Extremus: Year 97

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Admiral Tinaya Leithe. That’s what it says on her name plate. She has one more job to do before she can rest in peace, and if what her son from the future told her is true, it’s going to be her longest job yet. That’s exciting—she wants to be alive, of course—but it’s also pretty stressful and scary. She’s already so old, and so tired. She’s really gonna be leaning on Lataran to take the brunt of the work here. Which should be okay. She’s still youngish, and is showing no signs of slowing down. It might not matter anyway. Captain Oceanus Jennings hasn’t sought either of their counsels. Still, day in and day out, they come to their giant joint office, and make themselves available.

Tinaya sighs. “What am I doing here?”

“Hold your fingers up like this.”

“Okay.” She mimics Lataran’s gesture. “Then what are you gonna do?”

“Try to flick the football between your thumbs.”

Before Lataran could do what she proposed, Tinaya drops her hands, and reaches over to her docked tablet. She puts in her search parameters. “Uhh...is this meant to be association football, or North American football? Or foosball. Are you sure it’s not foosball?”

“It’s none of those things. It’s paper football.”

“That explains why it’s a triangle, and it’s not a triangle in any of these reference photos.”

“Do you wanna play or not?”

“Not,” Tinaya answers. “You’re the one who asked, not me.”

“Well, I’m tired of RPS 101 Plus. I was just trying to change things up.”

“You could always get into Quantum Colony, like everyone else.”

“No, that game gives me the willies.” Lataran shivers. “There’s something too real about it.

“Yeah.” Tinaya stands up. “I’m gonna take a walk on the trails.”

“You do that,” Lataran replies. “You’re welcome, by the way!” she calls up after Tinaya is some distance away. She never lets her friend forget that she’s the one who built their little corner of paradise as a gift.

“Thank you!”

Just as Tinaya is reaching the entrance to the path, the doorbell rings. “Thistle, who’s that?”

A floating hologram displaying the doorbell cam appears right in front of her. “Audrey Husk. She does have Admiral Hall clearance, so she didn’t break in.”

“She’s a little young to have clearance for anywhere on this ship besides home and school.”

“I can’t explain it. Her authorization didn’t come through me. It’s just there,” Thistle replies. That’s weird. He’s meant to know everything that happens on this ship.

While Lataran has seniority here, they treat it as a democracy. She’s standing by the door, waiting for Tinaya’s go ahead. When she gets it, she opens it up, and greets their visitor.

The little girl, Audrey takes one step over the threshold. “Admirals Keen and Leithe, my name is Audrey Husk, and I’m here to speak to you regarding Silveon Grieves and Waldemar Kristiansen.”

“Oh, are you their new little friend?” Leithe asks, gesturing to her to come on in.

Audrey accepts the invitation. “Little is the right word, because I’m shorter than I will be.”

“Uhh...”

“That is, I’m shorter than I’m used to being...”

Tinaya widens her eyes, and looks over at Lataran in fear.

“She needs to know what’s going on anyway,” Audrey claims dismissively. “So go ahead and give her the deets.” She crosses her arms like she’s going to wait for it. But it’s not her call. It’s not even Tinaya’s.

“I’m afraid that I would need to consult both Arqut and Silveon, as well as maybe Zefbiri.

“I don’t have time for this,” Audrey says. “Admiral Keen, Silveon is a time traveler who sent his consciousness into his younger self’s body so he could fulfill a mission to protect the future from a violent dictator.”

Lataran absorbs the information for all of four seconds. “Got it.” To be fair, she’s a time traveler too, and it was this whole thing.

“I’m guessing something went wrong, and you’re here to give the timeline a third chance,” Tinaya says. She’s not happy about this kid spilling the beans, but she knows that they can trust Lataran, so everything will be okay.

“Oh, no, I’m not from a different timeline,” Audrey begins to explain. “Silvy and I were contemporaries. He chose to send himself back alone, believing it to be a solo mission. The others and I disagreed. I secretly sent my own mind back at the exact same moment. I’ve been watching over him without him even noticing.”

“How is that even possible?” Tinaya questions. “If he knows you in the future, wouldn’t he notice you acting weird in the past? Surely you’re making choices now that he wouldn’t predict, unless you’re a really good actor.”

Audrey chuckles. “He is a singular man of singular focus. That is precisely why we decided to do this behind his back. He misses things sometimes. He needs others more than he will admit.” She smiles, presumably remembering something from their future. “But yes, I am a good actor. I recently successfully inserted myself as the third leg of their friendship tripod, but things immediately got complicated.”

That sounds gross. “Don’t tell me there’s something going on between you three in a...romantic sense.”

“Oh, God, no. It’s nothing like that. I was chosen for the supervisory mission specifically because there weren’t any feelings in the first timeline, and because I’m the right age. I came at this mission as a total professional, as did your son. Waldemar, however, knows nothing about what’s to become of him. To him, this is just life. I’m afraid that your son’s interference with Waldemar’s childhood development has had unforeseen consequences. As I believe you know, Waldemar is incapable of love. His brain isn’t wired for it. He is also a man of singular focus, and his drug of choice is ambition. But Silveon has been teaching him to assimilate better into society, allowing him to approximate—read: fake—emotional connection. I’m trying to tell you that Waldemar has found a love interest, and I don’t know what it means.”

“Why come to me?” Tinaya questions.

“I don’t wanna out myself to Silveon if I don’t have to, but I require advice. That is your job on this ship anyway, but I am well aware that Captain Jennings is not the type to ask for it, leaving you with a lot of...” She looks over at their desks, which are mostly there as decoration. “...free time.”

“Who is this love interest of Waldemar’s? Do they reciprocate?”

“Unfortunately, yes. He chose a female, I believe, to later set himself up as a nuclear family man with biological children. I know, that’s disturbing, but I knew Waldemar very well in the future. Everything good or normal about him was fake. I don’t think Silveon really sees it, but he’s falling into the same patterns, just with a faster timeline. He had a family before. It was inevitable that he would learn to fake human characteristics, like love and empathy. That’s what sociopaths do. I’m afraid that your son’s efforts may not be doing us any good.”

