Microstory 2373: Earth, October 6, 2179

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google ImageFX text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 3

Dear Corinthia,

I’m relieved that you’re feeling better, but I’m still worried about you. What are your message quotas? Maybe you could send me daily updates? Yeah, I’ll always be a week behind, but I’ll feel better if I can count on something coming in every day. Or maybe that would be even more stressful, because what if you’re too busy, or you forget? It might make me start freaking out. I dunno, you decide. I just want you to be okay. Who else do you have in your life besides Bray? Does Velia help too? Is she someone you can rely on when things are rough? It’s so frustrating being so far from each other. Okay, I don’t wanna be too pushy or overprotective. You live your life however you think you should. In school, we learned about the dangers of living in space. They told us how risky it is just being out in the vacuum, and how lower gravity can impact bones and muscles. But they didn’t say anything about the pathogens that do—or more important, don’t—start going around. You’re in such a controlled environment, which sounds like a good thing, but I guess there are consequences. We’re probably going to experience the same thing here on Earth, with our giant dome habitats. Or maybe the giant part is a good thing.  Perhaps they’re big enough where it’s basically like living on Earth before the poison gases. I don’t know anything about this stuff. Have they done studies on it? Do space colonists have weakened immune systems because they’re not exposed to random environmental foreign contaminants, or whatever? Perhaps someone should be comparing twins for this instead of behavioral differences. I shouldn’t say that out loud, give anybody any bright ideas. For all I know, that was part of what they were trying to study in us.

Thinking of you always,

Condor

Microstory 2061: Anyway, I’m Taking Some Drugs

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Workspace Labs text-to-image Duet AI software

If you’ve been following my microblog, you know that I got sick again. It’s not even the same thing. The first one was a virus that I can’t pronounce, but this one is a bacterium that I can’t pronounce. I guess my immune system was in shambles for so long that something else managed to get in there before I closed up shop. I should have known. It’s definitely happened to me before. I just forget these things. The thing about being immortal is it doesn’t change your brain chemistry. It’s a purely physiological situation. It’s pretty much impossible to study the condition, because no one could ever take my blood, or anything, but I think that one of the downsides is an inability to improve in certain ways. I could never get stronger. Lifting weights, doing cardio, none of it mattered. Exercise didn’t make me feel better (it also didn’t make me feel worse at least). Nothing could change. The brain isn’t a muscle, but I think it suffers from the same limitations. I could gain new memories, of course, but I couldn’t really grow as a person. Anyway, I’m taking some drugs besides the antibiotics, so I’m not sure if I’m making any sense, but basically what I’m saying is my memory sucks. People would always tell me I should keep a diary to remind myself of my own history, but I would always forget to do it, so that never really worked. I’m surprised at how diligent I’ve been about this. Don’t expect me to keep going. If it’s anything like my previous attempts, I’ll stop by the end of the month. The only thing more boring than this world is talking about my personal experiences with it. Nick Fisherman IV, signing off. Oh, wait. Did I never tell you what my name was before? Oh my God, that’s kind of funny. Maybe I’ll explain where the name comes from, and what makes me the fourth out of four. It’s not anywhere near as simple as that my father was the third, and so on up the bloodline. It’s more like how they name kings.

