Microstory 2447: Terminator Track

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This isn’t a dome. It might be, in fact, the only thing that you can do on this rock that isn’t. It’s basically this big wide train that goes around and around the circumference at a certain latitude. They told me exactly how far from the North Pole and equator we were, but I can’t remember. The point is that the time never changes when you’re on the terminator track. It might be sunrise, sunset, magic hour, or twilight, and as long as you stay put, it will remain as such until the solar system collapses, or the track goes out of commission....whichever comes first. I’ve only seen sunrise and sunset, but I heard that magic hour isn’t that great since the atmosphere is so thin. I think they’re planning on adding more trains in between these, so it can always be night, or always be day. I’m not sure why you would want that exactly, but to each their own, right? This is a cool concept that they’ve tried on a few other planets. Varkas Reflex has something very similar, but the train is of a very different layout, and I think the capacity is a lot smaller, because it’s an older design, and the megastructural engineering capabilities weren’t quite there yet. Or the size of the one here on Castlebourne is the result of natural advancement. They made it bigger very deliberately because they wanted it to be bigger. If the Varkas one had been built to this scale, this one would be even bigger. Anyway, you get the gist. You sit on the train, and watch the sunrise. And watch it. And watch it. The show never ends. Again, it’s a cool concept, but if you stare at it long enough—even though you’re going, like, a thousand kilometers per hour—it starts to look like a painting. Well, I can go look at a painting of a sunset whenever I want. Do you have any idea how many paintings there are of sunsets? I couldn’t tell you, but look it up, and then multiply it by several times, because some people will paint a sunset, and then not show it to anyone else, so whatever’s in the records is probably an underestimation. As you can see, I’m a bit of a tangentist. There’s just not much I can say about Terminator Track. I don’t think it’s any better than just setting your smartwindow to show a hologram of a sunset at will. Actually, it’s worse, because again, Castlebourne has such a thin, dusty atmosphere, so just remember that before you board. When you think about it, it doesn’t make much sense, even if they thickened the atmosphere, and created some of that Rayleigh scattering. Part of the beauty of a sunrise or sunset is watching it change from one state to the other. Yeah, they’re pretty colors, but seeing them appear and disappear is part of what made humans like them in the first place. This is just static...like a painting. That’s the way I see it anyway. I’m not gonna tell you not to come here. I’ve not gotten into any specifics, but they have a restaurant, and several lounges. You can watch the domes fly by too if you go to the side viewports, so that’s another thing. I see this spot as a one-time destination, not something you frequent, except maybe if you’re on a romantic date, or something. Or, like I said, you could just tell your nearest smartwindow to show whatever you want. In fact, I bet the trains have cameras, which you can tap into, allowing you to watch it remotely anyway.

Microstory 2283: Is How it Goes

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I’m sorry to disappoint you, folks but there’s nothing special to report in regards to my sleep study. Why am I sleeping poorly, besides the pain that I’m still in? Stress, mostly. Stress and anxiety. We were pretty sure that that was the issue, but we tested for it in case it was something weird. They took a lot of blood and other samples, though, and there’s nothing out of the ordinary. I’ve always had problems sleeping. When I was a kid, people would tell me that you need eight hours of sleep per night, so I would ask whether that meant we need six hours total, accounting for the two hours it takes to fall asleep, or if I need to give myself a ten hour window. They had no clue what I was talking about. It was taking them ten or twenty minutes to fall asleep. That’s when I realized that I hated people. Not really, lol, but...kind of. I apologize that I’m giving you such an unexciting explanation, because my readers may tune out because of it, but this is how it goes, and it should be for now. Maybe it’s not great for engagement, but that’s what we want. I prefer it to be boring, after all that I’ve been through this year. Stress, I can handle. I have been dealing with it my whole life, even as a child. I’m sure I’ll start to sleep better now. Speaking of which, let’s go test that out now. Goodnight, everybody!

Microstory 2068: Tongueball It

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I’m feeling much better, thank you very much. It’s been pretty hard to get to sleep, which has sometimes been all right, because I’ve not had anywhere to go, but that hasn’t been true every single day since I got here. I’ve had an itchy and sore throat, so I cough, and then just make it even more sore. I believe that my landlord can’t hear me all the way up here, but I don’t know that for sure, and I’m afraid to ask her. I probably should ask her, though, since she would be able to explain it. My guess is that, when I lie down, fluids start moving in different directions, which is why it hurts more, but I don’t really know. She’s been off work for the last few days, and as a medical professional, in a particularly high need of a real good night’s rest every time, she should be able to expect me to work hard to put a stop to my constant disruptions. I generally don’t like to take drugs, but I’ll do it when I have to. When I was in my mid-twenties(?) I didn’t know the difference between a teaspoon and a tablespoon. I thought I was taking twice the recommended amount of nighttime cough syrup, but it turned out to be six times. It’s the only time I was ever intoxicated. I did not like it one bit, and I’ve never repeated the incident. Until last night, sort of. The tiny bottle of the strong stuff that my landlord had didn’t have any sort of fill cup. There wasn’t much left, so I figured I could eyeball five milliliters—or rather, tongueball it—but I was wrong. I ended up with twice the amount, but didn’t get to sleep any easier, and I never felt drunk. I probably really should have asked her about it, huh? It’s not my fault, I took too much cough syrup!

Microstory 2040: Wisconsin

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My fathers’ bad luck continued as they were trying to fly from Alaska to New Jersey. They were supposed to make a stop in Chicago, which is where my papa used to live, but that’s not what happened. On their way on the first plane, another passenger got really drunk, and started misbehaving. He was causing problems for everyone, and being really rude, so the pilot had no choice but to land the plane at a different airport to let him off. They even had to have the police waiting for him there. The closest one was this little airport called Southern Wisconsin Regional Airport. It wasn’t really built for planes like that, so it took them a long time to get through all the stuff with the police, and start trying to fly again. By the time they were ready, they couldn’t leave anyway, because of a snowstorm that had formed over Canada. If that guy had just not gotten drunk, they would have arrived in New Jersey on time. Honestly, it’s kind of scary for me to think about, though. They had to spend one night in Wisconsin until the storm passed, and then they were able to fly again. By the time they made it to New Jersey, though, the child they were going to adopt had already gone to another family. They were too late. They would have to wait a few months longer. They had to wait for me. I, for one, am glad that they did.

