Microstory 2479: Glaciadome

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Brr, chicken! That’s what my dad used to say. Brr, chicken! It’s cold up here. There is not much dihydrogen monoxide on Castlebourne—compared to say, Earth or Europa, but there is some. Some of it is in the form of water ice, and some of that in the form of glaciers. The largest of these is called Sanaa Glacier. I’m not sure where the name comes from, but I’m guessing this Sanaa woman isn’t too happy about it. The Sanaa Glacier is up there in the northern hemisphere, not too far from Aquilonian Deep. It’s about 2.16 million square kilometers in area, which makes it the largest region on the planet that is not covered by domes. That is for an obvious reason, which is that glaciers, by definition, are always on the move. They move very, very slowly, but they are not still. They’re never still. You can imagine that erecting a dome on top of one is difficult at best, and quite risky. Yet they did it. Glaciadome sits right in the middle of Sanaa, which is the most stable part of it. It’s not immune to the glacier’s movements, but it’s your safest bet. It’s unlike any other dome on the planet. It’s totally unique. Instead of being made out of the usual graphene composite, its frame is instead composed of carbon nanotubes, which can be made to be more flexible. That’s why we use them for space elevator tethers. Instead of diamonds, the panels are made out of a more flexible polycarbonate. This allows the dome to shudder and shake as the glacier flows, and against the extremely heavy winds outside. There’s an old saying, if it doesn’t bend, it’ll break, and that’s true. Glaciadome will survive over time because it’s designed to withstand the stress of movement without buckling. It’s not completely impenetrable, and it’s not nearly as strong as the other domes, but it does its job, and it does it well. You can tell that it works too, because while you can’t physically feel the glacier’s flow unless you’re an advanced lifeform with the right onboard sensors, you can certainly hear it. It’s always screamin’ at ya while the ice breaks and slides. Why do this? Why build a dome on top of something so unstable, in such a hostile environment? Well, what the hell are we doing here if we’re not engineering megastructures for the sake of the challenge. Do you need any other reason? I surely don’t. Researchers live here to be closer to what they’re studying, such as the geologic history of this planet, the composition of the water and ice, and of course, the glacier itself. There are also some winter sports here, like dog sledding, and cross-country skiing, but it’s not as comprehensive as Winterbourne Park. A lot of it has to do with the novelty of the experience. You can live in an igloo, or an ice palace. You can go cold-weather camping, or just make snow angels. It may not be as exciting as one of the adventure domes, but it gives you what it promises. And for me, that’s enough.

Microstory 2416: Mountain Mountain

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Mountain Mountain. So nice, they named it twice. You ever heard that saying before? I actually think they named it that specifically so it would fit that phrase. Before you ask, there aren’t only two mountains here, and there is no mountain that’s literally just called Mountain. Someone in my orientation group thought that was the thing, so they were asking which one was Mountain Mountain, presuming it to be the largest one near the center. Everyone laughed, but I think it’s an honest mistake. Anyway, I’m not here to review that woman. There is nothing particularly astonishing about this dome. There are eleven distinct major mountain peaks here. You can find a list of them in the prospectus. The biggest one is called Mount Vendelin, by the way, if you were curious. For those of you who aren’t knowledgeable on the history of this world, it was first colonized by a man named Vendelin Blackbourne. So he lent his name both to the whole planet, and now this mountain. If you like mountains, I suggest you come here, and if you don’t, well then, whatever. There is a lot you can do on this mountain, but there’s something a little bit different about this dome. It’s not “state run” which means that there aren’t any robots or human staff members providing you with any assistance, except as part of orientation. That is, no one is in charge of activities. There aren’t any activities to sign up for at all. If you wanna do something, just print your supplies, and go do it. They will execute rescue operations, if it becomes necessary, but there aren’t drones flying around constantly, or satellite imagery. It’s basically the wilderness out here. My guess is that they want to see if anyone develops their own institutions, but they didn’t actually say that. Need to learn how to mountain climb? Right now, there’s no one around to do that, unless you happen to run into an expert who’s willing to help. I believe, at some point, as fans begin to show up, people will naturally take on leadership roles, and basically start little businesses. Who knows? We’re still in the early days, so we’ll have to wait and see. Maybe it’ll be you!

Microstory 2288: Lets Me Skip the Line

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I’ve made some decisions about what I’m going to focus my pursuits on moving forward. I’m still writing. In fact, I’m going harder than ever. But instead of trying to develop two different books at once, I’ve opted to combine them into one. I think I’ve told you how much I hate biographies, especially the auto kind, or memoirs; whatever the difference may be. Don’t @ me, I don’t care. The more I researched how to write an autobiography, the more I hated them, which I didn’t think was possible. They’re so boring. Here’s how they all go: this happened, then that happened, and before this other thing happened, some different thing occurred, and after all of that, we get to the part where something else went down. I can’t stand it, how can anyone? Biopics are okay. You can tell it nonlinearly, if you need to, without it being confusing, and the visuals can accent some of the more boring bits, as can montages. I know you have a lot of those in the world. I can’t watch them, because I’m not familiar with your world’s history, but whatever. The point is I’m not doing any of that. I’m going to tell my story, but in a fictional setting. Not only will names be changed to protect the innocent, but it will be framed as a narrative story, rather than just an overblown sequence of events. I’ll be taking liberties with some plot points, so don’t think that you’ll end up knowing everything about me if you ever get to read it one day, but I hope you find it interesting. It’s actually going pretty fast. Back when I was writing purely fictional stories, I had to start from scratch, and come up with the whole thing myself. Having a basis of my own life really lets me skip the line, and just type it up. Honestly, as long as I keep going at this pace, I should be finished with the first draft by the end of next week. Then I’ll probably revise it, then I’ll rewrite it, then I’ll revise that, and then I’ll send it to an editor. Boom, just wrote a mini-autobiography for you, except it’s about the future. I hope you enjoyed it. Anyway, I still need a title. I’m leaning toward finding an idiom with the word bulk in it, like Bulk Billing. But not that, because that sounds stupid. What do you think?

