Microstory 2390: Earth, December 18, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

Ah yes, my voice was breaking a little bit, because I was so nervous. I wasn’t...really...upset about what I learned from Madalena. I understand why she did what she did, and why she thought it made sense. The truth is that she treated me for very little money, and I would love to blame her for my condition, but I had a consult with a doctor recently, who ran tests. She was sure that I would have developed my epigenetic disease no matter where I lived. As you said, Madalena could have remained a partial observer. We all now know that she was always a doctor, not only a nurse, but from what my father knew of her back then, she shouldn’t have been qualified to treat my symptoms at all. She went above and beyond to keep me alive. Watching me wither away and die while she kept me comfortable to maintain her cover would have been really easy. Plus, wouldn’t that have been part of the study? You observe these two twins in vastly different environments, one of them dies, and you try to determine what caused it. The experiment was doomed from the start, because they were going into it with far too much bias. They should have secured regulatory approval, instituted a double-blind study, observed from afar, and with impartiality, and let whatever happened happen. If they couldn’t get that approval due to its ethically questionable premise, then they just shouldn’t have done it! Perhaps researchers would like to know what it looks like when a million people are shot into the sun, but that’s morally wrong, so no one’s done a study on that, as far as I know. Anyway, Madalena is a human, and I forgive her. But it’s a lot easier for me, because she lives so far away, and I don’t think that she ever plans on coming here. We don’t need her kind of help, we’re doing well. You’re stuck with your observer, but here’s the good news. I sent her another message after your last letter, and asked her to confirm that Elek Katona was the only passenger on your ship that had anything to do with the study, and she was pretty adamant that he was. She didn’t even think that it was a possibility that someone else was working with him in secret. She knew quite a bit about what was going on, back then, anyway. There was some compartmentalization in the organization to protect their secrets, but she was part of designing those levels of secrecy from above. I think there was very little that she was not aware of. That being said, she admits that she hasn’t spoken to Elek, or anyone else who was a part of the project, in many years. It’s not out of the realm of possibility that he recruited someone after the fact. Her guess is that he partnered with your mother, and saw no reason to include anyone else, but there’s no way to know. Honestly, as scared as I am for you, I think you’re gonna have to confront Elek. Take Bray with you, do it in public. Don’t talk to Velia first. I know you don’t want her to be surprised, but what if she turns on you? What if she warns her father? What if she doesn’t realize what he’s capable of. Don’t take any risks. I love you.

Your younger or older twin,

Condor

PS: Oh my gosh! We don’t know which one of us was born first! Did your mother say?

Microstory 2388: Vacuus, December 11, 2179

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Dear Condor,

Don’t think I don’t remember what you told me the last time you sent a message to just me. I was going to address it right away, because that’s huge news, but then the Valkyries came, and Velia wanted to send a joint letter, and then you sent a joint letter back, and I’m also trying to keep up with our Winfield Files Book and TV Show Club in case the long-cycle interrupts us for years, and my mind has been so preoccupied with so many other things. Okay. So. Your nurse. Madalena. You hypothesized that she may have been tied to the twin study, but you didn’t seem all that convinced about it. It sounded like you maybe just thought that it was a possibility, which it always was. It’s crazy that you turned out to be right. I’m glad to know a little more, but I’m worried about you. That must have been a hard conversation to have. I watched the recording of the video chat that you sent, and your voice started getting a little trembly when it became apparent to you how involved she was with the whole secret program. Maybe you were just a bit cold, or needed some water, and if you tell me that something like that is the explanation, I’ll believe you. I just want to make sure that you’re okay. I don’t want to put any dark ideas in your head, but I can imagine that it felt like a violation, her taking care of you with ulterior motives. I hope she was telling the truth that she never made you sick, and was genuinely treating you for the regretful condition you were born with. It shows that she wasn’t a total monster. A true scientific observer wouldn’t allow themselves to interfere. To answer your question, Elek Katona is Velia’s father. She and I became friends because he was friends with my mother. He wasn’t even on my list of suspects, not because I didn’t think he would ever be that kind of person, but because he’s not a medical professional of any kind. He’s responsible for breeding and raising the insects that we brought with us as a protein source. I guess that’s just his cover? Sort of weird. I don’t know why an entomologist would be recruited for a human experiment, but maybe he has a secret educational background as well? I’ve not had the courage to confront him about it. I’ve not even told Velia, which I think I should do first. If it ruins my relationship with that family, I don’t want her to be blindsided. But obviously I’m very nervous. I don’t know how it’s gonna go, and he may not be the only one here. I’m already paranoid about who I’ve known all my life who might have been studying me and my behavior. Knowing about one of them has actually made it worse, because that sounds more like a conspiracy. You were able to move away from your nurse and neighbor. Whoever it turned out to be on my end, they were bound to still be here. But I’ll figure it out. I’ll build the willpower to pursue, and maybe get us a few more answers.

Thanks for lookin’ out,

Corinthia

PS: I support you and Velia, and whatever choices you make when it comes to your bond. I won’t stand in your way.

