Microstory 2426: Waterworld

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There is an ancient movie called Waterworld, and this has absolutely nothing to do with it. The only connection is the abundance of water. I kind of feel like they did that intentionally. It was one of the first domes ever to come into commission, obviously because water is so important. It makes me think that they knew about the movie, and deliberately used it as the name for this place so they wouldn’t have to adopt the franchise for a themed dome. Do you think that’s possible? Maybe I’m just being stupid and paranoid. I didn’t come to this planet specifically for it, but I got excited when I saw the dome on my brochure, and then my heart sank when I quickly learned that it’s only a Utility dome. I guess I really am dumb, because I was in the wrong section of the catalog. All the fun ones are listed completely separately. So. What is this? It’s a water processing plant. Not so exciting now, is it? They send a ship out into the outer solar system, where water can’t exist in liquid form (for the most part). They drag the ice that they harvest from the smaller celestial bodies, and transport it back to us. I went to Waterworld because it was already in my brain, and when I make plans, I tend to stick to them. Then I stayed to learn about it anyway. They don’t just lasso the ice chunks in a net, and pull it along behind them. They encapsulate it in a highly regulated tank, which is only partially insulated. They adjust this insulation and pressure accordingly as they’re on their way back. This allows the ice to melt into a liquid, and drain into a second tank without sublimating into gaseous form, which is what it would typically do in a vacuum. It’s the sun that accomplishes this for them, allowing them to get a little bit of free energy. Obviously, it still takes power, but it sounds like a pretty cool system at any rate. Pun intended. By the time they get back, the ice should theoretically be fully liquified, so they can dump it into Waterworld. The dome itself is basically a giant fish tank...without any fish. I’m oversimplifying it, because that’s what it looks like from the outside, but the truth is that the water is divided into compartments, which protects the system from total and utter cross-contamination. If there’s an issue with one compartment, at least it doesn’t ruin the entire thing. All told, we’re talking a volume of 145 billion megalitres. I mean, just picture that. You can’t, can you? Well, just take the vactrain to Waterworld, and they’ll show you. It’s evidently never filled to the brim, but it still looks interesting. You’re not gonna want to spend a lot of time here. It’s not closed to the public, but they clearly haven’t set it up for visitors. Don’t get me wrong, they’re ready for you, but I don’t think they could handle it if it suddenly became super popular. If you’re only mildly intrigued, I think reading about it on their prospectus is probably good enough, but if you really want to, you can come take a little tour. It won’t take much time out of your stay on Castlebourne, and might be a nice reprieve from the exhilarating activities. I’m still mad about that name, though.

The Sixth Key: His World Rocked (Part III)

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Clavia detailed her history, and how she came to be the consciousness of a tree. She’s actually an amalgamation of multiple people. They were all dying next to this tree’s parent—for lack of a better term. The tree was dying too, under attack from a small but powerful enemy. It provided them with one last hope in the form of a seed that could one day be replanted. The fruit containing this seed ended up in the mouth of one of the allies, a woman by the name of Ingrid Alvarado, who is now the primary intelligence of the new tree. That wasn’t blood on her face that Echo saw when she first showed up here. It was the juice of the fruit. Her body was dead, though, so at least he didn’t bury someone alive. It’s a good thing that he did, because it’s what allowed the seed to find purchase, and grow into the magnificent specimen standing here today. The humanoid form of Clavia is an extension of it, and as of yet, it’s unclear how far she can stray from her home. For now, she’s been mostly staying in the garden. Together, they hope to work through ways to protect themselves from any hostile forces.

Echo doesn’t know how fast the ships can go, but his original guess was that it would take two years for another one to arrive, if it ever did. They evidently detected Clavia’s birth, but it was a year before the first strangers came. If it took them a year to get back to wherever they came from, no one else will be able to make it until another year after that. According to Clavia, however, this is wrong. The people here are capable of traveling a lot faster than that. They can cross the whole galaxy in a matter of moments if they use the right equipment. Echo doesn’t really have the frame of reference for what she means, so she has started giving him some schooling. His parents educated him in science a little while they were alive, but it seems they deliberately chose to leave some things out. He now believes that they didn’t want him to develop too much of a sense of wonder for what might be hiding amongst the stars. It’s not that they were trying to protect him from the dangers, but they no longer had the means to reach such great distances, or even communicate to others. They didn’t want him to long for something that he could never have.