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 20, 2472

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Olimpia was so excited and intrigued by Mateo’s apparent ability to make physical contact with a hologram. Did it only work on people, or could he do it with anything? Maybe this power was limited to holographic communication, and not for computer generated images. Centuries ago, scientists in the real world were inspired by the three-dimensional simulations from the Star Trek franchise, The Orville, and other similar scifi stories. They tried to design a real version of it using a combination of magnetic fields, wind, nanobots, and even direct cerebral mind alteration to simply make the user believe that they were touching the hologram. There was actually some promise in the technology, but as fun as it was, it was nothing compared to the kinds of worlds that people were building in immersive virtual simulations. The laws of physics could be broken in such environments, and they demanded a hell of a lot less power to make it work. Real life holodecks continued to exist, but were only as available as demand allowed them to be. Maybe the Vellani Ambassador secretly employed the technology, and Mateo managed to figure out how to access it within the last few minutes? Eh, that seemed unlikely. No, this was something else.

“Guys, something’s happening to me.” Olimpia suddenly felt so dizzy. Everyone peeled their eyes off of Mateo and Oakset to watch her stumble back. Ramses tried to help, but she pushed him away, and tottered away from everyone. Her instincts were telling her to make room for herself.

“She’ll be fine,” Mateo assured them, clearly knowing something important.

Olimpia’s instincts started to make her spin around, erratically at first, but then momentum magically increased, and pushed her around without her having to move her feet anymore. What little she could make out of the room around her faded away behind little dots of darkness, only to be replaced by bright blue sky. She blinked, and teetered around some more, eventually realizing that she was not alone. A few others were around her, wobbling just as badly. She focused her eyes forward at one of them in particular. Was that Mateo? Yes, it was. “Matt!”

“Olimpia?” Mateo questioned, trying to clarify his own eyesight too. “Are we down on the planet?”

“We’re on a mountain.” A man had managed to stagger a few meters away, and was looking over the edge. This did look like a mountain. Below them was the ground, and beyond that, the open ocean.

“Careful, dude,” another guy said. “Wouldn’t want you tumblin’ over.”

“Wouldn’t you?” a woman asked accusatorily.

“Bhulan?”

“Do I know you?” she asked.

“It’s Mateo. Mateo Matic?”

“We haven’t met yet.”

“Well, maybe this is why you hate me in your future.”

“Maybe,” Bhulan acknowledged coldly.

“Do you remember me?” the other guy who Bhulan didn’t seem to like asked.

Mateo took a few deep breaths, and studied his face. “Tau-something. You tried to kill my friends.”

“Bingo. Tauno Nyland...at your service.” He extended his arms, and took a bow.

“Arqut Grieves,” the man who realized where they were announced, “in case anyone wanted to know.”

“Utari Kiswana,” a woman introduced herself.

“Olimpia Sangster.”

A man appeared from the trailing leading down the side of the mountain. “And I am Buddha Maestri!” He walked up to them with a big smile on his face.

“You look like you’re in charge,” Tauno assumed.

“Did you say Buddha?”

“Yes, I did, and I don’t want any complaints about it. The original Buddha was enlightened and powerful; I’m enlightened and powerful. I don’t see the problem, and I don’t care if it offends you. Ya know, that wasn’t his real name either, right? He gave it to himself so everyone would instantly know how important he was.”

“That is..not how that happened,” Olimpia argued.

“I’ve seen you before,” Bhulan said to him. “Not directly, but I’ve seen your effect on the timeline. Honestly, I thought I had negated your existence with a few moves.”

“Uh, uh, life...finds a way,” Buddha replied in the worst impression of Jeff Goldblum anyone had ever heard.

She could not bring herself to accept Buddha as his name. They would probably never learn what his real name was, but it was likely something embarrassing, like Drumpf. She would just have to come up with an alternative herself. She thought about it for entirely too long before it hit her. “Whatever, Buddy.”

“Buddha,” he corrected in an unplaceable accent that was just as offensive as the name he had co-opted.

“Why are we here?” Arqut asked impatiently.

“You don’t know this place?” Buddy asked, gesturing all around. “This is Moku Hoku...Star Island.”

“I know this one,” Tauno jumped in. “Artificial paradise island. Yeah, they pulled magma up from an underwater volcano, and built the whole thing on top of it from scratch. Those narrow beach spokes down there give thousands of people ocean views from their little minimalistic bungalows. Plus they have apartments, resorts, and mountainside homes. It has all sorts of activities, like rock climbing, surfing, hiking. Life’s good here, I hear. Not my style. Not my time.”

“Thanks, Tauno,” Bhulan said sarcastically, even though it was pretty helpful to know that. “Why are we here, Buddy?” Yay, the name was catching on!

Buddy seethed at hearing it once more, but knew that his anger was what the bullies were going for. “You’re here because I call you...The Reality Makers.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Mateo admitted.

“You don’t? Think about it,” Buddy continued. “You killed a man, and a new reality sprouted from it. They called it The Parallel?”

“Yeah, I remember, but I wouldn’t say that—wait,” Mateo interrupted himself. He had never really thought of himself as having made a reality. It was just a consequence of him trying to stop an event in the past that could not be changed without causing a paradox. To prevent it, time generated a parallel reality to sit next to the main sequence. “Well, okay, but...” He trailed off, and looked around. “But that would mean...”

Bhulan exhaled dramatically. “I made the Third Rail. When I tried to destroy the hundemarke, it created a world without time travel.”

“Exactly,” Buddy confirmed.

“Tauno, what did you do?” Mateo asked.

“I made the Fourth Quadrant. I did it on purpose. It remains my greatest accomplishment to this day.”

Mateo looked over at Olimpia. “You made the Sixth Key.”

Olimpia shrunk into herself. She too had never thought of it like that. She was there when it was created, but she didn’t realize that she had actually created it herself. Was that true? It couldn’t be. She didn’t have that kind of power. Right?

“You’ve been quiet. Uhh...Utari, was it?”

“I made the Fifth Division,” she acknowledged. “I wasn’t really trying to. I was trying to fix the past, but it would have meant preventing The Gallery Dimension from existing, and apparently, that wasn’t possible.”

Now everyone directed their attention to Arqut, who was the most confused of all. “Unless something crazy happens in my future, and you took me from the wrong point in time, I have never come close to ever creating anything even somewhat resembling an entire reality. I’m just a guy on a ship.”

“You’re the Superintendent, aren’t you?” Buddy suggested. “You created the main sequence. You’re ultimately responsible for all of the realities.”