Microstory 2383: Earth, November 1, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

Huge news. I couldn’t wait to write this until after your next message, whenever that ends up being. I know that dad told you what he found out from our old neighbor, so I won’t go over all that again. While he was gone, I managed to make contact with my old nurse. Her name is Madalena Rich, and she was part of it all. She wasn’t just hired by the researchers to observe me. She was part of the braintrust that came up with the idea to study twins separated at birth throughout their entire lives. It was she who located our mother, since her name was in the records as being pregnant with twins. She didn’t make first contact with your mom, but they did become friends after Alizée was read into the program, and honestly, kind of brainwashed into believing that this all made sense. At first, mom thought that they were just going to have her live a few towns over, but then they kept talking about it, and a few towns became a few states, and a few states became a different country, and so on and so forth, until we ended up where we are today. It was this whole long-con. They just kept getting her more and more excited about what kind of data they could get from this study, and how beneficial it would be for the advancement of science. Madalena was already a nurse by the time this happened, which means that she lied to our father about being a student. It was an excuse she came up with for why she wasn’t demanding much money to care for me. She didn’t need money, she just needed to get into that apartment, though obviously it would have been quite suspicious had she agreed to do it entirely free.

We talked about a lot more than this, so these are only the highlights. I screen recorded our conversation—in secret at first, though I later divulged it, which she didn’t argue against. She said that she has done a lot of growing up, and has dedicated her career to helping the less fortunate. She also regrets having participated, especially since it made little sense to begin with. It took them a few months to build up to the whole Vacuus expedition offer, and just when they had it, they discovered that we were fraternal twins. We were right that it was really disorganized. They didn’t try to develop a relationship with any other candidates, this was their one chance, or they would literally miss the boat that took you across the interplanetary void. They realized how little meaning their study would have at this point, but decided to press forward. Over time, they eventually gave up. At least, that’s what Madalena believed. She stopped treating me (by the way, but illnesses were real, it’s not like she was getting me sick on purpose), and she walked away from it all. She only later found out about her old business associates approaching our neighbor for further observation when I was a little older. One last thing. The screen recording doesn’t have this, because she never said it out loud, but she sent me an old contact card with the name of the person assigned to study you on the ship, and on the planet. It was Elek Katona. Isn’t that Velia’s last name?

Reeling from the truth,

Condor

Microstory 2379: Vacuus, October 28, 2179

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Dear Condor,

I saw the letter that Velia sent you, and the photograph that she sent along with it. I knew that she was curious about you, I just didn’t realize how attached she had become to the idea of getting to know you more personally. She’s been very lonely here. As you can see, she’s quite good-looking, but she has a little trouble communicating with others. I think she jumped at the chance to correspond with you, because the medium allows her to rethink and revise her thoughts before they ever reach you. Just be careful with how you approach the situation. A long-distance love story is romantic, but not very practical. You and she will never meet in person, and even if you can accept that, it will probably eat at her over time. Be nice, and don’t just ignore her, but really try not to lead her on. She deserves to be happy with someone who is living on the same planet, and she doesn’t deserve to be distracted from such fulfillment and contentment. Okay, that’s enough of me scolding you for something that may never be a problem. That’s exciting news about your nurse, please let me know how that goes when she gets back to you. It reminds me of that book two development where Roscoe tracks down his estranged grandfather, and learns that he’s the one who protected Audie’s grandmother from that storm when they were young. It was a cool symmetrical twist, and the writer handled it well. Though, I admit, the adaptation could have done it better. I don’t like when the leads are double cast into entirely different characters for flashbacks. It’s a little cute, but mostly annoying. That’s just my opinion, I guess. Anyway, it would be great to reunite with someone who was so important in your past. I hope it goes well. She sounds lovely. I’m worried about Pascal and his trip, though. I don’t like it when you have to breach the safe confines of your floating platform at all, but I’m more worried than I was before; probably because I know you two better now than when you were first telling me your whole situation. I know he’ll have already left, but remember to tell dad to be careful. I’m sure you always say something to that effect, but a lot has changed since he last saw your neighbor. He could be dangerous, even if he had nothing to do with our separation. A part of me hopes that he’s dead, or simply can’t be found, just to avoid the risk of an encounter that does not go well. Just be safe, and get him back home quickly.

Lounging on an imaginary beach,

Corinthia

Microstory 2377: Earth, October 20, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

I have indeed been appreciating the health updates. You’ll notice that I started sending you mine too. If you would rather not receive them, though, just let me know. I can’t remember if you get charged for incoming messages, or what. Speaking of which, I did send one to Velia. I’m sure she’s told you about that, though. I talked a lot about clothes, because that’s all I really know about her. It’s nice to know that she’s been there for you since I can’t, and never could. I’m glad that you’re back to your normal self. Our conversations have been pretty negative lately because of it, and that’s all my fault. If you want to be more positive, we can move on to lighter topics. I still want to make sure that you’re doing okay, but I’ve let go of some of my anger about the whole thing, and I won’t harp on it anymore. I’ll let you take the lead on it. I will tell you that dad is going on a trip. He says that it’s for his job, but what he doesn’t realize is that, as his assistant, I have access to his travel forms. He used the code for new trade opportunities. He really shouldn’t be looking for those since we’re preoccupied with Australia at the moment, and it wouldn’t make any sense for him to fly all the way to Eastern Seaboard, U.S.A. while we’re down under. He’s obviously on the hunt for our old neighbor, and while he hasn’t admitted that he’s found the guy’s current location, I’m sure that that’s where he’s going. I guess we’ll know eventually whether he uncovered new information about our pasts, or didn’t. Don’t worry, he’s not breaking any laws or policies by traveling for personal reasons. As long as he does some work out there—talking to producers, vendors, and other domes—he’ll be fine. This isn’t the first time he’s caught up with old contacts, and our superiors are fully aware of how it works. It’s all about networking, so almost nothing is off limits unless he just lounges on a beach, or something. Last bit of news, I received a message—not from my nurse from when I was a kid—but her office manager. He said that she’s presently incommunicado in a really dangerous territory, trying to save lives. He hasn’t relayed my letter yet, but once she returns, he’s sure that she’ll want to talk to me. If this were an emergency, he would try to get through to her, but this isn’t a rush, so I’m just going to have to be patient.

