Microstory 2231: Back to Life

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I can’t believe that I’m writing this. Something truly miraculous happened, which all but proves that Nick was telling the truth the whole time about being an immortal time traveler. I guess I better start at the beginning of the story. At exactly 8:15 this morning, which is reportedly Nick’s favorite time, the nurse switched off his life support machines, and let him pass on to the end of his life. I was there with him, as was his former assistant at the jail, Jasmine. We were crying, and telling him that it was okay for him to leave, that we would be able to go on without him. And with those words, his vitals dropped to zero, and he was gone. Not five seconds later, a guy I used to know came in through a door near Nick’s isolation bubble—which is supposed to lead to a supply closet—brought forth by a spread of colorful light. Those who saw it at the right angle report seeing some kind of tropical beach on the other side of the threshold. Months ago, just as Nick was starting his job at the nursery where I worked, a coworker named Dutch Haines mysteriously disappeared. Nick was convinced that there was a supernatural explanation for it, and of course, no one believed it, because they had no reason to. But now we do. Dutch has told me that he was on another world, though we have not had enough time for any specifics, because his reëmergence was not the most impressive part of the story. Not at all.

Nick suddenly came back to life. The monitors started beeping again as he was arching his back. Color returned to his skin, and his eyes opened. He pulled the intubator out of his throat with ease, and sat up. For a moment, he sat there, strong and proud. He was not just back to his old self, but a powerful, more confident version. He looked younger than he did the day I met him earlier this year. He pulled the IV needle out of his arm just as Dutch’s door was falling closed. Someone tried to open it again, but found only the supply closet on the other side. I remember Nick positing that his health could be rejuvenated if a link to the multiverse was created, even if only for a few seconds, and he was so right about that. For those few seconds when Dutch returned to us, Nick was immortal once more. He has seemingly gone back to normal since that door closed, but it’s too late for the prion. Apparently, Nick’s immortality came in multiple layers, even though some may seem to cancel out the others, and those layers are there for a situation such as this. In that one moment, the prion disease was cured, and Nick was restored to health. He was invincible and ageless for only that short period of time, but that’s all he needed. He now looks like a normal twentysomething guy, free from all disease, or other medical problems. He can now surely suffer from something new again, but at least he’s not terminal anymore. Now we just need to convince the world that this hasn’t been one big lie. People will say that it never happened—that it was just a prank, or maybe even a long con. But it’s real. Dozens of people witnessed it in person, and millions more watched the livestream. Plus, several doctors diagnosed his condition before the miracle. He was definitely on his deathbed, and there was no way for him to get out of it unless something like this occurred. The doctors are frantically examining and testing him now, but we all already know the truth, don’t we? Nick is meant to be immortal, and he’s not meant to be in this universe. Now more than ever, he must find a way back home, and I for one, am ecstatic for the opportunity to help him

Microstory 2140: Booze and Smokes

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The nurse came by for one more rapid test to make sure that I was fully ready to go into jail today, and be around all of the other guests. The fungus is gone, and I’m fine. That’s not the only bit of good news. In response to my dedication even amidst the infection, and the time that I was in the prison ward, my employer has decided to give me a pay raise. It’s not much, and it probably replaces the merit increase that I would have gotten near the end of the year, but it’s still more money, and I’m happy. I didn’t even think about it. It’s not like I was trying to prove myself to be the best employee in the world. I just didn’t want to lose my job. Who knows how close the runner-up candidate was? They might have decided to cut their losses, and switch to that other person instead, because I’m so much trouble. I honestly thought that it was the bare minimum I could do since I put my bosses in such an awkward position just by applying, but I appreciate the gesture. I’ve had my eye on a few things that could make my life and job easier, like an extra monitor, or comfortable house clothes, so I may indulge now. For the most part, I’m not a big spender, though. I don’t waste it on booze and smokes...like some people. What I often do with extra cash is buy more convenient food, like delivery, as opposed to something I have to prepare myself, like an animal. I should be careful, talking like that. The food in jail won’t be that good, will it? It’s not that bad, though, I’ll be all right. Have a good weekend, but I hope it’s bad after that, I guess?

Microstory 1913: Special Investigations

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Special Investigator: I appreciate you coming to me, I just couldn’t get away from the office today. It’s a madhouse. Unrelated.

Fugitive Agent: That’s all right, I don’t mind. Is this about my current case?

Special Investigator: It’s about one of the escapees. We don’t care about the others.

Fugitive Agent: Let me guess, it’s this mysterious so-called parole officer that no one knows anything about.

Special Investigator: We are very interested in who he is, and how he got here.

Fugitive Agent: Does the Office of Special Investigations think that he’s some kind of major threat to national security?

Special Investigator: Perhaps, perhaps not. I’m going to show you something that pertains specifically to your case, and then I’m going to show you something that may have nothing to do with it, or it may mean everything.

Fugitive Agent: Okay, go ahead.

Special Investigator: Watch both monitors closely. This camera is showing the lobby of the hotel. This other one is showing the exterior. Wait for it... Wait for it...there.