“He fears that as well,” Tinaya acknowledges. “I don’t know if there’s anything that we can do about it, though. Let’s imagine taking this girl out of the equation in whatever way, so she can never become his wife. He’ll just choose someone else, won’t he, even if it’s not for a few more years?”

“That’s why I rang your doorbell,” Audrey says. “I can’t see a solution.” She looks away, almost in shame. “And I don’t wanna go to Plan B.”

“What’s Plan B?”

Audrey takes a moment to respond. She turns her head back to face them with dignity. “Waldemar will be an adult in two years. Both Silveon and I have been given the greenlight to take care of the problem permanently any time following his eighteenth birthday. It’s a last resort, but it’s not out of the question.”

“Yes, it is,” Lataran insists.

“I told you, I don’t like it,” Audrey reminds her, “but we can’t go back to the way things were. One life to save thousands.”

“No, I mean, it won’t work. I assume you know of The Question?”

Audrey is surprised that she mentioned this. “I do. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Death is not the end on this ship. What you’ll be doing is making him mad, and if anyone can find a way to return to base reality with a new substrate, it’s a man dangerous enough to warrant two time traveling assassins in the first place. Killing him will not have the desired effect. We’re not that lucky.”

Audrey considers Lataran’s position. “You may be right about that. I just don’t know what to do. I’m not even sure if I should do anything at all. Maybe I’m wrong, and Silveon is skillfully leading Waldemar down the right path, just as we planned, but I can’t see it, because I’ve had to keep my distance to protect my own cover.”

Tinaya sighs. “This girl, is she being abused, or will she be?”

“That I don’t know,” Audrey admits. “I was relatively close to Future!Waldemar, but not family close. If there was abuse with his wife, it wasn’t made public, or even an open secret. It didn’t seem like his wife could ever tell that he didn’t love her, but this new girl might suspect, and that may place her in danger eventually. I can’t predict her actions, nor his reactions to her actions.”

“I have an idea,” Lataran says, “but it’s not pleasant.”

“What is it?” Audrey asks. “What is it?” she repeats herself when Lataran hesitates to elaborate.

“I’m still new to this whole situation, but you’re only about four years younger than him. At the moment, that’s disturbing. In the future, it won’t be that big of a deal. If you really wanted to stop some innocent person from getting caught up in his lies, you could...take the job for yourself. Again, you can’t do anything like that yet, but...”

Audrey stares into space. “No, that’s a good idea. In six years, I’ll be 18, and he’ll be 22. If I play my cards right—as long as he isn’t in too serious of a relationship with someone else—I can step in. I can be a shield for any other potential mate of his, because I know what I’m up against, and I know that I can handle it.”

“No,” Tinaya says, throwing up her hands. “No. I know you’re not really twelve, just like my son isn’t really eight, but I can’t listen to you talk about this. You’re planning to gaslight a human being into pretending to love you so no one knows that he has a social disorder. You’re saying it while looking like a twelve-year-old, with your twelve-year-old eyes and your twelve-year-old voice. Jesus. Did you not study ethics before you left the future?”

“No, I didn’t!” Audrey argues. “It was banned from the curriculum...by Waldemar. This is the sacrifice that we make. I promise, I won’t do anything until I’m legally an adult, and then it won’t be so weird for you. We don’t even have to speak to each other again until that day comes, or maybe ever. But I have to do something. The ship and its total population aren’t the only concerns. The girl he’s dating has a name, and if he’s not hurting her now, he might. I have to take that bullet, because I’m the only one who can. The alternative is ethically worse. We already agreed on that, didn’t we?”

Tinaya shakes her head. “Don’t make any plans yet. As you said, you have six years before it’s even remotely okay for you to start dating. I mean, goddammit. You look four years younger, but you are several decades older. That makes it even weirder, and gives you a level of power over any partner you may choose that I am not comfortable with.”

Audrey nods. “That’s true. I don’t think that my consciousness is quite as old as you may suspect, but I see your point.”

“All right, this has been a very heated discussion,” Lataran points out. “You better get back to whatever life you have. I’ll scrub you from the logs so no one finds out that you were here.”

“Already done,” Audrey says as she spins around and heads back towards the door. “Thanks for your help!” She exits.

The two admirals look at each other, neither one entirely sure what to say after all this. “Welp. We’re not bored anymore, are we?”

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 26, 2508

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Romana was sitting on the floor, hovering over her father, when he woke up. He turned over to the side, and started to cough. The others were waking up at the same time, recovering in their own ways. Fortunately, no one was dead, not even Octavia. A robot was lifting her up, though, and carrying her away. “She’ll be all right,” Romana assured him. “There’s a medpod in that room.”

“You’ve been alone all year again?” Mateo asked her.

“I did it on purpose,” Romana explained. “Why would we waste time looking for this man one year at a time, when I could spend days and days on the search?”

“Did it work?” Mateo asked.

“It did,” she answered with a sigh. “He doesn’t wanna leave, so I’m hoping you’ll talk some sense into him. But...I don’t wanna lie to you. Something happened. I’m not especially proud of it, but even though I was pretending to be a sixteen-year-old in Underberg, I’m actually much older than that. I don’t know why Pacey aged me down, but you need to understand that I’m an adult, and I make my own choices.”

“You slept with him...” Mateo guessed. “With Buddy.”

“He’s very kind to me.”

“I bet he is.”

“That’s not fair. I just told you, I’m an adult. He didn’t trick me. Don’t take away my agency.”

“I’m not, but Romana, he’s not a good guy. Being nice to you doesn’t absolve him of his past sins.”

“And what sins are these?” Romana questioned. “How many people has he killed?”

“That’s not the point.”

How many have you killed?”

Mateo didn’t respond to this.

Romana went on, “you two don’t see eye to eye, and I know he hasn’t been particularly pleasant to be around, but if you add up all the bad things he’s done, they’re really not all that bad. In the end, you two are enemies because you don’t get along. I’m sure before you became a time traveler, you interacted with plenty of people like that, and it didn’t make you believe that they didn’t deserve love.”