Home alone,

Condor

Microstory 2372: Vacuus, September 29, 2179

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Dear Condor,

Thank you for attaching yours and Pascal’s medical records. That’s really going to help, not only with this one issue, but any other problems that might arise in the future. It’s good to have a full picture of your health. Thank you for being protective of me, but I want you to remember that he’s your father, and I know that he did the best he could with the cards that he was dealt. It was a tough situation that I can’t even begin to imagine. On the ship, the adults had to have a it takes a village mentality, or we never would have survived. I only had one official parent, but I was raised by just about everyone on that tin can way or another. You were just out in the world, where no one really cares about anyone else unless they have some specific reason to. I’m so glad that your father found a way to provide you with the medical care that you needed, despite how shallow it sounds like his pockets were. I would have been heartbroken if mom had told me about you, and when I tried to reach out, I found out that you were dead. We will never meet in person, but at least we get to converse, and that might be thanks to your secret nurse and her laced chicken noodle soup. It’s important to frame it positively. I’m doing fine. I still have symptoms, but it helps to sit still, which is perfect, since that’s how my job works. I do need to get exercise, though, so I walk down the corridors, which Bray helps me with. He still feels guilty, but here’s the way I look at it. Yeah, the STD triggered the epigenetic disease in me, but the doctor says it was better that it happened now, instead of when I’m older. Anything could have caused it to surface, including some age-related conditions, and it would have been much harder for me to recover under those circumstances. I don’t know what the future holds, but he and I are still together. Speaking of which, we have not had any time to get into your open letter to the base. Everyone loved hearing from you. They are aware of how bad things are on Earth, but most of them don’t have any firsthand accounts of what it’s really like. Many of the older people here who left connections behind have found those connections since severed, due to death or outdated information, probably because of the collapse of society. They appreciate hearing from someone, even if it’s not all great. On a personal note, my friend, the garment fabricator, seems to be taking a particular interest in you. Her name is Velia. I’ve attached her contact card in case you want to have a second person to talk to up here. I’m sure she would really love it.

Keeping it light,

Corinthia

Microstory 2371: Earth, September 22, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

I forgot to tell you that the word don’t isn’t in my vocabulary. So to me, all you said was “get mad”. So I got mad. I’m not mad at Bray, as long as you’re not mad at Bray. Are you not mad at Bray? Okay. I just support you. But I am mad at our parents. It seems that every few weeks, we find out this horrifying new secret about our pasts, or our lives. The answer is yes, I was sick. I was apparently very sick as a child. I confronted my father yet again for answers, and he confessed to everything. To his credit, he’s not a doctor, and it didn’t occur to him that you might be suffering from the same condition. We couldn’t afford to visit a doctor back then. Things were bad, the entire industry sector was suffering. There was a huge gap between supply and demand for medical help, and as a result, prices were exorbitant. We could only afford a nurse. He claims that he never lied by telling me that she was a babysitter, so I guess I just grew up assuming that. She wasn’t even a nurse yet either, though, but a nursing student, so she was willing to help for less just for the experience. According to him, she was incredibly kind and helpful, and while he didn’t have the education necessary to assess how she was helping, the results were rather clear. Whenever I was showing signs of my illness again, she slipped me medicine—often hidden in the chicken noodle soup—and then I got better. She had no clue that it was hereditary, however, I’m still mad, because he should have said something recently. He should have made the connection, especially when he was compiling his list of people who might have been responsible for studying the Earth twin. It could have been her, for all we know. We don’t know. Anyway, I’ve looked her up in a database of medical professionals, which I have access to for potential telehealth needs. She’s currently living under a dome in what was once South Africa, before the borders collapsed. I’ve reached out to her, and am awaiting a response. Someone needs to fix this. I have attached a copy of all of my medical records, so you can look for yourself, and give it to your doctor. I also attached our dad’s file, with a signed cover sheet that proves he authorized it. Please take care of yourself. Don’t overdo it.

Love you so much,

Condor

Microstory 2228: More Advanced Care Now

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Nick is back in the hospital, and this is where he’ll stay for the rest of his life. It seems that we were too quick to decide that he was capable of staying at home. We weren’t back in the apartment for more than a few hours before he started having some real problems. His temperature was going up each time I checked it, eventually reaching a full fever. Soon after that, he started coughing, and feeling dizzy even though he was just lying in bed. The nurse had already left for the evening, but I called her back, and she agreed that he couldn’t stay there untreated anymore. For a normal healthy individual, these symptoms could be treated on their own using over-the-counter remedies, but Nick is in a really vulnerable position. He requires round-the-clock care, and the kind that I’m not qualified to provide. They conducted rapid blood tests, and confirmed that it’s a virus. Again, a normal person might be able to fight it off on their own, or get some medication after a quick doctor’s visit, but that’s not enough for him. He’s hooked up to machines, which are monitoring him for a team of top-notch medical professionals. But where does that leave me? I know that, when you add it all up, I’ve not known him for very long, but we’ve grown pretty close in that time. I’ve seen sides of him that no one else has. So I can’t just leave, even though he has more advanced care now. There’s a protocol for this situation. It’s called a “hand-off”. And I’ve officially done that, though I am still here, just now as a friend, which is what our relationship was when we were co-workers. He doesn’t have any real family in this world, so I’m going to do what I can to make him feel safe and comfortable, even though it’s not my job anymore.