Microstory 1937: Pinpricks of Glory

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Leonard: *whispering* Hey, I can stand guard now. Go back to sleep.

Myka: *looking at watch* I wasn’t gonna wake you up. I was just gonna stay on and watch over you two, and then rest on the way back, since I can’t drive.

Leonard: You can always count on me to sleep exactly seven hours, give or take fifteen minutes. No matter what, that’s as long as I can go without having to relieve myself.

Myka: A walking clock. Well, anyway, do that real quick, and then just go back to sleep. I’m fine. I like being awake under the stars.

Leonard: *sitting down* Yeah, they don’t have these where I’m from. [...] I don’t mean literally. I’ve just always lived in the city, where there’s so much light pollution, so I don’t usually get this great of a view. I’ve been around the world a bit, but generally just to different cities, and at any rate, I couldn’t appreciate the beauty when I was young.

Myka: Yeah, same here, though I’ve not done much traveling at all. There were plenty of places to rob right near home.

Leonard: Yeah.

Myka: You don’t take issue with my criminal past?

Leonard: A lot of P.O.s get into the business hoping to keep bad guys behind bars. They like the idea of catching their parolees red-handed, instead of waiting until someone else calls in an issue. They get a kick out of it. I always tried to listen to my people, and while I was never a jerk about it, I started to empathize with them even more. I don’t believe in evil; just unproductive or counterproductive choices. It’s not my job to catch bad guys. It’s my job to try to help them figure out a better path. Or it was, anyway. There were others like me, of course, but one thing a lot of them never understood was that the right path isn’t the same for everyone. Like you said yesterday, driving is a trigger for you. For someone else, driving could be the only thing keeping them out. I liked to look for those positive outlets. It was my favorite part.

Myka: So you really got to know them. Tell me about your favorite parolee.

Leonard: It was the guy who told me about all this alien and parallel universe stuff. He felt like an alien himself, and didn’t think there was anything he could do to contribute to society. So I had him work with me. We went on a lot of missions together that weren’t exactly legal, but they were positive, and I think that helped. We were pretty good friends...too good, probably. I never told my bosses or co-workers.

Myka: Was he...more than a friend, then?

Leonard: No, nothing like that. I was married until recently. In fact, I had just signed the divorce papers when I was whisked away to your world. Hmm...I wonder if that had anything to do with it. Whatever, I dunno, tell me about yourself.

Myka: You can probably guess a lot about me. I’m not remarkable. I grew up in an average household with insufferable parents who drove me to a life of crime just so that I could exert some control over my own life, and learn to take care of myself without having to answer to anyone, or worry about other people’s needs.

Leonard: Wow, that’s quite insightful of you.

Myka: *smiling* I’ve had a lot of counseling since I got clean.

Leonard: Tell me more. Who was the first person to try to really help you?

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: October 24, 2398

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Mateo and Ramses made a conscious decision to not exit the Facsimile pocket dimension right away. This world has been abandoned for centuries, but certain things they know of were designed to stand the test of time—specifically, anything in The Constant. The version of the Constant in the Third Rail started out as the same as the one in the main sequence, but they split from each other at some point. There should have been two separate elevator shafts, two separate kitchens, two separate libraries, and two separate Danica Matics. The Facsimile, on the other hand, is an exact copy of the way the world was at its last save point, which was reportedly around Christmastime 2022. The only things that don’t get copied over are living beings, particularly people. Plants seem to do okay, but nothing that moves on its own was duplicated. They didn’t know who made the Facsimile in the first place, but they believe they met the man himself yesterday, who ended up being trapped there this whole time by The Cleanser.

Now they’re on their way to Lebanon, Kansas. It would have been a short trip, giving them plenty of time to return to the dimensional exit by the end of the day, except that there aren’t any working vehicles in the world. Nearly everything runs on fossil fuels, and gasoline breaks down over time. They could have found an electric car somewhere, but they wouldn’t have been able to charge it, because power stations run on...fossil fuels, and all the solar panels they happened to come across had fallen apart due to lack of maintenance. Bicycles still worked, though they couldn’t just grab two off the street. They had to first make their way to the nearest bike shop, and go all the way to the back, to the ones that had suffered the least amount of exposure from the broken windows.

They found some really good models, but according to Ramses’ calculations, the ride would take over 21 hours straight. It was the middle of the night, which made it more difficult to see, but at least they didn’t have to worry about traffic. They pedaled for a few hours, took a rest, then pedaled a few hours more. They kept going like this for the better part of two days, and they’re finally here. If there’s nothing underneath that can get them back to the exit in a reasonable amount of time, they’re kind of going to be screwed. The elevator has to operate, and they have to get down there for some help, and an advantage that they never could have hoped for before. If this doesn’t work, they’ll have to wait a whole other week until the next window opens. When they left, everything seemed fine, but a lot can happen in seven days. Things might have taken a huge turn, and it would only get worse. The moment of truth. Mateo presses the secret call button, and crosses his fingers.

“You know it won’t be another week, right?” Ramses says after they hear the motor humming through the walls. “It would be two more weeks by bike. It took us two days to get here, which was fine in the beginning, since we started at midnight, but now we’re starting late on the second day. When we get out of here, it will be the eighth of November.”

“That’s assuming we can’t get back home tonight.”

“Right,” Ramses agrees. The doors open, and he steps in. “This is a good sign.”

They ride all the way down to the bottom. The lights are already on inside, anticipating their arrival. “It looks empty.”

“Computer, report,” Ramses orders.

No response.

He shrugs. “Worth a shot.”

