Microstory 2334: Earth, January 22, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

I beamed your contact card to dad, and he said that he’s going to write to you as soon as possible. Take that with a grain of salt, because his definition of possible might be different than yours. I would say, give it a couple of weeks, and then maybe just give up. I could talk to him again, if you wanted, but he’s really nervous. He doesn’t know if you forgive him, or hate him, or what. I have not told him anything about you. I told him that you and I were in contact now, and demanded he explain his involvement in our separation thirty-six years ago. I didn’t say anything about your job, or what your life is like on Vacuus. I did divulge that his wife, your mother, was dead. I felt like he had a right to know that, regardless of how at fault he is. Anyway, I hope that whatever happens between the two of you, it doesn’t negatively impact our relationship. I think he may be partially worried about that too. I want you to know that I won’t let him ruin our new sibling connection, and I would hope that you don’t let whatever he does or says—or doesn’t do or say—stop you from wanting to converse with me. Okay, I think I’m done with all this negativity now. You inspired me today. I actually don’t have much idea of how the platform can move from one part of the ocean to another. You’re right, it’s pretty big, so it can’t be easy. I’ve started taking some courses on it, not necessarily so I can tell you, but because I would like to understand it myself. I’m so old, I doubt that I’ll ever become an engineer, or a mechanic, or a sailor, but it doesn’t hurt to learn more stuff.

Until next time,

Condor

Microstory 2300: Millions of People

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The place was packed. In case you never found out, the event was catered, that was the surprise from the other day. A counter-serve vegetarian restaurant called Honeypea’s Harvest graciously donated tons of food and labor time for what’s certainly the largest reception I’ve ever been to. They actually started out in the Kansas City area, and their first location that wasn’t in the immediate region was Chicago, so they felt a kinship to us. Nick loved going there, I remember that, but I didn’t think to reach out to them. Our publicity firm did, and we’re very grateful for their assistance. We basically took over the entire Humankind Causeway Center, because we had the auditorium on one end, and then the ballroom for the reception on the other. You can see why I couldn’t tell you about it before, right? You say the word free, and people flock to you, whether they know what you’re giving away or not. There was a limited amount of space and food available, so we couldn’t let the whole world know. As for the service itself, it went pretty well. I told you that I was nervous, and having a full auditorium didn’t help with my nerves, but I pretended that they weren’t there, and that I was still practicing in front of the mirror. I got into a rhythm, and made it through to the other end. I want to thank all who attended, and everyone who logged in to watch the stream. Millions. Millions of people watched it live, and millions more have watched the recording since it ended. I can’t believe we ended up here. When I first met Dutch, he was just this cool guy without a care in the world. And when I met Nick, I honestly thought that he was a little nutty. He was shy, but not shy about telling us who he was, and where he came from. I grew to believe him, and it seems that a lot of you have too. I find it hard to imagine that this many people read his blog, especially now that he’s dead, when they just think it’s this dumb little fictional story. Dare I say most of you are believers? It’s crazy how far he’s come. Even though he’s gone, his legacy continues, through all of you, and through me. I’ll keep sending out posts as long as you keep reading them. I think he would appreciate that. In fact, I bet he would literally say, “I appreciate your support.”

Microstory 2152: Stop Stopping Moving

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I’ve gone back to being bored and boring, and that makes me nervous. Every time that happens, I get sick, and then something too crazy happens as a result of that. I’ve sort of exhausted every kind of infection that you can get, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get another one of the same type as before. To shake things up, when I had some free time, I returned to the nursery where I used to work to see my old friends and boss. It was a little awkward, because I didn’t leave in the best way. It wasn’t combative, like what sometimes happens with former employees, but it was really weird. To make things less uncomfortable today, I bought a few pots, and some seeds. I mostly chose daisies, since that’s my dog’s name, so it’s fitting. It’s not like I can’t do with a little bit more color in my apartment. I have a history of having very sparse dwellings. I don’t put up photos or paintings. I was born in 1987, so everything I ever cared about was in the cloud by the time I moved out of my parents’ house. If I wanted to look at a picture of someone I cared about, I could just take out my phone. It never seemed better to be able to see such things along the hallways. Walls are just there to hold up the ceiling, and I don’t see blank walls as problematic. All of those pictures are lost to me now, and no matter what I do, I will never get them back. I’m thinking about giving a description of my dogs, Sophie (who is no longer with us) and Daisy, so I can have drawings of them, though they may not be very good, because I have a notoriously bad memory. I am barely confident that the artist could even get close, and I’m not at all confident that we could figure out what my human family looked like. Still, it’s not a bad idea. It would certainly give me something to do with my days besides working, writing, talking about my feelings with my therapist, updating my parole officer on nothing, and sitting in jail. I should make a list...a list of things I can do, which may not necessarily improve my life, but perhaps just make it different. I’m a shark, so I should stop stopping moving.