Fugitive Agent: Hm. That’s weird. Are you sure these are synced up correctly?

Special Investigator: Absolutely certain. Your man walks out of the hotel without ever actually being in the hotel. He appears out of nowhere, and it doesn’t seem to faze him one bit. To him this is normal.

Fugitive Agent: No, there has to be a logical explanation. A glitch, erased footage...

Special Investigator: That what I would guess if I were in your shoes, but then again, I haven’t shown you the other footage yet.

Fugitive Agent: Can I see this one one more time?

Special Investigator: Certainly.

Fugitive Agent: [...] Wow, that looks so real. The door doesn’t open from the inside. It really looks like it’s just two different scenes spliced together.

Special Investigator: It’s not. Look at that newspaper blowing in the wind on the sidewalk. You can see it on both cameras.

Fugitive Agent: You’re right. I don’t understand it.

Special Investigator: Then you definitely won’t understand this.

Fugitive Agent: *peering at the screen* What the hell is that thing?

Special Investigator: We’re still figuring that out.

Fugitive Agent: It looks like a giant...dragonfly, or maybe a cicada.

Special Investigator: It won’t speak, but it clearly understands English. It reacts predictably to verbal threats. It showed up six months ago. We’ve been studying it.

Fugitive Agent: Fascinating, but forgive me, what does it have to do with my guy?

Special Investigator: This...thing showed up on camera too. A meteorologist happened to be doing some kind of weather research nearby at the time of its arrival. It presented very unusual readings, so we’ve been secretly installing sensors all over the country, including near enough where the parole officer showed up.

Fugitive Agent: He set off the sensors, didn’t he? What do you want me to do?

Special Investigator: We want you to do what you were doing. Find him. For us.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 6, 2399

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Mateo brought one of Ramses and Leona’s little leechcraft up into space, thinking that it could be of some use to them, and he turned out to be right. Leona deployed it from the vacuum tent, leaving it in their then-orbit before they went back towards Earth in Mangrove Rocket Eleven. It is capable of a little station-keeping on its own, but it works best when latched onto some other satellite. It immediately fell into a decaying orbit, which means that it will eventually burn up in the atmosphere, but it will probably be years before that happens. They don’t need it to stay up there forever. They just want to get an idea of how this mysterious Omega bubble works.

“Anything?” Mateo asks. It’s late, and they’re back in the Kansas City lab with Tarboda and Heath, who are both asleep.

Leona takes a sip of her tea. “So far, so good. The bubble has not yet reached the leechcraft.”

“What does that mean?” he presses. “Did it shrink, or just stay where it is?”

She takes another sip. “There’s no way to know. If and when the bubble reaches it, there will be a split second before it shuts off where I might be able to tell that the bubble is the reason that this happened, and I didn’t just lose contact with it because of a micrometeoroid, or interference, or something. We may never be sure where the bubble is, and where it isn’t. By its very nature, it blocks such observation.” She takes another sip, and doesn’t even give herself enough time to set the cup down before she needs yet another.

“What I’m observing right now,” Mateo begins, “is that you need to go to bed.”

“No, I’m fine. I’m working.”

He points at one of the other screens. “What does this mean here?”

Leona peers at it. “Well, that—that means the big satellite we have up there is detecting temporal energy. The bubble must be receding. How did I miss that?”

“Because it’s like I said, you’re too tired.” He kind of paws at her.

“Bzzz!” she exclaims, trying to swat him away like a fly, then takes another sip.

“What exactly is this you’re drinking?” Mateo picks it up himself, and takes a tiny sip. “Whoa, this is black tea. If you take any more of this, you’ll be up all night. Come on.” He gently tries to pull her away from the machine. “It's time for bed.” He pulls a little harder when she resists.

“Mateo, this development means that I have to stay!”

“The computer is monitoring the bubble’s progress, right? You don’t have to be here to watch it. You’ve had a long day, and a long few weeks before that, and a long few months before that, and I could go back to the beginning of the first timeline you remember, couldn’t I? I know you want to keep on this, but you could make more mistakes. You don’t want that, do you?”

“No,” she replies in a nervous little girl voice.

“Go on upstairs,” Mateo urges softly. He starts waving his hand at the computer like a philistine. “I’ll call you if I see something happen on the thing.”

Leona nods, and turns away. Just then, the computer beeps. She spins right back around. “What was that?”

Mateo leans in to read it. “It’s a message...from Alyssa. She wants to meet.”

Microstory 1562: Apples to Apples, Dust to Dust

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Prompt

I have sensitive teeth, but I love the taste of fruit, so my own personal hell would be a room full of apples with no applesauce.

