Microstory 2800: Life Always Finds a Way

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It’s been another five years. Jande has been working the land with his new family, and he’s happy. For the most part, they have maintained Quiratan’s principles, but a few Eyrenland conventions have been woven into the community too, which is fine. No, it’s good. What happened there was a tragedy, and it’s a good thing to keep their traditions alive. They never needed to be rivals, and he’s glad that they all prosper together now.

Jande and his spouses work in shifts, and it’s not Jande’s shift right now, so he’s in bed alone. A hand has just clamped down over his mouth. He tries to get up, but he’s being pinned down.

“Shh,” comes a voice. It sounds familiar, but he needs to say more. “I’m not going to hurt you, but I don’t want to get caught.” Oh, it’s Dare. He came back apparently. “If I let you go, will you scream? I can’t have you scream. It’s not for me, it’s for them.”

What the hell does that mean, it’s for them? If Jande screams, Dare is gonna kill his whole family? Well, he can’t ask that like this, so he nods.

Dare removes his hand and breathes a sigh of relief. “Okay. Thank you.”

“What did you do to my family? Did you hurt them? Where are they?”

“What? Your family?” Dare questions. “I dunno, they’re working, I guess.”

“You implied that if I screamed, it wouldn’t be bad for you, but for them.”

“Oh, not them,” Dare clarifies. “This has nothing to do with them.” He sighs again. “All right. I’ve been hiding out in a remote region on the other side of the world. I keep moving; people leave me alone, as nomads do. I found something and I don’t know what it means because I’ve not lived here for very long, and I didn’t learn the culture.”

“Wait, you never left Bida? You never sent your consciousness away?” Jande asks.

“No, I just made it look like I did,” Dare explains. “I didn’t want anyone looking for me, and if they did, I wanted them looking in all the wrong places.”

Jande sits up and gestures for the light to turn on, but dim. “Why are you back here, and what does it have to do with me? What did you find?”

“It’s better if I show you. We need to get to the train station. It’s not busy this time of morning.”

“I can’t take the train,” Jande tells him. “I don’t have any energy credits. I mean, I get a small stipend. I could take it if we were just trying to get across Quiratan, or maybe to Mount Pryce, but if we’re going to the other side of the planet, that’s too far for me.”

“Goddammit,” Dare hisses. “I don’t have any transferable energy credits either. A lot of nomads are unbanked, so I wouldn’t be able to give what I have to you.”

“I wouldn’t be able to take it anyway,” Jande says. “It’s part of my punishment. If they let me accept transfers, then I could crowdsource enough to reach normal levels.”

“There’s another way,” Kool says. What Ersence didn’t tell Jande when he was first trying to get into the family was that Priscilla was one of her wives. She is now Jande’s wife too, but she should be in the fields right now, tending to the moon blossoms. “I saw you slinking in, Dare. You’re not as sneaky as you think.”

“What’s your idea?” Jande asks as he’s getting up and putting on his clothes. “And will you help us, or do you have an issue with what’s happening here?”

“I love you, Jande,” Kool says. “I have since you risked your life to save Mayor’s. I would never rat you out. No one in the family would, not even Ridley. As for my idea, Vantu Hidayat’s shuttle still sits in the center of town. Nothing can grow there because of it. People see it as a statue now, but it still runs. He told me as much before he left for some off-world mission.”

“Why would he tell you that?” Jande questions. “I guess I never wondered why he left it just sitting there, now that the threat of ruining Quiratan is a moot point.”

“He feels bad about his part in all this. The search for a superintendent didn’t have to entail everything it did. He had to make up a lot of it, and he regrets it. He didn’t say this, but I think he left it for you. You don’t need energy credits to take it.”

“That goes against the spirit of my assessment,” Jande says. “They didn’t take my credits so my account balance would be zero. They took them so I wouldn’t leave.”

Kool shrugs. “I’m not telling you what to do. I’m just giving you an option. The way I see it, that’s not what the assessment order says. It doesn’t bar you from traveling or building. It just takes away the common means of accomplishing those things.”

“How do you know what my assessment order says?” Jande presses.

“As I said,” Kool replies, “I love you. We all read it. No one told you?”

“Hm. No.” Jande still feels a little like an outsider in the family, even though it’s been years, he’s helping raise Ersence and Yazid’s twins, and no one acts like he doesn’t belong. He just sometimes gets this feeling that he’s lived longer than he can recall, so he really just feels like a stranger to this world in general. What happened to him while he was missing for over two years? Should he look into it after all this time?

“Kool, if you can get us on that ship, I can fly it. I may not be able to access every system, but I didn’t darklurk my asteroid home, I kept it moving,” Dare says.

“I can get you on the shuttle,” Kool agrees, “but I’m coming with you.”

Dare wasn’t lying. He has little trouble figuring out how to pilot the shuttle. They take off just as the sun is rising. People surely saw, but they wouldn’t have been able to tell who was on board. Kool went around and informed the rest of the family before departure so there would be no secrets between them, but beyond that, no one should know that Jande is a passenger, at least not for now. It’s unclear what’s going to happen to him when word travels to the wrong people, though, such as the adjudicator.

They’re landing now. Dare eases the shuttle down to the ground, and as they’re descending, they see something on the cliff face through the main viewports. It’s a huge stone monument, with an etching that reads MATEO MATIC MEMORIAL ESCARPMENT. HE LED A LIFE OF LIFTING OTHERS. HERE HE FELL. NOVEMBER 18, 2256. Jande doesn’t know exactly who that is, but he’s clearly the man depicted in the hologram below the words. The mid-23rd century was well into the advancement of immortality technology. Whoever he was, he shouldn’t have had to die. Such a shame.

“Well, this is interesting,” Jande says, “but I’m not sure why you couldn’t have simply taken a photo and messaged me. Am I meant to know this guy?”

“No, this memorial might be a coincidence,” Dare explains. “I suppose I don’t really know that, but it’s not what I wanted to show you.” He opens the back hatch.

The air rushes in. “I know that smell,” Jande says. “Why does it smell like eyren?”

The three of them walk through the shuttle and down the ramp. Before them is a field of uquira, with several uquirapods waddling around. The clearing is wide, but the field is rather small. It looks like it’s just getting started. They stand in awe of it.

Life always finds a way.

