The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 1, 2484

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Mateo instinctively opened up to hug his daughter, Dubravka, but quickly took a half-step back. Like Romana and Kivi, he never got the chance to raise her. Perhaps it would be inappropriate. It was certainly presumptuous. Unfortunately, he failed to think of this beforehand, leading to an awkward moment for all. Even so, she took it in stride, and stepped up to initiate the hug herself. He was still her father, and she knew that it was neither his intention nor choice to miss so much of her life.

“Gang’s all here.” It was Kivi. She managed to appear out of nowhere just at the right time, as she was known to do.

“Kivi,” Leona said, surprised. “Which one are you?”

“The all-of-me one. I remember everything. I held a gun on an uninhabitable planet once.”

Mateo hugged his eldest as well, then followed up with one for Romana. He looked around, wondering if his children from an old timeline would show up as well, but it didn’t look like it was in the cards. “Argh. Argh!” He suddenly felt a hot sensation on his hip. Something appeared to be possibly literally burning a hole in his pocket. He hopped around, and struggled to reach in to pull it out. It was his silver rendezvous card. It was even more difficult to hold it between his fingers, but after letting go, he realized that this might activate it, so he reached out with both hands, nearly catching it several times before finally failing, and ending up on Snake Island.

Dr. Hammer was waiting for him in the vestibule. “We need your help.”

“Me?”

“Not necessarily you, per se, but you’re the one I had access to. You were talking about how you have illusion powers now, but yours weren’t as good as the others, so...”

“What do you need illusioned?” he asked.

“This whole place.” She indicated the building, and then pointed behind Mateo. “Look through the telescope. Don’t touch it, it’s already pointed in the right direction.”

Mateo approached the coin-operated binocular telescope, and peered into the eyepieces, careful not to move it in the slightest. He saw a wooden boat, but had no idea how far out it was.

As if reading his mind, Dr. Hammer answered his question, “I looked up the flag they’re flying. They’re Carthaginians, and they’re currently six kilometers out, but drawing nearer. Much closer, and they may be able to see us.”

“You don’t have active camouflage for this facility?”

“Never thought we would need it. No one should be on this side of the island in this time period.”

“Woof,” Mateo said. “You’re right, I’m not good enough at illusions to protect you. We’ll need someone else. Olimpia is best at invisibility, but Angela can make holograms that last even when she walks away.”

“We’re both here,” either Angela or Marie said over comms, but probably the former.

“So are we,” Romana added.

“I’m sending down Angela to see if she can work a job that big,” Leona interrupted before anyone else could join the conversation. “Ambassador out.”

Angela appeared in the vestibule, and started to look around, but she didn’t have much to see. “I really need to get a better view. I’m going outside.”

“I cannot allow that,” Dr. Hammer said apologetically.

Angela scoffed. “I’m wearing a spacesuit. The snakes can’t get me.”

Dr. Hammer shook her head. “There are no doors. I did that for a reason.”

“I’ll be fine. We do this sort of thing all the time.” Angela took a small device from her chest compartment, and tossed it to the doctor. “This is tapped into our comms, but only has global range. We’ll need it back.” She took Mateo’s hand, and teleported them both out of there.

They stood on the beach, letting the waves crash in, and kiss their knees, though they could not feel it. Angela examined the building. It was up against the mountain, and painted natural colors, like green and brown, but it definitely stood out as an artificial structure. She would have to smooth out the right angles, and hide all the windows. She could use the mountain itself as a sort of mental template to know what it should look like. She tilted her head, and electric slid down a little to see what she was working with from slightly different perspectives. She even made a rectangle with her index fingers and thumbs, and looked through it like a movie director. “Okay, yeah.”

“Yeah, you can do it?” Mateo asked. He was some ways away now, wandering around out of boredom.

“Oh, sorry, you weren’t there for our brief discussion on the ship after Leona cut off comms. No, I mean, yeah, it’s impossible.”

“Are you sure? You’ve not even tried to do anything.”

“It’s too big,” Angela contended. “I’m good, but I’m not that good.”

“Is there anything you can do?” Dr. Hammer asked through comms. “Can you...combine your powers, or something?”

“No,” Ramses said, “but I have another idea. If you’ll allow me to meet you on the ground...”

“Please,” Dr. Hammer asked.

Mateo was about to jump back there when he looked down at himself. “There’s a snake wrapped around my leg.”

“Is it venomous?” Dr. Hammer questioned.

“How am I meant to know? It’s yellow, and menacing, though.”

“Okay, that’s probably the Golden Lancehead. Put your helmet on.”

“I got this,” Leona declared. She appeared before Mateo, but she wasn’t alone for long. Dozens of birds materialized on the ground around her, pecking at the sand, and hopping around, presumably looking for worms. They were mostly a bold red, with black wings, and black tails. Their beaks were black on top, and white on bottom.

Mateo couldn’t help but notice how badass the birds were, and whatever they were called, would probably make a great inspiration for a superhero persona. The snake had a very different impression of them. It immediately unwrapped itself from Mateo’s leg, and went for the flock of holograms. It was probably pretty upset that none of them seemed to be real, but no one stuck around to see its full reaction. All three of them were gone in seconds.

“...that’s for you to decide. I think it should be close, but you know these lands better than me.” Ramses was in the middle of explaining something to Dr. Hammer. He had come down with Romana.

“What are we talking about?” Leona asked.

Dr. Hammer crossed her arms. “He wants to teleport that whole Carthaginian boat away from here.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea,” Leona determined.

“No, it’s not. You’ll disrupt the continuum,” Dr. Hammer argued.

“Oh.” Leona dismissed it by waving her hand in the general direction of the boat. “Those people believe in gods, and crap like that. They’ll just think that Poseidon was messing with them. Or saving them.”

“Uh, Neptune,” Angela corrected.

“I’ve heard it both ways,” Leona said, again dismissively.

“It’s neither,” Dr. Hammer asserted.