Microstory 1142: Tick Tock

< > Table of Contents

Byron Minett, a.k.a Tick Tock, hated making mistakes, and according to everyone around him, he literally stopped making them when he was eleven. It was around this time that he developed the ability to undo the immediate past. He couldn’t travel too far back in time, but it was usually enough to correct what he needed to. He wouldn’t just suddenly jump back to an earlier point in time. He would actually watch the recent scene play in reverse, until he reached his chosen destination, and pushed play on reality. The further back he tried to reverse, the harder it was on his mind, though, so he tried to stay within a day. Others had this same ability, but could only have on do-over. That is, one of their time jumps could not overlap with another time jump. He could try an occurrence over and over again, until he felt he had it right. Byron used his power all the time, and it became so second nature, that he sometimes didn’t even notice it happening. If something didn’t go well, he would just give it another go, and hardly remember the original timeline. He quickly became the best student in every one of his classes, sometimes spending the equivalent of weeks on a single school day. His teachers were astonished at how intuitive the topics seemed to be for him, including his judo instructor. As you might imagine, this life started getting a little boring. Sure, it still took him about as long to master something as it would anyone else, but most of the time, the choices he made had no consequences. Theoretically, he wouldn’t be able to undo his own death, and he had never tried to reverse more than two weeks, but everything else was fair game. One thing a person like that can realize is that everyone has their limits. No matter how many times he retried a foot race, he couldn’t change his finishing position. He signed up for the City Frenzy thinking that he would be able to find his way to first place, but it never worked out. Sure, he could steal a few seconds here and there if he memorized how the traffic lights were going to change, but nothing major. He just wasn’t fast enough, and no matter how hard he worked at it, that wasn’t going to get significantly better. Every time he reversed time, his body went back to its state in that moment, so his power didn’t help him build muscle, or anything. There were still only twenty-four hours in a day. In the end, he decided to accept this reality, because his life was still easier than most, and there were plenty of other, more useful, applications.

Microstory 918: Posthumanism

< > Table of Contents

If you redirect your attention to this post, and this post, you’ll see that I’ve already spoken on the subject of transhumanism. If you’ve already read those stories, and don’t feel like going back, or if you just don’t want to, here’s the gist of it. Humans are weak and fragile creatures, just like most other creatures. There are too many things that can destroy life. Even the most ferocious beasts, and the hardiest of extremophiles are susceptible to multiple dangers. A lot of people have this belief that evolution is heading towards some level of perfection, but that is not how it works. A specimen develops a trait as a random mutation, and if it’s a bad mutation—one that hinders their ability to survive—then they simply won’t live long enough to procreate. If it does happen to help, then they’ll pass those genes on to their offspring. The reason humans have hair still, even though we’ve learned to fashion clothing, build houses, and invent central heating, is because there’s no one to change it. Having hair isn’t a problem for us. At best, our descendants might evolve out of it due to sexual selection, if mates begin to favor less hair enough, but that’s so unlikely, because for humans, it takes all kinds. The point of this is that evolution isn’t going to give us gills or wings, because we don’t live in environments that would require them. Winged humans wouldn’t have an advantage over non-winged humans, because we do just fine right here on the ground. If the floor suddenly literally turned to lava, we would just die out by the time our physiology changed to accommodate our new conditions. If you want wings, then you’re going to have to have them implanted. You’re going to need two things to do this, though. One, superhuman pecs. Seriously, look at any bird. There’s a reason the breast contains so much more meat the rest of any poultry. Two, you’re going to need to live in the future, because we can’t attach wings to people yet. We can’t implant gills, or artificial eyes, or neural interface chips. But we will be able to. One day. That’s what posthumanism is all about, and posthumanism is what I’m all about. Like I said, humans are weak, and I am no exception. I have allergies; my hands are in a permanent state of pain. I wear glasses, frequently have to ask people to repeat themselves, can’t smell the black mold in a house, can’t taste the difference between a hundred dollar steak, and a ten dollar steak, and can’t ever tell when my skin is wet, or just cold. I used to be adamantly opposed to body mutilation, like piercings, and tattoos. I guess I still am, but it wouldn’t bother me to have one, even if it seems permanent, but I know a secret: it isn’t. I’m young enough to still be around when we can replace any organ with a 3D printed upgrade. That’ll let me live long enough to see a time when my consciousness can be transferred to some other body; say a robin, a dolphin, or maybe a sentient tree. Posthumanism is looking forward to breaking the limits of our birth, which is why I love it.