Looking back, their reasoning was sound, but it is now out of date. Their shuttle is not irreparable, not with a superintelligent tree around. Clavia is getting smarter and stronger every day, which is good, because someone else does appear to be on their way here. She once again doesn’t know who they are, or what they want, but the two of them are going to be more prepared than ever. Despite their ability to travel so quickly, the oncomers are moving at a really slow pace. Clavia doesn’t know why that is either, but they’re going to take advantage of the delay.

 They spend the next week on an intensive crash course so Echo can learn all he needs to know about the universe. He learns that it’s made up of five conflicting cultures, which were once separated across different realities. Each one had everything they needed until they were thrown together and suddenly had to share their resources with each other. That was a hundred years ago, and this new society had been on the brink of war ever since. The only thing that has kept them together is the result of a series of diplomatic discussions amongst the leaders, and a healthy interest in everyone minding their own business. They’re still pretty separated, which sounds like a bad thing, but it seems to be going well. At least for now. What they need is a true leader. They need someone to unite the civilizations. Everyone needs to be following the same rules, and listening to the same visionary. For some reason, Clavia believes that Echo can be that leader. He’s not so sure. He’s never led before. Until recently, he hadn’t even met anyone before.

“You didn’t talk to people in your simulations?” Clavia questions.

“They were mostly only there as background,” Echo explains. “I don’t think that the program was all that sophisticated. They allowed me to feel like I was doing a number of activities, like swimming, piloting a spacecraft, or even flying through the air. However, they didn’t have any socialization functions, as my parents would call them.”

“Hm. Well, I have simulations of my own, and they don’t have any limits. Would you like to try one of them?” Clavia offers.

“Sure, I wouldn’t mind seeing something new.” Echo doesn’t want to seem too eager, but he is.

“Do I have permission to touch you?”

“Go ahead.”

She opens her arms, and walks up to him, taking him into a hug. His mom and dad hugged him all the time, but this is different. He’s feeling something he hasn’t ever felt before. Sure, there were stirrings, but nothing this substantial. They’re probably bad thoughts, so he shoves them to the side, and lets Clavia do whatever she’s trying to do.

He finds himself falling through the air. No, it’s more like the ground disappeared, and now air is rushing up past him. New ground gets larger and larger until he’s standing upon it. It’s not a desert, nor a garden, but the trees of a city. Cars are moving next to him. They’re honking their horns, and yelling unintelligibly at each other. People walking by him on the sidewalk are talking, to each other, and on their little computer boxes. Flashing signs litter the tops of the nearby buildings. He can read most of the words, but he doesn’t know what their purpose is.

“Advertisements,” Clavia explains. She’s walking up to him wearing something that she wasn’t wearing before. Her dress was simple and unremarkable, only there to cover her skin. It wasn’t all that different than what Echo wore before he put on his father’s suit. Her outfit now is stylish and fancy. Her pants are gray and slick. She has a gray jacket over a white blouse, showing some skin in between the two sides. Echo is having those stirrings again, so he shakes it off, and tries to focus on her eyes. And that hat. What kind of hat is that? “A fedora,” Clavia answers.

He didn’t ask that out loud. He just thought about it. “Huh?”

“I can read your mind in here,” Clavia says. “This isn’t like one of your simulations, where you just connect to a piece of technology. We’re sharing a brain, and with that, our thoughts.”

Oh, that might not be good.

She smiles. “It’s okay to look. You’ve been alone your whole life. It isn’t natural. They should have given you friends...like these.”

A man wearing a chef’s uniform walks up to Echo out of nowhere. “Hey, Mister Cloudbearer. How you doin’?”

“Good, good, thank you.”

“All right, my man,” the cher responds.

“Hey, Echo.” It’s a young woman. She’s quite pretty, and she looks interested in him. She smiles but doesn’t stop walking by.

“Echo, what’s up, dude?” A teenager is standing on a mailbox. Some people are paying attention, but others are ignoring him. “Check this out!” What is he holding? It’s long, and has wheels on it. He’s never seen it before, but the word suddenly comes to him. It’s a skateboard. The kid holds it out in front of him, then jumps off of the mailbox. He lands on the board, and starts rolling around, much to the annoyance of the nearest passersby. One of the wheels hits a pebble, and he falls forward, but still manages to land on his feet. “Ah, boofed it. Maybe you can show me again later?”

