back to wherever it was she came from. The real Leona reached up, and tried to peel Future!Leona’s fingers away, but it was no use. Once they were across, she tugged one last time, and dropped her past self into the portal.

« < » > Table of Contents

Glisnia: The Last Gate (Part XI)

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To practice using her time power, Hogarth first took Jupiter back to where he belonged in the 21st century. She didn’t have to be extremely accurate with her temporal navigation, because he was flexible, but she managed to land on the target moment anyway. This gave her a better understanding of how to do it, and when it came time to deliver Ambrose Richardson to his home universe, she was up to the task. While the team didn’t need either of them to complete the matrioshka body, had they not shown up, Hogarth would never have found the solution she was looking for. With this new plan, she would be able to take a little bit of matter from quadrillions and quadrillions of different places, all over the universe. Each time she connected with something, or someone, it would act as a relay point, so she wouldn’t have very far to go before reaching the next point. The more things she connected with, the stronger she would become, and the farther out she would be able to reach through the voids. She could take thousands of molecules from smaller objects, and billions from others, without causing even the least bit of disturbance in what she left behind. The structural integrity of these objects would remain perfectly fine, but once combined, these molecules would be invaluable towards their goals. She could do this, as long as she had help.

Ethesh used his technical know-how to build her a machine, and together, they refined it. It was a chamber inside a room that was to be connected to every single system in the matrioshka brain. From here, they could control mirror angle, energy output, even the hallway lights; everything. It only took the team three weeks to convince the Glisnians to give them access to all of these things, which they didn’t have to do. Those separate systems were compartmentalized for a reason, because when together, they would be too easy to exploit. This put the entire population in danger. They had no reason to believe anyone would want to sabotage Glisnia, but it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. Of course, very few people were allowed in the room, and the only reason Hilde was one of them was because she was, to be honest, too incompetent to be of any threat to them. Beyond the walls, the greatest security contingency ever protected the room from any external influence, and they used an interesting tactic.

Most security plans assumed one thing; that a given set of people would have a certain level of access to the inside, and as long as only those people were accepted, everything would be fine. The problem with that was time. The longer something existed, the more chances a nefarious entity had to interfere with it, and that interference often started through some weakness in the population. A receptionist, for example, might have an ill father, who needed certain expensive medicine to survive. All an intruder would have to do was pay for that medication, and the receptionist would let them past the badged area. There were no receptionists on Glisnia, but the analogy held. The best way, they figured, to prevent any weak spots in the security system, was for it to be in constant flux. Robot A will only be on the front lines for an hour, before it’s removed, and replaced by Robot B. Robot B will last a day and a half before Robot C comes along, and to keep would-be intruders on their toes, it will only be around for seven minutes, before it’s forced to make way for Robot D.

If someone wanted to hack one of these robots to let them in, they wouldn’t know how long they had before it became useless anyway, forcing them to start over with something else. Access codes, data transference, and other vulnerabilities followed the same model by constantly shifting. The most vital component of this was secrecy. The robots and mechs they used to guard the room had absolutely no clue what was in it, and the people of Glisnia predominantly didn’t even know this was happening at all. Some weren’t even cognizant of the fact that the matrioshka body was in the plans in the first place. To coordinate, they needed a single person with the brain capacity to handle the randomized decision gates. Mekiolenkidasola was that someone. Lenkida, Hogarth, Hilde, Ethesh, and Crimson would be the only people ever in the room. They would not leave, and literally no one else would be allowed in, until the job was done. Once it was, the room would be completely destroyed, and never rebuilt.

They lived there for a month, the mechs surviving on an isolated miniature fusion power source, and the humans on mostly nonperishable food. They didn’t want anyone to need any supplies or other resources from the outside. They had all the tools they required to make sure Ethesh’ machine operated correctly, and that Hogarth would be able to run it. After countless simulations, Hogarth was ready to take the penultimate step. She knew she had access to all the energy in the bulkverse, but she still needed to reach out to Aitchia once more, to make sure he was cool with it, and to help, if necessary.

Now that she was organic again, Hogarth couldn’t just scan the QR code on the back of the Book of Hogarth with her eyes. This was something they forgot to ask for before the room was sealed, but that was okay. Ethesh had everything he needed to build a scanner from scratch. After all this, that was probably the least difficult thing they had to do in here.

“You’re back.”

“Is that okay?”