Botner

And I am not picky about the flavor, the texture, or even the actual taste of applesauce. I have no idea what sets one applesauce apart from another. I can’t tell the difference between Frosty Paws and the pricier Thompson brands, and I never understood those Velveeta Light Blend applesauces until I realized that they don’t even contain applesauce. The frozen bagged applesauce I bought specifically for ease of quick prepackaging was also made by Thompson’s, and as I did my research, that seemed to be the only one. The last bag I bought had a different look on the box. I asked the clerk about it, and she said, “oh, I can’t remember offhand which brand it is.” Which makes me wonder: which brand should a customer trust? The customer who works in the store, the customer who is savvy and research-savvy enough to see a difference on the box, or the one at the cash register? This is one reason I stopped purchasing “wet” applesauce and started buying the squeezy variety. Before, I had to use a spatula to even break the seal, and then to scrape the spoonful out, which was a Herculean chore. The “seal” that the bag placed over the applesauce as it cooked was just as gross.

Conclusion

I know, I’m getting a little off topic, but it’s important to understand what I’ve gone through if you’re going to follow the story. The other day, I bought applesauce, like I do. It’s a really easy side piece for my breakfast, because it doesn’t take any time to make, and coupled with cereal, I’m full until lunch. It was a different brand this time, because I couldn’t find what I really wanted, but I figured I would try it. It actually tasted really good, but I only had time for one bite before I had to leave the house. My cat retched on the carpet, and I freaked out. I called in sick to work, and just left all my food on the table while we went to the vet. Don’t worry, everything was fine with him, but the weird thing is, when I got home, the applesauce was gone, and inside the bowl was a fully-formed apple. I live alone, and don’t have any family. I don’t even give my neighbors a key for safety, because I don’t know them, and don’t care to. It’s obviously a prank, but I can’t think of who. I toss the apple in the fridge, and move on. The next day, though, I’m curious to see who’s coming into my house. I keep a camera in my cat’s favorite room, to keep an eye on him, but nowhere else. I have to move it from there, and point it at a second bowl of uneaten applesauce. There are too many possible entrances for me to cover all of them, but the dining area is in a central location. I have two computer monitors at work, but only technically need one, so I just keep the second on my camera stream the whole time, and look over every once in a while. I’m surprised to see a new apple in the bowl during one of these glances. I quickly rewind the feed, and am even more shocked to see that no one replaced my applesauce. It just happened. On its own. I watch it transform itself, like it’s somehow reversing entropy. That’s not all that happens, though. When I switch back to live, I find that the bowl itself turns into a mound of clay, and the rug I have rolled up in the corner because it needs to be cleaned turns into a leopard. I was told that it was not made of real leopard fur, which is annoying and terrible, but at least its alive now? It continues. All the walls in my house suddenly become trees, ultimately destroying the camera, so I can’t see what happens next. I bolt out of work without telling my boss, and race back home. Or rather, I race back to the forest that was once my home. It’s spreading, swallowing everything in its path. Frightened of what happens when it hits me, I turn around, and now try to drive away from the onslaught. I don’t make it far before my car literally breaks down, and becomes a hunk of minerals and oil. I climb out of the wreckage, and try to go on foot. This unseen force takes over me too, though. Beams of light shoot out of my skin as I sublimate into a dusty gas, and become a nanostar.

Microstory 762: Snowman

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

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

Siftens Landing Part IV

Click here for the first installment of this series.

Click here for the second installment of this series.
Click here for the third installment of this series.

Allison Siften’s younger brother, Junior would turn out to be the cause of the explosion. While all six of the parents went out to search for Moe, he and Libby Lander were asked to keep the two youngest children from the new family company. They had a lot in common with Sandra and Johnny Kapka. They liked playing video games, they hated conformists, and they couldn’t care less that their families were in this weird unspoken feud. While Libby and Johnny played against each other in a racing game, Sandra watched with an air of superiority, and Junior sat restlessly. He wanted to do something interesting. He wanted to do something fun. He wanted to do something dangerous. “I have some firecrackers,” he announced.

The other three stood up from the couch immediately. “Let’s go!” Johnny said excitedly.

They spent the rest of the day shooting off fireworks clear on the other side of the forest, so they wouldn’t get caught. They had found another thing in common; a love for destruction. They were quickly unsatisfied with the firecrackers themselves, and started rigging them to blow up other things. A computer monitor here, a bottle of cola there. They tried to use a pile of dead grass as shrapnel, but it wasn’t as glorious as they had hoped. Once they had depleted their supplies, Junior said, “We could always get the Ferocity Sunstrikers.”

“What are Ferocity Sunstrikers?” Sandra asked.
“They’re the biggest firecrackers ever created by human man,” Libby explained. “And they aren’t his. They belong to my dad.”“They’re basically legal bombs,” Junior continued. They went back down to the houses to retrieve the legendary fireworks from the Landers’ garage. The box got caught on some rope that someone had put in front of it. Junior tugged and pulled, trying to get it out. He was always so impatient and thoughtless. After one last try, he fell to his back. The box opened, spilling the Ferocity Sunstrikers. One of them started rolling down the garage and out to the driveway. They tried to catch it, but it was too fast. Junior had no idea how, but the Sunstriker activated and shot across the lawn. They watched as it flew right into his own garage, and exploded, sending a massive plume of fire up through the house, and out of the roof. Click here for the final installment...