| Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3.1 |
It’s January 2381. Early development for the in-house interactive simulation
experience has been going on for months, with a five-year roadmap. They
could ask a superintelligence—like Thistle—to make it for them in a fraction
of the time, but they decided against it. They want this to be a human
endeavor. The main reason they’re doing this is to bolster morale for the
middlers, so it should be something that’s made for Extremusians
by Extremusians. The wait will be worth it. Tinaya is on the Creative
Board for The Search for Extremus, but she’s not holding the reins. It was
her and Spalden’s idea, so she’s entitled to provide her input, but she
doesn’t wield much control. She considered respectfully declining the offer,
but Arqut convinced her that she ought to be a part of it in some capacity
to make sure the project doesn’t devolve into a clone of anything that’s
already been done. This is a model for what they expect to be like in Year
216. If they just wanted to play any old star exploration narrative, they
could pull from countless options in the virtual stacks.
People are already really excited about it, so it’s already doing its job.
It’s not enough, however, so the board is meeting today to discuss how they
can maintain the hype while everyone waits for the finished product. They’ve
not opened the floor up to anyone on the ship, but certain people have been
invited to pitch their ideas for interim projects. The person they will be
hearing from today is none other than Waldemar Kristiansen. If this goes
well, it will doubtless help him in his dream to become captain one day. So.
That’s a thing. It seems that everything they do is pushing them towards the
ship’s dark fate, even when they think their actions have nothing to do with
any of their worst fears. “People of the Creative Board...the Simulation
Engineers...the Graphics Department, thank you for allowing me to speak with
you today. My name is Waldemar Kristiansen, and I have an idea for you,
which will help build anticipation for your game, while not withholding
community engagement in the meantime.
“Based on your five-year projections, The Search for Extremus will be
released in 2385 ECE, A.K.A. Year 116. It’s great how those years match up
mathematically. Players will have 100 years before they catch up to their
true destiny. I propose that we lean into this, and release incremental
updates in advance of the release date. Introducing...” He swipes on the
presentation screen, and reveals the first slide. “...Year 212. In the years
leading up to the launch of the many, many, many scout ships, our
descendants will be solidifying their plans to reach their final
destination. They will need to chart the stars, and name them. They will be
designing their logos, and their habitats. They will produce and prepare the
equipment necessary for environmental engineering. That’s right. People
don’t like to talk about it, but we’re not going to find a planet out there
with a Terrestrial Habitability Similarity Index of one-point-oh. There
will be work to be done to make it habitable and comfortable for
humans. It’s just a matter of how much.
“Each year, we release a new update, which draws us closer to the big
payoff. Year 213, Year 214, and Year 215. This is a simulation, right? Well,
there is more than one type of simulation, and you don’t have to have an
entirely completed, fully interactive, game to be engaged. Year 214 will be
the big one, though, where players begin to design their own manned scout
ship. If they’re gonna be living there for the first few months of the game,
it should be comfortable, right? We don’t just want to provide them with
some standardized design. I don’t know if our descendants will do it like
that, but we can certainly make that part of our experience. In my
plan, Year 215 will involve players getting to choose which vector they
travel along, based on the mapping data that—”
“That’s Year 216,” Spalden corrects.
“Finch, he doesn’t need to know that,” Tinaya argues in a whisper.
“What? It’s fine,” Spalden counters. He looks back up at Waldemar. “The
first part of the game is getting to choose your vector. We won’t be able to
map the celestial firmament until we get within a few hundred light years of
our anchor point.” After the Extremus ship hits that Year 216 mark, it will
come to a stop and land on some nearby celestial object, or just drift
aimlessly wherever that ends up being. They don’t know what’s out there yet,
so those plans are still up in the air, but whatever it’s like, it’s the
anchor point. It will wait for news from the scouts here. Some hope and
believe that the ship will sort of spiritually or magically happen to drop
out of reframe speed right next to the perfect candidate, but pragmatists
understand how statistically unlikely that is. When it comes time to
actually do this in base reality, they probably won’t send out as many
scouts as the game will allow, however, so maybe the rules don’t really
apply here anyway. There is a near-perfect planet in the game that doesn’t
exist in real life, and the ability to find it is based on the player’s
ability to interpret less complete data than their descendants will have in
real life.
Waldemar looks at his presentation. “Okay. The rest of the plan is good,
right?”
Tinaya has to admit that this all makes a lot of sense. It’s going to take a
long time to build the simulation to the calibre that people expect. These
piecemeal teasers should help as long as they release them strategically
along the way. It’s a framework for a more robust and detailed plan that
might need some extra hands on deck. This is a good thing as the development
of this game is just as important as the final product. “Thank you,” she
says before anyone has the chance to make some more definitive remark.