Microstory 2069: There Are No Winners

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I’m feeling bad again, but it has nothing to do with my recent infections. I’m a week away from my first day on the job at the garden, and I’m getting really nervous about it. I’ve been worshiping the porcelain god, as they say. Can you imagine what a real porcelain god would be like? Of course you can’t, you gave up religion a long time ago, because it was too interesting. That’s one upside to living on this Earth, I guess. You somehow lost the curiosity gene, but at least you don’t believe in a flying spaghetti monster. I was hoping that I would be less anxious, since I’ve not encountered very many surprising people, except for those two alien believers, but my stomach has a different idea. When I’m not running from my life, like I was when Cricket, Claire, and I were hopping all over the multiverse, I’m anxious all the time. That’s me, I’m full of anxiety. Well, that and depression. I hear “brave” people in the public eye talking about how their mental health issues are things that they’ve been battling. But for me, it has always just been suffering. It’s not a fight, it’s survival. There are no winners. All I can really do—after the medication wears off, and the therapists close the door—is get through the day. Then I get five or six hours of sleep, and wake up to get through the next day. Listen to me, being all moody and broody about life. It’s not all that bad. It’s not like I can remember every bad thing that has ever happened to me, and I can’t remember many of the good things. That would be crazy, right? Ha. Right? Who could survive that?

Microstory 1992: Diplomatic Protection Authority

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DPA Officer: Thank you for coming, Director Parsons. I know you’ve had a long day, but now that you’ve gotten through all the background information questions, we just need to ask you about your upcoming visit. The good news is that if you ever need to speak with the National Commander again, you’ll only do one of these pre-interviews. All of that other stuff is only a yearly thing.

Reese: It’s quite all right. I understand the need to protect NatCo and national security.

DPA Officer: That’s right. So, what exactly will you be discussing with Commander Virtue tomorrow?

Reese: Uh...I’m not sure what I can say. I don’t have higher clearance than you, but it—

DPA Officer: I’ll just put down Code: Black. That basically means the only person who’s allowed to hear what you have to say is the man himself.

Reese: *nervously* Okay.

DPA Officer: *noticing* It’s fine, not a problem. Happens all the time. Commander Virtue asked to meet with you himself. That usually means Code: Black.

Reese: Okay.

DPA Officer: *clears throat* So. Do you have any known enemies or threats?

Reese: Well, I gave the last interview a comprehensive list of fugitives that I recovered during my days with Fugitive Services. I have no possible enemies beyond that.

DPA Officer: *shuffles through papers* Ah, looks like you have. Just let me take a look. Doesn’t appear to be anyone who would be of any real threat. Most of them are still locked up, except for this guy. He’s since been released?

Reese: Yes, Burhan ad-Din Salem. By all accounts, he was a model prisoner. I feel that he was let out on parole appropriately. I was present at his hearing, but did not speak.

DPA Officer: Why was he a fugitive, if he would end up such a great prisoner?

Reese: At the time, he spoke very little English, and there was some confusion regarding his lack of rights to leave the state of arrest. He meant nothing by it. Recovering him was one of my easiest cases.

DPA Officer: Hm.

Reese: What is it? You don’t agree?

DPA Officer: Oh, no, I have no reason not to trust your judgment. Your record speaks for itself. I was just noticing the strong sense of compassion you seem to have. Most members of law enforcement that I’ve met have been pretty boastful about all the bad guys they’ve put away. Fugitive agents in particular like to raise their numbers as high as possible. You seem only interested in justice. Is that a fair assessment?

Reese: The way I see it, my job has always been to protect people. That involves stopping certain people from hurting others, but if they simply chose not to hurt anyone, I would be happy. I think a lot of my colleagues would feel differently.

DPA Officer: Yes. Truthfully, Commander Virtue is one of them. Director Parsons, if you want him to like you, and give you what you want, I suggest you quell that empathetic nature of yours. He’s not a dick, but he’s a stern man.

