Showing posts with label obsession. Show all posts
Showing posts with label obsession. Show all posts

Sunday, April 13, 2025

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 13, 2495

Generated by Google ImageFX text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 3
Ramses was doing a lot of things at the same time today. He deployed a sophisticated drone to fly around Dome 216, and try to figure out what was going on. There was inexplicable life support in there. Obviously simply sealing a dome up didn’t automatically make it habitable. Hrockas had a complex network of tubes piping in oxygen, nitrogen, and other gases. An AI managed all of this, making sure that compositions remained at optimal levels. Some of the oxygen came from the natural thin atmosphere native to Castlebourne while the rest was from various electrolytic processing plants placed strategically between the inhabited domes. Carbon scrubbers then recycled this air as needed. Ideally, they would just be growing plantlife to do this all for them free of charge, but that kind of infrastructure was a very long-term plan.
Dome 216 had no such gas pipelines. They were installed years ago, but ultimately removed and repurposed elsewhere. Nothing should be alive in here, yet as the drone surveyed the land in greater detail than its predecessor, it found not only breathable air, but also desert plants. Either someone was sneaking in, and making changes to this environment, or there was something fishy going on. In addition to preparing the team for their departure with their new tandem slingdrive array, Ramses was examining Romana to see how she was involved. There was a...dark particle monster lurking in the mysterious dome, and it theoretically came from her. But how?
“How indeed?”
 Ramses covered up his patient. She had to be undressed for him to scan her entire integumentary system properly. They still didn’t really know how her dark particles were released, or exactly where they lived when they weren’t swarming around. “Hrockas, this is highly inappropriate, you can’t just burst in whenever you want.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, this is my planet. All of this belongs to me.”
Ramses didn’t respond to this. Yes, Hrockas technically owned Castlebourne, but it was its namesake, Vendelin Blackbourne who initiated construction of the domes before he died and joined Team Keshida. A great deal of the work since then was completed by others, particularly Ramses himself, and Baudin Murdoch. Hrockas’ contribution was not nothing, but it wasn’t singular either.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.”
“How did you get into this sub-lab? You shouldn’t even know about it.”
“I have particles of my own,” Hrockas replied. “Keeping watch...taking notes.”
Ramses nodded. “Smartdust. I should have had my countersurveillance protocols account for that. I guess I just trusted you too much. I won’t make that mistake again.”
Hrockas chuckled. “Intentional obsolescence has gotten me out of a lot of jams. Those who cannot remember the past are doomed to give me their secrets.”
Ramses looked around. “I was getting sick of this place anyway. It’s time to move on. What did you come in for anyway?”
“I was just checking on your progress. She tell you anything?”
She can speak for herself,” Romana argued. “And no. I don’t know anything.”
“I meant, his little tests. Have they given you any insights?”
“Thank you. You can go now,” Ramses said to him pointedly. They would tell Hrockas what he deserved to know, when they were ready for him to know it.
“Fine. I’ll go.”
“You can take your smartdust with you,” Ramses added.
“Okay.” Hrockas patted himself on the hip, and spoke in a high-pitched tone, “come on! Let’s go, little motes. Come on! Come on!” He was smirking as he walked through the holographic door backwards.
“Hey, thistle,” Ramses said. “Purge the dust for me.”
Certainly, sir.” The biohazard decontamination protocols rained hell over the little guys, destroying all forms of minuscule surveillance, as well as all other visual security measures.
Did my body tell you anything?” Romana asked once the purge was over.
He rolled a cart around so she could see what was on the monitor. “You have an aura.” The screen was showing Romana in silhouette, as well as a hazy second shadow surrounding her. To the untrained eye, it would look like nothing more than a regular second shadow, created by an additional source of light. But when Romana moved around, this aura followed her nonuniformly. It was sometimes lagging behind, and sometimes clearly ahead, predicting her future movements perfectly.
“So it’s always there, just invisible.”
“It would appear so.”
“Could you take—I dunno—a biopsy, or something?”
“Not invisible as in, a trick of the light. They seem to exist in a parallel dimension, just as we always suspected. This is where they multiply.”
“Are they alive?” Romana pressed.