“Is that true?” Mateo sat up. “Are you in love?”

“No, of course not. I’m just saying...”

“That you’re acting like a rebellious teen,” Mateo interrupted as if that was what she was gonna say. “Are you sure you’re older than sixteen?”

“You are not my father. You didn’t raise me. Silenus did.”

“That’s comforting.”

She ignored that rude comment. “You don’t get to tell me what to do with my life. You never have. I know it’s not your fault that you weren’t around, but you can’t honestly expect me to listen to everything you say as if you have some kind of control over my choices. I’m being honest with you, because I don’t want to lie to someone I respect and care about. But don’t you sit there and belittle me as if I’m nothing more than an extension of your own personality. I will take you to Boyd, but you are not to harm him. You are not even allowed to yell at him. I am insisting on that, and I will keep us on this rock forever if you defy me in this regard.”

“That’s enough!” Leona interjected. “You don’t talk to your father like that. I don’t care how old you are, or who raised you. Boyd probably has ten years on you, and that’s assuming he hasn’t used time magicks to reyoungify himself, or he could be much older.”

“You were fifteen when you met your now-husband!” Romana shouted back.

“And he didn’t have any feelings for me until much later. Don’t turn this around on us. Boyd—if that’s what we’re calling him—is not good for you, full stop. When we first encountered him, he insisted that we call him Buddha. That’s incredibly offensive, and tells you everything you need to know about him. Just because he may not be as bad as some of the other antagonists we’ve met, like Zeferino, Arcadia, or even Pacey, doesn’t mean you made the right choice.”

“You’re friends with Arcadia now. You made friends with nearly everyone you’ve gone up against. What are we even talking about here? All I’m asking is that you give him a chance to improve himself, and prove himself; not just give up on him outright. Forgiveness doesn’t have a quota!”

“All right!” Olimpia interjects this time. “Mateo, Leona, you’re not going to attack Boyd when we find him. Romana, you may be older than you look, but you have a long ways to go. This situation is incredibly weird, what with our experiences in Underberg, and other domes. We can’t trust our own memories. Some of them are entirely fake, and their associated feelings may be a little less genuine than they seem. So I think we all need to take a beat, and focus on what matters. We are not living in a soap opera. We’re dealing with real problems here, trying to escape some weird, alternate universe. We can’t do that until we get what we came here for. The interpersonal relationship drama can wait.”

Mateo, Leona, and Romana quietly conceded. Ramses, Angela, and Marie silently agreed, having successfully stayed out of the fight.

“Okay,” Olimpia continued, proud of herself, and relieved that her argument worked. “It won’t take long for Octavia to recover. In the meantime, where is Boyd? Did he get hurt in the explosion?”

“He’s fine, he wasn’t even here,” Romana answered. “He’s in the Fostean sector at this point, living on a simulated jarl world.”

“I don’t know what that is,” Mateo said.

“Single-occupancy planet,” Leona explained. “A one-percenter in that culture will have so much money that they can afford to own an entire celestial body. They will live there alone, or with their family, supported by a small army of slaves called Arkeizen. These supposed subhumans will be known as thralls so long as they are in service to the elite. It’s not a heartwarming story.”

“Why would he be there?”

“To be clear, the thralls aren’t real slaves,” Romana said. “As I said, which you obviously already know, it’s a simulation, so they’re just robots.”

“It’s still gross,” Olimpia said to her. “I gotta admit, that’s a point against him.”

Romana smirked. “Just wait until you see it, okay?”

“Fine,” Leona decided. “Let’s take a vactrain this time. I don’t want this happening again, so we’ll stay out of canon as much as possible.”

“It’s not gonna happen again,” Romana contended. “Like the flooding of Atlantis, the destruction of this planet was canonical. It happened during the Sixth Shell.”

“Either way, let’s keep it real.” Leona led the way down the corridor.

Octavia was stepping out of the medical bay. She had missed a lot, and didn’t know where they were going, but she followed them anyway.

They got on the train, and had it deliver them to Jarldome. There were 200 levels here, most of which were 200 meters high, but with the holographic skies above each one, they felt endless. Boyd was on the topmost level, with a bunch of slaves. The team expected to find him lounging on a mountain of pillows, being fawned over and doted upon by these Arkeizen. It didn’t seem to be that way. The robots made to look like a hominid cousin were milling about an impressive little town. When they walked through, the Arkeizen smiled and waved. They didn’t look oppressed or abused. They were working, however, so no valid conclusion. On the far end of the main street, they finally found Boyd. A group of people were evidently in the middle of building a house, and he was helping. He was physically helping carry a wooden beam, and set it in place.

“Oh! I didn’t see you there. How long have you been watching us?”

“We just arrived,” Romana answered him.

“Well, welcome to Citrus City!” Boyd said. “Would you like the tour?”

“We’d like to get out of here,” Mateo responded.

Boyd frowned. “There’s so much work to do.”

“None of this is real,” Ramses told him. “It’s a simulation. You know that, right?”

“Of course I am,” Boyd said dismissively. “You think it’s that easy to erase my memories?”

“Either you’re delusional,” Mateo began. Romana gave him the stink eye, so he switched tactics. “I mean, if that’s true, then were you aware of our true histories while you were living in Underberg?”

“I guess not. But I broke out of it. I’m fine. I’m happy, living here, teaching these people how to fend for themselves.”

“They’re robots,” Ramses added.

“Shh!” Boyd whispered loudly. “They don’t know that.”

Mateo sighed angrily, and looked over at his daughter. “You did this. You told him to put on this show to make it look like he was freeing a whole peoples. You think that’s gonna work? You think I’m gonna start liking him now?”