Reese: Thank you for the advice. That’s very kind of you.

DPA Officer: *on the verge of laughing* Anyway, moving on...

Microstory 1991: Bear in the Air

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Director Reese Parsons: I’ve never been on a military airfield before.

Director Lotte Washington: Oh, I thought that Fugitive Services flew out of here.

Reese: Only for international searches. I only ever stayed in country. For that, we sometimes did charter, but usually just domestic.

Lotte: Right. Well, this particular airfield is a bit far, don’t you think?

Reese: That’s what I wanted to say, but I didn’t want to sound ungrateful.

Lotte: You and I are on the same level now, Director Parsons. You don’t have to be so nervous around me anymore.

Reese: It’s not nerves, it’s respect. You’re still senior to me, and still outrank me in every reasonable respect.

Lotte: It’s a little nerves.

Reese: Yeah, but not about this.

Lotte: Ah. Your meeting with the National Commander.

Reese: I...I, it’s just— *looks around to see if anyone is watching* I didn’t vote for him.

Lotte: Neither did I. Those records aren’t public, nor accessible to him.

Reese: I know that, I just keep thinking, what if he can tell?

Lotte: It doesn’t matter. Commander Virtue doesn’t need people to love him. He values efficiency and straightforwardness. He asks you a question, you answer it. Answer it as succinctly as possible. Don’t clarify anything unless he asks for it, and don’t volunteer information unless it’s some kind of emergency.

Reese: Okay, that’s good advice.

Lotte: You still look worried. You think I’m giving you bad advice?

Reese: Ya see, I both hate and love that about you. You’re too perceptive. It’s aggravating. Can you read minds?

Lotte: Only weak minds.

Reese: *can’t help but crack a smile*

Lotte: There he is; the Reese Parsons I’ve come to know. Lighten up. I promise you, relaxing a little bit before the meeting isn’t gonna turn you into a surfer dude in front of him. You’re an authority in your responsibilities. It’s not a quiz. He won’t ask you anything you don’t know, because he knows what kinds of things you know.

Reese: Thank you, Director Washington.

Lotte: You should just call me Lotte now. Even SI Eliot does.

Reese: All right, Lotte. Wadya think? This place is far, but what choice do we have?

Lotte: You tell me. You’re the one who’s gonna be running teams out of here.

Reese: I keep picturing a helicopter taking off from headquarters, and then the agents or troops jumping out of it to land in the plane midair. Driving it during rush hour is gonna be a nightmare. Of course, we would need to build a helicopter pad anyway.

Lotte: That could be done, but midair transfers are probably a no-go.

Reese: I know. *laughing*

Lotte: There’s one more option, but it’s pretty unorthodox too.

Reese: What were you thinking?

Lotte: Well...the river is a lot closer to your headquarters than this place is.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: Year 262,398

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Today is the big day. Mateo isn’t sure why the happy couple waited 10,000 years to get married, but it’s got to be a record for the longest engagement. Then again, they could have waited ten seconds, and it still would have set the record since literally eight people are alive in the observable universe right now. It’s soon to be nine, as The Officiant is set to return to fulfill her duties within the hour. Until then, Curtis needs some help.

“Did you ask Asier?” Mateo asks him.

“Do you not know how to tie a bowtie?”

“I do not, but he seems like the kind of guy who would. I imagine he’s had to go to police union luncheons, and stuff.”

“You’re probably right.” Curtis tilts his head as he’s staring in the mirror, trying to figure this out.

“Honestly, you two don’t seem like the type to wanna dress up all formal-like.”

“Ya know, we never met,” Curtis says. “I had heard of you, the guy who only lived one day out of the year, but we never hung out. Were we friends in your timeline?”

“Umm...” Mateo has to think about how he would describe his relationship with Curtis’ alternate self. “We were friendly, but we didn’t hang out either. Other!You spent most of his time in the early to mid-21st century, and I blew past that pretty quickly. He was in that time traveler prison.”

“Really? That doesn’t sound like me. I have no interest in exposing our secret to the world.”

“He had a different upbringing, I’m sure.”

“Yeah.” Curtis nods, then drops his arms in defeat. “Could you go get him for me? Please?” He asks as if he feels bad about putting him out, even though it’s no big deal.

“Of course.”