Microstory 2794: Your Position Has Been Eliminated as Part of an Organizational Restructuring

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The competition has ended. The audience was rather disappointed about the anticlimax, but Bida needs leadership now. According to intelligence picked up by Vantu Hidayat’s ship, the black holes that kept appearing throughout Tau Ceti space, and once in the atmosphere, were not accidental. They were sent by some mysterious enemy. Van assures the people of this planet that they weren’t even the target, but just got caught in the proverbial crossfire. He also says that the attacks will stop now that the real target has been moved to a new location. He seems to be right about that...for now.

Tamerlane Pryce is not entirely convinced. He does not claim to know who this enemy is, but one which would be willing to wipe out tens of millions of people without even a hint of diplomacy is a permanent threat. It’s hard to argue with his logic. This world technically has a central government, but it operates like the wild west in many respects. Many families, and even individuals, live on homesteads, or wander around as nomads. They don’t need true governance most of the time, which is why the First Axiom’s primary responsibility is mediating minor land disputes.

There is no Axiom of Foreign Affairs. There’s an Axiom of Eggs, who handles eyren exports, but the star system is protected by a small fleet of Teaguardians. And they’re mostly not even Bidans. Out of all protected worlds, the ships here are manned by the fewest number of local conscripts, and in fact, Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida has no other permanent population in orbit. If you’re here, it’s because you want to live on the surface. If you want to live in space, well, you can do that anywhere, such as Sol or Vega.

Jande and Tamerlane have a meeting today with all of the Axioms, but Jande wants to meet with one in particular ahead of time. The Safety Department is the closest thing this planet has to a police force. Theoretically, if a crime were to be committed, they would step up to investigate and process, but it’s just so hard to break a law. There aren’t many to break. Even if someone had a predilection for murder, the victim’s mind would simply transfer to a backup, allowing them to accuse the attacker right away. Most residents want to be left alone so they stay out of trouble too. That’s kind of the name of the game here. Bida isn’t for everyone. It’s mostly for individualists.

“What can I do for you, Superintendent?” Axiom of Safety Anso Merritt asks.

“Hm.” Jande narrows his eyes just a little. “I’ve spoken with a few other civil servants already. There is always at least a hint of sarcasm in the way they address me.”

“Well...” Anso begins. “This is Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida. We’re a well-oiled machine. Many of my compatriots might think they earned their spot by dedicating their lives to it, but no one lasts more than a couple decades, and there’s very little work to be done anyway. Maybe they feel threatened by you, like you’re about to fire them all.”

“I assure you, I have no intention of removing anyone from duty,” Jande says sincerely. “There were two positions to backfill, they were backfilled. That’s all for now.”

Anso nods. “All I’m saying, even if you did drain the swamp, so to speak, it would be no big deal. Everything is temporary. Even you and I, we are only droplets in the River of Creation. We splash into the air for a brief moment, but then we return to the mixture. We still exist, just not as distinct individuals.” He smiles. “Atomah welcomes.”

He speaks of the creator god of this planet, as conceived in the most common religion here. Atomah leapt into an impossibly deep and impossibly fast river, which triggered the creation of the star system, or something like that. Jande doesn’t believe, so he’s not too familiar. Though, religion and science live together in harmony on Bida, which he appreciates on principle.

Most think the reason Bidans were able to return to religion was because enough science had been explored, with all meaningful daily friction being surmountable if so desired. It’s not about using metaphor to explain something that already has an explanation. It’s about creating comforting stories while not worrying about the true, mundane structure supporting it underneath. Some require more of that comfort to face the infinite expanse of time that lies before them in their now immortal lives. It’s why Ersence’s people are godless. They need science more than anyone, because in their fragile mortal bodies, it is only science which can keep them alive literally.

Anso smiles warmly. “I see that I have engendered a moment of introspection.”

Jande shakes it off, and for some reason, doesn’t want Anso to know it’s true, so he skips to the takeaway. “I did not realize you were such a religious man. I recognize your ability to do your job as it stands. Protecting others is the highest calling, and I don’t need a god to believe that. What I need is someone who is willing to take things a step further. There has been no war in this galaxy for hundreds of years. I fear that time is coming to an end. We in the stellar neighborhood all love and accept each other, even amidst persistent struggle, but as vonearthans expand, and time marches ever forwards, our values diverge. We may be on the precipice of a new era.”

“The interstellar enemy,” Anso agrees. “None has existed before.”

“That’s right,” Jande confirms. “There have always only been eleven Axioms on Bida. It’s almost sacred. I’m not sure whether it’s best to add a new department entirely to strategize against this new threat, or ask one of the others to pick up more responsibilities. You would be the obvious choice, but an aversion to violence—”

“Would not be tolerated in an Axiom of War,” Anso interrupts.

“I was thinking maybe Axiom of Defense. It’s not the same.”

Anso sits down, leans back, and relaxes. “You’re right. I would not be a good fit for the job. My current position has traditionally been more of an afterthought than a necessity, unlike the Axioms of Energy or Conservation. I have been doing this for a little over a decade now. That’s long enough. Unless you think this unseen enemy could stoke internal distrust among our people, I say shutter Safety, and add Defense. And use that opportunity to appoint a new Axiom. I don’t know the scope of your power. Can you declare it unilaterally, or would you only manage the election?”

“My understanding is that I get to choose,” Jande answers. “I’m still reading through the handbook. It’s a little...dated.”

“Well, if it’s easier, I can resign. Then it becomes my fault you have to find someone new, and since it will be vacant anyway, you can tell the people that the title and job description are changing along with it. Timing is everything. If you already have a plan, it will look like you conspired to get rid of me, but if you take forever to create it, you could look incompetent. We’ll keep talking before my blind suicide.”

“Blind suicide?” Jande questions.

“Yeah, you don’t select a substrate to transition to. You basically send your mind into the quantum network, and it transfers you somewhere pseudorandomly.”

“Hmm.” Jande reflects on the past. “Is there any way to tell if someone did that?”