“Sir,” Boyd jumped in. “Romana came to me two weeks ago. I’ve been working on this town for months. This isn’t just for show. I know that I have made mistakes in the past, but I don’t agree with slavery. Jesus. That’s the point of this dome, you know? It’s a test; will a visitor let their thralls do what they’ve been indoctrinated to do, or make changes that go against the history of the Fostean culture from the fictional stories? That’s the question, will you play into it, or do the right thing, even when it doesn’t matter? Because like you said, they’re robots.”

Mateo crossed his arms disapprovingly, but didn’t have anything more to say.

Leona pulled the magical technicolored crystal from her bag, and presented it to Boyd. She jerked it away when he reached for it. “This will place you on our pattern. Truthfully, Pacey did not reveal whether it was permanent or not. I believe that you will have less of a chance to get into trouble if you only exist for one day out of the year, though, so I’m hoping that you take the risk. I don’t know how long it’s gonna take for us to get back to where we belong, but I don’t want you running around on your own anymore.” She glanced over at Romana. “I certainly don’t want you to be doing that with my daughter. Frolicking on the jarl worlds, freeing slaves together.” She grimaced, and looked over at the Walton twins. She wasn’t trying to say that freeing slaves was bad. “You know what I mean.” She went on, “touching this crystal will go a long way to earning our trust, but it’s not a cure-all. And either way, it has to be your choice.”

Without hesitation, Boyd took hold of the crystal. The colors swirled around inside, presumably transferring Leona’s pattern into his qualium realm. “Thank you for the opportunity. I won’t let you down.”

Suddenly, they heard a noise in the sky. A flying craft of some kind was headed right for them, so far up in the air that it couldn’t be real. The holographic image grew larger and larger though until it was as large as it would be if it were right above the invisible ceiling. Something changed as the hologram gave way to a tangible object, presumably having been dropped down through a recess. This real, physical shuttle continued to fly towards them until it landed right in the street. A bunch of humans with guns filed out of it.

The leader of the newcomers looked around at the Arkeizen. It was unclear whether he could tell that they were free, and no longer enslaved thralls. He zeroed in on Boyd. “Sir, are you okay? Our sensors picked up unauthorized entry to your planet.”

“They’re friends,” Boyd said. “We need no help here.”

The leader stepped closer so he could lower his voice. “Listen, if you need help, you don’t have to be afraid of them anymore.”

“I’m not being coerced,” Boyd tried to say. “Everything’s fine. You can go.”

The leader nodded. He walked past Boyd, and as he was adjusting his pants, got a better look at the community. He turned back around to address Boyd again. “How are your thralls doin’? You’ve been here a while. Do you need a top-up?” A top-up of slaves?

“No. My numbers are steady.”

The guy was surprised. “Not one death?”

Boyd shook his head.

“Interesting. “Very interesting. Say, you wouldn’t be...treating them like people, would you?”

“And if I were, is that against the law?”

The man shrugged. “No, of course not. They’re your thralls, you can do whatever you want to them. It’s just a little unusual. I’d hate to think that they were influencing your behavior in some way. You know, we get a bad batch sometimes. One of them is sick in the head—starts thinkin’ that he’s special, or valuable—and that can infect the whole group. And sometimes...their owner gets infected too.”

“I’ve had enough of this,” Marie said. “Suits on!”

Mateo took Octavia in a hug again, and commanded his nanites to wrap themselves around her. Angela and Marie, meanwhile, started taking out their anger for their father out on these robo-slavers. They stole their guns from them, and shot each in the head. The slavers shot back, careful not to hit Boyd, but not caring about anyone else’s life. The Arkeizen ran and hid behind various structures while Leona, Ramses, Olimpia, and Romana protected the stragglers. It was over quickly. All of the bad robots were dead and on the ground.

“What happens when we leave?” Leona asked after the dust had settled, and the suits were no longer necessary. “Is another shuttle gonna be triggered later to come down and try to put a stop to all this antislavery wokeness?”

Boyd chuckled. “This isn’t my first single-occupancy planet. They always show up as a sort of final test, to see how you’ll react. I’ve always just talked my way out of it, but I guess this works too.”

“Great,” Leona decided. “Then pack up your shit. It’s time to go.”

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Microstory 2316: Earth, August 23, 2178

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Dear Corinthia,

My father had to extend his diplomatic mission, which happens all the time—he had already extended it twice before this—but he calls every time, so I was able to confront him about his involvement in our separation. I would have preferred to speak with him in person, but I didn’t want to waste any more time, because there’s no telling how long this will take. We really need that food and the medical supplies, and they just can’t come to an agreement with our neighbors. I believe that he will make every effort to return as soon as possible, though, as delaying a real talk will only give me more time to hear the truth from you instead. He would have rather gotten ahead of the narrative, but of course, we both know that he had every opportunity to fess up, and never did. In the meantime, I’ve been trying to find anyone who may have known our parents back then, but he and I came to this habitat alone a year ago. So far, no one here has been of much help. I did meet a rather old woman who believes that such awful practices were not unheard of four decades ago, and there’s apparently precedent that goes back even further. Back in the early days of space exploration, there were two famous sets of twins who were studied for comparison. One would go up into space, while the other stayed on the ground. That’s how they learned that low gravity changed the immune system, and even genes. There were other twin studies throughout history, such as when one turned out to be really intelligent, and the other not so much. This old woman thinks that these experiments became more ethical over time, but started to backslide as governments lost control of society, and corporations started being able to make up their own rules. It’s hard to know for sure what I can trust about what this woman says, though, as she’s made some more outrageous claims, like that aliens walk among us, or that she once met an immortal mystic man who was born in the nineteenth century. Anyway, I’m quite curious to know more about how Vacuus works. I know that it’s quite dangerous to live on an airless world, but what does that do to people? What kind of laws do you have? Would you call them fair and reasonable? I should think that a mission that included a kidnapped baby would be rife with corruption and amorality, but I truly hope that things have changed since then, and you at least feel safe and happy with the people around you. Write back when you can.