Mateo leaves, and returns quickly with Asier, who does indeed have experience with bowties, though only on himself, so he has to wrap his arms around the groom’s shoulders from behind him, like a sexy golf trainer. He does a great job; it looks perfect. “Are you nervous?” Asier asks.

“No, this has been a long time comin’. I’m ready.” He flicks his tie and says, “snazzy.” Then he spins around. “All right, who has a coin?”

Mateo and Asier pad their respective pockets. “No money here,” Asier says. “It hasn’t been invented yet.”

“What do you need it for?” Mateo questions.

“I’ve not yet decided who my best man is going to be. I know, I should have asked earlier, but I forgot. It’s all happening so fast,” he jokes.” He sees their expressions. “I can’t tell if both of you want to be chosen, or if neither of you do.”

This is only going to get more awkward. “Let’s both do it,” Mateo suggests. We’re obviously skipping the bachelor party anyway, so we’ll both stand up there with you.”

Curtis smiles, and accepts. As it turns out, the ladies had the same idea, but then they realized how weird it was, everyone being in the wedding party, and not having an audience. Abigail chose to step down to fill that role alone. The ceremony was simple, uncontroversial, and nice. The reception was small, but fun.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: November 8, 2398

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Each grave chamber on the AOC is wide enough to accommodate two sleeping persons, but there are only six seats in the main area, life support would struggle to satisfy the needs of twelve people, and microponics would not be able to feed all of them for an extended period of time. Plus, it would just be too crowded. Ramses built this ship using the resources that he was allotted on Proxima Doma, which were not infinite. It was never meant for the long term. Its only purpose at the time of fabrication was to make a quick jump to Bungula, and really that’s it. There are nine people here right now, and it’s already getting to be too much. The only one on their team who didn’t join them is Kivi, because she’s working with her tack team on the ground.

Leona had to go into orbit to heal her legs—which is working, by the way—but also to avoid the killer bounty hunters who are trying to kill her, either for the money, or because they’re true believers. Arcadia had to come up here too, because she looks like Leona, and guns don’t discriminate. Just as Mateo wanted to be with his wife, so too Vearden wanted to be with whatever he and Arcadia call each other. Marie and Cheyenne probably had to come, because they’re known associates of Leona by now, and are in just as much danger. Lastly, Ramses is the engineer, and had a lot of projects on the backburner that he has finally been able to actually follow through on. As for the final two new residents, Alyssa politely asked to see Earth from above, and Winona demanded impolitely.

It has only been a day, but everyone is already getting on each other’s nerves. Over half of them weren’t originally part of the crew, so no one yet knows their quirks and pet peeves. The shorthand the four originals had with each other has gone out the window in mixed company. So nobody’s happy, but the ones who have a choice don’t want to choose to leave. Mateo has proposed a competition. The winner gets to stay, and the losers have to go back down to the surface. Leona, Marie, Arcadia, and Cheyenne are exempt. Ramses doesn’t have to compete either, because he will be traveling back and forth as needed. This leaves Mateo versus Alyssa versus Vearden versus Winona. The only question is what the contest will entail. His first idea is to play a round of RPS-101 Plus, but he’s the only one in the group who has ever played it, so isn’t that unfair?

“Yes, it’s very unfair,” Leona points out.

“You have four people,” Marie begins. “You could always play Bridge.”

“No, remember what you told me?” Cheyenne asks her.

“Oh, yeah.” Marie frowns a little. “People here play Bridge with different rules.”

“I’ve never played before, so that doesn’t seem to matter,” Mateo notes.

“Neither have I,” says all three other contestants simultaneously.

“Why are we overthinking this?” Vearden questions. “Let’s just play regular rock, paper, scissors. Anyone can win, even if you’ve never played before.”

“A little boring, if you ask me,” Arcadia says.

“Do we really want to base it on chance?” Winona asks. “That doesn’t seem right.”