Microstory 802: Fountain of Truth

< > Table of Contents

The first thing I remember is standing in a brightly lit hallway, full of doors. I didn’t wake up, or come to. I just slowly started realizing there were these things around me that I could see, as if someone else had been driving my body, and I was slowly taking back control. “It has begun,” came a voice from nowhere and everywhere. “What do I do?” I asked. The voice instructed me to check my pocket. I expected to find a key, because of all the doors, but there was only a note that said I had to pick a fountain, and that the wrong choice would get me killed. I opened the nearest door to me to find a giant two story fountain. Leaves were carved into the base, and stone fish were somehow suspended in the jets. I stepped back out, and opened the door right across from it. There was fountain in this room too. Jets perpetually shot up from the bottom, and inexplicably disappeared into the darkness above it, forming the shapes of musical instruments. I opened a third door to find another fountain, just as large, but it couldn’t be that big, because I’ve already opened the one next to it. They should be overlapping. I’m supposed to choose a fountain, but I feel no connection towards these ones, nor with any other I check. So I run. I run as far down the literally endless hallway until I can run no more. Might as well let my muscles tell me which door to open.

Inside the room to my left is a fountain that’s much smaller than the others have been, barely reaching my waist. Water is bubbling out from the center, pooling to the sides, and spilling into a drain along the rim. It’s the simplest one yet. I’m reminded of a movie I saw once where the right choice was not the most extravagant, but the least. If this isn’t the answer, there is no answer. I reach my hand into the fountain, and let the water tickle my skin. After a few seconds, though, the water turns to acid, and begins to burn. I immediately pull it out, but the fountain isn’t about to let me off that easy. Burbling turns to spurting, which turns to shooting and spraying. The basin cracks, letting out more acid. It tips over and breaks open. Now the acid is rushing, out from the floor. I run out of the room, but by the time I get a few meters away, the threat behind me has grown into a full blown hurricane flood. There’s no way I can get out of this, but my survival instinct is not hampered, and I just keep going. Thinking I have no other options, I decide to open another random door, and hope the magic acid also magically can’t enter other rooms. “I did it! I got it right!” I hear. There’s another girl in this room, having presumably been given the same choice. She’s bathed in the luminous water of her fountain. The acid hasn’t burst open the door, but it has begun to seep under the door. The other girl is being lifted into the air, so I take a chance, and grab onto her foot. We’re lifted to safety together. Now I just need to convince her to help me figure out who did this to us.

Microstory 779: Duck

< > Table of Contents

My name is Cora Graves, and I have one question for you. Have you ever wanted to be a duck? It may sound like an absurd question, but it’s a perfect example to illustrate my point. Ducks are magnificent, and versatile creatures. They can fly, they can swim on the surface, or underwater, and they can walk (read: waddle) on land. When making its nest, a mother-to-be duck will pluck out her own feathers, instead of just using material she finds around. Have you ever thought about pulling out your hair and making a crib? Now you’re all wondering, why am I even bringing this up? I want you take a look at this...can we zoom in on my hand? This is my personal assistant, Tilina. Say hello, Tilina. Tilina is presently about six deam tall, but she didn’t start out this way. She was born as an average-sized human, but we transferred her consciousness to this substrate, which we are calling her anchor. I know, she looks a hell of a lot like a fairy, and that’s for good reason. We modeled this product on the fairies, because they had the right idea about shrinking. This is what brings us back down to my question about becoming a duck. With an anchor, you could do exactly that, or you could become anything else you can imagine. As long as we have the necessary parameters, we can build you virtually any new body, and insert you into it via your anchor. No longer will you need these standard human forms. You will be the anchor, and the anchor will let you become anything else. Well...anything larger than the anchor, that is. We could upload your consciousness into a pea-sized object, but then you would have to rely on someone else to place you into any new form. Should something go wrong, forcing you to abandon your current form, you’re gonna want to be able to fly away and find another one, so the fairy form is the best option for an anchor; not too large, not too small, for most forms. Unless you wanna be a bug. I want to make it clear that you would not be driving your form, using your anchor’s motor components. Once the anchor is inserted, your consciousness will be integrated into the neural construct, allowing you to feel yourself as that animal, mythological creature, or hey, maybe even an airplane, if you’d like. Ladies and gentlemen, we were born with limits. We’re too slow, too short, too grounded. I’m here to tell you that those constraints no longer exist. Now you can realize your dreams, and become literally anything you want, be that the mighty coleobeast, or the humble duck.