Arqut slapped himself in the face, and slid his hand down, almost pulling his eyes, nose, and mouth off. “I’m not The Superintendent. I served as a superintendent for the Void Migration Ship Extremus. It was my job to manage the personnel for both the crew, and the civilian government. I don’t have time magic.”

Buddy was taken aback, but not upset. “Oh. I guess my intel’s a bit off. Even gods are wrong sometimes, aren’t they, eh?” He gently elbowed Bhulan in the arm.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Even if Mr. Grieves were one of us in this regard,” Mateo began, “why would we all be here now? What do you want?”

Buddy started to pace around them with his hands behind his back to try to give off this air of intelligence and self-confidence. “You six...” He glared over at Arqut. “I mean, you five broke the rules. You forced time itself to flow in a new direction. You challenged the status quo, and you won!” he exclaimed in a breathy voice, like an overzealous sports team coach. “I need your juice! So I can get the juice!” He stuck his hand up in the air, activating a holographic image. It appeared to be a fruit, but it was nothing like they had seen before. It was as if an octopus had made a baby with a lemon.

Bhulan’s gaze darted back and forth between the hologram and Buddy’s face. “Are we supposed to know what you’re talking about?”

“It’s called the Buddha’s hand citron. It went extinct over 300 years ago, and I would like to restore it to its glory. It is a symbol of my power—of my divine right. I must have it back!”

“You’re obviously a time traveler of some kind,” Olimpia pointed out. “Couldn’t you just go back and get it?”

“Citrus doesn’t travel through time, you idiot!”

“Watch your mouth when you’re talking to my girlfriend,” Mateo warned. “I will hit you so hard, juicing will be the only way you’ll ever be able to eat.”

“Girlfriend?” Olimpia asked, shocked.

“Yeah, hasn’t that happened to you yet?” Mateo asked in an awkward mutter. “I guess I don’t know when exactly you came here...”

“No, it has, but we never defined the relationship—” she muttered back.

“Enough!” Buddy cried. “Let me explain. Yes, I could travel back in time, and I could eat all the native citrus I want. But that’s not what I’m asking of you. I’m asking for you to use your power to change the rules.” He pointed at the ground. “I want it here. I want it now.”

“You seem like the kind of guy who wants everything, and is too impotent to do anything about it himself.”

“What did you just say, bitch?” He bull-charged her, and no one else was close enough to stop him.

Mateo instinctively reached out his hands, and something did happen. Buddy’s fruit hologram stopped hovering over his hand, and bonked him right in the face. He was too shocked to react with anything but paralysis and silence.

“Yeah, boiiiiiiiiiiiii!” Olimpia shouted. “I love it when you do that!”

“You’ve seen that before?” Mateo asked her. “What the hell just happened?”

“I’m from a few minutes in your future, depending on how long it takes you to get back to the Ambassador. I still don’t know how it works, though.”

Buddy managed to break out of his trance. He started to stare Mateo down. “You can throw as many holo-fruits at me you want. You will do what I asked.” He started to charge again, but this time for Mateo.

“I don’t think so.” Tauno Nyland waved his arms, transporting them all to some other dimension, or whatever.

They could still see Buddy there on the mountain, but based on how he was looking around, he couldn’t see them. The normal humans were also having a little trouble breathing. It wasn’t life threatening, but this realm wasn’t perfectly suited for life. Mateo and Olimpia pulled their breathing straws out of their suits, and started to share them between Arqut, Bhulan, and Utari. Tauno would have to fend for himself. He could evidently take them anywhere else whenever he wanted.

Meanwhile, back in the main dimension, they could see and hear Buddy cackling like an evil witch. He raised both hands, and started revolving them like he was holding invisible lassos. Dark particles danced away from his skin. At the same time, they overcame the six of them just like they had before, spun them around, and returned them to the mountain. “I’m sorry, did you think that you could leave?”

Utari of the Fifth Division had been rather quiet this whole time, but now she was ready to speak. She menacingly approached Buddy, who laughed at her dismissively. “I don’t know what these people can do, but I assure you that you don’t know what I can do. I am a metachooser. However your time power works, I will turn it on you. You will spin for hours with no respite, or if I so choose, for days until you succumb to thirst. What the history books probably don’t tell you is that I didn’t technically send anyone through time to create the Fifth Division. Someone else was trying to go back home to the Gallery, and I couldn’t let that happen. So I pushed back, and they didn’t survive the battle. If you want your special little citron, we can discuss options, but you won’t be hurting anyone, and you’ll be doing it on my terms. I’m in charge now. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Buddy was terrified.

“Oh, and by the way, Buddha’s hand contains no juice or pulp...you moron.”

He just nodded respectfully.

“Great!” Utari immediately flipped on a fake smile. “With the unpleasantries over, I’m interested in a tour of this island, and maybe a meal. Is anyone else hungry?”

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Microstory 2252: No Dutch! No Dutch!

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Dear Dudes, Dutch. Doy. I asked to fill in for Nick today, instead of Kelly. It’s not that she couldn’t write it for him, but I’ve been a little bored, and I wanted something to do. I don’t know what we’re gonna do tomorrow, because the hospital still won’t want him working, and his website is his job, so I may write the next one too. We’ll just have to wait and see. If you don’t read his socials, then don’t worry, he’s okay. He’s not back here for a medical issue, but because he had his surgeries. They took out his index, and some of his bone marrow. Funny thing about that first thing, when I went to another universe, the scientists who studied me wanted to see if there were any physiological differences between me and them. They did all sorts of tests...consensually, and discovered that everything was the same. We all got ten fingers, one heart, and two butt cheeks. They also mentioned that the appendix was about the same. And I’m, like, “what the hell is an appendix?” That’s what they call the index. Apparently, their ancestors thought that it was a useless organ that doesn’t do anything. Which is strange, because back then, they also thought that a magical God created humans. Why would they think such an omnipotent entity would think to include something so strange and pointless? Anyway, I just remembered that, and thought it was funny.

