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.

Microstory 1747: Little Lion

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I’m a nomadic lion, which means that I don’t belong to a pride. This is not by choice, as it is for most of my kind. I was the runt of the family, so my mother rejected and abandoned me. I should have died in the wild, having never learned how to survive, but I figured it out. I figured out what to eat, and what not to. I taught myself how to hunt, and where to find water. If only my mom could see me now. I’m full-grown, but not much larger than I was before, relatively speaking. You might think that makes it harder on me, but I have found it to be an advantage. Prey animals think of me as a baby, and while they are worried about mama being around here somewhere, they always underestimate me. Yes, it’s harder for me to run and pounce, but I don’t have to when my meal doesn’t consider me too much of a threat, and lets me get close before becoming worried about it. Yes, I’m doing okay, all things considered. I wouldn’t say this is a great life, and I doubt I’ll ever find a suitable mate, but at least I’m alive, and I understand how to keep myself that way. I will say that I’m fairly sick of it, wandering around without the protection or companionship of others. I’ve made a few attempts to join other prides, but they always run me off. They would kill me if, again, they thought I was any real threat. They don’t think I deserve to share in the food we would catch together. They don’t think I can contribute, and that’s not fair. They have no idea what I have to offer. I’ve decided to give up, and focus on being the best version of my lonesome self. If no one else can appreciate me, then I guess I have to work extra hard to make sure I appreciate myself, and maintain my self-esteem. It’s their loss.

One day, I’m walking over the grasslands, trying to pick up the scent of a sounder of warthogs. They’re pretty mean and rowdy, but they’re smaller than giraffes, so they’re kind of all I can handle on my own. My nose picks up something. I don’t know what it is yet, but it’s not a warthog. I keep going, and pretty quickly realize it to be the blood of my own kind. Another lion is hurt nearby, and I feel compelled to go investigate. I really shouldn’t. It’s none of my business, I don’t know how I could help them, and it’s not like they would try if our roles were reversed. I can’t help it, though. I have to find out what happened. Perhaps some super predator has shown up, and I’m in danger here. That is a good enough reason for me to follow the trail, right? As I draw nearer, I imagine the horrific crime scene I’m about to encounter. Blood and guts everywhere, I don’t know which parts connect to which other parts. Vultures feasting on the remains. But that’s not what it is. It’s a female, probably around my age. She’s injured enough to not be able to move on her own, but she’s not drenched in her own blood. I instinctively begin to lick her wounds. When the vultures actually do come, I scare them off with my pathetic excuse for a roar. It wouldn’t be good enough to impress another lion, but the birds are sufficiently disturbed. I continue to watch over the lioness as her cuts heal on their own. She won’t tell me what happened to her, but I get the impression that she too had some kind of falling out with her pride. Once she’s well enough, we walk together to a safer location, where I can leave her to hunt. I drag carcasses back to our den to keep her fed. It’s a lot of work for a little guy like me, but I make it work. One day, she runs off without even a thank you, and I figure that I’ll never see her again. But then she comes back with a carcass of her own as what she calls the thank you. Then we start our family.

Microstory 1251: Asuk Ortega

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In the sixth century, by the new calendar, humans were a rare species. They were very important, and well respected by the rest of the vonearthans, however. Revered might be an even better word to describe it. Long ago, their ancestors figured out how to make themselves immortal. With advancements in biomedical science, technological enhancements, and other related fields, death was cured. Not everyone wanted to take the cure, though. There were indeed those who opposed it on moral or religious grounds, but they eventually died out, because of course, they wanted to. Each generation believed in the cause they were born into less and less, until there was almost no one left. Only one faction of purely biological humans remained, and despite the fact that other human subspecies were in various stages of biological development on other planets, these on and around Earth were the most protected. You see, the descendants of humanity realized that their species could not truly procreate. Sure, they could build other lifeforms in their likeness, but they weren’t really their children. They could be as different from their creators as the acorn is to the whale. So they no longer had bloodlines, or even an inorganic analog to them. They had creators, and their creations, which could one day become creators. Collectively, this saddened them, and they determined that they didn’t want to let go of their roots entirely. They didn’t want real humans to become extinct, as was forewarned by many futurists of yesteryear. To combat this prospect, all they did was set aside small pockets of human populations. They were free to do as they wished, but the point was to keep human life, well...alive. But this led to a dilemma. What if these biological humans, who would one day die, decided they wanted to live forever, just like everyone else? Well, they were free to do that as well. The nonbiologicals didn’t want to pose any restrictions on the younglings, as they would sometimes call them affectionately. They asked the people who desired to be upgraded to hold off on doing so until they could propagate the species themselves, but they did not require it. If extinction was inevitable, then that would just have to be the way it was. Fortunately, it would seem not so impossible. Enough humans remained on Earth, and some neighboring worlds, to maintain healthy numbers. Some did decide to eventually become technologically immortal, but others chose to live full lives, and then die.