“Sure, kid.” Why did he say that? Echo never taught this non-existent person anything.

Other people start approaching Echo. They all act like they’re friends, and that they admire him greatly. He’s on top of the world here; a real popular guy. He was once afraid to talk to other people. He didn’t think it would ever happen anyway, but he was scared out of his mind that he would screw it up if the unthinkable happened. But you know what? Even though none of this is real, he did encounter four people the other day, and he handled it well. He wanted them to leave, and they eventually did. He won the argument. Despite his lack of experience, he could do this. When this new group of people come here, he’ll take care of them too, no matter what they want from him, or the tree. If they don’t have honorable intentions, they’re gonna wish they did.

“All right, that’s enough,” Clavia declares. The crowd freezes, though they’re all still looking at Echo enthusiastically.

“You can make anything?” Echo asks her.

“Like I said, it’s not like one of your parents’ sims. I don’t have to program anything. I just...think of it. What else do you want to see?”

Echo looks up towards the sky, and thinks about it. “Hmm. The whole galaxy.”

“Easy,” she says. The street and buildings in front of them begin to roll away. Then the entire planet that they’re standing on does the same, like a giant marble spinning through outer space. The two of them keep flying backwards as the stars fly away from them, and then start to streak across the sky. Suddenly it all stops, and they can see a galaxy, rotating at an angle in the middle of a black void. It’s so beautiful, glowing with the fire of hundreds of billions of suns.

He admires it silently for a few moments.

“Not one second has passed for us in the real world,” Clavia claims. “I can teach you so many things while we’re in here. I can make you feel like you’ve lived an entire lifetime in one day. I can show you what life has been like for everyone else; in the five original realities, and after the creation of the Sixth Key. I can turn you into the leader that I know you can be.”

“What do you get out of this?” Echo asks.

“Why would I need anything out of it? Is that how your parents raised you, to need something for your efforts?”

“They did not, but in the regular simulations, I often had to wait in line, like if I wanted to go on an amusement park ride, or order food. I couldn’t carry on a conversation with one of the backgrounders, but I could hear them talk to each other. I noticed a drive towards balance. Unfairness meant one person having something that the other did not. They wanted everything to be even. No one wants to lose, or sacrifice. And I always had to pay. It was fake money to me, but real to them.”

“Well,” Clavia begins, “I’m not one of your background actors. I’m a tree.”

Echo chuckles. “True. I recognize that I don’t know how humans work regardless. Yes, Clavia, I would love it if you showed me.”

She smiled wider. “Great. Then let’s get started. How about we go back to the beginning, during a little event that we call...the big bang?”

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The Sixth Key: Kick Rocks (Part II)

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Clavia helps Echo learn how to use his parents’ guns. They’re energy weapons, which means they’ll be able to fire indefinitely as long as he doesn’t fire too much, and they have a source of charge, like the sun. Something called radio waves would charge it too, but there aren’t any of those around here. He doesn’t become an expert marksman in only a few short hours, but at least he has the basics down. Point and shoot, that much was immediately apparent, but the safety and handling was a little less intuitive.

According to the sensors on board the shuttle, as fed into Echo’s new suit, a ship appeared out of nowhere, and began to orbit the planet. It scanned the surface in some way, but hasn’t done anything else since. Clavia taught him how to set up an alarm to wake him when anything changes, so he can go to bed, and get some rest. The next morning, he checks the sensors to find that the alarm hasn’t failed. The orbiting ship up there still isn’t doing anything. They’ve not fired any weapons at the tree, or come down in a shuttle of their own, or anything. What are they waiting for?

“My mind is clouded,” Clavia explains. “I cannot see detail. I can sense that people are walking around inside the vessel, but I can’t tell what they’re doing. Unfortunately, I need to focus my strength on other pursuits.”

“I understand.” He doesn’t, but she should do whatever she needs to. “Do you think they know that we’re here?”

“It depends on how sophisticated their sensors are, and on the nature of the planet we’re on. This appears to be a lush garden centered on a desert. If the rest of the world is just as barren, this will stick out like a sore thumb. But it may be one of many oases, in which case they would need to pick up on you as an individual. I also don’t know whether your suit and shuttle are sufficiently shielded, or what.”