“We don’t have time to search.” Mateo breaks the glass with his shirted fist, and pulls the fire alarm. The alarm still works too. They take another break on the couches while they wait to see if anyone runs up from deeper in the facility. It’s a big place, it might take a person a while. After ten minutes, though, they’re just wasting time. Mateo cancels the alarm, and follows Ramses to the control room.

Ramses starts fiddling with the computer. “It’s blank.”

“What’s blank?”

“The hard drives; everything.”

“They’ve been wiped clean?” Mateo asks.

“No, this is more like how they would look if you bought the computer today, and haven’t used it yet. I guess there are some things that the Facsimile can’t copy.”

Mateo tilts his Mr. Spock brain. “This place is run by an AI, or it’s supposed to.”

“Yeah.”

“That would not be a living organism, but it would be a consciousness. If the Facsimile can’t copy people, it probably can’t copy other forms of intelligence either.”

“Hm. Yeah, you’re probably right. Damn, I was hoping to find some great tech, but I guess that’s not going to happen.”

“This place is huge. Surely there’s something we can use. Let’s go take a look around after all. We need to find some kind of car, or something, anyway.”

They each take a radio transceiver, and split up to search the premises, hoping to come across something both useful, and which they can take with them back to the Third Rail. But only Ramses is going to be doing that. Mateo already knows what he’s looking for, and he’s about fifty percent sure that it’s here. He goes back to the lounge area, and approaches the wall with the sledgehammer he found in the garage. Hoping that Ramses has gotten himself out of earshot by now, Mateo starts banging. It’s not long before he’s through the wall, and can reach the secret door behind it.

Ramses runs back in, having apparently heard one of the last swings. “What the hell are you doing?”

“What do you think?”

“There’s not gonna be another you in there.”

“Wanna bet?”

Mateo pulls the rest of the wood panels away, and opens the door. Inside is the stasis pod he was told he woke up in months ago in a different version of the Constant. It’s occupied, so maybe it’s not such a different version, is it?

“This is just going to make things complicated,” Ramses warns.

“He’ll remember what happened to him in the past. We need answers.”

Mateo deactivates the pod, and lets the other Mateo out. Fax!Mateo steps out. “Is everybody who came down here in this room right now?”

“Don’t worry about that,” the regular Mateo says. “It’s not going to implode.”

Fax!Mateo narrows his eyes at his other self. “Report.”

“No, asshole, you report. The memory of my time down here has been erased. Before it happens to you, you’re gonna tell us. What did you see? Who did you see?”

Fax!Mateo looks behind him at the pod control panel. “October 24, 2398. Sorry, it’s not time yet.” He runs off.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 17, 2398

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Since he arrived, Vearden has been on vacation. He’s helped carry equipment up to the second floor lab, and stuff like that, but he hasn’t really tried to get too involved. Before this reality, he was really busy and stressed out all the time, and it didn’t seem like there was much he could do to help here. It’s probably time for him to make some decisions regarding his future. He’s living in his apartment for free, and while no one has asked him to get a job, it’s probably not okay that he hasn’t. According to the group history, he’s not the first person to feel this way. The core people are Mateo, Leona, Ramses, Angela, and Marie. Everyone else has had to work much harder to find their place. There don’t seem to be any openings at the moment. Angela’s new business is too small to need more than three employees. He’s not equipped to be of any use in the lab. He’s not qualified to go on the secret missions, not that he’s interested in any of that.

He’s decided that he has had enough of this time travel business. He remembers being young and motivated. He wanted to understand how it all worked, and to know his place in the world. He had to force his way into the underground time traveler society. Nobody asked him to do it. They asked a version of him in another reality, but since that version ended up in the new reality, people apparently didn’t feel that they needed another. That is, until they did. They sent him to another planet, in the future, where he tried to help an alien race coexist with a competing species. It was exhausting, and now that it’s all over, his perspective has changed. He’s always liked to be the little helper. That’s what he’s been for most of his life, the guy who’s just there to help others with their objectives. He’s worked as a literal assistant on more than one occasion, including a position usually filled by women. He got some looks for that. Whatever. Whatever about everything. He’s just going to leave.

“Where are you going?” Vearden has gotten a good grasp on people’s schedules around the building by now. No one should be up and down here at this hour, but the receptionist is at her desk almost two hours before the first floor even opens.

“Oh, hey, uhh...Arcadia, right?” It’s weird that she’s using Leona’s body.

“We’ve met.”

“You might be thinking of a different me,” Vearden says.

“We met briefly on Orolak, when I came to take your alt to Tribulation Island.”

Vearden looks for his memories up in the corner of the ceiling. “Yeah, I guess I did see you once. I wouldn’t say that means we met, though.”

Arcadia nods. “It looks like you’re leaving us.”

Why would she care? He doesn’t have to lie to her. “Yep, for good, probably.”

She goes back to her book. “Good luck.”

He nods, picks his bag back up, and starts walking towards the door, half-expecting her to dole out some morsel of wisdom that might get him to rethink his plans. She doesn’t say a word. He was right, she doesn’t care. Vearden steps out of the building, and into the predawn darkness. He breathes in the warm summer air. It’s a new chapter in his life, but don’t call it the second, because he’s lost count of how many times he’s changed directions. He has no job, and no place to live. He doesn’t even have an identity, but what he does have is—Arcadia catches up with him, and starts to walk by his side with a smile. She still doesn’t say anything, though, not until the next day.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 13, 2398

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Miller Dennard didn’t understand when Leona called the weapon that one of the other helicopters dropped down in the gulf an atom bomb. She didn’t even have any clue what that could mean, or make any connection between the term, and the sunboxes of lore. Apparently, the a in a-bomb stood for addle, for its function of spoiling life within the blast radius. She’s not a scientist, so she couldn’t detail how it worked, but she assured the team that international war laws prevented the military from using such weapons against humans. They’re only ever deployed to disrupt an enemy’s agricultural capacity. Taba, Egypt relies heavily on marine life in the gulf to support their economy, particularly in selling fishing licenses for tourists. This is going to severely damage their budget, but as she put it, they should have thought about that before they collectively decided against helping a small group of lost wanderers. Heath is shocked that she was able to secure approval for such a hostile act. The three time travelers are valuable, and he knows that, but now it seems that others are starting to agree. People are going to great lengths to both protect them, and get them on a certain side.