Leona checked her watch. “Look, Angela can’t hide your building today. Perhaps she can work through it, and cover you up in time, but not before that boat gets close enough to see it. This is our best option. We can jump the Ambassador to just underneath the boat in secret. Then we’ll make a very short jump, say, a few hundred klicks, and leave them somewhere safe. We’ll find an island of comparable characteristics, and I’m sure they’ll attribute any changes to topography to whatever god they do think would have the power to move them, or tricks of the light. Do they have a sun god?”

Dr. Hammer was shaking her head. “It’s too risky. How can you get right under them without tearing their boat apart?”

Defghij the Robot came out of the building. “Pardon the interruption, Doctor, but I’m receiving a radio message.”

“From the Vellani Ambassador?” Leona questioned.

“No,” he answered.

“Uh. Put it through,” Dr. Hammer ordered.

“Certainly.” Defghij dropped his jaw, and let the sound come out. “Hello? Hello? Can anyone here me? This is Tertius Valerius. I’m on the boat. I can see your building. I know there are time travelers here. Please respond.”

“Tertius, this is Leona Matic of the Castlebourne Sanctuary Ship Vellani Ambassador. We read you, five by five.”

“Oh, Leona, great. I’m sure you’ll understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Let’s talk in person,” he clarified. “Could someone please come pick me up?”

“Depends,” Leona went on. “How much influence do you have over that boat you’re on.”

“Total control,” Tertius replied.

“Tell ‘em to turn around. This island is full of deadly snakes.”

“Give me a minute.” They waited for about four minutes before he got back on the radio. “Okay, they’re turning.”

“Okay,” Leona began, preparing to execute the new, new plan. “If you can...jump into the water without any of the locals seeing you, and tread for about five minutes. Someone will come get you in secret.”

Tertius didn’t reply, but then they heard a splash. Dude was nothing if not reliable.

Mateo dropped his visor, and didn’t bother to wait the full five minutes. He let his HUD connect to the VA in orbit, which was serving as a temporary satellite. This piggy-backed on the signal that Tertius was sending, and told Mateo exactly where his target was. He teleported to the location—a couple meters under the surface—grabbed Tertius by the legs, and transported him out of there.

“Whoo!” Tertius cried, exhilarated. “Again!”

“Go get a towel,” Dr. Hammer ordered her robot before looking back at Tertius. “How did you get here?”

“Well, it should come as no surprise that I’ve made an enemy or two in the future. For the most part, what do I care? I can just erase anyone’s memory of their hatred of me. But occasionally, that doesn’t work. Some people are just resistant. This one guy, I won’t even bother to tell you his name, got on my bad side, as I got on his. I refused to work for him, and erase his enemies’ memories.” Tertius looked away. “Hm. That sounds like a band name. Enemies’ Memories,” he repeated. “Oh, thank you,” he said to Defghij for the towel. “Anyway, just as punishment, he banished me. He said that he was zoicizing me, which is totally not the right word to use in this context, because he was actually trying to send me back to my own time period. But he even screwed that up, and threw me over two hundred years off course! I anticipated this sort of thing happening at one time or another, so I hid this temporal phone in a cave near my home in Carthage.” He took it out of his pocket, and shook some of the water droplets off of it. “Sadly, by now, it’s out of power, but I knew that you built this Center all the way out here, so I talked my way onto a boat, and convinced them to come way, way south. At best, you could get me back to civilized times, when people used toilet paper. At worst, I could maybe charge this thing in an outlet? You use temporal energy, right?”

“How did you have power for a radio, but not the phone?” Romana asked.

“This uses lions,” Tertius explained, dropping the now redundant walkie-talkie on the ground. The temporal phone uses a small temporal battery, and lions are incompatible with it. I don’t know why it ran out when it was off the whole time.”

“It was probably leaking,” Ramses diagnosed.

“That was my thought,” Tertius agreed.

Mateo cleared his throat, cupped his hands together, and leaned in. “Did this man happen to be named...I dunno...Buddha?”

“That was it!” Tertius cried. “You’ve heard of him.”

“Unfortunately.”

Dr. Hammer took a breath. “Well, I’m glad it all worked out. Team Matic, if you could remain here for the day to make sure the boat does indeed head in a different direction—”

“They will,” Tertius insisted. “I literally made them think that it was their choice.”

“Just the same, I would like to take precautions. And in case it ever happens again, I would ask Angela to see if she can indeed eventually make this whole building permanently invisible for us.”

“I would be happy to,” Angela said with a polite nod.

“Uh, under one condition,” Leona said quickly before anyone tried to sign on any dotted line.

“And what might that be?” Dr. Hammer asked.

Leona stepped over, and took Romana by the shoulders, gently nudging her forward until she was front and center. “Help my stepdaughter. She’s fallen off of our pattern, and we don’t know what other consequences that’s having for her, besides the emotional distress.”

Dr. Hammer gave the girl a cursory examination. “Consider it done.”

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Microstory 2286: Cathartic to Go Out Alone

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I did a bad thing yesterday; I escaped. I left a note, and my phone was on my person at all times, but everyone was still worried about me. I knew they would be, but I wasn’t thinking about that at the time. I know it’s not the same thing, but my life has felt so stifling these days, like I’m on house arrest. I wanted to be free, so I took the car for a drive. I found a small cemetery pretty far outside of town, and just sat there on one of the stone benches in the freezing cold. I’ve always felt rather comfortable in cemeteries, probably because there usually aren’t very many other people around. They make most people sad at best, and uncomfortable at worst. I go there to think, but also to peruse the headstones. I like to see all the different designs that they carve into them, and to note how many are grouped in families. I have an obsession with time, as you know, so I also look for the oldest grave, and do mental math on people’s lifetimes. Sometimes it really is sad, like when the year of death is the same as the year of birth. It was cathartic to go out alone, even though I really wasn’t supposed to. I was feeling so trapped, but it was still wrong of me, and I received a proper scolding from my security firm. I’m just still not used to being so attached and dependent on others. I mean, that’s not really true, is it? My life has always been a mess. I’ve always relied on others. Too much, truthfully. Money was meant to change that about me, but it’s only made it worse. Man, if I can’t ever go back home, it might be worth it just to escape this world, and start over fresh somewhere else. What’s that, you say? My writing? How’s my writing going? Does it help? No. It’s a nothing burger, as the saying goes. I’m feeling very unmotivated to write anything; fact or fiction. I think I’m probably gonna give up again.