Asuk Ortega and his family were regular humans. His parents never wanted to be enhanced, but Asuk wasn’t certain. Living forever sounded pretty enticing. To ensure he understood what choice he had to make, his parents enrolled him in a special school. It taught him the extreme of both sides; how to live like a survivalist with almost no resources, and also how to exist as a conscious piece of machinery. It was during the first half of his lessons that he encountered Paige Turner. She was a time traveler from centuries in the past. Though he hadn’t heard of real time travel before, he wasn’t too astonished by it. He grew up with easy access to anything he might have wanted, or anywhere in the galaxy he might have wanted to go. He was just grateful to finally have a friend. The life of a human that far in the timeline was lonely. The people around him didn’t shy away from upgrades completely. They still connected themselves to virtual constructs, and someone doing anything in the real world was harder to find every day. About the only way to lead an interesting life was to travel around, either throughout the solar system, or to the stars. All of the museums and historical locations were gone, unless they were natural wonders. Being a nomad was just how it had to be if one wanted to avoid boredom. But then Asuk got an idea. All his life, he knew he had to make a choice between two paths. He could become immortal, or remain human. Yet here was this other option. Time travel was the ultimate nomadic journey, and he wouldn’t be able to see everything he wanted to if he went with either of the other two choices. Time travelers weren’t allowed too many technological upgrades, but humans didn’t live very long. He had to become an immortal through some other means. And that was when his story began.

Microstory 970: Seasons

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Seasons are probably more important than you think, and you likely don’t consciously realize what good the seasonal cycle has done for humanity. Seasons are caused by the Earth’s tilt, and the gravitational pull of the moon, both of which were believed to be caused by the same major impact event during the planet’s relative infancy. Lots of people know that the reason our world supports life is because it’s located within a habitability zone. Our perfect distance from the sun makes this place neither too hot, nor too cold. But this is not the only reason, because if it were, life—or at least more evident life—should easily exist on Mars and Venus as well. The gas giants also protected us from incurring too many impact events, which is yet another example of a happy medium. Scientists believe our solar system’s distance from the center of the galaxy may have contributed to habitability as well, though that is still up for debate. I tell you all this so you appreciate how impossible it is that we even exist, and how close we were to not. It may seem like winter is just an inconvenience, or detrimental to life, but that’s not the case. Many crops, including wheat, cannot grow without a cool environment, which would be bad, because a lack of winter would also prevent the advancement of technology beyond small agricultural pockets in only certain regions. But even then, life would be difficult. Just because there’s no winter, doesn’t mean there’s no cold. We would be relegated to tropical regions near the equator, which would be inundated by unchecked pathogens, and their rampant carrier pests. Rain and other weather would constantly beat down any settlements, forcing populations that survived those diseases to at least be partially nomadic. Every civilization began by founding a permanent home, and died out when that home was threatened. An interesting other side effect of winter is technological progress. As the saying goes, necessity is the mother of invention. If we didn’t need to find ways to keep warm, we wouldn’t have come up with the most basic forms of energy production, so it wouldn’t have even occurred to us to try to invent computers. It’s okay that there are parts of the world untouched by most seasons, but for the most part, the world needs its tilt, and the people on it should be grateful. Today, our home is being threatened by climate change, which at the most optimistic estimates, won’t be fixed until the middle of this century; that is assuming we immediately cease all pollution overnight. I would tell you to #votethemout if you want something done about climate change, but in all honesty, I know of few politicians and political candidates who are even willing take the necessary action to alleviate this situation. Let’s hope that changes. I may not love you, winter, but I need you, so please...stay frosty.

Microstory 902: Animals and Wildlife

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The other day, I overheard people on the street talking about the weather, which is something I’ve grown accustomed to neurotypicals doing, like how it no longer freaks you out when your dog licks itself. They expressed denial to climate change, but were in the same breath questioning why the weather is so different now than it once was. I don’t know whether to be outraged by their audacity, or discouraged by their stupidity. It’s like they’re completely blind to reality, it’s baffling. The climate, the weather, the environment; it’s all connected. The real circle of life has more to do with water and air than it does zebras and baby lions. If you’re caught up on my Sunday series, The Advancement of Leona Matic, or even if you’re a year behind, you may have noticed I describe the future of Earth a little differently than other stories set in the future. A lot of science fiction tries to extrapolate population growth, if only abstractly, determining that we will one day live in gargantuan cities, and barely have enough room to sit down. They’re not entirely wrong per se, but they are going the wrong direction. The correct answer is up. Improvements in materials science will allow us to construct extraordinarily tall megastructures. This will allow us to pack millions of people into a tiny sliver of land. We’ll build these all over the world as a way to prevent ourselves from putting all our eggs in one basket, which is the same reason we’ll start living on Luna, Mars, and nearby exoplanets. We won’t be living in megacities, like one might find in a Judge Dredd comic book, because that would be a waste of space. But what does it matter, you ask. If we have the room, why would we not use it? Well, because we don’t have the room. Humans have only been settling for the last few thousand years. Before this, we were nomadic, and before that, we didn’t even exist. Sorry, Christians, the story of Adam and Eve is just a straight up fabrication. What does this all mean? It means that this world belongs to the plants and animals. So in the future, when technology progresses enough, we need to give it back. But don’t wait until the 22nd century; not even if you think you won’t be alive then—which you may be, believe it or not (but we’ll get to that later). Wildlife needs your help now. Recycle, invest in clean energy as possible, and try a more vegetarian diet. I still eat some meat, because I can’t afford alternative sources of protein, but I recently realized just because I’m not a herbivore, doesn’t mean I have to be a carnivore. In a hundred years, when food synthesis has long been possible, people will look back and note how absurd it is that we once killed animals for food. But we’ll get to that later too. Either way, why not start now? Yes, I’m aware of how preachy I’m being, and no, you working towards vegetarianism is not presently as important to me as, say, voting Russia out of this country. I’m just saying that this world doesn’t really belong to us, and it never did.