Welp, I think I have a little extra time, so maybe I’ll spend the rest of it telling you how I got my name. Most people assume that it’s only a nickname, but no, it’s real. Both in this world, and the other one, learning it has made people chuckle, or hold back chuckles. The Dutch are people from Nederland, or the language that they speak. My family is not from Nederland, nor even the area. Here’s the story. When my father was a child, he used to watch this old television program. Of course, as Nick has pointed out, we don’t have much of a library of fiction on this Earth, but this one was scripted, and said to have been pretty good at the time. I can’t remember what it was called, but in the first season, there was a younger brother in the family. They got rid of him in later seasons without an explanation, but he kind of became synonymous with the show anyway. The character was very protective of his toys and other belongings. Whenever anyone would come into his room, or try to do anything with his stuff, he would yell “no touch! No touch!” But he had this sort of babyish accent, and it sounded more like Dutch than touch. My father, being of about the same age as this kid, started imitating what he saw and heard. He’d walk around the house, yelling that catch phrase over and over again, emphasizing a D sound even more than the actor did. My grandmother tells me that it was annoying, but at least he didn’t really understand what the words were supposed to have meant, so he wasn’t actually ever trying to stop people from touching his stuff. Then he grew up, and forgot about all of this. But years later, as an adult, he watched some old home movies, and saw himself yelling that. His own dad was gone, but his mother was still alive, so he asked her about it, and she explained what that was. So my dad, being the jokester that he is, just started doing it again. He’ll periodically yell, “no Dutch! No Dutch!” usually at very inappropriate times. I think you can guess the rest. It became part of his personality, so when he and his future wife had a kid, naming him Dutch just made sense. I get my brains and good looks from my mother, but I got Aderyn ‘No Dutch’ Haines’ sense of humor. I think it’s a pretty good deal.

Microstory 2210: It Broke Him

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Hello, everyone. My name is Kelly Serna, and I am Nick Fisherman IV’s lifecare assistant. If you follow him on social, you’ll already know that. What you don’t know yet is that he’s having more trouble with this than he has let on. When I took over for his update this morning, I didn’t want to say anything, but after rereading some key full posts from days past, I’ve decided to maintain his spirit of honesty. Nick has reportedly always been fascinated with immortality. He’s come up with a number of different ways for the characters he creates to subvert death. He told me yesterday that it kind of got so out of hand that in one universe, it’s virtually impossible for anyone to die, which effectively lowered the stakes for the stories, forcing his other self—the one who is still a writer—to come up with major loopholes to the backup protocols. At this point, I believe that Nick would salute, and respectively repeat the words “Major Loopholes”. Anyway, the way he tells it, the ability to avoid death was his favorite superpower out of all of them, which was why he felt such relief when he managed to procure it for himself. When he realized that he lost this power, he felt hopeless and frustrated, and apparently fell back into his old habits, which he had exhibited when he was just a normal guy, before the multiverse opened up to him. And yes, to be clear, I one hundred percent believe that he comes from a different version of Earth, and that he is telling the truth about everything that would sound outlandish coming from anyone else. I’ve read every installment on his site, and we’ve been talking a lot about it lately, because I didn’t pay all too much attention when we worked together at the plant nursery. Nick had never warmed up to the idea of dying, for any reason. He had been planning to live forever since he was eight years old when his older sister made a casual comment that they didn’t know it was impossible just because it hadn’t happened before. Traveling to a world where he was no longer immortal was one thing. He could have still held out hope for science. But to come to realize that he was so sick, not even the most optimistic of longevity advances could save his life in time? It broke him. He doesn’t want to do this site anymore, but I have faith that he will want to return to it one day, and when he does, he will not want his daily streak to have been broken. I have his passwords, so I will continue to update you in his stead. And when he does come back, I’m sure he’ll have a lot to say about how I handled things. I hope not to disappoint him.

Microstory 2209: We’re in the Endgame Now

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Might wanna skip this one if you have depression or anxiety issues, because they may be triggered by my words. The doctors have no clue what’s wrong with me, but the signs and symptoms are clear. Long before I started traveling the bulk, I watched my maternal grandfather slowly die of Parkinson’s disease. I don’t actually know if that’s what killed him, but it certainly contributed to it. I’m exhibiting a lot of the same problems that I remember him having. Stiffness, numbing, tremors. You don’t use the same term for it here, but after some conversation, the doctors were able to assure me that their idea of this same disease could be ruled out. It’s something else. That’s neither good nor bad, because it can’t be cured on either world. Neither can whatever it actually is...probably. Based on my rate of decline, and their lack of understanding, they don’t see any reason why I would improve. It’s likely going to keep getting worse until I become nothing more than a shell of my former self. Death is almost certain to follow. It will be slow, painful, and extremely frustrating. So far, the mental component hasn’t been too bad, but it has still been an issue. I’ve forgotten things, and I’ve been snapping at people, even before I went into the hospital. I’ve asked them to keep me alive at just about all costs, but at some point—probably rather soon—you won’t be hearing from me anymore. I won’t be able to think, let alone type or talk. We’re in the endgame now.

Microstory 2192: How Frivolous

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This is a very delicate period of time in this process, and I won’t be able to say much as these offers go out. It’s not like I’ll be able to summarize the conversations I’m having with my future staff members (or not, as it were). Luckily, I have something else to tell you about today. Well, two things, actually. You remember my parole officer, Leonard Miazga, right? I didn’t really think that I would see him again, but it seems that we’ll be working together at the jail. He’s been hired by the county to work on that side, so he won’t serve directly under me, but he’ll be in the meetings with us, along with the correctional officer, and the reentry specialist. It wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t named him on this site. Of course, the government knew who my P.O. was, but reading about him in my blog posts sort of stuck him in their brains, so when they were deciding who to hire, he was the first candidate that they thought of. Don’t worry, it was a fair process, but he ended up being the best for the job. You can guess why; because he’s not just a jerk who feels like he’s suffering through his work every day. He cares about his parolees, and that much was clear both from my anecdotes, and also his interview, as well as his references and résumé, I’m sure. The second announcement is that the lawsuit against me has been officially dropped. The company who sued me on the grounds that I damaged their reputation even though I never told you who they were finally relented. It’s shocking how long it took for them to realize how frivolous their case was. So now that it’s over, I’ll tell you who it was. Lol, psych! I still won’t, because that would be equal parts dumb and mean-spirited. I just want to lock the memory of the ordeal in my past, and leave it there. They’re doing fine, and I’m doing amazing, so there’s nothing left to talk about anymore. That’s all I got. What’s up with you?