Microstory 2194: Up a Reputation

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I’m still not allowed to give you any details, but so far, everyone we have reached out to for a job offer has ultimately accepted. A few of them need the full two weeks to get their affairs in order, a few of them will be able to start as early as next week, and one of them won’t be able to begin until the middle of August, which should be okay. We’re willing to be a little flexible when it comes to this, but they will have to work hard to play catch up once they do finally arrive. I truthfully thought that it would be more difficult than this. I figured at least two of them would miss my call, and never get back to me, or promise to return, but then flake out. It’s not that I’ve experienced that with a lot of other candidates in my day, because I’ve never really done this sort of thing before, but as I always say, there are as many kinds of people in the world as there are people in the world. People have flaked out on me my whole life; not everyone, but enough to assume that a fraction of a given population will include them. I guess it depends on the kind of population you’re dealing with. These are all highly experienced professionals, and in the industries that they’re working in, it’s often not hard to build up a reputation, and dangerous to forget how one mistake can follow you around for the rest of your career, or spell the end of it. Still, I didn’t expect it to be quite this easy. I know I shouldn’t be surprised that it’s going well. And maybe my attitude doesn’t paint me in the brightest of light. I guess my mind is just still trapped in the past, where things didn’t usually turn out the way that I hoped. I suppose it all goes back to the thing I’ve mentioned about trusting others. Using a team of good people, I found more good people, and together, we’re going to do great things for the community. I only have a few more calls to make today, so tomorrow should be all about literally preparing for the first arrivals.

Microstory 2190: Ready to Hit the Ground

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If you want to know what we did today, just read my posts from the last few days, because it was pretty much the same. So far, we’ve not scheduled any interviews for next week, but we anticipate doing so. Jasmine and I might have to make a few calls over the weekend to coordinate that, but we won’t be working full time by any means. It’s going to start getting interesting on Tuesday. I’m intending to spend a lot of time on Monday going over the top candidates’ résumés, and my notes about them. We’ll be beginning to extend offers throughout the week while we continue to conduct the remaining interview sessions. We’re hoping to have a full roster by this time next Friday. Of course, no plan survives contact with the real world, to paraphrase the first rule of warfare. Some will not accept the offers, either because they changed their minds—because something changed in their lives, because their idea of the job was altered by speaking with me, or just because—or because they received a better offer, or are hoping to. That’s okay, they have every right to reject us. This is a business relationship, and I’m not going to get mad if they decide that they want something else out of life. We planned around all of these little complications and hiccups, and are confident that we will still be able to start our work with a complete team by the first of August. If we were to assume that we would send out all offers by EOD Friday, that would give the typical two-week waiting period until people could start. Some may be able to come in early, and some may need more time, so there’s a three day grace period to help with that. If we’re not ready to hit the ground running by our goal date, that’s okay too. We’ll work with what we have until the rest are ready to start. Onboarding will be easier if it’s not happening for everyone all on the same day anyway. I’m excited. It’s exciting. Are you excited? Get excited.

Microstory 2187: I Overstay My Welcome

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This is my world. Hi, my name is Jasmine Soun, and I’m Nick’s assistant. He’s been swamped at work today, conducting live interviews, chat interviews, and phone interviews. He’s looking through résumés, and taking meetings with his bosses, as well as his clients. I say it’s my fault, that I overbooked him. He doesn’t blame me, but I offered to write up a quick blog post, so he doesn’t have to skip a day. Of course, he’s still taking a break from it, which is probably a good thing. I’m worried that he won’t get any sleep tonight. I will say this, we’re making progress with this team. Our clients have filled one of the positions that will be working with our team, but which will not report to Nick, or the company that we work for. We’ve also filled one position on our end. It’s the logistician, and he says that he can start right away, so he’ll be taking on some of the load during this intense hiring process. I can’t tell you anything about him, of course, but we’re happy to have him on this new team. I think that’s all that I can say before the legal department gets mad at me. I’ll end this here before I overstay my welcome, and I promise you won’t have to worry about me taking over ever again. You’ll go back to reading your favorite blog tomorrow.

PS: And yes, believe me, we are aware of the slight drop-off in subscribership, and the minimal complaints about minimal updates. We would love to talk more about how this is all going, but it’s a whole legal thing. We’re not allowed to just say whatever we want. When Nick set about to start this site, he didn’t think that anyone would visit, let alone become invested in it, and he certainly had no clue that it would end up like this. But a lot has changed since the beginning, and he has to follow the rules same as everyone else, lest he ends up being back on the other side of these bars. You’ll have to understand, or you can stop reading, and in that case, he’ll be the one who understands.

Microstory 2184: A Commodity to Them

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We’re in a holding pattern right now. I’ve scheduled three in-person interviews for tomorrow, and one video call, but I expect there to be more by the time I proverbially clock out. I say I scheduled them, but that’s my assistant’s job. I blocked out a few chunks of my day, such as a meeting with my boss, and a half hour for lunch, but the rest of the day is open. She’s free to add any candidate that I’ve approved to any other time. That’s another chunk, though; time for me to look through a batch of candidates. I’m not going to pack them all in a short period of time, though. Have you ever been to a doctor’s office first thing in the morning, and they’re already behind, and you’re like, how is this possible, I should be the first one here! Well, that’s because that doctor is overbooking their schedule. They wanna get through it as fast as possible, because each patient equals mondo dolla bills, so the more they can see, the more money they can make. You’re just a commodity to them. I would never allow that, even if the math worked out the same for us. It’s about respect. Each candidate gets a block of forty-five minutes, though I suspect we’ll only talk for thirty. There’s a buffer of fifteen minutes until the top of the next hour for me to organize my notes, use the restroom, etc. It’s also there if they’re a little late, or there’s an issue with the security procedures. Speaking of which, I need to have a quick chat with them before I leave. Until tomorrow...