Microstory 2644: Origin Stories

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The optic void scanners don’t exist within the simulation. They aren’t necessary as you supposedly can’t get into the dome without an ID, so there should be no concern. Mandica is safe from being caught as long as she stays here, but she does have to stay. There’s not much hope for anything changing in the future, unless she gets the sense that the administrative leaders won’t punish her for being unregistered. Truthfully, she doesn’t even know if they would be upset about it now or what the consequences might be. If she asks, then they’ll know, and there’s no going back from that. It must be some kind of problem, or Trilby and Yunil Tereth would not have worked so hard to help her avoid detection. She’s going to have to make a life here, as the most vulnerable person in the city. That’s frightening, and she has two options when it comes to that. She can stick with the heroes and player villains who can protect her from danger, or she can specifically avoid them so she doesn’t get wrapped up in their violent games. She doesn’t know which she is going to choose yet. Ravensgate refers to the city proper, but there are suburban neighborhoods beyond the city limits, still under the dome, and even a few rural towns on the furthest edges. They would be the place to go, but if Morgana has it out for her, nowhere is safe if she is alone, so she is leaning towards staying.

She’s been living in Blue Umbra and Wave Function’s lair for the last few weeks. Elysia and Jaidia didn’t have much room in their apartment, and Mandica’s heart skips a beat every time she sees Jaidia’s face. She’s been very sweet and understanding, and Mandica is comfortable believing that she had nothing to do with the attack. Still, this is what’s best for everyone. Wave Function, whose real name is Reagan Dorsey, has been particularly attentive. Blue Umbra has been going out on patrol alone a lot lately so he can stay with Mandica. Like half of the players here, he has a hero complex, so he feels obligated to protect the one person who genuinely needs it. He talks about time travel a lot. The reason Underbelly has the social credit to exist is because real life superheroes wouldn’t be any more powerful than the majority of the population. Their specific ability sets may not be common, but they’re obviously possible, which makes most of the world relatively safe. That’s why Mandica left Earth, because many wanted to protect her, and she didn’t feel she needed it until she entered this simulation. Reagan wants to go back in time to be a real superhero for a world that would value and appreciate it.

“I can walk, I can get my own ramen,” she argues.

“I just know you really like this stuff,” Reagan says.

“Yeah, I had never had it before. I mean, I’ve had noodles, but not like this.”

“There’s something very comforting about the mass produced packaged stuff. Of course, it’s not actually mass produced, but they use the exact same recipe as people did way back in the day. Here ya go.” He hands her the bowl.

“Thanks,” Mandica says to him. Before eating, she watches as he sits back down with a contented expression on his face. When she was a nomad, she learned to be forthright and efficient. She didn’t have time to develop relationships slowly. If she sparked with someone, they had to get on with it, or by the time they built any real trust, she would have to move on. “Do you have romantic feelings for me?”

He’s taken aback by this. “I...probably, but I’ve been trying not to pressure you into exploring anything,” he says nervously. “Why? Do you have feelings?”

“I don’t usually get attached to people,” Mandica begins to explain. “There’s not enough time for it. I never met another nomad who I wanted to connect with, and either way, it’s hard. You would think that any two nomads who click could travel together, but we all wanted to choose where we went, and we didn’t like having to get it approved by someone else. My parents were kind of outliers in this regard. I’m still not looking for a partner, but if we’re just talking about sex, I’m available, and currently have the time.”

“Hold on, there, Buckaroo Billy. That may be how Wave Function operates when he’s around the ladybots, but that’s not the real me. If I’m dealing with a sentient person, I need time to get to know them first.”

Mandica shrugs. “It sounds like we have incompatible social practices. I just thought I would ask in case you were only being nice—”

“Hold on, don’t finish that sentence,” Reagan interrupts. “I resent the suggestion that I can only be nice to people when I want something. I lived in a regular community before I came here, and my relationships—both platonic and romantic—were real and sincere. I don’t manipulate people.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend. That’s my poor social skills. I don’t get along with people, which is why I tend to gravitate towards superficial and brief interactions.”

He nods. “It’s okay. It’s just, the reason my character acts the way he does is very specifically because that’s not how I am at all. I’m only playing here. My other four personas had different personalities. I change it every time I come back in.”

Mandica nods too, then waits a beat. “Where did you live, before Castlebourne?”

Reagan’s face falls a little. He’s not offended again, but he’s not looking at her. “A little planet called Ex-926. We manufactured weapons. That’s why I don’t have much in the way of special powers. I know more about machines than the human body.”

“Ex-926,” she echoes. “I’ve never heard of that. Was that colony founded after I went relativistic in 2424? What star does it orbit?”

He sighs. “No. It’s been around for a while. We didn’t have a name for our sun.” He stays silent for a moment before finally looking over at her. “You’ve been honest with me about your origins, so I’ll return the favor. Please don’t tell anyone else, though. Not even Malika knows where I’m from. I talk about time travel so much, because for me, it’s not a theory. It’s very real, and more common than you think. A very evil man used it to go back thousands of years in the past. He brought human samples with him, and used them to found an empire 16,000 light years from here, which he has ruled this entire time. A small crew of heroes showed up several decades ago, and started rescuing refugees. I was one of them. Hrockas was kind enough to take us in. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I’m doing this. It’s not for fun. I’m training myself. It doesn’t bother me when I have to switch characters, because it gives me the chance to accumulate new skills. One day, I’m gonna go back to the Goldilocks Corridor. I’m gonna confront The Oaksent, kill every single back-up body he has, and free the rest of my people.”

Mandica stares at Reagan. Most of the players have come up with pretty elaborate backstories, and origins of their powers. But time travel? Oppressive empires thousands of light years beyond the range of space colonization. That is a little much, and he has always been better at turning off his superhero character when he comes home. Could he possibly be not lying? “You’re not serious, are you? That’s not real, is it?”

He stares back, then laughs...unconvincingly. “No, of course not. I’m joking.”

Microstory 2640: Breaking Character

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After the fight is over, and the good guys have won, men in black emerge to clean up. Mandica gets on the back of Blue Umbra’s motorcycle, and holds on for dear life. They still have these kinds of death machines back on Earth, but she’s never ridden one before, because they are not safe enough. While they’re dashing through a tunnel, she sees both Blue Umbra and Wave Function’s outfits change, as does the coloring on their bikes. Their masks disappear too until they just look like regular people. They continue zipping down the streets until they reach their underground lair. An oldish man is waiting for them at the bottom of the ramp. “Any cleaning to do today?” he asks them.

“Just need a recharge on these.” Wave Function carelessly tosses the apparent servant his sonic weapon cartridges as he’s walking by.

“Rybold is an NPC,” Blue Umbra says to Mandica as Wave Function is plopping down on the recliner, and beginning to play a video game like a typical bro. “He’s been programmed to ignore all mentions of the real world. He thinks he’s our butler, and always does our chores with a smile on his face.”