Everyone starts arguing all at once—about RPS, the flip of a coin, and a few computer games that the ship has installed—until Alyssa loudly interrupts, “enough! Here’s what we’re gonna do. Mateo, Winona, and I will go back to Earth. Vearden will be allowed to stay with the mother of his child. There. It’s done.” Yeah, that makes sense.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 8, 2398

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Everyone seems to be having problems at their jobs, but Angela’s is going well. She likes the people she works with, and she likes the work itself. She feels a little guilty about this, though, so she doesn’t talk about it at home. The team dynamic has definitely shifted. They used to pretty much go through everything together, with only a few major exceptions, like when almost all of them died, leaving Leona alone to deal with the aftermath. Now it feels like Angela is the one left out, unable to really do anything to help, while the rest struggle. She works on her studies, and helps other library-goers do the same, but she doesn’t contribute to her family. Mateo was feeling this before, but it’s only recently come to her attention that she’s kind of in the same boat. She’s smart, experienced, and knowledgeable, but what good is that if she doesn’t do anything with it?

“Hey.”

“Oh, hi, Rance.” Rance volunteers here too, and started around the same time she did, so he thinks of them as friends. She does too, but maybe it’s a little more than that?

“Need any help with those encyclopedias?”

“No, I’m all right.”

“Okay.” He looks nervous.

“Is everything all right?”

“What? Oh, yeah. I just...” He sighs. “My friends told me to come up with a cool pickup line, but I’m too honest to say something like that, so I’m just going to be blunt. Do you want to go on a date with me tonight or tomorrow night?”

Yeah, she would. He’s a nice guy who cares about people. He likes to read too, which is high up on her list of preferable traits. She smiles, and tries to say yes, but for some reason, it sounds a little more like, “I’m married.” What the hell was that?

“Oh, I didn’t realize that. I’m sorry, you just never talk about your partner.”

“Well, he’s real. His name is Heath, and I have to go. Can you cover for me?”

“Of course,” Rance promises. “See you tomorrow?”

“Maybe.” She runs off.

She burst into the condo. She had the evening shift, so everyone is home already, except for Leona, who is still at her primary job. She leans back against the door to catch her breath.

“Angela, are you okay?” Mateo asks. He’s probably getting ready to go pick Leona up.

“My name is Marie.”

He flinches, and walks backwards down the entryway, until he can see the living area. “No, she’s over here. Right? You’re Marie?”

“Yep,” the real Marie answers.

Angela follows him around the corner. “No, I’m Marie. You don’t even exist.”

“Whoa,” Marie says with a frown, “what are we talking about here?”

Angela gathers her composure. “You’re going to Croatia to get an abortion.”

Marie’s frown deepens. “Yes, unfortunately.”

“But when you come back, they’ll know that you went there, and they’ll question whether that’s why you were there, especially since you’ve already been to the doctor, so they already know about the baby.”

“They won’t necessarily know,” Heath contends. “When you fly private, there are certain ways you can get around being discovered.”

“But they could still find out,” Marie adds. “Angela, we’ve already discussed the plan. I’m going to fake a miscarriage before we even leave.”

“That’s not going to work,” Angela argues. “The authorities are not stupid. Nor are your medical professionals.”

“We have to try,” Heath insists.

“Or you don’t. Like I said, one of us doesn’t exist,” Angela repeats.

“Please explain,” Marie urges.

“I have never been pregnant before,” Angela begins to reason. “If the authorities attempt to examine me, they will find no proof that I was pregnant, or that I had an abortion. So I need to take your place. I need to become you, and you need to become nobody, like I am right now.”

“You have an identity now,” Ramses reminds her. “You’re Angela Bolton.”

Angela shakes her head. “That’s never been scrutinized. The forger inserted my name into the system. She can take it back out. Meanwhile, I take on Marie’s identity, and Marie just becomes this secret person with no identity. If she ever needs to prove who she is, she’ll pretend to be herself again, but hopefully we can just keep her under wraps, because I need to be the one available for a pregnancy test.”

“How will you explain why all those medical professionals you mentioned all believed that I was pregnant at one point?” Marie questions.

Angela scoffs. “They’re liars. They’re dirty, rotten liars, the lot of ‘em. Prove it. Prove that I ever took a blood test with them, or had an examination. You can’t, can you, because Leona is going to hack into their records, and erase them, and once it’s done, it’s their word against mine, but the authorities will believe me, because they’ll find no evidence that I was pregnant, as I’ve said.”

Heath looks over at his wife. “This is just gonna complicate things even more. It won’t make it easier.”

“But it will make it safer,” Mateo determines. “She’s right. It doesn’t matter what claims the people at the doctor’s office make. They’ll be proven wrong. They can run a million tests if they want, but they will not find the evidence they’re looking for in Angela’s body.”