The transport helicopter and its escorts landed in Frankfurt, then got them into first class on a direct flight back to Kansas City. A driver came for the fake Amir, and then another came to deliver the rest to the condo, which is when they discovered that the other three members of their group were not there. Angela left a coded note, explaining that they were going off on a rescue mission. That was days ago, though, and they should have beat them back here with The Olimpia. Something else happened, and they needed to know what. They weren’t able to get ahold of them by phone, so they confronted Winona Honeycutt for answers. She claimed that they were aware of the rescue attempt by the Dead Sea, but lost track of the other half of the team after that. No one appeared to have detected them teleporting away, but that’s what the Honeycutts figured went down. She said that she had been searching for them ever since, and have come up with no leads. It’s hard to tell when she’s lying, but it could be true.

Finally, after days of stressing out about it, Leona received a call from an unfamiliar number late at night. Mateo wasn’t able to talk for very long; not long enough for Leona to arouse the others to listen in on the whole conversation, but he was able to report that the three of them were okay, and were making their way home. Communication was difficult, though, so she shouldn’t expect to hear from them frequently. No word on where they were, or what they were doing, but it was a relief just to make contact. Their communications may be compromised in more ways than one, so they’ll wait to debrief each other in person. They sure have a lot to divulge themselves.

“What else did he say?” Kivi asks, having only heard the tail end of the conversation.

Leona frowns, and stares into empty space. “They won’t be back for days, if that.”

“I’m sorry.” Marie and Heath only heard Mateo say goodbye, and then hang up.

Leona straightens herself out. “You’re in charge while I’m gone.”

“Where are you going?” Heath asks her.

“I’m going to wherever they are.” Amidst confused protests, Leona goes back to her room to get dressed, and gather a few essentials. She orders the others to remain here, and not follow her. Then she drives down to their lab.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 3, 2398

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Leona did a double take as she was driving last night on her way back from date night. She and Mateo were meant to have dinner downtown, but they got in a fight on the ride out there, and ended up just skipping it. He got out of the car to walk alone, so she decided to drive around a little bit to clear her head. It’s not everyday that he has the upper hand in an argument, so she wasn’t exactly excited to get back home and face her friends. She wasn’t too far away when she spotted one of them walking along the path in the park across from their building. “Hey!” she called out to him. He looked around for the source of the voice, and smiled when he found it. Before they could exchange one more word with each other, a dark van pulled up between them, and stopped for a few seconds. When it drove away, Ramses was gone.

She held for a second to go over the possibilities. He could have been taken against his will, sure. It wouldn’t be the first time for any of them. She didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but he clearly saw her on the other side of the road. He wouldn’t have smiled if he didn’t realize in time that it was her. Given that, he would have made an effort to say something to her if he was intending to get into that van. He wouldn’t have just shrugged off the awkward timing, and went about his secret business. No, even though she didn’t know why he would be taken, it was the only logical hypothesis. So she moved over to the right lane, put on her hazard lights, and impatiently waited for the traffic to clear. Then she made an illegal u-turn, and begin to pursue the van.

She called his phone, just in case there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this. After three rings, the driver of the van tossed something relatively small out the window. She was pretty sure she knew what it was, but she stopped anyway, and quickly opened her door to pick the phone off the road, and bring it in. Hopefully they didn’t just see her do that, because they might become suspicious. Fortunately, the car behind her still had a ways to go before catching up, so nobody honked their horn. Now it was pretty obvious that something nefarious was going on here, and she needed help. She tried to call Marie, and then Angela, but neither of them answered their phone. She called Mateo, even though he was surely still on foot, but his phone rang inside the car. Damn, he left it here when he hopped out in a huff. She was going to have to fix this on her own.

Twenty-five minutes later, they were into the rural outskirts of the metropolitan area, and the van was showing no signs of slowing. That was when the route started to become all kinds of crazy. They turned down one road, and then down another, and then another, until they were all the way back to where they started from. They winded around, and occasionally spent a little too long at a stop sign. Oh no, they must have realized that she was following them, and were just testing her. She tried to call her friends again, but this time couldn’t even get through to voicemail. She couldn’t find a signal at all. What were these people doing? And what were they going to do to Ramses once they confirmed that Leona was behind them. It was dark, though, and despite the fact that they were out in the country, there were still quite a few other cars around. She just hung back a little farther, and prayed that they couldn’t prove any suspicions. 

They played this game for hours, and now it’s after midnight. There’s still no cell service, and Heath’s car is running out of gas. The van probably is too, but she has no choice but to keep trying. All she can do is continue to follow, three cars back, and hope that they stop soon. They don’t, though. In fact, they turn off on a single lane road; that’s one lane, full stop. It would look mighty suspicious if she happened to be going that way too. But it doesn’t matter, because Ramses needs rescuing, and she’s the rescuer. They keep going until they reach this isolated little farmhouse.

Leona switches off her lights, and turns into the driveway, because if they haven’t noticed her by now, they probably never will. They go all the way up to the porch, but she stops near the road to watch. She sees them drag a Ramses-sized burlap sack, up the steps, and into the house. If he’s dead, she’s going to kill them. One of them leans against the van and lights up a cigarette while the others are starting to do whatever it is they plan on doing. That’s when she gets out of her car, and approaches without caution.

“Hey, you’re not supposed to be here! Who are you?” he cries.

“This your van?” she asks, nodding to it like a gangsta.

“What of it?”

“How did you not detect my pursuit?”

“Hell you talkin’ ‘bout?”

She pops him in the nose with her forearm, spilling blood out like a beer can at a college party. As he’s crying like a baby, and trying to shove the blood back into his body, she slams the back of his head against the passenger window, cracking it slightly. Lastly, she situates the inside of her ankle against his, and pulls the back of his neck away from the car. He trips on her leg, and crashes to the ground. She stomps on his back before casually walking up the steps, where she finds the other two men trying to get Ramses into a chair. They stop and stare at her of course, not sure what the hell is going on.