He threw up a hologram containing a list. It was the eight requirements for life. He pointed towards each one like a schoolteacher. “To be alive, an entity must have complex organization, metabolize chemically, maintain homeostasis, grow, reproduce, respond to stimuli, adapt or evolve, and contain coded information.” He swiped at the image. The list remained, but a couple of the items were crossed out, and a couple of them were highlighted, while others were left unchanged. “They don’t appear to be very complex, more like single-celled organisms. If they metabolize, they don’t necessarily do it chemically. Maybe they process...time, or other forms of energy? They do seem to be homeostatic. They hopefully don’t grow. They one hundred percent reproduce by some means. They definitely respond to stimuli. It’s too early to tell if they evolve. And I have no idea how to test for any equivalent to DNA.”
“Do they...get angry at you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you getting the sense that they don’t like when you run your tests on them?”
Ramses lifted his chin in curiosity, and peered at her. “Do you feel an anger around you? Do you think they’re angry?”
“When I get mad, even at someone I love, like my sisters, I feel...a power. I feel stronger. Maybe there’s more of them in those instances. Maybe that’s how they reproduce, by feeding off of the emotion.”
“I don’t know how one would go about feeding on emotion,” Ramses said, shaking his head as he was struggling to find any evidence to contradict his hypothesis, and support hers.
She looked down and to the side, but didn’t say anything.
“Have you talked to anyone about this before? Mateo, or your sisters?”
She didn’t look up. “I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what, that they would start to fear you?”
She waited to respond, but then she looked up. “Afraid of being encouraged, to embrace it. To use it.” She looked down again, and breathed out. “To exploit it.”
“Shit,” Ramses said, exasperated. “You’re afraid of becoming Buddy. Why weren’t we worried about this before? Of course you would feel some connection to him, however dark.”
“I don’t think he did this to me on purpose. I don’t think he understood what he was getting himself into, how it would affect someone with my biology, and what was it—my qualia?”
“I don’t think so either. Guy’s a dick, but I think he would have said something, or hinted at it.”
Romana looked over at the holographic wall. “What if that thing out there is... I don’t even wanna say it.”
“I think I know where you were going. Do you want me to say it?”
“No, but...someone should.”
“Our child.” Buddy was suddenly here. His swarm of dark particles were just finishing up retreating into their home dimension.
Ramses stepped between Buddy and Romana. “Do you spy on us?”
“Cocktail party effect,” Buddy said cryptically. “I know when people are talking about me. I tend to ignore it, but there was something different about this. I’ve been sensing your dark particles since you left. I thought it was just residual energy, but now I know better.” He started to step closer.
Ramses tensed up. “Whoa there, buckaroo billy.”
Buddy stopped. He was stoic, and maybe even respectful? “What I did to you was wrong; a violation. I didn’t see it that way at the time, but it’s my greatest regret. I recognize that I am seen as the villain; an antagonist. That was never my intention. I started out normal, just a little ambitious. But those ambitions grew, and took over. They became obsessions. I know it’s crazy to force people to go get me a fruit. Intellectually, that’s just dumb. I can’t think about anything else, though. It feels like my purpose in life, and if I ever manage to get it, I’m worried that my next obsession will be bad. What if I start fixating on vaporizing a whole planet, or turning everything into paperclips?”
“Why are you telling us this?” Romana questioned.
“Because it could happen to you, and you don’t deserve that. I didn’t. I was innocent...until I wasn’t. These things are toxic, and while it’s too late for me, I believe that you still have time.” He straightened up, and cleared his throat, giving himself a surge in self-assuredness. “I wanna help. I wanna fix this. It’s my mess, and my responsibility to clean it up.”
“We obviously can’t trust you,” Ramses reasoned. “The first time we encountered you was because you abducted our friends. And then the next time, you abducted her.”
“I know, and as I said, that was wrong. Don’t let her become the next me. Don’t let her do something like that to innocent people.”
“If what you’re saying is true,” Romana began, “then you’re just trading one obsession with another. Let’s say you fix what’s wrong with me, what happens to you then? Do you just go back to the way you were, coercing people into doing your bidding?”
“Like I was saying, I’m a lost cause,” Buddy reiterated.
“Well, what if you become obsessed with self-improvement?” she suggested.
“Well, that’s self-defeating, Romana, it would never work,” Ramses determined.
“No, I want to hear her out. You really think that I can choose my own obsession?”
Romana smiled. “I think that you’re choosing it right now, asking for me to let you help me.”
“I believe that he was asking me,” Ramses said, like an idiot.