Microstory 2183: Held My Fate in Their Hands

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I’ve been spending all day conducting phone interviews with the first wave of applicants. It wasn’t just me, though. Jasmine took part of the list, as did my colleague who has been helping me prepare for the in-person interviews that will come later. As I was about to make the first call today, I realized that I should have also taken some time to practice these, not only because they come before the face-to-face meetings, but because I don’t tend to be too great on the phone. I have trouble picking up on social cues, but at least when I’m in the same room with someone, I can do my best. It’s so much harder on the phone. They could be muting themselves, and giggling at how I stumble over my words, or gesturing their boredom with the blah, blah, blah hand gesture. These possibilities start swirling around in my brain, and I start to lose my train of thought, which only makes things worse. I sometimes hang up the phone having kind of blacked out, and being unsure whether anything I said made any sense whatsoever. That all being said, my colleague’s training helped with these too. I did okay, and I think the candidates were receiving me pretty well. I asked the right questions at the right time, and remembered that one major reason for phone interviews is to give candidates time to ask questions of me. Hiring managers might forget that it’s not just about us choosing them, but them choosing us too. This is meant to be a new business partnership, or in the case of internal candidates, a change in that relationship. Just because someone needs a job, doesn’t mean that they’re desperate for it, or that they ought to be desperate, or that they should be thankful that we’re even bothering to consider them, or that we have the right to exploit them for all we need.

It’s important to me that I never forget what it’s like for people in their situations. I don’t know everything that they’re all going through, and I shouldn’t be expected to, but I should try to empathize anyway. It wasn’t too long ago that I was in jail, and before that, I was on the run, and before that, I was unhoused. I didn’t get to where I am by being brilliant and hardworking. I relied on a lot of other people giving me a chance, and putting their trust in me, and not being judgmental. Long ago, in my home universe, I was in between jobs, but it hadn’t been too long yet. An interviewer asked me how long I had been on the search. I was afraid that she wouldn’t consider me if I told her the truth, because someone who had been searching for longer was in more need, all things being equal. What my mother told me later was that it was the opposite; that if you’ve been looking for too long, they’ll assume that something’s wrong with you. That’s bullshit, and I won’t tolerate it. So I’m not going to ask people how long they’ve been out of work, or why. It’s none of my goddamn business. I more than anyone know how hopeless it feels to be treated like everything bad that has ever happened to you is your own fault. People deserve better. They deserve the benefit of the doubt. Now, I’m mostly hiring highly experienced and specialized workers for my team, as we have no entry level positions available on the team, but I’m still going into it with this attitude, because I don’t want to become everything I’ve hated in people who held my fate in their hands. I want to take my personal experiences, and make them better for others. So if you applied, and you feel like you’re being mistreated, or if you have stories to tell about your issues with other employers, send me a message. I’m always looking to improve, even if I’m not the only one who should hear what you have to say.

Microstory 2175: Belly in the Saucer

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A few weeks ago, I had a bird problem. House sparrows were nesting above my balcony, and a few of the baby birds almost died, so I first had to save them so they could grow up and fledge away. Once they were gone, I sealed up the gap underneath the next ceiling to prevent them from nesting there again. Today, an adolescent sparrow perched on the railing of my balcony. It sat there for a pretty long time, jerking its little neck around, looking for either food or danger. There’s no way to know this, but I felt like it was one of the nestlings that I stuck back up with their brothers and sisters, come home to see the old place. I know that birds can’t feel nostalgic. At least, I think I know that, I don’t know for sure. Do they? In all likelihood, it was a completely unrelated bird who just wanted to be there in that moment. But perhaps not. Perhaps it could remember my scent (even though I wore gloves) and knew that I was not a threat to it. I opened the door to see how close I could get, pretty confident that just the sound of the latch would be enough to scare it off, but I was wrong. It stuck around, and just watched me. I shut the door, once again sure that it would be too startled by the noise, but when I turned back around, it was still there. It might have hopped over a few centimeters, but other than that, it was totally chill. I sat down at my little table, and took out my phone to catch up on the headlines. That’s pretty much all I do, just skim the news stories without reading any of the stories in depth. If it’s a good headline, it tells you all you need to know, and if it’s not, the full story probably isn’t worth reading anyway. If it’s a topic that I’m particularly interested in, then I will tap on it, though. The bird, meanwhile, stayed there. At one point, I reached behind myself to the corner where I keep one of my plants, and removed the drip saucer from underneath. It was totally dry, which probably means that I should water the plant, even though it looked fine. I set the saucer on the table, and scooted it away from me, closer to the bird. I don’t know what it’s like to be a bird, but their legs and feet are so tiny. I would think that they would get tired of standing on them, and even more tired of perching. I thought maybe it could rest on its belly in the saucer. It was a stupid idea. It didn’t understand that that’s what I intended, so it didn’t get in, but that would have made for a cooler story, wouldn’t it have? There’s really no point to anything I’m saying. I thought that it was just a nice little innocuous anecdote to tell you while I’m on my mini-vacation. If you didn’t like it, maybe my next post will be more interesting. Oh, and speaking of which, I now have a million subscribers to my blog, so there’s that too. Okay, talk later!

Microstory 2150: Phone Calls in Jail

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I probably shouldn’t be saying this, but I have some things to think about now. When you start reaching an audience of a million on this platform, it starts looking like you can focus on that fulltime, and not have to worry about any other job. If I were to push myself towards multimedia content, endorsements, and even public events, I would be at the point where I not only could quit my job without suffering, but also should, since it would free up my time for those other pursuits. I’m still working on that partnership I told you about not too long ago, but I remain reluctant to branch out into other types of content, and I don’t really want to make public appearances. Someone once told me that I have a face for radio...and a voice for print. It was mean, but they’re right. Even without all that, if my readership keeps growing, I may be able to quit anyway. I didn’t even say that during my interview for this job. My interviewer brought it up unprompted, acknowledging that I may not exactly be destined to retire from there. Now, I’ve not made any decisions yet, but it’s definitely becoming an option, which I know could be weird for you, since you still don’t even have a clue what I do for a living, let alone who specifically I work for. The great thing about quitting a job for a form of self-employment is that I can take my time with it. If I were to transition over to somewhere else, I would want to do it within two weeks. That’s standard practice in this country, and beyond. But here, I can hold off, and wait for them to find my replacement, and perhaps even train them. Not forever, mind you, but longer. I’m sure I’ll be getting a call from my boss as soon as this installment posts, but I’ll be in jail by then, so I will not be able to answer. There is a way to take phone calls in jail, but it doesn’t happen all that much, because we’re all only in there for a couple days at a time. And other people have families that they want to stay in contact with, so I wouldn’t want to take any time away from them. I’m alone whether I’m in there, or out here. Maybe I should get a pet. Now that I’ve made friends with my neighbor, I might be able to leave on the weekends without worrying. That’s yet another thing that I need to be considering, but I’ll put it on the backburner.