“Hey, wait, I know you. You’re just a floor worker.”

“No,” Leona contends. “I’m the lead floor worker.” She fights them both. They have knives, which is adorable, and they’re rolling on the floor in a matter of seconds. Those three years she spent training with the Crucia Heavy really paid off. These electronic repair idiots are no match for her, but it’s better to be overqualified than underqualified.

Once it’s all over, Ramses finally comes to. He takes a moment to assess the situation. “Thanks for coming after me.”

Leona starts to untie him. “What do these guys what?”

He chuckles. “Honor. You see, I quit, which apparently didn’t mean that the number two worker was promoted to supervisor, or as a thought, repromoted. They had to be tested again, and evidently, Bruno over there cheated the first time, so they fired him. And the other guy, Stockboy, just sort of does whatever Bruno says.

“We were driving for, like, four hours, but we’re probably less than an hour away,” she tells him, questioning the rationale.

“Yeah, they were worried about being followed or traced, so they thought going around in circles would prevent that. I guess they figured that would be good enough, and they wouldn’t have to actually look out for someone like you. True morons, if you ask me.”

“I would have asked,” Leona begins, “if I didn’t surmise that myself.” She tenses up when the front door opens, but relaxes when she sees that it’s the rest of the team. They’re in no hurry either, presumably after seeing the driver writhing on the ground.

“Okay,” Heath says, “next time you go into the Great Dead Zone, drop a message. We barely found you.”

Microstory 1836: Sleepkiller

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Sleep and I have always had a very volatile relationship. It’s constantly hiding from me, even though I try to be nice, and always treat it well. I’ve tried everything to connect with it, from not watching TV within a few hours of bedtime, to meditation, to of course pills. Nothing seemed to do me any good. The doctors I talked to said it was insomnia. No der, what do I do about it? Nothing I haven’t tried, just keep trying those things. But stay away from the pills, because they can really mess you up. So I did, and I kept failing. I was miserable, and insufferable. I was fired from my job, not just because they caught me sleeping a time or two, but because I was agitated and ill-mannered to my co-workers. I had had enough. Something had to be done, and I didn’t care any more what the consequences were. So I went back to the pills, but I’m not talking about melatonin, or a tiny little sedative. I went for the big stuff. I was going to fall unconscious every night, whether my body wanted to or not. And if that shaved time off my lifespan, then so be it. It wasn’t like I had much to live for anyway, especially if I couldn’t even function during the day. I knew it was going to be rough, particularly at the start, so I carefully prepared for it. I set three different alarms. My regular alarm clock was set to the highest volume. A friend of mine tinkered with it so it would play the noise and the radio at the same time. My smartwatch vibrated simultaneously, which I always found jarring and annoying. Five minutes later, the television in the living room was programmed to flip on, again at the highest volume. I knew this would piss off my neighbors, which would motivate me to actually get the hell out of bed to unplug it quickly before then. I thought it was a foolproof plan, but I was wrong.

A new personality sometimes took over at night. At first, I didn’t know what was going on. Things were moved around, the refrigerator was open, the floor mat was upside down. I realized that I was sleepwalking. I had heard of that being a side effect, but never thought it would happen to me. Okay, that was okay, I could deal with it. Place a lock on the bedroom door, and line the floor against the walls with pillows. I could still hurt myself, but at least I would land softly if I fell. It didn’t work, as you might imagine. I still found weird things the next morning. Nothing truly bad had happened, though. I didn’t have any stairs, and I never once got in my car, or left the house. I would wake up feeling a little weird and dizzy, but I was otherwise better rested than ever in my life. So I kept taking the drugs, careful not to overdose, and kept just cleaning up my place when I came home from work. I did go through a lot of knives, though. My sleepwalking self had a habit of throwing them away, and always on trash pick-up day, like he periodically felt that it was time to refresh the collection. Again, fortunately, I never hurt myself with them. Then it happened. After all this goofiness, I did something truly terrible, and I still can’t explain it. I did get in my car, and I did leave the house, and I drove onto the highway. Evidently, I came across a horrible car accident, a victim of which I managed to pull from the wreckage. For whatever reason, I scooped her up, drove her to an industrial park, and threw her off the roof of a two-story building. I read about it in the paper the next day, and used my GPS history to put the pieces together. She didn’t die, but she was seriously hurt, and it was all my fault. I can’t live with myself anymore. So I’m back on that roof, but by myself this time, and completely awake. Goodbye forever.

Microstory 1719: The Centaurs

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My people have been cursed to wander the continent forever. We may stop to rest for the night, and gather resources, but then we must continue. Legend says that anyone who spends too long in one place will be turned to stone. This is not entirely true, but it is not completely false either. A body cannot transform into stone, but it can become stone-like. Their skin will harden, and their feet will root into the ground. The enemy who cursed us decided that we would have a choice, and treated this choice as a great gift. We can either keep moving, or we can never move again. Of course, that is no choice at all. Some say the stonemen are kept alive where they are forever, but there is no way for us to know that. If we ever see someone become stonelike, the only course of action is to get moving again, and we are always long gone before the stonemen can die... or not, if that is the case. No one here was alive when the curse fell upon us. We were all born into this way of living, and most of us accept that there is nothing we can do about it. I am not so sure. I know that there is a way out of this, and it’s all because of something I once saw when I separated myself from the group for a brief period of time. Going off is a fine thing to do. In fact, our tribe has been split a few times over the decades. Some groups would prefer to go another direction, while a few individuals have determined that they would survive better on their own. Many of us just like to walk alone for a while, but then we rejoin later. One day, when alone, I encountered something I had never seen before. We have come across many other tribes, but we try to steer clear, worried that the curse will befall them as well if they spend too much time with us. We would wish this on no one. The few individuals I saw that day were different. They were sitting upon great beasts, which evidently walked for them. They called these creatures horses, and referred to themselves as The Centaurs. I was in awe, and hopeful that there was some way for my tribe to rest and walk at the same time.