Love (I hope it’s okay to say that),

Condor Sloane

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 9, 2461

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Ramses had it figured out. Through a lot of experimentation and trial and error, he was able to come up with a device that measured an individual’s cosmic frequency. This was all taking place on the quantum level. Normal samples, like blood, did not give him any useful information about them in this regard. They needed an EEG. He theorized that every brane in the bulk vibrated at a unique frequency of its constituent particles and waves. Each one had some form of the cosmic microwave background radiation left over from its inception event, and the collection of subatomic particles that made up any individual or object from that universe harmonized with that radiation. When something was removed from its universe, and placed in another, it exhibited a disharmony with its environment. By sampling the brainwaves of thousands of people in Stoutverse, Ramses had been able to come up with a baseline, and then write an algorithm which compared that baseline to visitors, such as himself and Olimpia.

The three men who came through the Westfall doors each disharmonized with the environment in a different way, as did their current group of Ochivari prisoners of war. By comparing the three men’s cosmic frequencies to the Ochivari, Ramses was able to determine that they were not from the same universe. Unfortunately, that wasn’t inherently good enough as the human allies were suspected of originating from somewhere other than the Ochivari homeworld anyway. He needed more data, and more time, to dig deeper into the subatomic properties. He now believed that he could also determine whether an individual had ever been to another universe, even if they had only stayed there for a few minutes. Each brane evidently left its signature upon their quantum consciousness. A cosmic imprint, he called it. It didn’t seem to work with inanimate objects, but he was able to detect a number of these imprints on himself and Olimpia, as well as the Ochivari. They were not present in the other three visitors, nor the natives of this universe. They were probably not spies, or they likely would have traveled to other universes before.

It was now required for all residents of this version of Earth to submit to a cosmic frequency test to make sure that they were all from this brane, and had spent their entire lives here. That was beyond Ramses’ control. He invented the machine, and the local researchers had reverse-engineered it while he was out of the timestream. Primus Mihajlović probably would have told them if they had discovered any spies using the new test, but his mind was preoccupied with something else. After using other interrogation and investigative techniques to decide whether the three Westfallers had good intentions or bad, an attempt was made to assimilate them into society somehow. It did not last very long. Last year, Dutch Haines—the gardener who was rather apathetic about all this—was bored enough to ask to meet one of the Ochivar in person. Naraschone granted this opportunity. If he turned out to indeed be an evil spy, seeing how he interacted with the POW would only give them more information.

Shortly after Dutch left the prison, the Ochivar fell ill, and ultimately succumbed to a mysterious disease that doctors could not explain. It was apparently airborne, so the rest of the prisoners contracted it too. The first one to get sick was the closest to Patient Zero, and the last one was the farthest, but they all suffered from it, and they all died. Dutch was carrying some kind of pathogen, even though he wasn’t exhibiting any signs or symptoms himself. Other humans appeared to be just fine too, for he had been free to move about the world before they placed him back in quarantine. Several months ago, another Ochivar came through a portal to complete his nefarious tasks. They sicked Dutch on him, and he too died. They had all but proved the viability of a new weapon against this multiversal threat. A biological weapon. They began to research it.

“We could wipe them all out,” Elder suggested.

“You can do what?” Ramses had heard him, but he couldn’t believe it.

“All we have to do is infect one Ochivar, and then let them try to go home. The pandemic will spread from there.”

Olimpia shook her head. “You can’t do that.”

“Oh, but we can.” Elder was apparently the biggest proponent of this project, believing that it would save human lives, and render the Transit Army obsolete. His reasoning was not without its merits. The Ochivari operated by intruding on other people’s universes, making judgments on their lifestyles and cultures, and deploying their own virus, which sterilized the entire population. Fighting fire with fire was how he justified this plan.

“Did Primus Mihajlović agree to this?” Ramses questioned.

“This is a military operation,” Elder explained. “It would not be completely out of her hands, but the Generals can override her decision in such matters, especially since it’s not taking place on her world.”

“The hell it’s not,” Olimpia argued.

“The initial infection is, but the latter deaths will happen on the Ochivari homeworld,” Elder explained. “It’s foolproof. Humans are totally unaffected.”

“You don’t know that,” Ramses contended. “Pathogens mutate. If you were to dispatch this to the major Ochivari population, it could change and evolve, and eventually maybe become a threat to humanity.” This was wrong; probably a war crime. They had to do everything in their power to stop it, which was easier said than done. They were powerful, yeah, but they still didn’t exist most of the year. That gave this new program a lot of freedom to continue. If Naraschone didn’t know about it, then it was his responsibility to tell her while he still had the chance.

This actually seemed to resonate with Elder a bit. “Well, we can’t stop it now.”

“Yes, you can. Don’t let Dutch infect anyone else. It’s immoral,” Olimpia began. “There is a reason that biological weapons were declared illegal worldwide where we come from. Besides the logistical issues with targeting and containment, they are a profound human rights violation.” She dismissed Elder’s argument with a waggle of her finger. “It doesn’t matter that the Ochivari are not humans. We are. Humanity is not about how you’re treated, but how you treat others. This. Is. Wrong.”

“You don’t understand. Dutch has already infected two more Ochivari, and they’re about to leave. I wanted you to watch.” He pressed a button underneath the window, which raised the curtain. Two clearly weak Ochivari were heading towards each other, coughing and heaving. Each one was being escorted by a human in a hazmat suit, forcing them to keep walking using cattle prods. “We asked Carlin to just send them back for us, but he refused. He said that you would not condone it,” Elder explained. “He appears to have been right about that.”

“The torture devices alone are immoral,” Olimpia pointed out.

Ramses lurched, but Elder took him by the wrist. “If you’re really worried about the disease mutating, then I wouldn’t teleport in there if I were you. That’s why they’re wearing suits. We’re careful.”

Ramses was still angry, but he recognized how powerless he was here. It didn’t look like it was going to work this time, but these people were going to try again, and they just had to wait a day. Someone had to be here to talk them out of it. The Primus was their best option for that. He did teleport away, but not to stop the Ochivari from trying to return to their home universe. He instead retrieved Naraschone from her meeting in one of the South American bunkers, and brought her to the observation room.