“A little bit derivative, don’t you think?” That’s the rude, socially awkward Mandica talking again. She doesn’t want to be like that, especially not since she needs something from these people. “Sorry. I don’t spend a lot of time around others anymore. I was a nomad, and my only regular companion was an android, like Rybold.”

“Will the Miss be joining us for dinner?” Rybold asks after he’s placed the cartridges on the charger. “Will she be needing her own room, or sharing one of yours?”

“Undecided,” Blue Umbra answers. She goes over to Wave Function and kicks his legs. “Off the coffee table. We’ve talked about this.”

He blows a raspberry at her.

“He’s not as immature as he’s acting right now,” Blue Umbra explains. “He’s just trying to cool down. It takes him a moment to step out of character, and become more like his real self.” She sits down on the couch, and pats the other side invitingly for Mandica. “So. How long have you been on Castlebourne?”

“About two weeks,” Mandica answers.

“Oh, fresh fish,” Blue Umbra muses.

“I should tell you something else,” Mandica begins nervously. “I wasn’t going to tell anyone, but this is a red dome—”

“I don’t—what is that?” Blue Umbra questions. “Did they institute a color-coding system? I’ve been in-game for fourteen years.”

“Twenty,” Wave Function boasts, hand raised, but still focusing on his game.

“No, that’s just something my friend came up with.” Mandica keeps on hesitating. “I needed that because...I’m human. I mean, I’m a regular human. I’m not enhanced, and I’m not digitized. I die in the Matrix, I die in real life.”

Now Wave Function drops his controller, and looks at her. His character dies and waits for him to trigger respawn. “You shouldn’t be here. Do you know how many times I’ve died? This is my fifth persona. This world has consequences. If someone sees your body die, you have to come back as someone else, if you choose to come back at all.”

“That’s not the point,” Blue Umbra argues. “If she dies, she can’t even come back. She can’t come back anywhere.” She turns back to Mandica. “Why are you here? I didn’t even know people like you could even come to this planet. You would need a ship.”

“I took a ship, yes,” Mandica confirms. “I wanted a real life. I wanted adventure.” She looks around at their lair. “I didn’t want to be having this particular adventure, but as soon as I arrived, I discovered that the choice to travel here wasn’t entirely my own, and I am looking for the person who first piqued my interest about it. I was told that she was here. I don’t know if you ever use real names, but hers is Vanore.”

Blue Umbra and Wave Function exchange a look again. “We’ve never heard of her, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t around here somewhere. It’s a big city.”

Wave Function stands up, and walks towards the other side of the lair.

“Blue Umbra goes on, “we are a duo, and don’t interact much with the others. We don’t dislike each other, but we each walk our own beats, like police officers.”

Wave Function comes back and drops what looks like a photo album on the coffee table in front of Mandica. “These are the heroes.” He drops another album. “These are the villains. We try to stay on separate sides in our personal lives to maintain some level of integrity in the game, so we couldn’t tell you if any villain is a real person.”

Mandica opens both albums at the same time. The first page in each is a collage while the rest are dedicated to each character individually, giving a rundown of their powers and abilities, what’s known of their origin stories, and other basic information.

Blue Umbra points to one of the villains in the collage. “I know her. She’s originally from Proxima Doma. In costume, she is Cardinal Sin, but I can’t remember what her character’s regular name is. Her real name is Jaidia Robbins. I know where she works during the day. She’s tapped in, so she might know who you’re looking for.”

Mandica winces. “Why would anyone pretend to be a bad guy? Don’t they feel bad? I mean, I know most people are NPCs, and any who aren’t will just transfer back to their real bodies, but it just seems so...”

“Pathological?” Blue Umbra guesses. “To each their own. We try not to judge.”

“Have you ever fought her?” Mandica presses, but is that important right now?

“A few times, during team-ups. Her main rival is the Ravensgate Rescuer.” She points to a woman wearing a revealing black outfit in the heroes album. “They’re both at the top of the food chain in this city. They programmed themselves with the best powers. They really wanted to be the stars.”

“They’re new,” Wave Function says like he doesn’t respect them. “They’ve been here for, what has it been, nine or ten years? They only came to this planet because theirs got blowed up.”

“Wait, for real?” Mandica questions. That doesn’t happen in real life. It never has.

“Yeah,” Blue Umbra agrees. “Tragic. Millions died when Proxima Centauri’s sun flipped poles, and sent a massive CME towards Doma. You were probably on your relativistic trip. They escaped through the quantum network.” She looks over at her partner. “And they got to be where they are because they understand the biotech better than anyone. If you wanted a better body, you should have learned how to build one.”

Wave Function scoffs, and dismisses it with a wave of his hand.

“Anyway,” Blue Umbra continues, “Jaidia tends bar on Tenth, at a place called Merry Wonderment.” She consults her watch. “It’s just about to open, so she’s probably there right now. Rybold can drive you there.”

“Certainly, Miss,” Rybold sustains. “We can take the Starburst, if you would like.”

“Thanks. Thanks for everything. It was nice meeting you two,” Mandica says.

Microstory 2632: Pet Project

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Mandica Kolar is a perfectly normal human, which is rare in her time. The transhumanism movement might have begun in the middle of the 20th century, but it did not gain any real traction for many decades, when the science started to catch up with the ideas. Over the next few centuries, the population of undigitized organic humans (UDOs) gradually diminished. They weren’t being killed or replaced. It was just that fewer and fewer people were deciding to tolerate natural aging limitations, aches and pains, and kind of being sidelined. They have become a silent minority. Posthumans hold most of the power now, not out of some nefarious plan, but because that is how the math works out. Whether consciously or subconsciously, some undigitized people feel that they’re being treated as pets, or maybe children. They are so fragile, and people just wanted to protect that. This mindset can be problematic because it often leads to the UDOs being patronized, but honestly, most mean no disrespect. One little plane crash or massive explosion, and a UDO would die...forever. Most everyone else is constantly backing up their consciousness to a remote server somewhere, and don’t worry about such things. In fact, their virtual immortality often makes their lives pretty boring, especially since these adaptations come with other technological improvements, leading to higher quality of life in a post-scarcity society. They have turned to entertainment, and the most popular of these involve some level of simulated danger. They can’t die for real, but they can make believe, and the best systems do better at making them forget that the stakes are genuinely quite low.