She glared at him for a moment before returning her attention to Buddy. “Might as well give it a shot. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“He vaporizes the world with paperclips,” Ramses gibed.
“Thank you, you can go now,” Romana said to Ramses. He was being mean-spirited with Buddy, albeit plausibly justified. She was just joking, though, because she couldn’t do this without him. If anyone was going to figure out how to save her from her own dark particles, it was the one person in the timeline who both was smart enough, and cared for her. Buddy’s knowledge and experience were equally invaluable, and since he was offering it, they had little choice but to accept.
“All right,” Ramses relented. “If you want to help, I will set aside my reservations, and remain professional. But in the end, I still don’t trust you, and I will go to any lengths to protect my people from you.”
“I would expect nothing less,” Buddy acknowledged.
There was a pause in the conversation, which Ramses volunteered to break. “Do you have any ideas off the top of your head, errr...?”
“Yeah, I think it’s time for me to meet my child,” Buddy figured.
“Okay.” Ramses was immediately regretting his decision to be civil. “We don’t know if we should frame it that way. The dark particles that you gave her are hers now, and if she made a particle baby, that doesn’t mean it’s yours. Okay?”
“Whatever you say, boss.”
“Yeah, that’s right.” Ramses knew that Buddy was being sarcastic, but that didn’t make his statement untrue. “I’m choosing to believe that you didn’t father a child with a fifteen-year-old girl.”
“She’s not fifteen anymore.”
“She was when you...impregnated her,” he shouted with airquotes. He threw up a little in his mouth.
“Okay, okay!” Romana cried, trying to shut down the argument. “Ramses is right. We’re not calling it anyone’s child. We’re not calling it a child. It’s a...fuck!”
Ramses calmed down. “We’ll just call it the particle entity. It doesn’t have to be an extension of you in any way for most discussions.”
“Great.” Buddy clapped his hands. “Let’s go meet—not my—but a particle entity.”
“That’s not the next step in this process,” Ramses told him.
“It is for me.” Buddy spun around, and disappeared into his dark particles.
“He’s gonna get himself killed,” Romana warned.
“No, wait!” Ramses knew what she was about to do. He growled after she called upon her own dark particles, and disappeared too. He teleported the regular way, grateful that he could always pinpoint her location.
They were now standing in a desert. A swarm of dark particles were flying around in the distance. Another swarm was farther down the hill in the opposite direction. According to the drone’s readings, they were multiplying faster than ever, and showing no signs of stopping. The particle entity, however, was nowhere to be seen. They still had time to get out of here before it spotted them. “It might kill us,” Romana contended.
“Then you should leave, so if it kills, it only kills me,” Buddy calculated.
“What if it kills you because it’s made up of my anger, and I’m angry at you?” Romana proposed.
While they were looking at him, Buddy was scanning the horizon, searching for the entity. “Then Team Matic will finally have defeated me, just as they once promised.”
“We should go,” Ramses said. “This is not the way. You start small, and work your way up to the more dangerous experiments. We do it like that for a reason.”
“That’s too cautious, not how I operate, and my efforts are about to pay off.” He was looking down at the ground a few meters away. Dark particles wafted up from the sand, forming themselves into a blob, which assembled into a humanoid figure. It developed approximations of human facial features, but only as creases and pits. It was a great example of body-horror. Its mouth moved. It was trying to speak, though no sound was coming out, probably because it didn’t have vocal cords, or anything else that a normal person would need to function as a living organism. Buddy gave it a Vulcan salute. “We are of peace...always.”
The entity jerked its head to focus on Buddy, reinforcing Ramses’ assertion that the particles were responsive to stimuli.
“I am your father,” Buddy said to it, much to everyone’s chagrin, including the entity’s.
It reached out, and took Buddy by the neck. It was trying to strangle the life out of him.
“I told you!” Romana yelled. She took the entity by its arm, and attempted to pull it off of Buddy, but it was superhumanly strong, and barely paying her any mind. She continued to pull while Ramses urged her to let go. “No! I am your mother, and you will do as I say!”
The entity released Buddy from its grasp, and stared at Romana. It was impossible to tell what it was thinking, or even if it was capable of thinking at all. Without any warning, the particles that it was made up of blew up like a balloon, and enwrapped her. They both disappeared.
“Do you know where she went?” Buddy asked Ramses after they were gone.
Ramses tried to focus on their bond to one another, but he wasn’t getting anything. Dark particles were evidently the one thing that could block the signal. “No.”
I do.” Buddy walked towards him, almost menacingly, and transported them both away.