Microstory 2167: Recall the Bad Stuff

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This is Nick again. I’m having a little trouble keeping my eyes open, and staying focused, but I’ll be all right eventually, and I wanted to share my own thoughts as soon as possible, even though my doctors would rather I abstain. I promise, Leonard will schedule it to post for me, which can sometimes take just as long as the writing itself. It’s true, a group of other jail guests ganged up on me last weekend, and beat me up pretty good. I never lost consciousness, but I did have to keep my face covered, so I remember more about how it felt than anything. In some ways, that made it worse, because I never knew when the next kick was going to come. Fortunately, we were in a camera blindspot, so the jail won’t ever find out who it was. I certainly couldn’t tell them, even if I wanted to. This was not a mixer, so people don’t shake your hand, and introduce themselves. If I ever learn anyone’s name, there’s a strong chance that I’ll forget it, especially since the intermittency of the schedule often means that I don’t see them again for a couple of weeks. People think that it must be awful, having such a bad memory, but I’ll refer you to the above, where I describe the terrifying sensation of being kicked repeatedly by multiple assailants. I would sure like to be able to forget this experience one day. Unfortunately, I tend to recall the bad stuff. Plus, they put me under general anesthesia, and repairing the internal bleeding was not a trivial matter. There was every chance that I would die on the operating table. I would never see my family again, my dog, Cricket and Claire. That’s what’s truly terrifying. I keep hoping that some bulk traveler will show up, if only to grab a quick bite at a fun unfamiliar restaurant. Just a few seconds of that portal opening could be enough to heal me. That could give me the time I need to accomplish my goals. But alas, that’s not going to happen. This is my life now, and it could also be my death. I’m at a pretty high risk of an infection, or there could be something else wrong with me that the doctors didn’t catch before. I know that none of you need a lesson on “how precious life is” but just don’t forget it, okay? If you want to do something, just do it; don’t wait. You never know what’s waiting for you under the next camera blindspot.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: The Rock – Part 3

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The Rock diplomatic discussions were over. Of course, the various representatives for the five former realities currently living side-by-side in the Sixth Key were going to stay in contact with each other, and diplomacy was never over. Even if they managed to integrate into a single unified peoples, internal conflicts would require constant care and consideration. Everyone was happy and unhappy at the same time, and that was all anyone could ask for when it came to something like this, especially at this incredibly unprecedented scale. The two major issues that they needed to cover were how to distribute resources, and how to organize some sort of joint form of governance. Things could always take any number of steps backwards, but they were ready to deal with that on their own, without any help from Pryce Tree, Team Matic, or the Vellani Ambassador. They found suitable locations in their own universe to handle anything new that came up.

There was only one thing left to do before the team could finally get back to their mission in the Goldilocks Corridor. As soon as the meeting was officially adjourned, Pryce Tree and Princess Honeypea disappeared, as did the delegates from the true main sequence. Everyone else still needed to get back to present day, and to the Sixth Key, or to its membrane twin, Fort Underhill. This other universe was attached to Salmonverse, but it could only be accessed at one location, for security reasons. Even a bulk traveler could not realistically enter the brane from a different spot, as the walls of the membrane were hyperdimensionally thicker than natural ones. For now, there wasn’t much traffic between the two conjoined universes, but that could change in the future, so Hogarth Pudeyonavic was currently erecting a checkpoint station to facilitate border crossings. Until that was finished, they just had to drop their own names to the little guard vessel, and go on through the breach.

Theirs was not the only biverse in the bulk. A few others were linked, like two stars orbiting each other. There were even rumors of a triverse somewhere out there. And when this happened, for whatever reason, the region of equilibrium between them was given a special name. They were now in the kasma. No one on the Ambassador was aware of the difference between the kasma, and any other part of the outer bulk. Perhaps it was an otherwise meaningless distinction, there only to designate its proximity to the connected branes. There was a bit of a lurch as their ship’s inertial dampener array began to recalibrate itself for the difference in environment. In a vacuum, you would be in a constant state of freefall, drawn towards the strongest source of gravity. In an equilibrium, gravity operated at an even distribution, which made it feel like every atom in your body was being pulled in every direction all at once. The strength of this pull wasn’t enough to spaghettify you, but it took some getting used to. That was why the internal dampeners were so necessary. They were taking longer to recalibrate. Hopefully, this would not be a problem on the way back.

“I would think that we would not feel such a thing from our little pocket dimension,” Carlin noted as he was stepping onto the bridge. Everyone else was either in the visitor’s pocket, or sitting around Delegation Hall.

“I wasn’t sure either,” Ramses replied. “I don’t know that much about it. I wish we were spending more time here, so I could take some more thorough readings.”

Olimpia shivered. “We’re spending long enough.” She hadn’t technically been in the kasma before, but was trapped between the two halves of the daughter universe. It too existed outside of the membranes, so it probably operated under the same physics. Her feeling of unease was not out of nowhere, and something that they should have been concerned about going into this final leg of the Rock mission. Fortunately, she lived there for untold time. This trip, however, would only take about an hour and a half.

Leona hugged her from the side with one arm. “We’re almost through.” The kasma was about three AU wide, at least here, which could have been incidental, or deliberate on the creator’s part. The reframe engine did not work inside, and in fact, they were unable to travel at high subfractional speeds. They were maxed out at about the quarter the speed of light. Their attempts to push it faster than that threatened to tear the ship apart at the seams.

They were watching on the viewscreen, but there wasn’t much to see. As they were too close to the nearest brane to view it in its full form, there was almost nothing but utter darkness. A pinprick of light marking their destination into Fort Underhill had appeared, now that they were only several hundred thousand kilometers away, but that was it. They were decelerating for safe entry, but they still would have covered the distance in a matter of minutes. Suddenly, a spacetrain appeared out of nowhere, roughly perpendicular to their vector. It was the Transit, of course.

Leona slammed her hand down onto the shipwide intercom. “Brace for gravity turbulence!” She pulled her hand away so she could slam it down again to the emergency stop button. There weren’t many physical controls on this thing, but that was an important one to include in the design, along with the touchscreens. “Full stop!”