Someone is paraterraforming an entire planet for these reasons. Instead of virtual simulations, they will be physical. Some might even alter a visitor’s memories to forget who they are, making them feel like life is still precious and fleeting. Tens of thousands of domes, each with its own theme, are being constructed on the surface of Castlebourne. Mandica isn’t necessarily interested in the simulations, but she does want to leave Earth, and she happens to know of a ship that is heading in that direction. There are too many restrictions here. She doesn’t want to feel like a pet anymore. She wants to live somewhere that will let her be herself. To accomplish this, she needs to move to a Charter Planet. Lying between 50 and 200 light years from Earth, Charter Worlds are not subject to the same laws that the Core Worlds and Stellar Neighborhood systems are. They have to protect themselves, but they often do so by chartering resources from other systems. Castlebourne is set to receive a shipment of lower lifeforms from Earth. They have already been sent one arkship, so this is a second wave with additional specimens, many of which are live. It will probably be Mandica’s last chance to get to where she wants to be. Arkships are rare, and Castlebourne is lucky to get two. They may not receive anything else ever again as most other resources can be found and processed in situ. The problem is, this ship is not for her. There was no chance that they were ever going to let her on it, so she has decided to stow away.

Mandica is a nomad, but she’s still a citizen of the state, and is entitled to certain amenities. Most people in this post-scarcity society get what they need from their local Resource Allocation Committees, which they voted for. As she has no local rights or responsibilities, an At-Large Allocation Board (ALAB) decides what she gets, and what she doesn’t. The people who sit on the board are reportedly mostly former RAC members, but she has never even met even one of them. All of her dealings have been fully automated, which she prefers. She accepts the bureaucracy, but that doesn’t mean she has to participate in government. Since life is so dangerous for nomads, she never goes anywhere truly alone. She possesses a bot pack of drones to aid her in her travels, and protect her. They practically force the pack on her, but she likes animals, and they’re quite convincing, so she doesn’t mind. Others in her situation have outright refused, or disabled them permanently.

There is something else that is different when it comes to Mandica. In addition to the horse, dog, hawk, and flutterby, she’s also accompanied by an android. This is fairly rare for nomads. It’s more of a hermit thing, and of course, there is overlap, but there is a clear distinction. Hermits live alone, and reject the state’s authority, which is why most of them have gone off-world by now. Nomads, on the other hand, frequently get involved in community affairs, they just like to shift between communities at will. They don’t typically need an android for human companionship, because they’re getting plenty of socialization through more conventional—albeit ephemeral—relationships. Mandica visits populated regions as well, but she spends a lot more time in the wilderness, exploring, hiking, and just enjoying the solitude. So why bother with an android? Well, Mordred provides something she might be able to get from others, but with a lot fewer complications. He gives her the sexual satisfaction she needs without all the emotional baggage. Well...there might be a little bit of emotion involved.

“But I don’t understand why I cannot go with you.” Mordred was programmed to adore Mandica, perhaps a little too much.

“Because I need you to stay behind to fake my death,” she explains once again.

He was also programmed to be able to forget things, act a little dumb, and be generally confused. “But I love you, my love. We said we would stay together forever.”

“It was only a fantasy. I must away to start my new life. If you truly love me, you’ll set me free, erase the animals’ memories, and protect me from being discovered.”

Mordred looks down at Mandica’s bioprinted facsimile. It’s state of the art, and looks just like her, down to the scars. A dedicated medical examiner could plausibly tell the difference, but they will hopefully not even bother with a post mortem. It will be a simple fall from an extremely high cliff, which is perfectly believable, given her lifestyle, and nomads aren’t exactly top priority. “This golem of yours...does she feel as you do? Does she love me as well?”

“She feels nothing. She is not a she at all, but only a husk. Her sole job is to pretend to be me...in her death.”

“Will we ever see each other again?” he presses. “One day?”

“I told you that I would never lie to you, Mordred, and I shan’t. I’m afraid you will never see me again. As the brightest candle burns the fastest, our love must end.”

“How can I go on without you? I shall end my own life.”

“You can do that, but only after you show others that I am dead. Please, this is of the utmost importance. I cannot have them looking for me.”

“I will, my beautiful flower,” Mordred promises. “Now turn away. If I see your face for one second more, I will not be able to say goodbye. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye!” he shouts melodramatically.

“Goodbye, dear Mordred. I’ll think of you always.” Mandica walks down the trail, and heads for the launch site. Castlebourne calls to her from the distant sky.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 21, 2534

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They were abandoned and stranded in the middle of interplanetary space in the Gatewood Collective. Their communication systems were advanced, but a signal could only be so powerful in such a small form factor. Ramses hadn’t given them quantum messengers to store in their pocket dimensions, but even if he had, those were mostly gone. When Spiral Station was thrown into the quintessence bubble, all of their pockets exploded. He built a new one for each of them while they were trying to escape, but these were only a stop-gap measure until he could fabricate a new lab for himself. Their supplies would be enough for them to survive here for a few days, but if they didn’t find somewhere to land soon, they could be in trouble.

When they reappeared in the timestream on August 21, 2534, another ship was waiting for them. It didn’t even reach out first. Whoever was on it was expecting them to arrive, and at that very second, for it transported them inside of it instantly. It looked like the average starship bridge, with the horseshoe-shaped console that allowed everyone to see everyone, as well as the viewscreen. The difference here was that the room wasn’t rotating. It didn’t need to. It was equipped with dimensional gravity, which was one of the few technologies that The Shortlist granted the vonearthans use of following The Edge meeting. That wasn’t why it was here, though. One of the people on the list was evidently in command as she was sitting at the head. It was Pribadium Delgado. “Hey, guys. Perfect timing. I could set my clock by your appearances...for now.”

That was a weird thing to say, but Leona chose not to address it. She stepped forward. “Miss Delgado, it’s nice to see you.”

“It’s nice to see you again too, but if you want to get technical, I’m not a miss. I was selected to be Gatewood’s Chief Asset Manager.”

“Which means...?” Mateo asked vaguely.