She looked at everyone present. “You told me you would wait until I could be here,” she said to Elder.

“It was too important to wait a year,” he replied. “I wanted these two to see it too.”

“I thought she didn’t know,” Olimpia complained.

Elder shook his head. “I never said that.”

“Madam Primus, you cannot let this go on,” Olimpia begged her. “Put a stop to this. Please.”

“Pia. Trust me, it’s fine,” Ramses said calmly.

Naraschone narrowed her eyes on him. “What do you have planned?”

“Nothing,” he said. “I don’t have to do anything. This isn’t going to work.”

“Why not?”

“Just look.”

They watched as the two Ochivari drew nearer to each other. The hazmat prison guards grabbed them by the shoulders, and turned them around, slamming their backs against each other until they were locked up. At first, they seemed to be refusing to open their portal, but the cattle prods came out again. So they relented. Their skin rippled, and glowed with a slight increase in temperature. Their wings stiffened up, and they began to struggle against each other in a battle of wills and biology on a level that the humans could neither see nor truly fathom. After a few minutes of this, they both disassembled, with their body parts falling to the ground. According to the research, when a group of Ochivari wanted to create a brane-hopping portal, they would perform this back wrestling ritual, and it would end with one of them exploding into a million pieces while the other was pulled into the resulting portal. This time, no portal formed, and they only exploded into maybe a couple dozen pieces. Ramses was right to believe that it wouldn’t work. The infection was just too much for them.

“What happened?” Naraschone demanded to know.

“They’re too sick,” Ramses figured. “You need strength to form a portal, whether you’re an Ochivari, or a human choosing one. Neither of them had it. You and Dutch made sure of that.”

A few hours later, they tried the experiment again, but instead of waiting for the subjects to exhibit symptoms, they made them do their wing fighting right away, and just hoped that they did end up getting sick, and eventually began to spread the disease. But it didn’t work either. They were too sick and weak immediately upon infection. The fifth subject died in this universe, same as all the others. Ramses and Olimpia were pleased, but they should not have been, because Elder and Naraschone came up with a new plan. Instead of infecting an Ochivar here, and then sending them home, they would just send Dutch there. That came with its own questions on morality, so Ramses had to stop it this time. He teleported Dutch away, and hid him somewhere on this planet where hopefully no one would find him.

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: January 13, 2399

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The first thing that Leona did after Mateo, Ramses, and Alyssa departed for their mission was to look into the requirements for becoming a certified facilitatrix. She found a training program with good reviews, gathered all of the necessary literature, and spoke with a few professionals about starting the process. Leona is a very intelligent, experienced individual, who will have no problem completing the coursework, but in the midst of all this, she realized that even the limited training may be a waste of time. Can a Berarian mother name her child after a facilitatrix? This kind of information is not freely available online, so she has finally set up an appointment with a faith consultant.

Nearly every religion in this reality has them. They are usually members of the religion themselves, but not always. They do not serve as leaders within their respectives faiths, because it is only their responsibility to guide prospective converts. It’s part of the law that anyone wishing to convert should have all the facts they need to make an informed decision. A special subset of these faith experts specialize in children who have just reached the age of choice, and it is one of these that was the only one available at such short notice. They’ve met at a park, next to a lone bench. “Hello, I’m Rostam Gibson. You are Leona Delaney.”

“Umm...yes, I am.” She didn’t give a name when she called to set an appointment.

“Don’t worry, I heard about the bounty, but I have no interest in it. It’s not high lawful. And to let you know, everything we talk about here is completely confidential.”

“I appreciate that. What is high lawful?”

“High law refers to the moral and ethical standards to which we must all adhere, whether any given state, organization, or individual ascribes to them. Berarians believe that there is a right, and a wrong. We don’t think we know what that moral code is, or that anyone knows, but we’re certain that a just lifestyle exists, and is possible to attain in the future. That is what we are working towards.”

“I see.”

“You’re not a hopeful convert,” he deduces, “yet you came here for answers. Berar is one of the least complex faiths. We don’t ask weird things of our believers, like praying to a ghost once a week. A lot of what I do is helping people write school papers about us, but something tells me that you’re here for a different reason.”

“When you say this is confidential, does that extend to anything I tell you about someone else?”

“It doesn’t matter what, or who, you talk about, I can’t repeat it. It wouldn’t be high lawful.”

She smiles. “I have a friend. She’s pregnant.”

“I see where this is going. She doesn’t like her doctor’s name.”

“You’ve seen this before.”

He nods. “Yes. Some are...more devout than others. I told you that we don’t ask weird things of our believers, but the naming thing is kind of the one exception. I’m the only Rostam Gibson in the world, and it’s only because I’m Berarian, and my deliverer was from Iran. People ask me whether there is some kind of database, where they can search for a doctor with the name that they’re looking for. However, this goes against the spirit of the practice. You’re not supposed to choose the name. Fate is.”

“What does that have to do with high law?” Leona questions.

“It doesn’t, really. Our founder’s mother was on a sinking ship when she went into labor. She ended up on a lifeboat that was literally broken in half, and barely able to stay on the surface, with one man, and two coats. The water was freezing, and so was the air. He gave his own coat up to protect the baby that he had just delivered into this world. He died, and she named her son after him. This honor was just something that was important to our founder, so when he came up with his new religion, he chose to deliberately put it into the rules. It’s not entirely random and pointless, though. No, there is nothing immoral about not naming your child after its deliverer. What it does is serve as a small reminder that...some laws are immutable; the high laws. And some of them we just decide we’re going to follow, and that’s what makes a healthy society. Because the fact is, no law—high, or otherwise—matters if we don’t agree.”

“That’s...fascinating.”

“That’s why so many students write papers on us,” he begins. “They’re looking for answers, and not to speak ill of other faiths, but...our answers are better, because they make sense.”

“I bet they do. Even the baby naming one has a logic to it.”

He smiles mildly, and nods.