“We’ll discuss it amongst ourselves, and let you know. We still have more
people to hear from, so it might be a couple of weeks.” She’s not lying, but
it’s also not an exclusive deal. If multiple people come up with great
ideas, and they don’t contradict each other, they could end up doing some of
them, or even all of them.
“Thank you,” Waldemar responds. “The full prospectus is on your tabs.” He
exits.
“Admiral Leithe,” one of the board members begins, “we understand that you
don’t want it to appear that you’re playing favorites, but this is a good
idea. Even if we have more presentations, we should go with this one
regardless.”
“Huh?” Oh, right. She forgets sometimes how it looks from the outside.
Waldemar and Silveon are friends, and Tinaya’s family is close with
Waldemar’s wife. She only thinks of him as the enemy, but most people aren’t
supposed to know that. She has to cover. “That’s not the issue. You never
say yes on the spot. Back on Earth, they might take their idea to a
competitor, so the decision would be time-sensitive, but we don’t even have
to worry about that. If you wanna go with Waldemar’s plan without
discussing it further, that’s fine, but he needed to leave the room first
either way.”
They do end up voting pretty much right away. Since Waldemar is the one who
came up with the plan, even if they tweak it from here, he’ll be asked to
come on board, and see it through. He’ll probably do that since it would
boost his reputation on the ship. Which is great, just great. Against her
advice to delay giving him the good news, they call him back right away. A
few of them want to go out and celebrate, which is a good chance for Tinaya
to do something that she’s been meaning to do, because now she knows where
he’ll be for the next few hours. More importantly, she knows where he
won’t be.
Audrey opens the door manually, and starts to tear up. It’s been a long time
since they’ve been able to see each other, just the two of them. They’ve had
dinners and get-togethers over the years, but Waldemar is always
there...looming. For this one rare opportunity, Audrey can speak freely.
Well, not here, though. She doesn’t think the cabin is bugged, but better
safe than sorry. After a good, long hug, they go for a walk.
The Attic Forest is on the topmost deck of the Extremus, but the ground is
not the highest point that you can stand on. There’s a catwalk above the
canopy of the trees. It’s technically designed for maintenance, but the gate
isn’t locked, and anyway, anyone can simply teleport up there if they wish.
It’s regularly used by people who want to walk or sit in the forest from
that vantage point. What’s great about it in this situation is that it’s
easier to detect eavesdroppers. If you walk all the way out to a section
overlooking an open area, no one can hear you whisper to each other. Plus,
it’s in winter mode, so no leaves to hide behind either. They’re sitting on
a bench. It’s not particularly comfortable, because it’s only there in case
a maintenance worker wants to have their lunch close by, but it’s good
enough.
“Any abuse to report?” Tinaya asks.
“Just the usual treating me like I don’t matter. It doesn’t count as abuse
since I’m faking the relationship, but it would be a problem if I were
oblivious.”
Tinaya nods. It’s saddening that Audrey answered that question in the
affirmative at all, but this is the mission. They chose this path together.
Audreys knows the limits. She knows the difference between unsettling, and
actionable, and she would speak up if there was something worth reporting.
“Not pressuring you to have any more kids?”
“No,” Audrey says, shaking her head. “Neither of us wants that, and both of
us know that. He doesn’t know my reasoning, and he doesn’t know that I know
his.”
“I’m sure he told you about his pitch.”
“He’s been practicing on me.”
“Well, he won.”
“I’m not surprised. It was my idea.”
“What?”
Audrey is confused about why Tinaya’s confused. “He’s intelligent, but he’s
not creative. He doesn’t understand why people care about things that aren’t
absolutely vital, like entertainment. Morale as a concept is completely
beyond his grasp. He just shrugs and trusts me when I tell him that people
need it.”
“So, this was all you. You came up with everything,” Tinaya says, just to
confirm.
“Just about.” She sighs. “He chose the fonts. Well, he chose one of them.”
“Jesus,” Tinaya says. Why are they spending so much effort helping this guy?
Why can’t they just kill him now? Seriously. Why?
Audrey chuckles. “It’s fine. Part of my training before becoming a time
traveler was valuing invisibility over recognition. I would rather not get
credit, because my brain tells me it’s a dangerous position to be in.”
“I get that. It still isn’t fair.”
“Thank you for agreeing to it at any rate. When he gets a project to focus
on, it gets him out of the house.”
“You should use your extra freedom to reach out to Silveon, he misses you.”
“Maybe I will,” Audrey says quietly.
“And Aud?”
“Yeah?”
“I need you to get me consciousness travel tech. You must have either
engineered something, or know where it is in this time period. We
might actually use it.”