“We don’t have presidents or prime ministers here,” Pribadium began to explain. “This is nothing more than a materials depot. Travelers only come for what they need to get out of the stellar neighborhood. Not many of us live here permanently, but we are necessary to manage the resources. I’m not in charge of the people so much as I’m in charge of the stuff. I decide who gets what, how much, and from where. Well, I don’t do it alone. There’s also the Chief Distribution Manager, the Chief Allocation Manager, the Chief Fabrication Manager, and the Chief Personnel Manager. We’re all chiefs, but I’m at the tippy top. I’m the Chief Chief.”

“Fitting for you,” Mateo said to her. “Congratulations.”

“They wanted someone from the Shortlist,” Pribadium went on, “and we agreed that one of us ought to be here since they’re getting so much time tech. They might have asked you, but your condition makes that impossible.”

“I’m not jealous or mad, Pribadium,” Leona said. “I think they made the right call. The question is, what call are you making now? Is this a rescue, or something else?”

“It is a rescue, of course,” Pribadium agreed, “but it’s true, I need to make sure that you don’t cause any trouble. I’m not saying you need to leave, but you won’t be going anywhere—or doing anything—without an escort.” She glanced over at the rest of the crew.

“I was hoping to build a new lab,” Ramses said. “We can’t leave until I do, and it’s going to take some time because I lost a very valuable piece of technology. It’s quite sensitive, even in light of the Edge, I would rather be able to work alone.”

Pribadium nodded. “Gatewood is a well-oiled machine. I don’t have to micromanage anyone. If you need to build a lab, we will find you a pre-excavated asteroid, and I will personally monitor you there.” She pointed at one of the crewmembers on the starboard side, who started tapping on his console, and then looked back at Ramses. “I’m sorry, but that’s the best I can do.”

“No, I’m not mad about that,” Ramses insisted. “I trust you to be there. I just didn’t want someone who, uhh...”

“Doesn’t really understand the nature of the time tech?” Pribadium guessed. “We still hold secrets. The Edge meeting didn’t result in the promise of one hundred percent transparency. These guys know not to ask questions.”

The crew had been silent this whole time, but one of them tensed up. “Yes, sir, no questions, sir!”

“He’s joking,” Pribadium said with a smile. “I mean, what he’s saying is true, but his tone isn’t genuine. They’re not my minions, or however it looks from that side of the console.”

“From this side, it looks like you’re judging us,” Romana blurted out.

Pribadium laughed. “Yeah, that’s one purpose of the horseshoe layout. It’s quite standard. The main purpose is so no one has to crane their neck to look at anyone else, but there’s a reason why there’s all that open space in the center, and why it’s two steps down. It’s nice to meet you, by the way. Pribadium Delgado.” She reached her hand out towards the center.

“Romana Nieman.” She stepped up to a little platform at the top of the horseshoe, which was designed specifically so the captain could shake hands from this vantage point. “I’ve heard of you, but not much.”

“We’ll get to know each other better as Mister Abdulrashid focuses on his lab.” Pribadium looked over at the crewmember who she pointed to earlier. “Have you found us a good candidate?”

“I assumed you wanted something at the extreme,” he replied. “I found one in the CDS that is pretty remote.”

“Perfect,” Pribadium decided. She looked over to someone on the port side. “Plot a jump.”

“CDS?” Mateo asked Leona in a whisper.

“Circumstellar debris shell,” Leona answered, loud enough for the whole team to hear, in case they also didn’t know. “Like the Oort cloud, but a generic term. Almost every star system should have one.” She looked back up at Pribadium. “What is your teleportation range? It’s gonna be a year for us if it’s only one AU per second.”

Pribadium smirked. It’s not the AU-range. It can jump a light-month in one second.” She looked over at her pilot again. “Cycle us out.”

After a minute of burst mode, they were at their destination, on approach to an icy planetesimal which the viewscreen said was about three kilometers long at the major axis and two at the minor. One of the crewmembers suddenly stood up. Her section of the console rose up with her. “Sir. I’m picking up a distinct power signature. Someone is living out here.”

“Mauve alert!” Pribadium ordered. “Registrar?”

“It’s empty!” the registrar insisted. “This body should be empty! It’s barely excavated, just enough for a standard hopper dock and a pressure seal!”

“It’s not that one,” the woman who alerted them to the problem clarified. “But it’s nearby. Computer, highlight the signal.”

The view zoomed out, panned over slightly, then zoomed in to a different object that was reportedly roughly only 11 million kilometers away from the first one.

“Get me over there right now,” Pribadium ordered.

They jumped.

Someone who hadn’t spoken yet stood up. “Should I prep an away team?”

Pribadium thought it over, her eyes quickly drifting over to Team Matic.

Leona sighed, not upset or annoyed, more just to focus her breath. “We better earn our keep.”

Angela rematerialized her helmet, and let the visor slam shut. The rest did the same at varying speeds. They started to teleport individually to the celestial body. Before he left, Ramses flicked a comms disc up to Pribadium. “If you can’t figure out how to integrate this into your comms array, just hold it against your mastoid.”

The first thing that Ramses and Mateo saw once they caught up was Romana falling on her face, right at their feet. “Careful,” Mateo told her as he was lifting her back up. “Ice is slippery.”

“It’s not slippery, though,” Marie contended. She lifted her boot, and it looked difficult.

Mateo did the same. Yeah, it was tacky, like they were on the surface of a solidifying tarpit. “What the hell?”

“Ice out here works differently than it does under an atmosphere,” Leona explained as she started to walk. “Keep moving. Our suits might actually be welding themselves into it.”

“Why did she fall then?” Mateo questioned.

“Because she tried to slide,” Angela said.

“I’m a little scamp,” Romana said cutely.

“Testing, testing. One, two, three. Testing, testing. You and me. Testing, testing. Catch a movie?”

“Comms work,” Mateo responded to Pribadium.

“Our scans are detecting a modular habitat; family-sized. One rotating coin, one dormant hammer, three shuttles. An in situ harvester, and a fusion torch drive. This thing is a laser bore, which isn’t technically a weapon, but we’re gonna move away. We’ll keep an eye on signal integrity, though, and stay in teleporter range. We’re not picking up any lifesigns, but it could be sufficiently shielded. We’re not exactly equipped with the best sensors as they are typically not needed.”

“Aye, Captain,” Leona acknowledged.

“Aye, Captain,” Pribadium said back.

Leona generated a hologram of a coin-shaped object. Everyone adjusted their positions to get a better look at it. She tapped on the image demonstratively. “I want us in teams of two, back to back. Romana and Angela, jump right here to twelve o’clock. Ramses and Olimpia, over at three o’clock. Marie and Mateo, nine o’clock.”