Leona takes a little bit of time to go back over the lie she made up to explain why Arcadia would feel compelled to name her baby Delaney. “We’re triplets; Arcadia, Nerakali, and me. We were separated at birth, and didn’t find each other until less than a year ago. I was raised by our birth parents, but Nerakali was raised by a now estranged uncle, and Arcadia by a family friend. That’s why she has a different last name. Our third sister died recently, and Arcadia wanted to honor her by naming her child Nerakali. Unfortunately, it’s a unique name, so when Arcadia learned that she had to give this honor to her baby’s deliverer—”

“Wait, when she found out?” Rostman echoes, confused. “Why would she not already know that?”

“I can’t explain why Berar is her religion of record, though not technically her religion.”

He’s suspicious, but it looks like he’s going to respect the confidentiality claim.

“When she found out this part, we made a plan to technically name the baby after my unmarried name, which is the same as Nerakali’s, but really be named after Nerakali herself. I was going to learn to become a facilitatrix, but...”

Now he’s smiling sadly.

“But that’s not going to work, is it? It doesn’t matter if I’m the one who facilitates the birth, it will always be a bad faith move.”

“Yes,” he says compassionately.

This sucks. Arcadia is going to be heartbroken, but she’ll be able to get through it. Trina McIver told them, Leona Delaney is alive. Or she was, anyway. Naming their child after her would have been a very nice gesture, but it’s not meant to be, and that’s okay. “Welp, just to be clear, if a masculine name has a feminine form, it’s okay to choose that one instead, right?”

“That’s all right, it doesn’t have to be exact,” he confirms. “If someone were to ask, she would just have to be able to explain that it’s a close linguistic variant.”

“I appreciate your guidance,” Leona says, standing up, “and your discretion.”

“Call me anytime.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 20, 2398

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Mateo Matic is not a very smart man. He hasn’t had a lot of education, and what he did manage to get through, he didn’t pay much attention, nor retain it. That’s why he became a driver. That’s not to say all drivers are stupid, but it he excelled at it, and he wasn’t great at anything else, so it made the most sense at the time. Even since all this, he’s had opportunities to enrich himself with knowledge, but he hasn’t really taken them. That’s fine, that’s why he has people like Ramses, Leona, and the Angelas. It’s also one reason he misses Olimpia so dearly, because she’s more like him. Despite all this, he’s still been around for quite awhile, and in that time, he’s grown wiser.

Jessie did not appear to be a threat, but he didn’t want to take a chance. After listening to her stories, he escorted her to her car parked by the side of the road, and then reentered the woods. He did not return to the bunker, though he was certain he knew what direction it was, which he was proud of himself for. Instead, he pulled out his bivy sack. It’s very small, but useful in situations such as these, and he’s grateful that it survived the destruction of his bag’s pocket dimension. It’s kind of weird, really, that all the essentials survived. His e-reader, and extra clothes are gone now, but he has a sleeping bag, pocket knife, and he had extra water, until he drank it all to turn it over to a fresh cycle. When Ramses got ahold of him through the radio, Mateo relayed that he needed to sleep outside tonight. He didn’t say why for fear of being eavesdropped on, but his team accepted it, and didn’t try to lure him back. If Jessie, an associate of hers, or some other nefarious party wanted to find out where Mateo’s friends were hiding, they were going to have to wait ‘til morning. That seemed unlikely.

Unprompted, Fairpoint called Marie the next late morning to inform her that he was finally on his way to the police station to find out where Heath and Angela were. She reminded him of what was at stake here, and what the authorities were allowed to know. Apparently, atheists are conventionally that way when it comes to religion, but so-called agnostic in terms of anything else. They don’t care about police brutality. They don’t care about racism. They don’t care about war. They think all these things are bad, to be sure, but they’re generally comfortable in their superiority, and find that trying to alleviate suffering can lead only to frustrating inefficacy. Religious people are the passionate ones. Some are on the wrong side of any given issue, but atheists don’t usually get involved at all, so someone like him needs to be directly encouraged to go out of his way to do the right thing. It should be okay. He sounds like he understands the concern, and is going to do everything he can.

“So we still have to wait,” Mateo presumes.

“It could take hours,” Marie replies. “They may make him wait, or not agree right away to let him advocate. There’s no telling how they’ll handle this. It all depends on the religious makeup of that station.”

“God, why does religion always have to mess things up?” Leona questions.

Marie twitches at this. Mateo was Catholic once, and he knows this academically, but The Superintendent stripped him of all his faith just before he tore him out of the timestream for half a century. Leona was born enlightened, and Ramses at a time after superstition had faded significantly from culture. Out of all of them, Marie and Angela could recall belief the best. Back when they were only a she, she did lose her faith over time. It was reportedly common for dead people to stop following the lies that their particular prooftexts claimed once they learned the truth. It wasn’t a given, though. There were those who continued to believe. Pryce’s afterlife simulation, after all, was just that; a simulation. It could never explain what happens after one dies. It only demonstrated that it was possible to technologically stave it off indefinitely. Some of the more intelligent religious people recognized this reality, and continued to believe in some kind of actual divine power that was still out of reach. Though to be fair, if they were so smart, they probably rejected mysticism anyway.

Here, religion has taken over society, but unlike most fictional depictions of such a world, there isn’t one governing body that lords over the innocent people. It’s not a cult of belief. It’s a cult of belief in belief. That is a lesson that the main sequence began to gradually learn for themselves in the latter days. It’s not really any specific denomination that ultimately proves itself no longer worthy of devotion. It’s the very idea of devotion to the unscientific. Young generations realized that simply believing in something that isn’t real is detrimental to healthy and ethical personal and sociological advancement. It doesn’t matter that a certain sect donates money to the poor, or accepts gay people past their doors. The act alone of trying to convince someone of a lie—even if you are genuinely convinced of it yourself—is immoral at the highest level. The only sane and virtuous path is the one towards observable truth. If what you think can only stand on its own potential to be true, then it is not true, and ought to be ultimately rejected. This is something that Mateo doubts the people of this planet will ever come to accept.