Microstory 778: Pothook

< > Table of Contents

There are several moves in boxing, most of which were created during the invention of the sport itself, for they were really just formalizations of moves that already existed for real hand-to-hand combat. Traditionally, boxing has been a male sport, with women generally gravitating towards the various forms of martial arts. One notable boxer was a woman named Siveda Gualerni. She was large and muscular, weighing into bargeweight when she was only nineteen years old. What she lacked in speed, she made up for in power, of course. She was nearly impossible to knock down. One of her most common moves was to just let the other boxer hit her as many times as they could before they were too tired to take much of a beating back. During one match, however, she discovered this tactic would not work. She was up against former military officer, Sergei ‘Deadvelvet’ Fannen, who was known for being able to hit pressure points just so. Since they were participating in a Mystery Showdown, she didn’t know they would be competing against each other until the very last minute, which meant she didn’t have enough time to strategize a plan. She tried to fight like she normally did, but this was proving unwise, so she broke formation, and observed a regular stance. Still, it was only a matter of time before Deadvelvet found the right series of pressure punches, and took her out. In a desperate move, Gualerni tried to send him a left hook, but lost her balance in the middle of it, and her right hand ended up on the other side of his head as her instincts were just trying to keep her upright. The result was a devastating blow to both of Deadvelvet’s temples and ears that had terrible repercussions for his inner ear. For the next several moments, he was unable to maintain his balance, which gave Gualerni the edge she needed to knock him down for the count. The audience and announcers were shocked, not that she had won, but that she had done so in such an unorthodox manner, using a move no one had seen before. Reporters would later refer to this as the pothook, suggestive of her holding pot on the other side of the opponent’s head. The International Boxing Council would come to refer to it as a violation after Deadvelvet was shown to have permanent hearing loss. Ashamed of what she had done, Gualerni quit boxing that week, and started pursuing a career in nursing, but she would always be remembered as the inventor of the pothook; the only move in history to be used once before being deemed foul, except for that time a boxer bit another’s ear off.

Microstory 694: Creating the Fruit of Gentleness

< > Table of Contents

Despite growing concerns regarding the future of the human race in all galaxies, the taikon must continue. The ninety-third required the quantum darkness to spread, but it did not have to end in order for the next taikon to take place. For the last few years, a team of scientists on a moon of Protanr, Bereshith called Ekar—the only terraformed natural satellite—began working on a genetic engineering project. This is just one more piece of evidence that the taikon are real, and originate through the Divine Light. We didn’t know when the taikon would begin, but this team’s research coincides perfectly with them, because they were finally finished with their product after all this time. They had created the Fruit of Gentleness...though technically, it’s not actually a fruit. It would probably be best described as a meat, even though it was grown in a laboratory, rather than on living organism. It falls into this category because it contains structured proteins and fibers similar to what one might find in a piece of real meat. Along with its superficial design components, it was engineered to target specific areas of the brain, general neural system, and muscles. Its purpose is to mediate temperament, placing consumers in a state of peace and calm. It relaxes the muscles, allowing people to continue moving about their day, but do so with less tension or angst. It does not facilitate neurotransmitters, nor trick the mind into feeling pleasure. It also doesn’t lower one’s inhibitions, or prevent them from making sound and safe decisions. It simply makes them feel more comfortable in their own skin, so they can focus more on the situation at hand, rather than dwell in the past. Side effects do include increased patience and humility, and a placid response to aggression, but not usually enough to destroy man’s natural inclination towards self-preservation, or their ambition. The fruit hit the market today on the central worlds, and will be distributed beyond in the coming weeks. Perhaps this will help soothe people’s nerves when it comes to living under this terrible darkness, and threat of full-on war with the Amadesin remnant.