The ship came to a complete stop, though Leona’s cry was her instinct to be safe rather than sorry. If anyone had an open glass of liquid, some of it would have splashed out, but they were otherwise okay. In normal space, a stop was a misnomer, as everything in the universe was in perpetual motion. But they were no longer in the universe, so it was extremely possible to be totally still. They just sat there in the equilibrium, and waited for the Transit to make its own stop in front of them. Everyone looked around. Someone was being recruited for the Transit Army. It could be any one of them, or hell, all of them. Usually, when the Transit appeared, time would stop for all but their target, but no one reported this happening. Everyone stayed in realtime, but perhaps that was a consequence of being in the kasma.

“Unidentified beautiful purple ship, this is Azura of the Transit, please respond.”

Leona opened a direct channel. “Transit, this is Leona Matic of the Vellani Ambassador. Who are you here for?”

A different voice came back after a mic bump, and some feedback. “Leona, this is Saga, but I go by Freya now. I’m looking for my daughter.”

“Does the Transit have anti-teleportation tech?” Leona asked.

“No, it does not,” Azura replied.

“Prepare to be boarded.” Leona switched off comms to address the team. “Olimpia and Angela, please stay with the delegates. Ramses, man the bridge. Mateo and Marie, you’re with me.”

At the last second, Carlin took Mateo in a bear hug to tag along. They were now all four in the Transit, which none of them had ever seen from the inside before. “Not cool, dude,” Mateo complained.

“Sorry, I had to see this,” Carlin responded. “No regrets.”

Leona approached the woman who looked just like Saga, but something shifted in her brain, forcing her to be absolutely certain that she was actually called Freya. In fact, she wasn’t even an Einarsson anymore, but a Hawthorne. Still, they reunited with a hug. Leona then shook the hand of the woman standing next to her. “Azura, I presume?”

Mateo was searching through his handheld device as Azura was nodding. He found what he was searching for. “I thought I recognized the name. I’ve heard it before, and saw you briefly. You’re an agent of the Maramon.” Centuries ago, when Mateo and Leona were separated for a long time, he was trying to rescue billions of human refugees from the universe and planet of Ansutah. During this desperate act, a Maramon broke into the facility, and co-opted the portal machine towards his own ends. Azura was one of the people that he sent off to god knows where. There were other names in this section of his list, including Cain, Abel, Seth, Luluwa, Awan, and Lilith. They were named after characters in the bible, no doubt. Then again, this involved time travel, so which came first, those chickens, or their eggs?

Azura nodded again. “I’m a hybrid, human and Maramon. You’re right, I was sent to spy on Missy Atterberry in Universe Prime, but I abandoned my post immediately. Actually, I abandoned it long before that. I secretly swapped my destination to Universum Originalis, billions of years before Missy would ever show up. I was bred to despise humans, as were my brothers and sisters, but that did not work on most of us. We make our own choices.”

“My daughter trusts her,” Freya explained, “and if Treasure says she’s okay, then I choose to believe as much.”

“Your daughter is Treasure Hawthorne?” Mateo flipped through his list again. “She’s on here too.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Azura said, “but best not give us any information about it. There is little chance that she has yet experienced meeting you in her personal timeline.”

Leona nodded acceptingly, and moved on. “What made you think that Treasure was here?”

“Thack,” Freya answered. “She can witness events in other branes, but not outside of other branes. The last she saw her, Treasure was taking my former ship, the Cormanu out of Salmonverse, but they never exited. Well, they do show up eventually, but Treasure isn’t there, and the ship has been repaired, so that’s some other point in the ship’s timeline. Time, right?”

“So if Treasure left one universe, and never entered another, she has to be in the outer bulk somewhere, including possibly the kasma?”

“That’s right,” Azura confirmed. “We had no idea that you would be here, but we were hoping that you knew something. Have you encountered anything unusual here? Anything at all?”

“No,” Leona answered apologetically. “It’s been smooth sailing. No anomalies detected. Though, we’re not experts on the kasma,” she added per Ramses’ interjection through comms. Yet. He was loving the chance to spend more time here to gather data. They all suffered through an awkward silence for a moment. “Well, we would help you find her if we could, but we have no idea. We actually need to get over to the other side to drop off all of these deleg—” She stopped herself when saw the viewscreen. “Are those readings accurate and in realtime?” she asked.

“Of course they are,” Azura replied.

“Ramses, where’s the aperture? I don’t see it anymore. Are we drifting?”

“Hold, please,” Ramses said, leaving them holding their breaths for a minute. “No, the aperture is gone. They’re both gone actually. I’m only getting faint readings.”

“Don’t bother trying to make it the rest of the way,” came a familiar voice through the Transit’s communication array. It was that angry Fifth Divisioner who kept coming back to irritate them, like a latent disease. He was the herpes of the antagonists world. “My alt closed it on the other side. You’re trapped.”

Freya opened a channel. “This is Freya Hawthorne, Engineer of the Transit. You do realize that we can travel to other universe, right? We don’t need a permanent aperture to fly through.”

“We reinforced the membranes too,” A.F. clarified. “Your little toy train isn’t going anywhere. Some of you will die there. Others will be retrieved shortly.”

“Sir, there may be a chance if we try to breach the cleavage between the two universes, but we have to go now,” one of the Transit crew members claimed. “That’s the main difference between the kasma, and any other region of the outer bulk. It carries the same properties, but is cut off from everything else, as a pond could be just like any other body of water, but still isolated by vast swathes of land.”

“Before you escape,” Leona began, “can you take on some extra passengers?”

Freya turned to her engineer. “Get it ready.” She turned back to Leona. “Get your people over here. You’ll have to leave your ship, though.”

Leona laughed, “no, we won’t. Rambo, get ready to pack up the Ambassador. We’re taking it with us, but I want everyone on board the Transit first, so Waltons and Olimpia, start teleporting them over two by two.”

Mateo jumped back to help with those efforts without being asked.

“There’s plenty of room,” Azura said. “We’ve only recruited a couple of cars worth so far. The problem is, I don’t know where to go.”

“Just take us wherever. We’ll figure out how to at least get back into Salmonverse later, even if that means seeking help from whoever runs the Crossover. I assume they use better tech?”