Wednesday, October 5, 2022

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 2, 2398

One of the first things that Bridgette learned about her father was that he was after two interrelated things. He wanted to collect unusual people, and special objects with unusual properties. Based on what she was able to gather from a distance, he didn’t accidentally see something he wasn’t supposed to, or get read into an organization already involved in this stuff. He was obsessed with the occult his entire life, and it took him half of it to get anywhere with his investigations. Aliens, vampires, cryptids, superheroes, and time travelers. He didn’t know for a fact whether any of these things existed, but he was convinced that one of them had to, or one of the many others in a long list of fictional possibilities. Was there a secret society of five people who ran the whole world from the shadows? Did immortals travel the world with swords, cutting each other’s heads off? It had to be something, and he had to find it, and find it he did.
Once Leona realized that Winona’s father, Senator Honeycutt had figured out the secret of reality, she called it The Masquerade. But this suggested that there was some kind of organized system to all this, like the Archipelago from Sense8, or the chaotic network of salmon and choosing ones from the main sequence. It doesn’t seem to be like that here. Leona Reaver, Delaney and Andile; even Alt!Mateo; none of them has ever found anyone like them. If there are other time travelers here, they’re scattered throughout the world. They may even be separated by time, up to billions of years. There is no network, no I know a guy thing going on here. At least that’s what they have believed this whole time. Even Marie, in all her dealings as a covert agent with the U.S. government, hasn’t found evidence of such a thing. Until perhaps now.
They call him The Dealer, and the only thing Bridgette had about him in her notes is that he moves around a lot, and if you want to do business with him, you’re going to need a referral. It took three days of calling and texting for Marie to procure one from Bridgette’s initial contact, but here she is in Mount Zeil in the Northern Territory. Like Lebanon, Kansas in the main reality—or Gothenburg in this one—for the United States, it’s the center of Australia. It also happens to be around 270 kilometers from Uluru, which is on Mateo’s list of important temporal locations to check out.
Marie ducks down to clear the top of the entrance. All kinds of knick knacks, tchotchkes, trinkets, and baubles sit on the shelves along the wall. What she would guess to be a massive aboriginal mask sits in the corner. The man behind it probably thinks that she doesn’t see him, and expects her to look around on her own while he watches to get an idea of what kind of person she is. She examines a few items, but there is nothing of interest to her, except for one thing. “Nothing in this shack is of any real value,” she begins, taking the black hat from its shelf, and raising it up. “...save for this.” She places it upon her head, faces the mask in the corner, and extends her arms to the side to present the new her. She’s transformed herself to look like a famous actor that anyone in the world would recognize.
The Dealer knocks the mask away from himself, and stands up. “You got it to work. How did you do that?”
“Let’s just say...I keep hydrated.” The Health-slash-Death waters are still technically in her system, and can allow her to tap into the temporal energy necessary to make the McIver hat work. It’s not enough to teleport, but this thing has its own power. Marie studies his face for a few seconds, and then transforms herself again, now to become a mirror image of him.
He slowly slinks towards her to get a better look. “Brilliant.”
She removes the hat to return to her true visage, and sets it back down. “Where did you get it, and where did you get the Insulator of Life?”
He gingerly sets the hat upon his own head, and frowns when he looks in a nearby beauty mirror to find that it still doesn’t work for him. It is unclear how he knew beforehand what it was supposed to do, or that it was supposed to do anything at all. Now he studies her face. “How well do you know history?”
“Not as well as someone my age should. Why?”
“I was born in 1991, right smack dab in the middle of the bloodiest battle of World War II. My mother was a soldier, who’s unit leader didn’t give a crap that she was nine months pregnant with me. She still had hands, which meant that she could still hold a gun. He was pissed when she went into labor, partially because of her, but also because the rest of her unit came together to protect her, instead of pushing forward with whatever mission they were on. When my cries rang out to the sky, it is said that everyone on both sides stopped shooting simultaneously...and they wept. The war ended that day, because of me. My first act in this world was potentially saving millions.”
“That’s...a haunting story.”
The Dealer smiles. “This isn’t about me, or my mother. It’s about the unit leader. You see, he wasn’t from around here, and when I say around here, I mean—”
“He was from another reality.”
This surprises him, but then he remembers just a minute ago when she activated the McIver hat without giving it a second thought. “That’s what he told me on his deathbed, and also that he was my real father, though I guessed as much when I heard we shared a first name. I don’t know why he didn’t raise me, or why he didn’t have the instinct to protect his baby mama during the war. I know that she wasn’t raped, though. They were in love at one time, to a certain degree. Anyway, he died right in front of me before he could say much more, but just before his last breath, he gave me a key to a safe deposit box. I found the glass insulator thing in there, and a few clues to other objects. Do you wanna know how old he was?” It was rhetorical. “I couldn’t get the exact date he was born, but it was somewhere in the neighborhood of over 500 years ago. It’s all because of that little green object that doesn’t even give off any energy readings. As far as I can tell, it’s nothing but glass.”
“You’re being surprisingly forthcoming with all this,” Marie notes.
“I have to be. Someone needs to keep going. Someone needs to find the truth about this world, and I won’t be able to do it for very much longer.” He reaches up to his hair, and pulls it all off. He’s completely bald underneath. “Shortly after he passed, World War III began, which I believe to have been the worst. Biological weapons gave an estimated three million people cancer. I only survived because of the insulator.”
“Why did you give it away? You know you have to stay close for it to work.”
“I’m tired,” he explains. “I’m done. That’s why he gave it away, and I’m sure whoever Bridgette gave it to will also only last a few centuries.”
She nods, respecting his position. “I’m Marie. What’s your name?”
“Lawson Junior. I was apparently named after my father, and he was named after his mother, Laura Gardner.”