Microstory 2227: Die Eventually Too

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The hospital board has come to a decision. Well, it’s a compromise, really. Since Nick is terminal, and all that we can really do for him is keep him comfortable, and safe from secondary infections, he will be allowed to return home for the time being. He and I will not be alone, though. While I’ll continue to live there, and be available 24/7, a nurse will be coming in every morning for a ten-hour shift. I can provide him with his basic needs, but there are some things that I can’t do, and I think that the hospital wants to cover all the bases. There is no additional cost for this service. It’s a sort of compensation for the generous contributions to science that he’s making by donating his still living body now, and his deceased body in the future. We shall see how it goes, though I’m pretty optimistic about it. This is only a tentative plan, though. If something goes wrong while I’m here, but the nurse is not—or even if the nurse is here too—then they might move him to the hospital for good. The sad thing is that something bad probably will happen eventually. This is all about putting off the inevitable, which may make you wonder, why not just go ahead and check in now, just to be safe? Well, if we surrender to that, why don’t you check into the hospital right now, because you’re going to die eventually too. Life is about living it, and everyone has the right to determine for themselves what that means, and where to do it. Yes, he’ll likely have no choice but to get a room eventually, but why lower his morale now when we have the ability to maintain his high spirits? Anyway, he’s having some trouble speaking these days, but he’s found ways to vocalize his thoughts to me, even while he struggles, so I think I’m going to be able to use his words for tomorrow’s posts.

Microstory 2217: He Only Watched

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We’re at the hospital today for a check-up. There’s a lot that I can do for him. I can take care of his basic needs, help with physical therapy homework, and draw blood or run an IV drip. There are still things that a nurse or doctor needs to perform, though. He’ll probably be at the hospital about once a week from now on. While I was on their website to make sure we would park in the right lot, I found out that the hospital was putting on a little talent show. It wasn’t this grand, expensive affair, but the staff like to keep their patients active and in high spirits, so they do things like this sometimes. No one was being judged or ridiculed. Some of the talents were unimpressive by most people’s standards, like one elderly woman who just sort of slowly twirled around while she was looking up at the ceiling, waving her arms around occasionally. One of the radio techs beatboxed. It was a safe environment for people to be themselves, and maybe forget about why they were there. I don’t think that it worked for Nick, but it was worth a shot. He only watched, of course. There was no way I was convincing him to get up on that stage. He says that he wouldn’t have done anything like that on his best day. He’s not much of a performer, and has hated having to do things like that in the past, like for school. Lots of teachers told him that he would get used to it the more he tried it, but that never happened. Evidently, in his world, the culture assumes that everyone can do anything if they work hard enough at it, and obviously, that’s not true. This site was his way of reaching out to the world, and when I pointed that out to him, it actually seemed to resonate, so I’m hoping that means he’ll soon decide to inject his own thoughts back into it, even if that means he dictates what he needs me to type for him. One can hope.

Microstory 2172: Better If I’m Flexible

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I had an appointment at the hospital today. I was going to see the doctor, but he was busy, so a couple of nurses just took care of it. They measured my vitals, and took notes. They also took images to have analyzed by a radiologist. I’m recuperating about as well as should be expected given the extent of my injuries. There’s nothing that I should be particularly worried about. They want to see me again in a few weeks just to be sure my x-rays continue to follow the healing pattern. While I was still in the appointment, I got an email back from CauseTogether.hope. They say that the campaign to raise funds for my bills doesn’t violate any of their policies, so they’re unable to take it down for me. If I want, I can further appeal the decision, but I shot off a quick text to my lawyer, who thinks that probably nothing will come of it. I’m actively advertising my medical condition to the general public. My only legal argument could have been that the page interferes with my sense of privacy, but I’ve already let that ship sail. My therapist told me that my decision to be brutally honest here would come back to bite me in the ass. Well, not in so many words, she said it. Anyway, my lawyer said that we could try to take legal action against them, but I’m still on the other side of a completely different legal battle, though one which is also about the transparency of my posts. Do I have a problem? Am I just making my own life worse? Should I be changing every thing about what I do with my time, and how I do it? No, that’s crazy. This site saved a kidnapped girl, and gave me a job. I can’t just ignore those benefits because it has also come with consequences. As they would say back on my world, the invention of the ship was the invention of the shipwreck. That doesn’t mean they should never have invented the ship. Where would we be without them? Isolated, monolithic, or maybe even wiped out.

I did receive some good news, though. A subscriber slid into my DMs with an idea for a position that could be on my new consulting team for the jail. They think that we should hire a Reentry Specialist. While our work will mostly focus on what to do with the guests while they’re staying with us—and for this first job, for people who only come in intermittently—we would still benefit from hearing from someone with experience in helping the formerly incarcerated adapt to life on the outside. And anyway, we’re hoping that this is more of a pilot program, and less of a one-time thing. We may branch out to other facilities if we can prove the method effective, or even inspire others to come up with their own ideas around the country, or perhaps the world. The subscriber who suggested this job says that she has experience in this sort of thing, and she would be willing to move here from Wyoming if we offered it to her. Of course, we’re not there yet. I’m still doing a little work for my original job at this company, but I’ve written it down, and we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Speaking of my current job, it will probably be over tomorrow. I’m just putting the finishing touches on the transition, and won’t need to be involved with any of that stuff for much longer. I think I’m just going to take a few days off of work, both to continue recovering physically, and to sort of reset my brain. My new friends for Homes for Humankind want to get together for a meal if I’m up for it, so I may do that. Their schedule is ever-shifting, but immovable once it does shift, so it will be better if I’m the flexible one. Hopefully we can get something on the books before I get back to the grind.