I begged these Centaurs to follow me, so I could show my people what they have discovered, but they were worried. To begin, they did not want to incur the wrath of the demons who cursed us in the first place. I have never seen one of these demons myself, but I have seen stonemen, so I know that someone must have done this to us, and that it is not some kind of elaborate lie to control us. Still, the demons could be watching us in secret, and if so, would be capable of punishing us further for attempting to find a way out of our predicament. The Centaurs were also worried that we would steal their horses for ourselves. We are noble and just, and would never do such a thing, but I understand the concern. All I want to know is where they found their animals, and whether we could find more for ourselves. In the end, they did not agree, and I was forced to return to the group with only my word. Many believed what I told them of the Centaurs, but not everyone, and of those who did, some did not believe it would be a good option. As far as I knew, only eleven horses existed in the entire world. That would not be enough to sustain our entire population. I urged them to reconsider, assuming there to be greater number of the animals somewhere, but also pointed out that eleven would be enough for us to take turns. It did not matter, they believed. We didn’t know where any of these horses were, and there was every chance we would happen upon them as we continued to wander. Looking for them on purpose would not increase the odds. It would, I explained, if we spread out more, but still, they refused to hear me. Frustrated with their skepticism, I have now separated myself once more, and I am not sure if I will ever rejoin. I keep walking in a lateral direction, always hoping to randomly come across more Centaurs, or better yet, unused horses. Instead, I have found something else. It is a massive object that I can barely describe. It’s yellow, but covered in black rectangles. There are four black circles on the bottom near each corner, which rest upon the ground. I step inside to find dozens of seats that would make quite comfortable beds, but one looks special. It’s in the front, and there are tons of objects along with it, like little dots, and another black circle. I see something shiny underneath it, and feel a compulsion not to take it out, but to turn it. The yellow object roars and shakes, and for a moment, I’m worried that it’s going to eat me. I cannot let it, so I sit down in the seat, and start tinkering with everything I find that moves. A couple of things are at my feet. When I step on one, the entire thing lurches just a little bit. I keep moving things around, trying to figure out how this thing works, and eventually realize that the entire yellow object is some kind of motion machine. After some trial and error, I manage to make it go for an extended period of time, all the way back to the group. I am the Centaur now.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: February 14, 2020

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Now, it was cold back in February of 2013. It was colder than Mateo would have expected for Utah. But there was no precipitation, and no wind. In 2020, on whatever date, there was still no precipitation, but it was much, much colder, and the wind made it unbearable. All this time, Leona had tried to convince Mateo to sleep with his clothes on, because as time travelers, that was the safest way to do it. He attempted this multiple times, but never to any success. He often woke up completely naked without any recollection of removing his clothing sometime in the middle of the night. Other times, he could recall every time he peeled off another layer. It just wasn’t comfortable enough, so in the end, he had to make a conscious decision to not worry about it anymore. He would rather jump to a dangerous situation in the nude than jump there without at least a little rest. At the moment, he was only wearing his underwear, probably because going bare next to the unpredictable Past!Lowell could have been more hazardous to his health than a poor night’s rest.

The tent was gone, as was his pile of clothes. Anatol was nowhere to be seen. The shock of the freeze caused Mateo to just collapse right there on the frosty ground. He cuddled himself, trying to get warm. He struggled there for an indeterminate amount of time before he realized that his only chance of surviving this was to find shelter. Scared, he got himself back to his feet, and desperately looked around. He was in the middle of the woods, and it was still nighttime. “Leona,” he whispered, presumably worried about waking up a bear. Even the appearance of a raccoon would freak him out in his condition. Still, this was going to get him nowhere. “Leona,” he said in a louder voice. “Leona!” he shouted.

Only about ten meters away, Leona woke up to the sound of her husband’s pleas. She scurried out of the tent, immediately realizing that they were not in the same place they were before. “Mateo!”

“Leona!”

They rushed over to each other, and came into a hug, not just because they loved each other, but because it was well below freezing out here. “Come on,” she said. She helped him between the trees, and to the tent.

Jeremy was up by now, and watching them from the entrance. He backwalked deeper in to give them more space. He then turned his sleeping back around so it would open towards Leona’s. They all got into the double bag and created a Mateo sandwich, rubbing his arms to generate some heat. “Hand warmers,” Jeremy suggested. He flipped over and wrestled with his bag. He took out the three packs he still had left. “Shake these, and hold them in your hands. I’ll shake the other, and keep it on the back of your neck. It’s often overlooked.”

They lay there for about an hour. All three of them fell asleep again. They woke up to the sun at 7:15, glad that they were now warm enough to stay alive. As Mateo was putting on an extra set of Jeremy’s clothes, their Cassidy cuffs beeped. The mission was eleven miles away as the crow flies, and they had less than two hours to get there. The three of them left the tent standing, along with much of their supplies, and got on their way. Mateo didn’t even have any decent footwear. He insisted on wearing Jeremy’s water shoes—which had been put in his new pack by the sporting goods store, for whatever reason—because Jeremy’s boots wouldn’t fit him anyway. He wore two pairs of socks, and just suffered a little more than he should have through the hike to civilization. The rest of his body was fine as he was using the sleeping bag as a jacket, but he kind of wished he had saved the hand warmers. His feet needed them more now than his hands ever did.

Less than a mile into their trek, they were stepping onto Hutton Road when they saw a man about to drive out of his neighborhood, probably on his commute to work. He could see that they were in distress, so he pulled up next to them, and offered a ride. He cranked up the heat, and headed towards the city before asking them where they needed to go. They couldn’t quite tell, as the cuffs were still only showing them location and destination. But for now, this was the right direction.

“I live in Kansas, but work in downtown KCMO. I’m the boss, so I can be late, and my boss is beautiful and amazing.  Do you need to go to the hospital, or the police station?”

“Actually,” Mateo said, “the nearest shoe store would be great.”