Microstory 764: Hockey Stick

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Few people could be considered as fierce an athletic competitor as Veraise Akima. Though born in Captain Mason, Usonia, her family decided to take up a nomadic lifestyle, and start moving all over the world. They never spent more than six months in any one place, and often did not even bother renting a permanent house. They wanted to experience everything that the universe had to offer, so trotting the globe was as close as they were going to get. As a result of moving around so much, Akima found herself in a number of completely different environments, but her one constant was hockey. From the street to the field, ice rink to roller rink, and even underwater, Akima did it all. Seeing her love of the sport, her parents moved to a small island in the Japanese archipelago where it was rumored an old woman was experimenting with graphene tools. She agreed to design a custom stick for Veraise that would be the strongest of its kind in the whole world. Once she had it, she never used anything else. No matter which type she was playing, or where she was playing it, she used the same stick, swapping out only the blades, when necessary. Even after growing old enough to move out on her own, Veraise stuck by her family, having long fallen in love with the idea of not being tied down to any one place for too long. In her mid-twenties, they found themselves living in inland Somalia. There they discovered the Great Salt Flats of Somalia, which she eventually decided was her favorite place ever, especially since it gave her an idea that would change the course of history. She founded a new type of hockey, one that could be played on salt flats. But not all salt flats are created equal. Some are completely dry, and playing on those would prove to be but marginally different than playing in a semi-arid desert. No. Though similar flats existed, no flat was quite like the Great Flats of Somalia. It lies just on top of brine water, which seeps to the surface, resulting in a thin layer of water. It is highly reflective, giving distant observers the impression that they are watching someone walk on water. It was on the edge of the flats that Akima tried out her new sport, gathering her neighbors to play with her, and work out some of the nuances. For the most part, it’s played like other versions of hockey, but requires special equipment to allow for speed in the shallow water. From this day on, Veraise Akima never played any other type of hockey, nor any other sport, for that matter, nor did she live anywhere outside of Somalia. She gathered crowds of spectators from all over the world, which snowballed its popularity, and encouraged the creation of a league. She served as its first commissioner, establishing most of the organization’s rules that remain today. She was buried somewhere in secret somewhere under the Somalian flats with her stick, while her various blades can be viewed by the public in the International Salt Hockey Association museum.

Microstory 361: Regional Pride

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Progressive Society

In order to write my Mateo Matic stories, since they take place primarily in the future, I’ve been doing a lot of research on future events. First of all, you should know that forms of immortality I’ve mentioned before are coming. That’s not just science fiction. With such advancements in nanorobotics, consciousness transference, and virtual reality, the physical will become less important. Borders will fade away, and many will choose to live rather nomadic lives. We won’t live in homes, because everything we need will be on our person at all times. It’ll no longer matter where anyone is from. Travel and exploration will just be something we do constantly. When you live forever, a fifteen year trip to another solar system suddenly no longer feels like a waste of time. But until then, I recognize your drive to be proud of your home. Just don’t take this too far. It’s okay when you cheer for your favorite sports team, and “hate” the opponent, but it becomes a problem when you love your country, and hate another. There’s a fat line between pride and bigotry, yet I see people crossing it all the time. One of the biggest problem I notice comes out of people who live in the U.S. south. Now I know southerners will cry hypocrisy, but it’s really not the same thing. When you wave your confederate flag (which, by the way, isn’t even the same one used during the war) you’re expressing a level of anti-patriotism that I can’t even fathom. Scrap everything about race and slavery, and you’re still on the wrong side of the argument. The war was also about a certain group of states attempting to secede from the union. They hated this country so much that they wanted to leave. When you paint the flag on the back window of your truck, or hang it on your clothes line, you identify yourself as someone who doesn’t consider themselves to be a United States citizen. It’s ironic, because you’re the one claiming to be patriotic, and screaming about immigration. Have pride in your region, but don’t let it stand in the way of love.

Environmental Awareness