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 2056: Good Word For Me

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My mother always told me that the best way to succeed is to know people. I never put much stock into that, because I didn’t want to believe it. I remember watching some movie or TV show a couple of years ago. A guy was trying to get out of a speeding ticket, or something, so he promised the cop to help his son get into college. I think he was lying about knowing the Dean, or whatever. It was a ridiculous scenario. The speeder didn’t know this kid, or whether he belonged at that college, but the cop was willing to overlook that, because he was desperate. I guess he expected the speeder to make a phone call, and just randomly drop the name of an applicant who should go to the top of the pile. I can’t remember how all that turned out, but the fact is that networking is real. Only twice have I applied to a job, secured an interview, and then gotten that job. When I was still a kid, my dad signed me up for my lifeguarding certification. A friend from church owned a maintenance contractor. A friend of a friend knew about a warehouse who was hiring a lot of seasonal employees. That’s mostly how I’ve conducted business, and I find it incredibly annoying. Don’t put out a want ad online for employees if you’re just going to hire your old roommate’s slacker nephew, okay? But despite my “principles” I’ve played along with the game. I’ve taken my opportunities. I jumped at the chance to sleep in this finished attic from the nurse at the free clinic, and when she had a lead on a job, I jumped at that too. I have an interview for an entry-level gardening position tomorrow, but my landlord is pretty confident that I’ll get it, because no one else seems to be applying, and because she put in a good word for me. That’s all it takes sometimes. I don’t like it, but I’ll benefit from it, because if I tried to go through this life without any help, it would turn out to be a rather short one, I’ll tell ya that much. So anyway, wish me luck, and all that. Or don’t, if it goes against your principles.

Microstory 2054: Technically The Top Floor

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Believe it or not, the free clinic was pretty good. I guess I don’t have to tell you that. My target audience lives in this world, right? It would be hard to get this message back to my version of Earth, where free clinics aren’t great, because society doesn’t care about the people who have to use such services. Anyway, a lot of people here need it, so it was really busy, but they were good at prioritizing patients. I’m feeling sick, but there was a girl in there who had nailed her hand to her thigh. Well, I guess I don’t know that she did it to herself, but she obviously needed to be treated before me either way. Once I was in the room, the doctor was patient and understanding. She also didn’t question who I was, or where I came from. I mean, she did ask those questions, but she didn’t push it when I couldn’t answer them. She prescribed me some medicine, and gave me a large sample until I could afford to actually buy the medicine. She also gave me the card for a social worker, who is known for being really caring of people in my situation. I kind of have to wait for that, though, because he deals with a lot of sensitive people, and I don’t want to get him sick. In the meantime, though, no more sleeping in the park for me. One of the nurses is letting me stay in her attic. At first, I was worried about that, because I’m already sick, and I’ve always had trouble with allergies, but she was underselling it. Yeah, it’s technically the top floor of the house, and it’s slanted like an attic, but it’s fully finished, clean, and well-ventilated. It also spans the whole length of the house, so my living space is larger than anyone else’s room. It almost feels like I belong here. Maybe I was too harsh on this world, calling it Boreverse, and all. I’ve not had a home for a long time, not really. Even the 20 years I spent waiting for Cricket before felt like a resort stay; not something permanent. And the five years we lived together with Claire still felt like we were just looking for a way out. That’s not to say that I want to keep living here. I still need to get back to them. But at least I’m not out in the cold anymore, so to speak.

Microstory 2037: Florida

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So like I said, my fathers had two houses here in Plymouth. They had to move to the second one so they could take care of a child, which ended up being me. As they were just finishing up moving all the way into the second one, though, they got a call from papa’s mother. It was about my grandpa, who I never met. And that’s because he died that day. My papa was the first person she called about it, and then she called my Aunt Cooper. And then my Aunt Cooper called my papa so they could talk about it too. They cried about it together, because they loved my grandpa. They tell me that he was a great, hard-working man. I wish I could have known him. I was alive already, but my fathers had not adopted me yet. When he and my grandma were both finally retired, they left Idaho, and moved all the way down to Florida. A lot of people like to retire there, because it’s sunny all the time, and really pretty. They lived in a building called unassisted living, because they had trouble moving around too much, but they still didn’t need a nurse to take care of them all the time. My papa had actually visited a couple times since they moved there. He had even helped them move in, but I decided to talk about Florida on this slide, instead of earlier, because this is when my papa went down to go to his father’s funeral. It was really sad, and I’m kind of glad I at least wasn’t there for that part. Only a few of grandpa’s friends were able to make it, because a lot of them were already dead, and some of them weren’t able to travel. Some of them lived in Florida too, though.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 23, 2399

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Vearden has done his best to stay out of all the time travel stuff, just like Arcadia wanted. It’s triggering for her, and he doesn’t like it all that much anymore either. He has occasionally done the team a favor, though, because they’re still friends, and he wants them to be okay. It’s mostly been research, but there have been requests that were a little more involved. He’s not asked for anything from them in return, though, so maybe they owe him. Hopefully they won’t make him resort to pointing that out. Hopefully Leona just does as he asks.