“That’s probably in Legends,” the driver said as they were getting onto the highway. “Hey Thistle, what’s the nearest shoe store?” The AI assistant listed off a few options, but none of them was open until later. They had to get to the mission before then. “That’s okay. If you just need to get your feet wrapped up better, we can go to the retail store. It opens at 8:00, and I know that because I once accidentally left my coffee on the roof, and had to desperately look for a replacement before a meeting. But again, no meeting today, so I can take you anywhere you need to go, even multiple places. I used to do this for a living; drove for RideSauce.”

“Oh, yeah?” Mateo asked. “Me too.”

“Nice. What do you do now?”

“Search and rescue,” Jeremy answered. It was a lie in that search and rescue was a real job, which people trained for extensively, but also the truth in that they often performed it in its most basic form.

The driver sounded impressed. “Really?”

“Well, we’re training,” Leona amended. She couldn’t backtrack the fib completely, so she decided to make it make sense. “That’s why we’re out here like this. My husband was playing the victim, while the two of us were sent to find him. The last part of the exercise is getting back to base.”

“Oh, am I interfering with that?” he asked as they were pulling into the outlet mall complex.

“Oh, no,” Mateo insisted. “The instructor said to get back by any means necessary. You’re a pretty good means. We really appreciate it. We’ll probably win the competition because of you.”

“I’m honored,” the driver said proudly.

They parked and got out. As they were walking towards the entrance, a woman was going for another door. Mateo did a double take, but it wasn’t necessary. He had seen this woman just yesterday from his perspective. It was almost seven years ago for her, so she wouldn’t recognize them, but he felt compelled to speak up. “Cecelia?”

She turned her head, leaving her hand on the door. “The Matics.”

“You remember us?” Leona questioned.

“You remember me.”

“How could anyone forget you?” Jeremy asked rhetorically, inching closer.

“Weren’t there four of you?” Cecelia asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Leona said dismissively, not wanting to alert Anatol to their little scheme.

“Do you still work in shoes?” Mateo asked. “I need shoes.”

“Yes, you do.” a confused Cecelia grinned, and looked at his feet. “Unfortunately for you, I’m outta the game. I went back to school, and now I’m a guidance counselor.”

Jeremy smiled at her. “Oh, good for you. That must be so rewarding.” He liked women, but since he grew up only existing during about twenty percent of the year, he had very little experience with them. When he saw someone he liked, he came on strong.

She smiled politely. “I see the packs are holding up quite nicely after all this time.” The driver didn’t say anything, but as nice as he was being, he couldn’t be trusted with their belongings. It looked weird for them to come into the store with them, but probably necessary. “That’s why I remember you; it was an odd request, fully supplied hiking packs. I found out later that the store didn’t really do that sort of thing, and I went above and beyond. I know what you’re thinking, but I didn’t get a raise. They said that the rise in expectations from their customers would cost them too much.”

“We didn’t tell anybody,” Leona insisted.

“Whatever, it was Utah.” She paused, but it was clear she had things to do. “Well, it was nice running into you again. I have to go pick up some things before school. I’m already running a bit late.”

“Oh no, sorry,” Jeremy apologized. “It’s fine, we’re late too.”

“Okay, great, bye,” she said, walking in.

Jeremy smiled and crossed his arms. It was then that he seemed to notice his cuff. “The mission. It’s gone. Y’all got dots?”

The other two checked theirs. No dots.

“You mean you don’t have to get back to base?” the driver guessed.

“Yeah, that means we can just go home.” It sounded sad, like they not only lost the competition, but also failed the training exercise. It didn’t matter, though, since it wasn’t the truth. The real sad thing was that they may have just failed their actual mission, even though they weren’t scheduled to be there until 9:00. What had changed while they were here? “Thank you for the ride,” Leona said to the driver. “I think we’re just gonna hang around here, and grab some breakfast. Then we’ll call a RideSauce car.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yeah, you’ve been a great help,” Mateo agreed.

“Before you go,” Jeremy stopped him, “what’s your name?” Oh yeah, they hadn’t bothered asking him that yet. How rude?

He smiled, unfazed by the delay. “Norberto. Norberto Pastore, at your service.” The name sounded familiar, but Mateo left his stuff in the past, including the little notebook where he kept track of all the people he met, or heard of.

They said their goodbyes, and parted ways. The search and rescuers walked into the store, and headed for the fast food restaurant inside. Once they had their food, they sat down at a table. Anatol Klugman walked up with his own food, and Mateo’s regular bag over his shoulders. He dropped it to the floor, and sat down to start eating. He didn’t speak right away, so the other three just began their own meal, and waited for something to change.

“So?” Anatol began. “Did you have fun?”

“It was cold,” Mateo said, mouth full.

“I bet. You didn’t have any clothes on.”

“Thanks for that,” Mateo said sarcastically.

“No problem.” He pretended that this was all genuine and serious.

“What was the point of that exercise, just to remind us that you’re in charge?” Leona asked.

“Absolutely not,” Anatol contended. “You saved someone’s life today?”

“Whose? Norberto’s? Was he about to get in a car accident on his way to work?” Jeremy guessed.

“No, not him,” Anatol disputed. “I mean, he has his role in the future, but I don’t actually care about him. No, there was a man...in the woods. He was very hurt, and as we’ve established, it was very cold. Not long after you left, he found the tent that you left behind, and he crawled inside. Your supplies are presently keeping him alive while he waits for help.”

“Who is he? Another one of your serial killer killers?” Mateo presumed.

“His name is Jabez Carpenter,” Anatol explained. “He’s an associate of Mercury Fletcher’s.”

“Why didn’t you just call emergency services, and tell them where he was? That would have been far easier.”

Anatol laughed. “He’s supposed to be in jail. No cops.” He could have also just left him the tent, but...whatever. Further arguing would have done them no good. “Anyway, I was—shall we say—listening in on your conversation with Cecelia, who has served her role a number of times, and can finally move on with her life. I noticed she mentioned there were four of you at the store seven years ago. What did she mean by that? You didn’t correct her.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Leona lied. She tried to ignore him and focus on her hash browns.