Microstory 2137: A Specific Person

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I’ve been experiencing a lot of depression lately, which is understandable, and also not at all surprising. I’ve suffered from depression and anxiety my whole life, and sought professional help for it on a number of occasions. It’s never really helped, and I’ve not been able to speak with my current therapist recently, because of my physical medical issues. We try to talk on the phone, but I’m absolutely terrible at that. I have trouble interpreting how other people are receiving what I’m saying in person, but it’s even worse when I can’t see them at all. Plus, in therapy, there need to be moments of quiet that can be filled with nonverbal cues, or even the lack thereof cues, so the therapist can gain insights into one’s condition by that silence. When you’re on the phone, well maybe, you actually are talking, but it’s a bad connection, or the call has been dropped entirely. I’ve had varying qualities of success when it comes to therapy, so even if I could talk to someone in the way that I need, it probably wouldn’t work anyway. I have too many character flaws that I don’t want to get rid of, because doing so might make me more like other people. Normal people eat fecal matter, murder each other, and vote against the greater good. As hard as it is for me to live with who I am, I wouldn’t wanna be much like you either, because at least I can look in the mirror and see a specific person, instead of just a facsimile of everyone else in the world. I’m not special, but I’m not typical. I know, I’m rambling, and not saying anything of any value or meaning, but that’s what happens when I’m struggling with my mental health. Like I was saying, I’ve always been depressed and anxious. It’s my resting state. I think I stopped trying to get help with it because I got so used to these feelings, and never thought they could be fixed. I’m still not sure about it. I’ll go back to therapy when I’m literally fit to go do so again, but I don’t expect any semblance of progress. If it’s happened before, it was so gradual that I didn’t notice. I don’t like things that can’t be measured, and I don’t know what happiness looks like. My guess is that it doesn’t exist beyond the abstract, like dark matter, or a man who’s eaten his own head.

Microstory 2115: One Story at a Time

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In the year 2014, I started publishing my stories for all to see. Well, all on Facebook, anyway. And publish is a strong word. I was posting them at least. I wrote the first one on my phone, using a notes app. It was rather poetic, and not very much like my usual style. I don’t recall now what prompted me to start doing this. I suppose that I was tired of being rejected by literary agents, and ready for people to see my work, whether I was getting paid for it or not. Months later, I started working on my Blogger website, and ported all of the content from Facebook over. It wasn’t that much at the time, but it would become a lot soon. By then, I had come up with a long-term plan, instead of just writing something up day by day, and sending it off. I made a master list, and a rigid schedule. Sundays would be for my continuous main story, Saturdays for longer stories, and weekdays for really short bits. Then I had to start devising narrative ideas. The Advancement of Mateo Matic was already there. I thought of the idea of a character unwillingly being sent forward in time probably a year or two prior, but didn’t know what I would do with it, since it was before the site. I merged it with a preexisting title that was for a completely different series, and really started to focus on that. I had a couple ideas for the Saturday mezzofiction, but they wouldn’t last long, so that was a constantly evolving situation. The microfiction stories were the wild west in the beginning. I was still just coming up with one story at a time, which didn’t have anything to do with each other. It wasn’t until Bellevue Profiles later in 2015 that I started to see potential for complete series.

Okay, this has all taken me longer than I thought it would, particularly the post that I wrote for what will be yesterday for you, and I really feel like I just need to turn myself in to the police. I’m just procrastinating, and for what? I only have a few hundred followers at this point. I guess I’m only going to be scheduling two days out. That gets me through Friday, and I don’t post these on weekends anyway, so that’s practically four days. Maybe they’ll stick me in one of those jail cells with a computer and an internet connection. They have those, right? I dunno, this universe is unfamiliar to me. There’s more to get into about how my blog operates, so maybe I’ll get around to it later. When I finally do get internet access back—if ever—I’m sure I will have so much to catch you up on. I might have joined a prison gang, and gotten a tattoo. Or not. Wish me luck, or to break a leg, or whatever you people say around here.

Microstory 2089: To Break Me Out

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I made a mistake. I left a hard copy of my map, and other pertinent information regarding the mysterious slew of missing persons, in my attic room at my landlord’s house. She found it, and called the cops on me. They say that I’m a danger to myself, and possibly to others. I was able to stop today’s disappearance by destroying the Westfall portal, but I don’t know what I’m going to do tomorrow if I can’t get myself the hell out of here. They’ve locked me in this all white room. It’s not padded, but we all know that they think I’m mentally unstable. Fortunately, they never found my emergency social box in my special underpocket. It’s a USB stick-sized computer with a small screen that only works through voice transcription. It takes a really long time to make sure that neither I nor the device has made any mistakes. It has two buttons. One opens up transcription, while the other accepts other commands, like punctuation, and moving the cursor. A wheel on the side scrolls through the text and menu items for file management. Forgive me if I ended up missing something. I bought this at the internet cafe a long time ago. Posting here is a secondary function of the device, but it was mostly invented for protection. If you’re mugged, and they take your regular phone, this will allow you to make a call, or send a text message without all the proverbial bells and whistles. I don’t need to send a message to anyone, though, because everyone I thought I could trust has turned against me. I just need to get my story out, and maybe one of my readers can do something about this total misunderstanding. I’m not crazy. I really am from another universe, and I really do need to stop others from accidentally being spirited away from it. Please, you have to break me out. I’ll do anything; pay anything, even if I have to do it in installments. I don’t belong in this room!