The phone rings. Everyone holds their breath as Marie listens. She then says, “okay,” and hangs up. “We’ll see them tomorrow. It’s over.”

No, Mateo thinks to himself, this has just begun.

Microstory 1681: Dark Studies

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An Efilversal survivor named Nils Nilson was the one who ultimately taught the Ochivari how to start their antinatalistic movement. It was he who believed most passionately that the only way to protect life was to destroy it. He saw no irony in this. “To prevent suffering, one must cut the threads of existence before they get too long,” he was once heard saying. He was insane. But he was an excellent orator, and a very moving teacher. In exchange for his words, he asked the Ochivari to transport him to a new universe. He didn’t specifically say that he was going to continue to spread his message, but that was definitely what he wanted to do. His people were becoming extinct, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. If he wanted to mould a civilization into his image, he had to find one still with a significant population. That was what he really wanted, to turn people to his side, and convince them to do whatever he wanted. It probably didn’t matter much what he convinced them to do, as long as he would go down in history as the most influential voice of all time. It worked. The world he ended up on was falling apart. Wars and unregulated technology were threatening everyone in some way. There weren’t really even rich people who could protect themselves against the consequences. It was just a huge mess, and from just about everyone’s perspective, a lost cause. Nilson saw potential in them, though. If he could condition them to despise technology beyond a certain level, he could have his notoriety. He got to work. He used his charm to gather a few followers, and with the power they gave him, he was able to gather more. And more, and more, and then after that...more. It was never enough.

No one could stop him, even if they wanted to. Any government still standing at this point in time was wholly ineffectual, so there was no one willing and able to oppose him. Anyone who had some kind of principled stance against his ideas didn’t give him much thought. The reality was that he was not only the loudest voice in the crowd, but one of few who had any interest in using that voice to enact change. With little resistance, he banished sufficiently advanced technology, and killed anyone who did actively operate against him. Most people were too scared of him to argue. Yes, he was violent, but he was ending wars, because people no longer had the suitable resources to try, and they were all coming together under one banner anyway. Eventually, no one was left to fight, because they were either dead, or on the same side. Now, the Ochivari promised never to enter the universe where they left Nilson to start a brand new life. They had every intention of keeping that promise. Unfortunately for all of us, that kind of attention to detail can get lost when you’re dealing with bulk travel. Nilson died not too long after he arrived, which only augmented the mystique surrounding his philosophy. When the Ochivari finally did arrive, it was nearly thirty years later, and no one on the mission who made the original promise to him was even still alive. Despite their ability to travel through time, a generation for the Ochivari goes by quickly. Each time an individual tries to make a jump, there’s about a fifty percent chance that they’ll die, and past successes hardly increase those odds. Anyway, since their outlook was transformed, these humans were happy to welcome the Ochivari to their home, and were more than willing to join their cause. The loop is complete. The Ochivari gave Nilson to these people, which made them the confederates they would end up becoming to the Ochivari.

Microstory 1667: School of Thought

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When the Ochivari arrived in what would come to be known as Efilverse, they didn’t really have any specific intentions. They were explorers at that point. Sure, they hoped to gather resources, but they believed the multiverse to be infinite, so they weren’t too worried about whether this one would be useful to them. They could always figure out how to travel somewhere else. The Efilversals didn’t know what to think about these alien visitors either. They didn’t seem to be hostile, and it didn’t seem like they had technology, or other knowledge, that they would find useful. In the beginning it felt like an innocuous situation, and everybody could kind of take it or leave it. They did tell stories about their respective homeworlds, though, and learned from each other just the same. Both races were shocked to discover that they each had faced the same problem with destroying their own environments. Even with a sample size of only two, they were beginning to think that it was an inevitable development. If other races evolved on other worlds, they were destined to destroy it, just like the two of them had. Of course, we know that this is not true, but they didn’t understand that, and over time, the idea became so ingrained in their culture that there was no way to prove them wrong. They didn’t, and couldn’t, listen to reason. The Efilversals taught the Ochivari their ways in a general sense, not by directly telling them how they should do things, but through unintentional inspiration. The idea that any given ecosystem could be saved by taking action to preserve it faded from their hearts—if it was ever there in the first place—and was overwritten by the belief that the only way to save it is to kill anything that threatens it. One Efilversal in particular felt that some form of genocide was sometimes the only answer. The most famous quote of his would become the basis of the Ochivari’s entire belief system. “If a man begins to walk the path towards annihilation, the only way to stop him from reaching the end is to break his legs. There are no nexions from darkness to light.” In this case, a nexion is a small path that connects two paths somewhere after the original splitting fork. Apparently, you can’t even walk back in the opposite direction in this metaphor.

The Ochivari travelers saw no problem with the man’s claims, and took his words to heart, along with many more. He seemed to be the wisest of them all, and they hoped that he would help them make the multiverse a better place. They no longer wanted to be concerned with resources and expansion. They wanted to fix worlds. They wanted to prevent others from making the same mistakes. No, that’s not it. That they could do, if they interfered with any given culture’s timeline at the right moment. Instead, they just wanted to stop those who were already destined to fail their planets. They were going to proverbially break their legs. The wise man seemed to be the best person to teach them how to make their new dream a reality. He seemed willing to do as they asked, but his teachings would no longer be given for nothing. In exchange for his help, he wanted to be relocated to a universe that was free from all the drama and trauma. It would have to be normal and safe, and the Ochivari were not allowed to visit it again for any reason. These seemed like fair conditions. Again, they knew that the bulkverse was infinite, so if there was only one universe they could not save, even if it needed it, then that was a small price to pay. The teacher actually stood on a hill, and continued to disseminate his philosophy, but it eventually turned more into a group effort. The Ochivari came up with ideas that he had not thought of himself, and eventually, the radical antinatalistic school of thought was born. Once the planning stages were complete, the Ochivari stayed true to their word. Two volunteers agreed to transport him to a random universe. Unfortunately, the psychological disease he carried managed to follow him through the portal, and once he was on the other side, it began to infect everyone there as well.