“Marie will have to live the rest of her life in hiding,” Heath argues. “We had an excuse for her long-lost twin sister. Now they can’t ever show their faces in public simultaneously, because they’ll quite quickly realize what’s happening.”

“That’s assuming anyone even wonders whether Marie had an abortion in the first place,” Ramses says. “They may never knock on our door. You’re not going to be telling people that you went to Croatia.”

“Plus,” Angela goes on, “there will be undeniable proof that I didn’t even leave the country, because I’ll be taking her place at work, and the grocery store, and whatever. I’ll get myself under as many security cameras as I can find while you’re gone.”

Heath looks back at his wife. “It’s up to you. I’m worried about the risk. Abortion is illegal, and it comes with consequences, but combined with fraud, I don’t know what they’ll do to you. I doubt anything like this has ever been attempted.”

Marie faces him. “This is kind of what we do. We have a long and complicated history of tricking the bad guys into believing things that aren’t true. I’m willing to try, but only if you’re sure, Angie.”

“Let’s do it,” Angela agrees with a nod. “The first step is you telling me what you do for a living again?”

Microstory 1015: Fernando

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I admit it. I was in love with Viola, and I had been for nearly a year. I guess I shouldn’t talk about it in the past tense, because even though she’s gone, my feelings haven’t gone away with her. I don’t know what it was about her that made me so nervous that I couldn’t ask her out. Sure, she was sort of seeing Julius for awhile, I think, but not all the time. I had plenty of opportunities to take my shot, but I always chickened out. I’m not some nerd who stares at girls from afar, and wants what he can’t have, though. I’ve dated lots of girls, and I’ve never had a problem carrying a conversation. I guess that’s why it’s meant so much to me for so long. The fact that she could make me trip over myself every time she appeared only made me want her more. Yes, there were many girls before her, but none of them meant anything. She was the only one for me, and I’ll never know whether she could have ever felt the same way. That’s right, I’m not delusional enough to think she automatically saw me as I did her. I barely talked to her, so I never had much of a chance to gauge her thoughts. I wish I had said something to her, and not just out of some fantasy for what we could have been. If we had become friends, at the very least, I might have been at the river bank that day. I might have been able to stop what happened to her. I can’t sleep most nights. I keep replaying this alternate reality in my head where things turned out differently, just because I was around. I’m not the hero of the story, but I am a witness, and that’s enough to save her life, and Gertrude’s memories. I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to talk to her now. I can’t help Viola anymore, but maybe I can help Gertrude. Maybe some good can come out of this horrible time in all our lives. You know what, I’ve decided. I’m not going to waste time like I did before. I’m going to go over to the Feldt house right now, and see how she’s doing. Sorry to cut this interview short, and sorry it probably wasn’t very helpful. I hope you catch the real killer, or whatever it is you’re trying to do. Thanks!

Microstory 141: Setsuko Kawaguchi

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When Setsuko Kawaguchi was a child, she was diagnosed with a medical condition known as congenital insensitivity to pain with anhidrosis. CIPA is an inherited disorder caused by a genetic mutation that prevents the nervous system of the individual from detecting pain and extreme temperatures. In Setsuko’s case, however, this was an erroneous diagnosis. She would go on to be the herald of an extremely useful and common trait referred to later as evolution out of pain. Documentation regarding her was used to develop gene therapy that resulted in a new class of humans who were born with similar symptoms to CIPA, but with Setsuko’s one major advantage. Pain is not an arbitrary component of the living organism experience. It serves a vital purpose; to alert the brain to injury and other physiological dangers. If the brain is incapable of knowing that an injury has occurred, then it will likewise be incapable of solving the problem by clotting blood, mending bone, regulating body temperature, or doing whatever else needs to be done to keep the organism alive. Fortunately, Setsuko—and later derivative humans—needn’t feel pain in order to know of an injury. Her pain receptors had evolved to send complex messages to the brain without actually causing the pain normally associated with such issues. Instead of the stove burner hurting when being touched, Setsuko’s body would simply tell her to let go. A group of scientists who were looking for ways to replicate or otherwise manipulate anomaly abilities kidnapped Setsuko, along with a handful of others, for unethical experimentation. She ultimately lost her ability as a result of it being transferred to Phaedra Wirth. Once the organization involved was shut down, she became angry, and joined a major opposing force to Bellevue. Her new leader provided her and her friends with a new ability, and she used this to threaten the survival of the entire planet.