Microstory 2075: Her Last Period

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Guys, it was a rough day today. It was even harder than yesterday, but it’s no one’s fault. My boss had a family emergency, and had to leave in the middle of the day. On top of that, the other two people who were meant to work the first shift didn’t show up. One of them was sick, so she called in yesterday evening, which we expected to be fine, because even though I’m the newbie, I’m still an extra hand to keep the ship afloat. The other guy just straight up never came in, and we don’t know why. My boss asked me to keep calling him, but he never picked up. She was worried about him, of course, but she also wasn’t super surprised by his absence, so I think he’s just not all that reliable. I also called everyone else who worked there, which isn’t very many people, but none of them could come except for one girl. She’s still in high school, so she couldn’t be there until after her last period. Well, I actually think she skipped it for me. There was a good four hours where I was the only worker in the whole nursery. Fortunately, for a couple of those hours, one of the regular customers helped me out. She didn’t know how the cash register worked, or any of that behind-the-scenes stuff, but she’s an expert in plants and flowers, so she assisted customers for me, which was absolutely amazing. Such a crazy second day. Not boring at all, I’ll tell you that much. As you can imagine, I’m pretty wiped tonight, so I’m going to sign off now, and get back to you on Monday. I suspect that my next post will be pretty long, since I’ll have to recap four days, including this wild one.

Microstory 2066: Just Backpedal a Little

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Had a good meeting with my social worker today. I was coughing a lot, but we were both wearing masks, and he apparently always walks around with this foldable clear plastic partition. I’m not the only client of his who has health issues. I just hope I get over mine soon, and adapt better to this world. I didn’t tell him any of this, but I’m just now realizing that I told him that I’ve been keeping a blog, and gave him a link, so he’ll be able to read all of this. I’ve already talked a lot about how I believe I’m from a different universe. Maybe I could just backpedal a little, and tell him that it’s fiction, and this is all nothing more than a creative outlet. But he would be able to read this installment too, which apparently negates that explanation. Maybe I’ll just schedule this to post near the end of the evening. I don’t expect he’ll read this far anyway. It’s not like this is brilliant writing. Then again, the newest post will always be at the top, and I’ve spoken to people back when I was writing my fictional stories who just read that most recent one, and then stopped. So the newest one always has to be the best. But even then, it’s often taken completely out of context. I am trying to paint you a picture here. You can’t start in the middle, and expect to form a reasonable opinion on my skill, can you? No, that would be unfair. Start at the beginning, or don’t start at all. No, don’t do that. That’s what most people do. Five billion people in the world, and the number of people who actually read my ish adds up to a rounding error. Just kidding, it’s zero, with a margin of error of zero also. Yay, me! Whatever. Anyway, I got a second hit on my ad. She doesn’t claim to be an alien, but she hasn’t said she isn’t yet. I’m calling her tonight. Audio only.

Microstory 2060: Of Opium Floating

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Finally got a call from the garden this afternoon. My boss tells me she can’t pay me very much, because of my lack of experience, but she’s sure I’ll start getting raises after I prove myself. Unfortunately, the place is a little strapped for cash at the moment, so they’re going to make-do without the help until the end of the month. Still, I’m not going to complain, because I’m pretty grateful for the opportunity. In the meantime, I’m learning more about the history of this Earth. A lot of it sounds pretty familiar, though I was never good at history, so any number of details could be wildly different, and I wouldn’t know the difference. If you told me that Monroe was the president before Madison, I would believe it. And if you told me the opposite, I would believe that too. I’ve still not yet figured out what went wrong here, though. Why is it so boring? There’s no war, but I think that’s because nobody cares enough about anything to fight over it. The poor stay poor, and the rich aren’t all that wealthy. They spend it on whatever they need, and when they die, their assets usually end up with the state. You don’t seem to have the concept of charity or inheritance. It’s all very strange. I’m beginning to worry that there’s something in the air that makes everyone so chill, and not in a good way. I read a book and watched a TV show adaptation before I came here where they went to a magical land that had a little bit of opium floating in the atmosphere all the time. I suppose if something like that were the case, I would be feeling the effects. I’m no longer immortal, but I feel the same as I did before all of this, so that doesn’t necessarily explain it. In at least one universe, men don’t have scrotums, which is not something that would be immediately apparent if you met a native. There are so many possible differences that I couldn’t even hope to detect a small fraction of them. Will do more research, and get back to you, but will probably just assume for now that dudes here have scrotums.

Microstory 2058: Off Another Cliff

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My worst fears have come to life. Fiction is as bad here as I was worried it would be. That goes for print media as well as film and television. You make up stories, of course, but there’s no beauty in it, no thrill. When I was first starting out as a writer, I was accused of always getting right to the point. The tales themselves were interesting, but I wasn’t telling them in interesting ways. I wasn’t keeping the audience engaged. That’s how it is here, but with everything. I started to read a book that was narratively similar to The Grapes of Wrath, but it played more like a list of things that happened. John drove himself and his daughter to the abandoned shack in the middle of woods where he recalled hiding when he was a young boy. It was dirty, but still standing, so they cleaned it up, and stayed the night. They ate blueberries for dinner, and also for breakfast the next morning. In my world, that excerpt would be expanded across two or more pages. What were they feeling during the drive? What were they thinking? They were running from the anti-authorities, so were they scared? The book made me feel nothing. I don’t know, I just can’t get into anything. Everything I’ve tried has been so boring, it makes me want to jump off another cliff on the off-chance that it sends me to another universe. That’s not exactly how I ended up here in the first place, but it was what ultimately led me here. My landlord doesn’t own a computer, and since I don’t have a job yet, I can’t afford one of my own. I’ve been using an old phone of hers that still works with DataWave. For any possible readers from any other universe, that is what they call WiFi here. Anyway, writing these little posts is hard enough on the little screen, I wouldn’t be able to create an entire story with it. Maybe when I get a job, I’ll buy a real machine, and start making up my own stories. I’ve not been a writer since I lived on my Earth, but maybe it’s time. I think y’all need to understand what true creativity looks like.