Anatol cleared his throat, and started tapping on the primary cuff. The conversation they had earlier with Cecelia played back to them. They could hear her clearly mention a fourth person.

“Shit,” Leona said. They had been caught. She held her hand in front of her, and moved them around in a very deliberate manner. They were finger tuts, and it was their way of secretly reaching out to someone who had been helping them for a while now.

Tertius Valerius appeared from a portal, holding onto a rope attached to the other side. He would not be able to stick around for long like this.

“Take him,” Leona ordered, gesturing towards Jeremy. “Now.”

“He’s sitting right there,” Tertius pointed out, indicating Anatol.

“I know, just do it.”

“Really,” Jeremy argued. “It’s fine, I can stay.”

“We promised we would get you all out, and we’re gonna get you all out. Now go.”

Tertius took Jeremy by the hand, then he tugged on the rope twice with his other. They were both pulled into the portal. A crowd had formed to witness it, but once the portal evaporated, all of their memories were erased. Only the three remaining time travelers could remember that anything had ever happened.

“I see,” Anatol said, possibly defeated. “This is going to make things surprisingly interesting. I don’t think you’re gonna like what I make you do, now that I know what you’ve been keeping from me.”

“Do your worst,” Mateo demanded. “Our friends are all safe now.”

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Microstory 1594: Bugs

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Prompt

I’ve lived in this house for nearly two years now, and it’s just occurred to me that I’ve never seen a single insect or spider in here.

Botner

At least I don’t think I have. They’re so tiny I’d probably just miss them. There’s also a statue of a cat on the coffee table. Can I tell you how many cats I’ve seen in my life? Well, maybe I’m exaggerating a little bit, but that’s the limit of my memory right now. Mostly because I’m pretty sure there’s not going to be any more cat statues in my life, and because I don’t want to have the fate of my life decided by some damn invisible spider, so whatever happens, happens, I guess. Mother is still asleep in the next room, as she is every morning. I wish I could get away with having her sneak into my room to sleep on my bed with me, but the neighbors think my mom is the meanest mom in the world, so she’s locked in the living room with the remote control and her knitting needles to prove that point. She says I’m not allowed to be out in the house until I’ve gotten a good night’s sleep, but the neighbors say I’ve never gotten a good night’s sleep anyway, so it doesn’t matter. I don’t...

Conclusion

...think it should matter much how much I sleep. I get good grades in school, and I have a lot of friends. Everyone just needs to let me be me, and figure things out on my own. When I grow up, I think I want to be an entomologist. That’s someone who studies insects, in case you don’t know. I learned that when I was in first grade, but not from my first grade teacher, but by myself. I like to learn things on my own, and don’t pay much attention to what the teacher is saying. I don’t understand why school has to be like that, why I can’t decide what I learn, and what I ignore. Sure, everybody needs to know some math, and they need to know how to speak, but beyond that, who cares? I don’t care about social studies, so I shouldn’t have to worry about it. Just like that, my best friend hates bugs, he’s afraid of them, he shouldn’t have to study them like me. I’m growing bored in my room, so I decide to go out in search of these mysteriously absent bugs. I know my family takes care to keep them out, but they can only do so much. I should be able to find at least one. I get down on all fours, and start crawling around the house. My little sister asks me what I’m doing, but doesn’t care about the answer, and my dad doesn’t care enough to even question it. It’s not going well, so I run to the kitchen, and grab the magnifying glass from the junk drawer. I go into every room, but find nothing. I check my own room last. No, nothing in here either. Nothing on the floors, nothing on the walls, nothing on my dresser. Nothing on my desk, nothing in the trash can, nothing on my big brown bed. Wait. Wait, there is something on my bed. There are a lot of somethings. Extremely short tiny things are all over my bed. Hold on. Bugs. Bed. Bed. Bugs. Bed bugs. Oh no. Mother’s not gonna be happy now.

Microstory 1575: Fresh New Life

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Prompt

It’s time for me to leave this place, without telling anyone where I’m going, or even that I’m going. It’s for my family’s benefit if I just sneak away, and start fresh with a new life somewhere else.

Botner

I don’t want anyone to know what’s happened or why I’m leaving. Just leave quietly, under the cover of night, just like we always did in the old days when things were quieter. But I know that will never happen. I’m just one of the lucky ones. Yesterday, I gave my two weeks’ notice at work. Two weeks. As in, I’m leaving after two weeks. Just like that. And I was going to leave it there, but the truth of it is that I have nothing else to say about it. My mind is blank, and the thoughts that have been swirling around in there since I decided to leave, now seem to have no connections to each other or the outside world. I can’t think of what to do next, or how to move forward. I feel adrift, rudderless. I didn’t expect this. I didn’t think it was even possible. When I was working at my old job, I was the king of my domain, working late hours every single day, dealing with my job and then coming home and being the king of my domain, too. Sometimes, I felt like there was no...

Conclusion

..escape, because I had so many responsibilities. I now realize that the only thing holding me back from the life I want was always myself. I thought that my father needed me after his second wife died, but that was two years ago, and he’s already found himself someone new. I thought my brother needed help with the baby, but they have a nanny, and I’m just the fun uncle. I have to go, and find out who I am when I’m not defined by the people I grew up with. Everything is packed, everyone is asleep, and I’m ready to go. I carefully carry my heavy suitcase down the stairs, careful to not make any noise. I drop it once, but don’t hear any movement from upstairs, so I’m still safe. I get to my front door—well, I suppose it’s not mine anymore, is it?—and swing the suitcase over to get through first. It nearly collides with someone standing on the porch. She looks scared, as if this were her house, and I was the one intruding. I just stare at her a moment, not knowing what she could possibly be doing here so late at night. Selling cookies? It takes me a long time to realize that I recognize her. She was a temp at work that I spent the night with a few months ago. I thought we had an understanding, that it was a one time thing. I don’t even ask her how she found me, or what she’s doing here. If she wants to talk to me, she can speak first, so I just wait patiently. Finally, she works up the courage. “I’m pregnant.” Well...I did ask for a fresh new life, didn’t I?