“You want me to make her look like herself?” Leona echoes.

“Can you do it?”

“Yeah, an illusion is an illusion, whether it’s superimposed over me, or someone else. Just give me a second.” Leona thinks back to how she remembers Arcadia. It’s been a long time since she’s seen that face, but she can still picture it pretty well. And anyway, Alyssa’s ability is so powerful that she doesn’t have to recall every single detail. It’s in her brain somewhere, and Arcadia herself is somewhere in time and space, and that’s really all that matters. She’s not magically generating a hologram that looks like someone else. She’s stealing light from somewhere else. “There.” She opens her eyes to see her success. There Arcadia is, lying on the bed before her. She’s still in a coma, but she looks like her old self again.

“Great, thanks,” Vearden says, admiring the real look of the love of his life. “You can go now.”

“Don’t you want to look upon her a little longer?”

“What do you mean? Are you saying this is gonna wear off?”

“It’s going to disappear as soon as I leave,” Leona explains. “I’m sorry, I thought you realized that.”

He stares blankly into space, and sits down. “No, I didn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeats. “I would hold it here permanently if I could, but I can’t figure it out. I know that other illusionists have that power, but if Alyssa’s old body did, I’ve yet to learn it. We never asked her to try it when she was using it.”

“What about her new body?” Vearden goes on. “Would she be able to do it now?”

“She may,” Leona answers as she’s taking out her phone. “There’s still a lot she doesn’t tell us, and she may have just not thought to mention it.” She waits for the phone. “Aly? Can you teleport here? I need to...”

Alyssa appears before Leona can even finish her sentence. “Is everything okay?” She’s looking at Arcadia anxiously.

“It’s all right,” Vearden answers, realizing that she thinks this is a medical issue. “I was just hoping that you could make that permanent.”

“Yeah, of course, I can. Leona, could you...”

“Oh, okay.” Leona drops her illusion so Alyssa can make her own. She does it a lot faster, and doesn’t struggle with it at all.

“When you leave, she’s going to stay like that, right?” Vearden asks.

“Absolutely. I’m the only one who can get rid of it. If she wakes up, and wants to look like the other Leona again, she’ll need me. And if I die before she can do that, she’ll be stuck like this forever. So if you want to see what it’s like to be married to a human-sized mouse, or a monster truck, now’s your chance.”

“Why? Are you going to die?” Leona asks her.

“I...don’t want to be married to a mouse in a monster truck,” Vearden says as he’s admiring his love some more.

“That’s not what I said.”

“Whatever.” He stands there for another minute before looking up at them. “Thank you. Now you can go.”

“Come on, I’ll take you back to New York.” Alyssa offers a hand.

“I have a rental car. The reason I’m in Kansas City is because I had business to attend to in the lab, and I wanted to visit my friends.”

“That’s okay,” Vearden counters. “She can’t talk, and I don’t want to anymore.”

The two of them nod and respectfully leave through the door. Vearden sits down next to Arcadia. He doesn’t want to be married to a mouse, but he would like the chance to marry her. If she would just wake up, maybe he would be able to ask. They actually did discuss it before this happened. These were just preliminary talks; nothing concrete, but he’s confident that it would have ended up in a proposal. Now who knows how she’ll feel when she finally awakens? She may be in a weird sort of limbo dimension between life and death right now, having adventures with a stranger, and falling love with them instead. Vearden falls asleep thinking of a future that may never come to pass.

He doesn’t wake back up until it’s dark so when he tries to stand, and slips on the floor, he can’t see what it is. He tries to make his eyes adjust to the moonlight, but it’s not enough. “Hey, thistle, turn on the lights.” His eyes don’t even have to readjust completely before he can see what it is. Blood. Arcadia is bleeding. He reaches over and slams on the big mauve button. The alarm goes off. An army of nurses rush into the room. “She’s bleeding all over the floor! Something’s wrong.”

The nurses stop and stare.

“It’s her. This is what she’s supposed to look like.”

Two of the nurses start examining her while another checks the equipment. The fourth doesn’t move. “How did you make her look like that?” she asks him.

“It didn’t cause this,” he promises. “It’s a sophisticated hologram...just light.”

“Are you sure?”

“I guess not.”

“Who do you need to call?” she questions.

Vearden fumbles around, looking for his phone. It’s almost dead, but it has enough power for one call. “Leona? Get back here. Now.”

Five seconds later, Leona and Alyssa appear in the corner. “What’s wrong?”

“Take down the illusion,” Vearden demands. “It’s hurting her.”

“Impossible,” Alyssa insists, but still, she waves her arm, and drops the illusion. She looks like Leona again.

The real Leona takes Vearden by the upper arms. “Come on. Let them work.”

“Where’s the doctor?” he asks the head nurse.

“He’s coming,” she replies.

“I can bring him here faster,” Alyssa volunteers. “Where is he?”

“He’s coming,” the nurse repeats.

Dr. Cenric Best comes in right after that, and begins his own examination. He’s being frustratingly quiet about it. He looks very concerned, though. He’s moving his stethoscope around Arcadia’s belly. He’s moving it too much.

“What is it? Can you not find a heartbeat?” Vearden is on the verge of tears.