“There are seven of us,” Angela reminded her.

“I’ll be alone at six o’clock, I’ll be fine,” Leona assured them. “We’ll only be three hundred and fifty meters from each other. Now, get into position, and go on my mark. We don’t have weapons, but prepare for resistance. Before you go, lower your center of gravity. Not all of us have teleported to a spin habitat before. It can be jarring. It’s not the same as regular mass gravity.”

They all got into position, Leona gave the signal, and they jumped. They immediately heard weapons fire. Mateo looked over to see bullets ricochet off of his daughter’s suit. Nothing was getting through, and it didn’t look like it was hurting her, or Angela, but the shooting needed to stop anyway. He used his HUD to calculate the source, finding one gunman hiding in a thicket of bamboo trees between the ladies and Ramses and Olimpia. Mateo jumped over there, and shoulder checked him.

The shooter was barely fazed. He pulled out a handgun, and started shooting Mateo instead, point blank. They were more powerful than the firearms of yesteryear, to be sure, but they weren’t even making a dent. Mateo stood there for a moment, taking it. Finally, he knelt down and snapped his fingers at a pile of dead bamboo leaves. They caught fire, which began to spread. The man stopped shooting, not because he was scared of the fire, or even of losing his bamboo. He was just profoundly confused. As the fire suppression system was putting it out, Mateo had enough time to disarm the man, confiscating the rifle from the ground as well.

Leona and the rest of the gang were here by then. She helped the stranger up, and set him down sideways in a hammock. “Hello,” Leona began in a friendly voice after receding her nanites until she was wearing normal clothes, maybe showing a little too much cleavage. “My name is Leona Matic. That’s my husband, Mateo, and our wife, Olimpia. Ramses, Angela, Marie, and Romana,” she said, pointing. “Report.”

“I’m nobody. Just tryna live my life.” He adjusted awkwardly. “Could we go somewhere else? I feel quite vulnerable lying back like this.”

“That’s kind of the point,” Leona replied with a smile. “I understand that you were trying to protect your home. And if you weren’t—if you’re just a sadistic murderer—then I’ll go ahead and write self-defense on the report, okay? But you’re going to answer my questions, because you are currently violating Gatewood law, as well as Core World law and Earthan law. Just all the laws. So my first question is, were you aware of that?”

“I was,” the squatter admitted.

“Okay. Did you think you just wouldn’t get caught, or was it an active act of defiance against the establishment?”

He shrugged. “Maybe a bit of both.”

“All right, I can work with that. Are you alone?”

“I have...a staff. Varying degrees of intelligence.” They heard a rustling in the leaves several meters away, and looked over to see a beautiful woman on approach. Now, she—she was showing too much cleavage. She just stood there with a mousey look on her face once she spotted them. The squatter looked at her over his shoulder. “That’s my companion model. She won’t hurt you.”

“Do you have a guard model?” Leona pressed.

The squatter sighed, annoyed. “He’s in maintenance at the moment. You couldn’t have come at a worse time. Unless...you planned it that way.”

“We didn’t know you were here,” Leona promised. “We might end up neighbors if the CAM lets you stay.”

“She would do that?”

“I doubt it, but it’s not impossible. You’re supposed to leave. Why didn’t you just leave?” Leona looked around in general. “At low subfractional speeds, this shell’s raw materials would last you hundreds of years, or thousands if you shut off internal systems, and go on ice.”

“It’ll last me a million if I stay put,” the squatter reasoned.

“But you would be in danger for those million years, since you are here illegally,” Leona volleyed.

“It’s illegal anyway,” he argued. “I didn’t have the resource credits. I stole this comet. I was trying to stay quiet.”

“Where are you from, partner?” Leona asked, seemingly shifting topics.

“Earth,” he answered.

“You don’t need resource credits if you’re in Sol. You could have taken something from the Oort cloud.”

He shook his head. “No one would take me there. It costs fuel to decelerate. Ironically, even though Barnard’s Star is farther away, it was easier to get here, because the cyclers run constantly. After deceleration, I snagged myself an escape pod, and drifted all the way out here until I found a suitable shell.”

“Hm,” Leona said. “That’s probably true, isn’t it?” Silence for a moment. “Well, I’m sorry, but the boss has already seen you. If we had encountered you on our own, we would have kept our mouths shut, but there’s no going back now. You are at her mercy.” She looked at her clock. “And we’re scheduled for a new assignment at the end of the Earthan day, so we won’t be able to advocate for you unless you come with us right now, and face the music.”

They returned to Pribadium’s ship, where they did attempt to advocate for this man, to the best of their ability. Pribadium said that she would take their recommendation under advisement, but when they returned to the timestream a year later, he had been in hock the whole time, and his hermit habitat had been completely dismantled. She claimed to have no choice, that if she didn’t enforce the laws, others would seek to be exceptions, and the entire system would collapse. Her proposal was that they take him out of there, somewhere very far away, since he had no resource credits, and wasn’t allowed to stay. They would take her request under advisement.

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Microstory 2504: Regret Seer

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I can see your regrets, and show you your potential. Before Landis Tipton received the gifts of The Ten Vulnerabilities, I was responsible for two of them. There were five of us in total, and we chose to use our abilities very differently. We were nomads, traveling all over the world—mostly the North American continent—helping people one at a time. We searched for those who were at their lowest, who needed the most help. I was on the frontlines of this mission. Regret is one of the strongest emotions that a person can have, and sight is one of the strongest senses. It was easier for me to pick our targets out of a crowd without having to wait for them to do something to draw attention to themselves. I could just see it. Once I found a candidate, the five of us would explore this person’s life further. We could strategize about what we could do to help this person live a better life. The way we saw it, our tasks were helping the whole world exponentially. Everyone we supported would go out, and pay it forward. With a brand new lease on life, they would find it in their hearts to help others in their own ways. Honestly, we didn’t think to focus on only one of the Vulnerabilities, like Landis has. We were drawn to one another, and it felt like we absolutely had to work together in order to fulfill our destinies. Had we only let the Health Smeller do her thing, what work would have been left for the rest of us? We just had a different perspective. And fittingly enough, I regret nothing. And you know that’s true, because if I did, I would be able to tell, and I’m comfortable enough with my own vulnerabilities that I would be honest about it. I can’t bring my own regrets to the surface, but I’m very good at recognizing them. We did our own thing our own way, and I still think we improved the world. We didn’t always hit it out of the park. There is a reason why we don’t have the gifts anymore, and why we had to transfer them to Landis. But I don’t like to talk about it, because that is something that I regret. Maybe I’m not as brave as I believe. I should be able to talk about what happened. Unfortunately, while I helped countless others see their potential, I could never see my own. But again, the gifts belong to Landis now, and while it saddens me a little that my Vulnerability senses aren’t being used, I’m proud of the work that he’s been doing. That’s why I chose him in the first place. I didn’t know exactly what he was going to do, but I knew that he was on his way to reaching greatness.