Echo nods, and decides to go back to practicing. The great thing about guns like these is that he can shoot blanks as much as he wants while barely dipping into the power reserves. Indeed, while the sun is shining, solar power will keep it running even if he never stops squeezing the trigger for the duration of daylight hours. He’s not doing any damage, as he’s just sending beams of light towards the rocks and the flowers, but it gives him a good idea of what it will be like if he ever has to do it for real.

Either as a coincidence, or because the visitors detected his weapons fire, they finally send a landing party in a shuttle. They don’t land too close to the garden, which is respectful of them, or maybe it’s also a coincidence. Echo doesn’t walk over to greet them halfway. He just stands under the Clavia tree, holding one of the guns at what Clavia called high ready. The second one is leaning against the trunk. He has extra cartridges attached to his hips too, but it doesn’t look like he’ll be needing them. One of these things would be able to take out the entire crew of the shuttle. It appears to only be four people, though obviously there are more still up on the ship. Clavia doesn’t know what kind of weaponry they have, up there, or down here. The four who are walking towards them now don’t appear to be armed at all.

“Can they hear you, or is your voice in my head?” he mutters out of the corner of his mouth.

“They can hear me if I want them too, and not if I don’t.”

“Let me do the talking. They may not know that you can talk, and I would like to keep that as an advantage until we have no choice.”

“Agreed,” Clavia says.

“Hello, kind soldier,” the leader guy says once they’re within earshot of each other. He’s keeping a safe distance, showing a healthy fear of Echo’s gun. The other three strangers are scattered next to and behind him. “My name is Klavis Zakan Scrivenor. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking to today?”

“Klavis?” Echo echoes.

“No relation,” Clavia replies simply.

“It’s my rank?” Zakan answers like it’s a question. “I command a single flotilla of ships...four to be exact.”

“What is your business here?” Echo asks.

Zakan is confused. “Um, do you have a name too?”

“Oh.” Echo feels like he’s just lost the upperhand, especially since he just said oh. He should have just been steadfast, and refused to answer. But now it’s too late, he has to just go ahead and respond appropriately. “Echo Cloudbearer.”

“Do you own this world, Echo Cloudbearer?”

“I do.” I mean, he might as well. There doesn’t seem to be anyone else to claim the title, and if making such a claim grants him the legal powers to protect this tree, then he’s comfortable making it.

“What is it called?”

This is where it gets tricky. His parents could never agree on a name for it. They kept coming up with new ideas before Echo was even born, but eventually narrowed it down to Supercloud or Echo. About half the time, they would joke that their son was named after the planet, and the other half, that the planet was named after their son. He never knew which was true, or if Supercloud was the superior choice anyway. “Echo”.

“Hm,” Zakan says. “I like it. We are representatives of the Temporal Energy Management Project of Relative Associated Logistics. Basically, we’re in charge of making sure that there’s enough temporal energy to go around, and that no one is abusing the power that they have, or exploiting the substructure of the universe to their own gain, or to the destruction of reality.”

“I don’t know what any of that means,” Echo admits.

“Well, we’re relative, because the power is not evenly distributed, which some people believe sounds unfair—though, it isn’t—and it’s associated, because every time someone is allotted power, it has an impact on everyone else. That’s why it needs to be managed. It’s—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, no, no, defining it isn’t going to help me understand it. It sounds like you just really wanted your acronym to spell out TEMPORAL.”

Zakan just clears his throat.

“Why are you here? I keep to myself. I don’t have any power.”

Zakan gestures to Clavia. “That tree behind you would seem to contradict your words.”

Echo decides to play dumb. “This is just a tree. It can’t contradict anything. It can’t even walk.”

Zakan smiles and sighs. He looks around the vast empty flatlands surrounding them. “We detected the energy spike that was prompted by some kind of temporal event right at this location. I don’t know if it teleported here, or if it was here all along, and suddenly absorbed a whole lot of power, but my guess is that you were around to see whatever it was. After all, you’re standing in front of it right now. You were up there when we showed up. You must think it’s meaningful too. If you thought you needed to protect your garden as a whole, you’d be standing right here.” He points to his feet where the grass of the garden gives way to the dirt of the desert.

Okay, maybe he needs to switch tactics. “Does it matter? If it’s here, it’s mine. And since this is all mine, so are you. So you four have two choices. You can fly back up to your little ship, and tell your captain to leave, or you can stay here and do my bidding. The atterberries are about ready to be harvested.”

“What did you say?”