Wednesday, March 11, 2020

Microstory 1318: Self-Representation

Accommodating Judge: Mr. Self-Representing Defendant, I feel compelled to remind you that you did not finish law school, nor did you pass the bar exam. You probably know—though you may not—that you have the right to waive your opportunity at a closing argument.
Self-Representing Defendant: I understand, and I shall proceed as planned.
Accommodating Judge: If you choose to waive it, I will strongly encourage the prosecution to waive theirs as well.
Accommodating Prosecutor: We are prepared to waive it, Your Honor.
Self-Representing Defendant: I’m fine to go ahead.
Accommodating Judge: All right, then.
Self-Representing Defendant: Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my client—which is me, of course; I will be referring to myself as my client. My client has done no wrong here, and I believe the trial I conducted adequately demonstrated this fact. As you already know, though I came close, I am no lawyer. I dropped out of law school for personal reasons; not academic issues, but I do recognize what I am lacking. I chose to represent myself, because I’m confident that the evidence speaks for itself. Do not fault the prosecution for the conclusion it came to. They have every reason to believe that I am guilty, but that does not mean that I am. It is true that I knew the victim, and I will admit that I became a little obsessed with her. I wouldn’t lie to you, even if I were not under oath. But there is one bit of evidence I wish to reiterate now. Miss Stalking Victim’s house was broken into. Anyone could have done that; my client is but one in a billion. Well...one in eight billion, more like it. There is one thing that my client had that no one else did, and though the prosecution used this fact against me, I consider it contradictory when taking the break-in into account. I—my client had a key. I know I shouldn’t have made a secret copy, but I did, and the past cannot be changed. Now, why would I—dammit—my client need to shatter a window to get into Miss Victim’s house if he had a perfectly good way of getting in without causing a stir? And why is she not here today? It’s because she did not press charges. Even she isn’t convinced that my client is guilty. Whose word are you going to take? If not mine, then at least respect hers. I certainly trust her; I always have.
Accommodating Judge: Mr. Defendant...
Self-Representing Defendant: Apologies, Your Honor. My point is that my client is not a perfect man, but that does not, on its own, lends itself to such grotesque violence. Yes, I had access to the lab where they keep the acid, but it was locked up in a chemical cabinet to which I did not have access. My client missed her deeply, but that is not enough to prove his involvement. If we were in the real world, I might have sided with the prosecution. But we’re talking about a college campus, where security is lax, at best. You cannot just limit your suspect pool to a handful of people. It’s too easy to frame somebody.
Accommodating Judge: Careful, Defendant...
Self-Representing Defendant: Apologies, apologies. I will say nothing more about it, but I urge you, good people of the jury...to wonder why it is that the police only questioned one other person regarding the horrible incident. It’s always the jealous ex, they say. Well, I say that’s a dangerous sentiment. Everyone is an ex.