Microstory 2035: Vermont

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Vermont was the first state in the U.S. to legalize same-sex marriage. They did it in 2001. During my research, I learned that Massachusetts was the first state to introduce making it legal for gay people to get married, but it took them longer to pass it. By 2015, the whole United States said that you have to allow gay marriage no matter what state you’re in, but my papa and dad still wanted to get married in Vermont. It is a beautiful state, especially if you go there in the fall when the tree leaves are changing colors. They got a really nice outdoor spot where everyone could see a lot of the trees. It was a little cold, but not too cold, and it didn’t rain or snow. Everybody’s family was there. It sounds really expensive, but my papa was used to spending money on travel. He visited dad in Virginia a lot when they were still dating. When they weren’t in the same state together, they talked on the phone, and on the computer. Dad’s family thought it was weird that they lived so far away from each other, but they somehow made it work. They wouldn’t have to make it work like that for much longer. After the wedding, they decided to not have a honeymoon just yet. They were too busy. They first went to Chicago to pack up papa’s apartment, and then they went to my Aunt Cooper’s house to pack. Lastly, they went to dad’s house to pack up his stuff. And then they all moved to Massachusetts together. I’ll give you more details on the next slide.

Extremus: Year 64

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Tinaya Leithe is First Chair now. She’s been that way for nearly a month. This was never part of the plan, but ever since she was first asked to run, it’s the only thing that ever made any sense. She didn’t technically win by a landslide, but she won the greatest majority of any non-incumbent candidate on the ship so far. And that goes for all elected positions. This is good, because the Extremus has been historically divided, which only ever makes things more difficult for everyone. Good laws don’t get passed, bad laws do get passed, and the people are just generally unhappy. She doesn’t have the highest approval rating out of everyone, but when combined with everyone else, the current administration enjoys the most support from the populace. It’s looking like this is going to be a peaceful three years. She hopes that she’ll be reëlected at that point, and then again, and then again, but she’s not thinking about that at the moment. The least successful leaders are the ones who focus so much energy on maintaining power that they don’t actually do anything with that power. She has some ideas, and she wants to see them through, even if it means she has to get them all done during her first time, and then go back to civilian life after a loss.

Her first major order of business was going to be changing the way the Council is run, and how it’s structured. They’ve been accumulating power, and they can’t be left unchecked, or it could get out of hand. Unfortunately, it’s looking like that’s going to have to wait. The Bridgers have been asking for a meeting, and she’s run out of excuses to put that off. She doesn’t know exactly what they’re going to say to her. She doesn’t even know whether they’re happy or mad that she’s chosen this career path. But she knows that the conversation is going to be awkward and uncomfortable, and she’s not looking forward to that. Lataran has been putting off her own meeting on the other ship too, and they’ve decided to increase their strength through numbers by going together. The Bridgers would have probably not agreed to that, which is why they’re not warning them of this. They’re just going to show up at the same time, and that’ll be that.

“The First Chair and the Captain gone from the Extremus proper at the same time,” Lataran points out. “Sounds risky.”

“They’ll be fine,” Tinaya replies as she’s waving her hand in front of the door to the portal that will take them to the Bridgers. It used to involve time travel, but that experiment has been abandoned. It’s just too complicated, annoying, and headache-inducing. It may just be a coincidence, but Tinaya did suggest they get rid of it, so maybe they actually listened to her. Wouldn’t that be nice?

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right. Things are going smoothly on my end,” Lataran replies as they’re walking down the hallway.

“Same on mine.”

“And on mine,” comes a voice from behind them. It’s fellow spy, Rodari Stenger. They’ve not seen each other in years. That’s what happens with him; he disappears for long periods of time, and then pops up again.

“What do you do again?” Lataran asks him.

“I run Year 217 now.”

“I thought that Year 217 just meant—”

“I know what you thought,” Rodari interrupted. “The Bridgers are liars. I’ll explain another time. For now, we need to talk about our strategy.”

“Strategy for what?” Tinaya asks. “The meeting? Are you going to be there too?”

“I’m meant to just be a fly on the wall, but I don’t think that’s the right way to play it. We should come up with a secret code that lets us communicate with each other on the downlow.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Tinaya decides. “Whatever they’re going to say to me, they can say it, and I’ll respond appropriately.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” he says.

“Do you know Leona’s Rules for Time Travel?” Tinaya asks him.

“By heart,” he replies.

“Rule Number Fifteen, don’t—”

“...antagonize the antagonist. All right. I’ll follow your lead, but you should know that I’m on your side, not theirs. Whatever happens in there, we stick together.”

One major disadvantage in him constantly disappearing on her is that she has to constantly relearn to trust him. It’s impossible to know what he’s been through since last she saw him, or how much he’s changed. She’s changed. But he’s not let her down so far, so she’s just going to jump right back into it this time.

“We stick together,” Lataran echoes. She sidesteps over to him, and takes him by the hand.

“Wait. When did this happen?” Tinaya questions.

“A few years ago,” Lataran explains. “I would have told you, but...”

“But we’d drifted apart. I get it, I’m not upset. Just...”

“Surprised?” Rodari guesses. He kisses Lataran’s hand, then gently separates himself from her. “We shouldn’t get used to it. We don’t know what they’ll say in there.”

What should have taken less than a minute took them a million years to cross the distance, but they can stall no longer. They’re at the door. It opens on its own, reacting to their presence. No one is on the other side to greet them, but lights flicker on and point their way down to the right location. Tinaya doesn’t come here often, but when she does, she doesn’t ever go to the same place twice. In fact, the hallways never look quite the same, even though they literally look alike. It’s entirely possible that they can be moved around to create confusion in case of some kind of intrusion. That or she’s just crazy, and everything is the same way it always has been.

They follow the lights all the way to their destination. This door opens on its own too. A woman is on the other side of it. “Tinaya Leithe, Lataran Keen, Rodari Stenger. Thank you for coming. And thanks for coming together. That’s exactly how I wanted to do this.”

Of course it was. Tinaya reaches out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Madam...”

“You can call me Spirit. I’m Spirit Bridger of the Bridger Section Bridgers. Please, have a seat. There’s water on the table. Those dials on the glasses adjust the temperature instantaneously. You’ll find teabags on the buffet behind you, if you would like.”

“Thank you,” Lataran says politely.