“Does a smartphone use better tech than a flip phone?” Azura asked rhetorically. “The membrane for Fort Underhill is already too thick for us. That’s how Hogarth designed it. We actually would need that aperture, just as you do.”

Freya’s engineer reported that they were ready to go just as Ramses was reporting that the Ambassador was empty, and ready to be folded into its pocket dimension.

“Come on over!” Leona ordered Ramses.

A minute later, he appeared, grasping the model size of the Ambassador. He was on the floor and unconscious. It would seem that surviving in the equilibrium was not the same as surviving in a vacuum. Mateo scooped him up, and demanded to know where the medical car was. Azura told him, and he teleported away.

Freya pushed the button, and the Transit flew off at the speed of light. According to her engineer, the kasma was like a tube, about three astronomical units apart, but theoretically several dozen AU long. At one of these ends, they theorized that it tapered off so that the branes weren’t technically touching each other, but there might have been a passageway just large enough for them to squeeze through. “We were wrong!” she cried as they drew nearer. “There’s no cleavage! We’re just gonna crash into it!”

“If there’s no space for us to get through,” Olimpia said, pulling the Sangster Canopy out of her bag of holding, and opening it up. “Then I’ll make space.”

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Orthogradient: Antitheses (Part V)

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Hundreds of thousands of years from now, the universe will be a very different place. No world, no culture, no daily routine would be recognizable to someone from the present day, or even thousands of years later. In this future, three boys were born. They lived on Earth, the surface of which had largely been abandoned, and left to thrive in peace. A small sect of humans remained throughout this time, incidentally keeping their population small by emigration, and otherwise avoidable life-threatening diseases and dangers. There were fully organic humanoids elsewhere in the galaxy, but they were genetically engineered one way or the other. This tiny Earthan village was composed of normal people who were the last in a line of natives. Being of the same sex, the trio was unable to further the species, finally marking the end of an era. After their respective parents died, they were all alone in a universe that they despised, and did not understand. They were inconsequential. Or at least that was what anyone who found out about them believed. But there was one thing that set them apart. They were not normal humans. Being the final members of the race had intrinsically made them special, which time itself took to be significant.

The boys grew up, and eventually forgot their own names. They adopted new ones, based on their individual time powers. Time travelers were still around, but only because they traveled through time. Except for these three, they were no longer being born, because the conditions were no longer suitable for them. Antichron was so named because he was a true time traveler, who was capable of freely moving backwards and forward along the timeline. Antiparticle could teleport multiple particles to a single point in spacetime, forcing an unnatural collision that resulted in the annihilation of them all, and an explosion correlative to the number of the particles, and the speed of transport, and reversely correlative to the size of the point. Antintropy could reverse entropy, repairing what once was broken, or healing what once was damaged. He could theoretically restore all of reality to a more ordered state. But to do that, he needed power. To do that, he needed the other two. Together, they became The Antitheses, and set about to change their present. This turned out to mean changing the past first.

A war ravaged the galaxy centuries prior to their time, which contributed to the dwindling natural human population. To win this war, the Antitheses could go back to the beginning of it, and use their considerable powers to win without breaking a sweat, but they did not want to reveal their powers to those who would misunderstand or fear them. They needed to become heroes in their own time, not villains before they were born. They had to win this war using traditional tactics. It was going to take a lot of work, but it was not impossible. To prepare for the mission, they went back even further in time, to an even more primitive technological period, hoping to steal an obsolete warship called the Sharice Davids. It was a powerful vessel, but limited in its advancements, which made it perfect for the future war. There were vulnerabilities in more advanced starships which the Davids did not have to worry about. Unfortunately, this mission proved to be more difficult than they thought it would.

They faced far more opposition in the 23rd century than they ever expected. Antichron’s ability to read the timeline was less refined than he hoped. The ship kept slipping from their grasps. Every time they tracked it to a new point in spacetime, it would move to another before they had any chance of boarding it again. At one point, it appeared to be destroyed, but then it showed back up on their temporal radar, and they were able to pursue once more. Annoyingly, it was traveling much faster than it should have been, and they were having trouble keeping up. Antiparticle was capable of teleporting them from one point to another without annihilating the particles, but this took a lot more concentration, because that wasn’t what he trained himself to do. Destruction was the name of the game for him, and reapplying his skills in another way proved tiresome. It was now the year 2337, though, and the ship was right before them. They were nearly there.

“It’s gone!” Antiparticle exclaimed.

“Again?” Antintropy cried. “How could it be gone again? They were staying in one place! We’re in the middle of nowhere. Why would they come all the way out to this region of space, only to disappear yet again?”

“No idea,” Antiparticle replied. “Follow them, Antichron. Where have they gone to next?”

Theirs was less of a ship, and more of a small snowglobe-shaped lifeboat, protected by a semitransparent plasma field. They didn’t think that they would need anything else, and besides, the more massive the object, the harder it was for both Antichron to jump through time, and for Antiparticle to teleport. Antichron didn’t say anything. His eyes were closed.

“Antichron!” Antintropy shouted.

“I’m looking!” Antichron shouted back. He shook his head. “I can’t find it.”

“That’s impossible!” Antintropy was never really not angry. “We would detect debris if it were destroyed, even if it were vaporized by something. It went somewhere, through a portal, or via the new teleportation drive it seems to have. And if it’s anywhere in the timeline, Antichron, then you should be able to pick it up. All of time and space at your fingertips. Find it!”

“I can’t. I’ve looked,” Antichron insisted. “It never comes back. We have attempted to intercept it at every moment that it has existed after the moment in its personal timeline where it was historically destroyed. I’m telling you, wherever it is, it’s not in the timeline, and it never returns.”

“Not in the timeline,” Antintropy echoed. “Where could they be if not in the timeline? There is no outside of the timeline.”

“Not as far as we know,” Antiparticle reminded him. “We could not find a teacher to help us learn the ways of the time traveler. If we were to find someone now, they might be able to illuminate us.”

“Stop suggesting that!” Antintropy demanded. “We’re not going to look for help. We’ve always done this on our own, and will continue on that way.”

“It’s obviously not working,” Antichron said. “Perhaps we underestimate these primitive people. They may have escaped in a way that none of us is familiar with, and are now cloaking themselves from detection. We’ve been chasing them relentlessly. They could have learned something about us.”

“What can ants learn of gods?” Antintropy questioned.