Now Dr. is just feeling around on Arcadia’s belly. “Nurse, get the echouterograph.”

“What is it? What’s wrong!”

Dr. Best pivots to face Vearden. “I don’t want you to worry. We don’t know what this is yet. I need to do one more test, and then I’ll try to explain it, okay? At this point, I’ll admit that I’m worried about the baby, but I’m not worried about Miss Preston. She’s exhibiting no signs of distress. The blood and amniotic fluid leakage is alarming, but there could be any number of benign causes that I’m not ruling out just yet.” He washes his hands, and then begins the ultrasound.

While that’s going on, Leona makes Vearden sit down, and try to relax. His agitation isn’t helping the situation. These people know what they’re doing. At least they do to an extent. Dr. Best keeps looking over at Vearden and the other three time travelers. He seems rather confused by what he’s seeing on the screen.

“I need an update, Doctor,” Vearden urges.

“Nurse, can you hold the wand in place?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

Dr. Best stands up, and removes his gloves. He stands in front of the travelers like a PhD candidate at the beginning of his presentation for the dissertation committee. “I’m going to ask you a few questions, and I want you to answer them in order, so I can get an idea of what’s going on here. Is that okay?”

“Go ahead,” Vearden replies, trying to be patient.

He points to Leona. “She’s not your twin sister, correct?”

“Correct. She’s in the body of my alternate self. The other Leona went through a traumatic experience in her twenties. Someone went back in time and changed it for her. Normally that would erase her from the timestream, and I would replace her, but she was somehow rescued by your world. Then Arcadia’s mind was placed in her body.”

“Okay, that tracks with what I’ve learned of you people. And what, uh...what powers do you have?”

“Well, right now I can create illusions by stealing photons of light from elsewhere in time and space.”

“And can she do that too?” Dr. Best points over at Arcadia.

“No. She doesn’t have any powers.”

He’s confused.

“But she had a pattern,” Leona amends. “She would jump forward in time. At the end of every day, at midnight, she would skip over a whole year. I was like that too.”

“That might explain it,” Dr. Best thinks.

“Explain what?”

“Your baby is gone. It wasn’t born, it wasn’t taken out by a laparysterotomy.” He tries to show them what he’s talking about on the monitor. “It’s just disappeared. Could it have...gone into the future?”

Leona looks nervously at Vearden, but he doesn’t look back. He doesn’t speak.

“Vearden?” Alyssa asks, waving his hand in front of his face.

Dr. Best checks his pupils with a pen light. “I think it’s psychological shock.”

Psychological shock. Sounds about right. His mind probably just can’t figure out what it’s supposed to feel about this. Obviously it feels bad, but it’s feeling all of the bad feelings all at once, and people aren’t built for that. He’s certainly not. “Fuck you all.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: January 16, 2399

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          Arcadia takes a breath, recalling the techniques she learned in her pregnancy classes. She badges into the lab, and smiles at Mateo. He jumps out of bed when he hears the sound of the door, almost like he’s scared. They’ll have to talk about that. Or rather, she’ll have to take it out of his brain. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“This body slept for the first ten years of its life,” he explains. “I didn’t sleep.”

“That doesn’t answer the question,” She argues.

“It does. I feel perfect, because I haven’t been alive long enough to be worn out.”

She paces a little, like a psychologist brought in to speak with the psychopath in his cell, because he may have vital information on a case that the police who employ her are working on. “Is that how you see it, a rebirth?”

“In a way, I guess. Is this gonna be on the test?”

“No test,” she says. “We’re just talkin’.”

“I can feel you trying to get into my head.”

“I wasn’t aware your superempathy had a more general psychic component.”

“It’s not superempathy,” he corrects. “It’s just a psychic bond that I share with my team. Well....most of my team.”

“You’re referring to newly added member, Alyssa McIver.”

“Miss Preston, if you would like to read my mind, all you have to do is ask.”

“Fine. Ramses doesn’t know how to build a simpatico detector. He’s asked me to come in and verify your identity.”

“Great. I’m not lying.”

“You may not be, that doesn’t mean that you’re who we need you to be.”

“You think my mind has been tampered with.” Not a question.

“It’s an undeniable possibility that we can’t ignore.” She pauses. “Especially since I’ve already caught you in a lie. I don’t know why you fibbed about your timeline, but I can already tell that you’ve been back on Earth for longer than you said. By my reckoning, you returned on January 14.”

“Okay, I know that looks bad, but it’s not what you think. I was just trying to time my arrival to coincide with the AOC’s since I was supposed to be on the AOC.”

“You’re telling me that it was a lie to cover up another lie. It’s not looking good, Mateo, if that even is your real name.”

“I wanted to protect Leona. She didn’t need to hear about my supposed death.”

“And you figured you would be able to expect Ramses and Alyssa to go along with it without any preparation?”

“I didn’t get the timing right. I thought I would be able to sense him once they got into orbit, but it wasn’t until he was in the lab already. At that point, it was already too late. But yeah, I was hoping he would see reason without any coaching. He’s a genius.”

Arcadia pretends to be receiving him. She begins to walk around the chamber, forcing him to rotate to keep her in sight. He’s still resisting her psychic intrusion, which isn’t a good sign. She made up with the real Mateo a long time ago. He would welcome the chance to prove his identity. She needs some real intel. “Let me into your mind.”

Mateo doesn’t do anything.

“You said that you would let me in if I asked.”

“That didn’t sound like a request to me.”