Microstory 1882: Someone Their Own Size

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I was a wanderer in my youth. I settled down when I got old, and the traveler life was no longer viable. I don’t regret the way I was, and I don’t regret ending it when I did. I don’t care that I can’t afford to be in a nice facility. It’s got a bed, and they feed me twice a day, which is more than I can say for some periods of my past. There was a time when I could go anywhere in the world with no problem. Hiking, hitchhiking, sneaking onto trains; everything was easier before. I suppose I started doing it out of necessity. I had a normal upbringing, and a regular job, but then I lost that job, and couldn’t get a new one, so I sold most of my possessions just to get by, including my car. Once I realized there was nothing left for me there, I skipped town, and began to make my way to other places. Sometimes I found a good job that could have lasted, and sometimes not. If it was the former, I would inevitably quit, and move on anyway. You see, I get bored quite easily. The scenery, the people, the restaurants; I like them when they’re new, but I inevitably eventually lose interest. One time I managed to scrounge up enough cash to get on a boat to the New World. It’s not like I had a dream to make a better life overseas. I just figured things would be different enough, and thus more interesting to me. They weren’t really; things are pretty much the same no matter where you go. But I never went back, because I felt like I was done with Europe by then. I spent a lot of time in the rural parts, which is where our story really begins. My life up to this particular point, and all the time after that, was generic and boring, but I finally got an adventure. I just wish it hadn’t been so bloody. Still, at least I have something to say for myself. I saved lives.

I was wandering through the woods one early afternoon, hoping to find a spot to make camp, when I started to hear a ruckus beyond the trees. It wasn’t my business, but I’ve always been curious—disappointed, ultimately, but curious until I learn the truth. So I kept walking, and found myself overlooking a fighting ring down the hill. It was a huge operation, lookin’ so strange since it was in the middle of nowhere. Three Ring Circus is what they called it, unoriginal as that was. A third of the audience was watching a cock fight, the other third a dog fight, and the final third a human fight. Some people acted like they could smell me—it was weird—they turned around, and gave me the stink eye. A couple of rednecks started to walk up towards me. It was clear that I was unwelcome there. I don’t know how they figured out who was excited for the violence, and who didn’t approve, but they seemed to know right away that I did not like what I was seeing. The humans, I didn’t care about. They made their choices, as far as I was concerned, but the animals were innocent, and were never given any options. I. Went. Crazy. I had been in a number of fights myself over the years. Some places just don’t like strangers, even if you mean them no harm. I was never formally trained, though, so I was kind of surprised at how much I had picked up from experience. I took down the men they sent after me, and then I went after everybody else. Some were afraid of getting caught by the authorities, so they bugged out, but others tried to defend their territory. You might not believe it, but I took on at least twenty men all on my own, including the human fighters whose entire reason for being was hurting others. Once it was over, and I left, having freed the poor creatures, I’m sure the people who ran the show just started back up again, but I still felt satisfied by giving them a taste of their own medicine.

Microstory 1808: Only Natural

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I thought that I was born a nomad when I was young, but I didn’t know the meaning of the word. We moved all over the country, for various reasons, usually involving one of my parents getting a better job opportunity, but also sometimes because they needed a change of pace. They eventually grew weary of the grind, and decided that we would live simpler lives. There were six of us kids by then, and a seventh would come later. The two eldest got jobs to help support the family, but none of it was what you might call skilled labor. This was done on purpose, so as to untether us from any one place. We continued to move around, but if anyone in the family—including the youngest kids—asked to move somewhere else, we would. Well, you had to perform a presentation, and plead your case, but this was only shot down twice, and once because there were conflicting requests that just so happened to occur at the same time. I was the middle kid, and had plenty of chances to prompt one of our infamous moves, but I never chose to do so. It didn’t matter to me where we lived, as long as everyone else was happy. Being the one to ask for it just didn’t make any sense for someone who didn’t care either way. I fell in love with the life. I liked meeting people all over the continent, trying new things, and learning new languages. We even went to the U.S. once, but I’m sorry to say nobody liked it, so we returned to Europe after a few months. We spent all of our money on those two trips, but we all appreciated gaining the experience. When I came of age, I was expected to get a job of my own, so I could share in the burden. I did, but then I grew tired of it. I loved my family, but I didn’t want to work. I wanted to keep moving.

My parents and siblings could see that I was unhappy. Some people in this world are just not cut out for work. I was certainly not raised to recognize its inherent value. We only did it because we had to...at least that’s what we thought. They released me from my unwritten contract so I could go explore the world on my own. I went farther than we ever did, to parts of Africa and Asia, and back to the Americas once or twice. I was homeless, but I was happy. You would be surprised what you can do without any money whatsoever, as long as you have no qualms about wild berries and dumpster diving. I kept in touch as best I could in those days, and returned home after two years. I regaled my family with stories of my journey, teaching them a few tricks I picked up along the way. They found themselves to be envious of the true nomadic lifestyle, especially my two younger brothers, who both had jobs of their own now. They too hated it. Only the littlest girl was too young to know what it was like yet, but she didn’t seem very interested in trying. So everyone quit their jobs, and followed me. With my guidance, they figured out how to live with no borders, no constraints. It was so freeing, and I thought I was happy before, but now I was really happy. As technology progressed, it became easier to stay in contact with people, and we discovered that we weren’t the only ones living like this. As nomads, we were obviously very separated from each other, but we still considered ourselves to be part of a community. It is through it that I met my future husband. I can’t believe I found someone who saw the world just as I did. We settled down for a little while so our kids could grow up with a little bit more stability, but when they were old enough to start making their own decisions, they decided they wanted to join our old community. So we went back to being nomads. It’s only natural.