“Wait,” Antiparticle said, looking at the screen. “There’s something out there. We may have picked up a piece of debris afterall.”

“Plot an intercourse immediately.” Antintropy was not always the leader. Their trio had no predetermined leader, but power shifted periodically when one of them managed to bully the others into submission. It would continue to change if they never came up with an agreed upon hierarchy. This was assuming, of course that they didn’t destroy themselves by the time they accomplished their objectives anyway.

Antichron did as he was told, and flew their platform towards the only known object in the area. It was very slow, yet still difficult to maneuver. They passed by it a couple of times before they managed to sync up with its drift. It appeared to be a person, wearing a vacuum suit, but they were also sitting down. Antiparticle programmed the plasma barrier to accept them as a non-threat, then floated up to bring them in.

Once their mysterious visitor was completely inside of their transporter, the helmet opened, revealing a man. He was not surprised to see them, but also did not look upon them with any level of familiarity. He moved his eyes from one to the next, to the next. “You are here to steal the Sharice Davids?”

Antintropy cleared his throat, and took a half step forwards. “Yes, we are. Do you have a problem with that?”

“I personally don’t,” the man replied, “but you’ll find it difficult since the Sharice Davids no longer exists.” He paused, only to continue before they could respond. “They changed the name. It is now known as the Cormanu, so depending on what you’re after, you may be too late to the party.”

“Who are you?” Antintropy asked.

“My name is Meredarchos, but I’m currently in the body of a man named Carbrey Genovese. I can help you get to the universe that they have escaped to, but you will have to do everything I say without question.”

“Why would you help us?” Antichron questioned warily. “What’s in it for you?”

Meredarchos nodded as if they had already come to an agreement. “I have been searching for someone to help me in my home universe. I keep believing that I have found my champions, only to be thwarted by someone else, or even my targets themselves. I am trapped where I was born, and cannot leave on my own. I can teach you how to travel to where the crew of the Cormanu have escaped to, but before we do that, I demand that you use this technology to rescue me first.”

“Your physical form is stuck where it is, and you can only leave with your mind?” Antiparticle summarized.

“This is correct,” Meredarchos confirmed. “I seek out the weakest of minds, which might be the mentally vulnerable, or the injured. This man here was too busy trying to recover from truly severe wounds to keep me out. Unfortunately, my intrusion suppressed that recovery further, leaving me in this lame shell. I had to stay dormant for a while to survive. I need strength to find another host, but that does not matter if you can get to my real body. It is dying, and I cannot fix it where it is. It must be transported somewhere else, or I may end up trapped in a faulty new body, such as this one. The Cormanu is of no concern to me, but I’ll help you. As an added bonus, I’ll ignore your universe, and only conduct my work elsewhere. Trust me, that’s a good deal.”

“What exactly is your work?” Antintropy asked him.

“You cannot be made aware of that. It is a non-negotiable stipulation. If you want the Cormanu, you’ll have to agree to that, as well as a few more details. You may add your own requirements as well as we continue to discuss this.”

The Antitheses negotiated with Meredarchos, and laid out their plans. He taught them how to synthesize something called an atomic lance, which tapered to a point so small, it could pierce through the nucleus of an atom. With this, they were able to access hyperdimensional space, also known as the outer bulk. Bulk energy would leak into their lance, and fill the storage tank. This took a very, very long time, but they did not need to stick around to wait for it. All four of them jumped a few hundred years into the future, but they left the snowglobe where it was. When they returned to the timestream, the bulk energy reserves were full, and they were ready to make the jump. The whole thing shook violently, tossing them around like rag dolls. They did not bother installing seats on this thing, nor protective belts to hold them in place. Meredarchos was able to stay put by magnetizing his hover chair to the floor. The Antitheses, however, had to alter artificial gravity to keep themselves against the plasma barrier, which could be as hard as rock, or in this case, as soft as pillows.

They waited patiently as the shaking continued for several minutes before finally reaching critical mass, and falling through the breach in the universe’s membrane. Now that that part was over, they were able to place themselves in temporal stasis so they wouldn’t get bored, because it would be untold time before they could reach Meredarchos’ universe of origin. Seconds later, they were there, so they pierced the second membrane, and landed on the planet. It was desolate and plain. There were absolutely no geographical features. The whole world was entirely smooth. They found Meredarchos’ original body where it was barely holding onto life inside of a small personal living chamber. They pulled it into the snowglobe, which was getting pretty crowded now, and took off. First the shaking, then the piercing, then the stasis, then the piercing again, and they were finally where they wanted to be.

“This...this feels weird,” Antiparticle noted.

“It’s a dead universe.” Meredarchos was still piloting Carbrey’s body. “The laws of physics don’t foster life here. There are no habitable planets, only us, and the Cormanu.”

“Why would they come here?” Antichron asked.

He shrugged Carbrey’s shoulders. “It has plenty of chemical elements. “The ship was heavily damaged, so they need raw materials to repair it. If I hadn’t taught you how to travel the bulk, this would be one of the safest places to hide.”

“They’ve detected us,” Antiparticle announced.

“That’s okay,” Meredarchos decided. “They won’t be able to leave yet. I’m surprised they made it here in the first place, but I’m sure they’ve exhausted their power, so even if the repairs didn’t keep them from escaping again, they’ll have to refuel first. If I were you, I would take your shot now, though. They’ll be looking for workarounds to their predicament.”

“You can stay here,” Antintropy told him. He took Antiparticle’s hand, who in turn took Antichron’s. The Antitheses teleported right into the Cormanu where they found themselves trapped in what looked like a hock.

A woman casually approached, and dragged her fingers along the laser beams that were preventing them from leaving. When she removed her hand, they saw that the tips had been burned off. “I’ll just get Landis to fix it. Because you underestimate us. You see, we’ve been eavesdropping. We know who you are. We’re currently upgrading the ship, rendering it completely useless to you. It will not serve you in your stupid future war. We’ll let you out if you leave us alone forever, but if you ever come after us again, then we’ll react in kind. We give second chances, but not thirds. What say you?”

Antintropy scowled and approached the lasers. “We’ll leave your ship alone, and revert to our backup plan, but in the meantime, you’ll become our new fixation.”

The woman leaned in closer. “Then you’ll die.”

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