They all three sit down, the girls on one side, and Rodari at the far head. Spirit then sits across from the First Chair and Captain. “Thank you for—I’ve already said that. Sorry, I’m new. I’m..your new...handler. Let me start over. I’m Spirit Bridger, your new handler.”

“What happened to—?”

“Shift change. We do them over on this side too.”

“I hope not to sound rude, because I genuinely don’t know, and sincerely want to know, what is this about? We were not told any details, so I’ve not come prepared.”

“Normally, when a new Captain is selected, or a new First Chair is elected, an onslaught of meetings will be called, designed to go over all the things that they were not allowed to know before. The temporal engineers will reveal any secret projects, they’ll be read into the Three Bears War, and we’ll call our own to reveal everything they’re now entitled to know regarding the Bridger section.”

“What the hell is the Three Bears War?” Lataran questions.

“That’s nothing I’m authorized to discuss.” Spirit is very confused. “You’ve been the Captain for months. You should have been told about it by now, though.”

“Well, I wasn’t.”

“Reach out to Omega and Valencia. It’s not really my problem, so any attempt I could make to read you in would be pointlessly unhelpful.”

“I see.”

“Perhaps when Tinaya is read in, you could sit in on that meeting as well,” Spirit goes on. “But today, we’re here to talk about this place. Of course, you both already know about it. And you know a lot of things that a normal First Chair and Captain would not be told. Good for you. And good for me; this’ll be easy. I only need to say one thing.” She looks between Tinaya, and then Rodari, and then back to Tinaya. She does that a few more times. “Don’t get married.”

Now Tinaya is the one who’s confused. “Are you talking to me? Are you telling me to not get married, or him?”

“Both of you. Don’t marry each other.”

“Why would we get married?”

“Yeah,” Rodari agrees, “why would we get married?”

“I dunno,” Spirit admits convincingly. “That’s just what the cards say.”

“What cards?”

“The tarot cards.”

“You read the future through tarot cards?”

“Not literally; it’s just an expression.”

“No. It’s not.”

“Well, whatever, I don’t, but our seers say that you’re somehow on the path to getting married, and I have been asked to ask you to take another path.”

“We’re already on a different path; we’re not together. I’m...” He stops himself from saying anything about Lataran. It would actually be fine if he really were with Tinaya, but not Captain Keen. That’s a no-no.

“We can be honest with her,” Lataran determines. “She has no legal pull on Extremus proper. “We’re together.”

Spirit narrows her eyes at them. “Hm. I don’t know anything about that. Like I said, the seers only mentioned a path towards marriage. They never told me what might cause it. But then it goes for you too. Don’t you two get married either. That would compromise your position just as much. We’ve never had a captain, nor a first chair. Now we’ve got both at the same time, and we’re not going to take that for granted.”

“We weren’t planning on it,” Rodari promises.

Lataran hangs her head low. They’ve not seemed to resolve their situation yet, though they’ve probably been trying for the last year. Lataran isn’t allowed romantic entanglements in most cases. If Rodari still has a real identity on Extremus, he doesn’t qualify as someone who’s allowed to distract the Captain from her responsibilities.

Tinaya can see that her friend doesn’t want to think about this anymore. The only thing she can do to save her is redirect attention. “Can I marry someone else? I just need to know whether your seers are planning to control every aspect of my life, or what.”

“They didn’t make that clear,” Spirit replies, “but I wouldn’t recommend it. I believe it too would go against their plans for you.”

“The whole reason you people supposedly chose me is that I’m apparently more in control of my own destiny than most people. I will not be boxed in.”

“Tinaya...” Spirit reaches towards her, placing her hand nearby, but having no intention to touch her. “I’m on your side. I’m your advocate. That’s what a handler does. You don’t have to convince me of anything. You do whatever you feel like you need to do, but you have to understand that there are consequences to every action. If they don’t like the choices you make, you may find yourself regretting them. That’s not a threat. It’s just a concern. No one lives in a vacuum.”

What are the Bridgers playing at here, and who is this Spirit Bridger? She looks young, which could mean that she wasn’t part of the original crew, but was born later, or she could just be sufficiently ageless. They have access to technology that regular Extremusians do not. This is beginning to feel more like a conspiracy, and less like a vital mandate. The Bridger program was formed to ensure the continuity of the mission, but if it’s become corrupt, then that mission is compromised anyway. It’s time for internal affairs. If it’s necessary, and no one else can do it, then Tinaya will bring them down, even if it means that she goes down with them. “We literally live in a vacuum.”

“I’ve said what I needed to say.” Spirit taps her handheld device. “You all have my number now. I would like us to communicate more than you did with your previous handlers. That is all. The lights will show you out.”

Tinaya leaves the Bridger section alone, letting Lataran and Rodari have whatever conversation that they need to have in regards to their relationship. She has to get to another meeting. It’s just with Arqut, though, so it probably doesn’t have anything to do with this bear war, or whatever. He surely doesn’t know anything about it either. Once she’s back on the Extremus, she teleports to the Mirror Room, which has become their ad hoc meeting place, even though they have no use for the mirror, and it’s not like they have to meet in secret. It takes her a moment to notice that he’s not alone.

“Ah, we were shootin’ the breeze. We didn’t think you would be here so soon.”

“My other meeting was shorter than I thought it would be,” Tinaya replies. She nods at the other man in the room. “Council Leader.”

“I’m not Council Leader anymore,” Cleader clarifies. “I’m not even on the Council anymore. I’m too old to last beyond the next twelve years anyway, so I might as well pick sides. I’ve chosen yours, of course. If you’ll have me, I would like to serve you in any way I can. I have some pretty good ideas, if you would be willing to hear them.”

“Oh, yeah? Tell me one big idea?” He’s not a bad guy, but she’s in a bad mood.

“Well,” Cleader begins timidly, which is unlike him. One of these days, she’s going to have to learn his name once and for all. “I did notice one demographic that you missed out in the last vote, and if you want to secure reeëlection, you’re probably going to need them in three years. Officials who start out at your approval rating generally go down a little. Just a little, but it could be enough to get you out of office.”

“A missing demo, huh? And who would that be?”

“The utra-monogamists. If you want to win again...you should get married.”

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