Microstory 346: Weight Control

Click here for a list of every step.
Exercise

As I mentioned before, I’ve developed a binge eating disorder. Weight wasn’t anything I worried about growing up. Other people in my family did, but I was always really skinny. What I was too stupid to understand at the time was that this was because of how active I was. I was working out almost every day. My God, at one point, I was going to gymnastics three times a week. Why was I doing that? I hate competition, so it’s not like I was training for the Olympics. Whatever my reasoning, it all stopped when I went to college. But that alone would have been okay, because I was already starting from a pretty good place. Other things, however, were at play. I’ve always been very money-conscious as well, so when I discovered that the dorm cafeteria was all-you-can-eat, I went overboard. I decided to eat as much as I could each time I swiped my card to get the most out of the money already spent. And this all came out of a lack of education. Your body needs time to digest and process the nutrients and carbohydrates it gets from food. This is why we eat a few meals per day, rather than just gathering all of our calories in the beginning, and saving time. I didn’t know this, so eating two or three burgers at dinner seemed like a perfectly reasonable solution to the fact that I was only allotted so many meals. I’m ashamed to admit that I gained 45 pounds in college. Afterwards, I went through periods of dropping that back down, but I still wasn’t getting much exercise, so it could only take me so far. At this point in my life, I would say that it’s worse than ever. I have a job where I have to keep moving, but that really builds muscle without burning fat. Plus, I’ve recently quit that position anyway. But now that I’ll be making me more money, I need to commit to fixing myself, starting with eating less food at more meals.

Freedom from Persecution

Microstory 158: Ceres Concordia

Click here for the list of every Bellevue Profile.

The fact that Ceres Concordia was born with a laughable name didn’t stop her from being an exquisite specimen. Though her outward appearance looked standard human, her body was radically different, technically allowing her to be classified as a mutant. She was born with two copies of each organ, with each one in a pair fully capable of sustaining her on its own. If one is damaged, the other will take over without missing a beat, while it’s flushed out and replaced. All of Ceres’ bones, muscles, skin, and other tissue are far superior to that of anyone else’s, making her physically stronger than anyone. Her body won’t heal as quickly as Dores Roach can heal others, but still faster than normal. She has multiple miniature brains throughout her body to spread around the danger. Though this has never been tested, it is assumed that severing her head from her body would not necessarily result in her death, and that what was left of her would be able to repair itself completely. Upon discovering her mutations following a kitchen knife wound that healed too quickly, Ceres’ doctors broke confidentiality and alerted the government. She was forced to flee the country with her father while her mother threw their pursuers off the trail. She remained on the move for years until Bellevue came out to the public, and fittingly joined the program around the same time as the other mutants. Because she spent much of her time on the run, she wasn’t given the opportunity to learn a skill, but she was in peak physical condition, and so she worked with Drummond Breckenridge in the physical fitness department.

Microstory 91: The Perfect Race (1 of 2)

Some time ago, a group of scientists from all over their solar system came together and formed a rogue faction. They were unhappy with the state of the universe, and decided to create the perfect race. This new creature would not be bred for war, or any kind of pedestrian violence, but it would be extremely difficult to kill, and its intelligence would be practically immeasurable. Its purpose would be to systematically end all life, using its superior intelligence, so that they could start over. My contacts in the system are still gathering data, however they have managed to relay to me key documents. The creature’s skin and bones are extremely strong, but also flexible, so that it can more effectively protect the other systems of the body. The muscles are much stronger than those of most other beings, and they are capable of manipulating their own mass in order to leap farther and run faster. They can extract energy from a number of different gases, and exhale at the same time as they inhale, so cardiopulmonary exchange is unhindered. Their bodies were designed to carry two of every single organ, with only one being used at a time. If one of a pair is damaged or otherwise fails, the other will take over. The failed organ will be filtered out and replaced by stem cells in a matter of months. If both of a pair fail, the body is capable of dropping itself into a state of extreme hibernation inside of a nearly impenetrable cocoon, so as to give the stem cells enough time and energy to regenerate. The most impressive feature is the fact that brain matter can be found throughout their entire body, giving them around 20 times the number of neurons as most people. When the government discovered this faction, the project was scrapped, however there was already a living prototype. It is illegal to kill any living being with a soul, so its neural processes were stunted to diminish the danger, and everything was all right; that is until the Fosteans discovered the project and co-opted the prototype in order to create the perfect soldier, leading to the story of Manifest Infinity.