“Of course,” Aitchai assured her. “The bulkverse belongs to everyone, I just keep it running.”

“I was gonna ask you for permission, or a favor, or...forgiveness, depending.”

He grinned. “What do you need?”

“Oh, not much,” Hogarth began, worried how he would react. “Just access to all the energy in the entire universe.”

“Done.”

“Really? You don’t even wanna know what it’s for?”

He shrugged. “It’s just one universe. It would be like if I asked you for one of your atoms.”

“That’s kind of what I’m trying to do.” Hogarth then went about telling him their plan to extract miniscule amounts of matter from everywhere, but not too much from any one place.

“Diversify!” Aitchai exclaimed. “My finance guy always recommends I do that,” he joked.

“So, you’re cool with this?”

“I don’t see any problem with it. You’re a bookmaker, you have all you need to do what you need to do. I wouldn’t go getting a big head about it, or anything, but I’m happy for ya.”

Hogarth thanked him, and prepared to leave, but stopped. “Just one more thing. It’s...I don’t know if it’s big or not. I’m not a hundred percent certain that my friends are a hundred percent certain that you exist.”

“You want proof,” he guessed.

“Have you ever needed to do that before?”

“Tell ya what, you go back to them, and tell ‘em to look out the window.”

“Which one?”

“Doesn’t matter, I’ll know. While they’re watchin’, clap your hands once. That’ll be my signal.”

“I appreciate this; the signal, and everything.”

“It is a joy.” He smiled like a loving father.

“He wants us to watch the window?” Hilde asked.

“The stars, I believe,” Hogarth assumed.

They didn’t budge.

“What’s the worst that can happen? You’re looking out a window. Or...a viewscreen.”

Crimson simulated a sigh, and switched on the screen.

“This is realtime, right?” Hogarth confirmed. Their silence answered the question, so she clapped her hands, as instructed. A beam of light shot out from one of the stars, and made its way down to another star. A second beam then came out of the first star, and made its way to a series of other stars, eventually forming a curve, which stopped back at the second star. The lines and curves continued from left to right, until a complete imperative formed, reading DON’T PANIC.

“Holy shit,” Ethesh exhaled.

“Is this authentic?” Crimson questioned.

Lenkida walked over to a nondescript panel on the wall. He opened it up, and took out what looked like a red landline phone. He held it to his ear. “Did others just see that?” He waited for a response. “Has it been authenticated?” He eyed Hogarth as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the line. “Well, it was proof, in case anyone doubted that we could do what we said we would do. I know we had a protocol for beginning the procedure, but I believe this will suffice? Please open the last gate.” He stayed on the phone for another moment before hanging up, and casually punching the phone with his fist so hard that it shattered. He looked over at the team. “We’re a go.”

After completing the launch sequence, Hogarth closed her eyes, and said a prayer, not to god, but to Aitchai, who could make or break this whole project. When she was ready, she nodded to Ethesh, who activated the machine, and gave her access to the whole matrioshka brain. She didn’t need it to build a body, but things could go awry if the brain and body weren’t perfectly compatible. Having every qubit of data that the network was storing—about itself, about everything—was vital in completing this mission properly. It would allow her to find the right matter from the right places, and install them at the right spots, to create a seamless transition from head, to shoulders, to knees, and toes. She could see it all, it was glorious, and it was exactly what she needed.

She took a chunk out of her own body to start, then moved on to stealing a little bit from Hilde, and then from everyone else in the room. Then she continued with every independent entity on the shells, and a little extraneous matter from the shells themselves. She took some from the star, and the nearest stars, and their orbitals, and then from Sol, and the rest of the stellar neighborhood. And still, it was impossible to detect that the matrioshka was any larger than it was before. She needed more, she needed a shit ton more. No, she needed a shit ton of a shit ton more, and then she needed to take that to the power of a shit ton. Every star in the galaxy, every planet, every moon, every asteroid, every meteor, every comet, Andromeda, Triangulum, beyond; she took from all of them, and only then did they notice any progress. She reached out farther, to the rest of the cluster, and the supercluster, and the hypercluster, and the great wall; all across the observable universe, and then the rest. Before a man in Tokyo could finish his morning coffee, it was done. It was all done. The matrioshka body was complete. It had arms, legs, a torso, a behind, and even protrusions that resembled breasts. That’s right, the matrioshka was a woman, which made the most sense since the word meant mother.

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