“Would you please let me into your mind so that I may verify your identity?”

“As you wish,” he says with an evil grin.

He opens his mind, except that it’s not his. It can’t be. An infinite expanse of isolation and loneliness. Billions of years of almost nothing but emptiness. Arcadia can feel it. She can feel what he’s feeling. It’s so cold. It’s so sad. It’s so terrible. It takes a minute for Arcadia to realize that she’s screaming.

“Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia. Shhhh. Shh, my darling, it’s okay. It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re back, everything is gonna be fine.” It’s Vearden.

She’s freaking out. “I’m back? Where did I go? Where was I? Tell me! Tell me what happened! Did I jump through time!”

He keeps trying to reply, but she’s not really letting him. She’s hyperventilating. “Put the oxygen back on, please,” he says to someone else in the room.

“No!” Arcadia cries. She starts ripping out the other medical things attached to her. That’s when she feels her belly. It’s gargantuan. “Wha—what the hell happened? She looks up to her love, tears in her eyes. “Vearden? How long have I been away?”

“You haven’t been away, dear. You’ve been in a coma. At least that’s the best diagnosis that the government doctors could provide.”

“How. Long.”

He frowns at her. “Two and a half months.”

“The baby? How’s Kendra?”

“She’s perfect. She’ll be coming soon, Dr. Best thinks.”

Arcadia nods. “What happened to Mateo? Where is he? He’s dangerous. There is something wrong with his mind.”

“That’s all been dealt with,” Vearden assures her. “You don’t have to worry about anything except taking care of yourself, and our little girl.”

She nods again. “Hey, Vearden.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s happening.”

“What’s happening?”

“The baby. She’s coming.”

“Now?”

“Yeeeeeeeeeaaaaaargh, right now!”

Vearden reaches up and pushes the big mauve button. When more nurses flood into the room, Vearden shouts, “she’s going into labor!”

They all move to their stations, and start getting things ready. One of them checks under Arcadia’s gown. Another handles the IV bag and monitor. A third leaves again to retrieve the doctor. It takes a really long time for him to return. When he does, Dr. Best is not the one following him. It’s some random woman in a white lab coat.

“Where is Dr. Best?” Arcadia demands to know.

“I’m afraid Dr. Best is trapped in an elevator, and won’t be able to help you. It’s my first day at this facility, but I’ve been a gyniatrician for eighteen years, I have full clearance, and I’ve been fully briefed on your situation.”

“Someone needs to teleport to Dr. Best,” Arcadia begs.

“That’s not possible,” Vearden says apologetically. “Not these days.” He looks back up at the substitute doctor. “What’s your name? It’s important.”

“I’m Dr. Suggitt. Dr. Cheyenne Suggitt.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: November 4, 2398

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Leona wheels herself down the hallway, and peeks into the room. Nope, not who she’s looking for. She continues to the next one. Not this one either. She knows that Cheyenne is in one of these rooms, but they wouldn’t tell her which. They also wouldn’t tell her if that’s just hospital policy, or if Cheyenne specifically asked not to see her. There we go, this room right here. Leona knocks on the door as she’s inviting herself in. “Hey. We haven’t talked yet.”

Cheyenne is sitting up straight in her bed, supporting her back on her own. It looks like a physical therapy exercise. “They told me you weren’t feeling up to visitors.”

“I don’t know why they said that,” Leona replies. “Mateo, Ramses, Kivi, and Marie all came to visit.”

Cheyenne just frowns.

“I wanted to apologize for what happened,” Leona says forlornly. “I never should have put you in that position. The whole thing about that place is that crime is legal. It’s no surprise that people took advantage of that.”

“Not all crime,” Cheyenne counters. “Bombings, which endanger not only a high number of people within the boundaries, but also neighboring areas, are not legal. Besides, didn’t you hear? The suspects are in custody.”

“I heard, yes. I know that they’re the ones who did it, but I still feel responsible.”

“I’m an adult, I made my choice.”

“You’ve lost so much already. Bridgette...” She was trying to start a list, but the first one is too heartbreaking.

“I don’t blame you for what happened to her either,” Cheyenne promises. “Look, I’ve not said much about my past, or my origins, but just know that you have nothing to apologize for. I was born into this secret underground world. You and your team didn’t bring me in, like you seem to think. I may even know more about it than you. If anything, I’m the one who put you in danger, by letting you know me.”

“I don’t believe that.”

Cheyenne chuckles. “You may change your mind one day. You’re time travelers,” she muses with a shrug. “Keeping secrets from people like us inevitably leads to failure.”

Leona narrows her eyes. She wants to know who this woman really is, but she knows that she’s not entitled to it. Still, she’s right. When you’re part of the salmon and choosing one network, you can’t expect to keep things from others, especially not if two or more people know about it. Even the adage, two can keep a secret if one of them is dead is completely meaningless for them. They probably would have cracked this nut a long time ago if the Third Rail weren’t stifling temporal manipulation, and hindering the circulation of information. “It doesn’t matter. That building was mine, and I was responsible for anyone in it, and anything that happened to them.”

Cheyenne nods tightly and respectfully. “Okay.” She leans back, and exhales, either finished with her exercise, or too tired to go on for now.

“Miss, you can’t be in here,” the nurse says from the doorway.

“We’ll talk later,” Cheyenne says.

“In the meantime,” she begins before turning her attention to the nurse, “I would like to speak with administration to find out why I’m not allowed to see my friend.”