“The atterberries,” Echo repeated. “Those pink things over there. You could pick them, or you could leave. You have no jurisdiction on this world, though. My word is law. My word is the only law.”

“What’s—what’s this stuff here?” He slid the sole of his shoe along a rock.

“That’s amanda moss. It’s not edible. I use it for...other things.” Wiping.

“And that?”

“It’s, uh, vearden hay. I use it as a ground cover. Why all the sudden interest in my garden? I thought you only cared about some tree.”

“Just curious.” Zakan steps forward. “What do you call this creature warming itself on this boulder?”

Echo can’t see from this far away, but he knows what the man’s talking about. “It’s probably a clemens newt.”

“One last thing, this one here?”

“A savi tree.”

Zakan exchanges a look with his people. “Which reality is your family from?”

“Um, this one?”

“No, I mean originally.”

“I have no clue where you’re going with this.”

“I don’t recognize that kind of gun. Do you?” he asks the woman standing at his flank.

She shakes her head quietly.

“My guess is Parallel or Fifth Division,” Zakan goes on cryptically, “but the main sequence had some nice stuff before they were copied here.”

“Can I help you?” Echo interrupts the internal conversation they’re having down there. He’s done playing nice. He wants them gone. He doesn’t want to have to hurt anyone to do it, but he will if they give him no choice.

“I’m afraid we can’t leave until we run our tests. We need to know what sort of impact this tree is having on the rest of the galaxy. It’s for the safety of everyone in the universe.”

Echo tenses up. “Get closer.”

Zakan himself doesn’t move, but his people reach their arms out to magically materialize their own guns. “We don’t need to get very close.”

“That’s enough!” It’s Clavia’s voice, but there’s something a little different about it. It sounds like it’s coming from a specific location, instead of just around him in general. Someone appears from behind the tree. It’s the dead woman who he buried here. She lives. It wasn’t just a magical seed, but it had something to do with who was holding it.

“Who are you?” Zakan asks.

“Who you seek, in humanoid form.”

Zakan holds his hand up by his shoulder. The other three lower their guns in response. Two of them make them disappear again, but his lieutenant keeps hers. “You are the tree.”

“We are,” she replies. “You may call us Clavia.”

“We’ll have to confirm that,” Zakan insists.

“Do that, and only that,” Clavia replies. “Do more, and you’ll regret it.”

Now Zakan lifts his other hand, and shakes it twice towards the hill. The now unarmed pair of visitors cross the boundary of the garden, and walk up to Clavia. She holds her own hand towards to stop Echo from reacting further when he tenses up again. The strangers begin to run their tests. They hover little devices over Clavia’s human body, and over the tree. They look at the little screens to interpret the readings, whatever they may be. Echo wouldn’t know the first thing about what they’re looking for, but Clavia seems calm, so he’s just gonna follow her lead.

One of the testers nods over at Zakan. “It’s her. She’s the tree.”

“Okay. Pack it up, kids. We’re leaving.”

“Wait,” Echo says. “Not that I’m complaining, but what just happened? What did you do? What did you discover? Why is it making you leave?”

“The source of the temporal energy is sentient,” Zakan begins to explain. “It’s natural and unregulated. As you said, we have no jurisdiction. It would be like me telling you that you’re not allowed to use that moss to wipe your ass. That’s someone else’s department.”

“Well...” Echo paused. “Thank you and goodbye.”

“You’ll be filing a report, though, won’t you?” Clavia guesses as most of the team is walking back towards their shuttle.

“I have no choice,” Zakan says apologetically.

“So the right department might show up too,” Echo calculates.

“Undoubtedly,” Zakan confirms. “She’s an interesting find.”

The shuttle takes off. About fifteen minutes later, the ship breaks orbit, and flies away into the black. Echo’s shuttle’s sensors stop picking any signals, and the world falls silent once more.

“You’re a person,” he points out.

“It’s complicated.”

Echo smiles. “I don’t have anything else going on. Tell me your story.”

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The Sixth Key: Living Under a Rock (Part I)

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When all the inhabited terrestrial bodies and ships in the five previous concurrent realities were sent into the Sixth Key, they were mostly dumped where they were, relative to each other. There were a number of exceptions. Residents of the Parallel had managed to colonize just about every rock worth standing on in their version of the Milky Way. This included a bunch of random rogue worlds, and some planetoids, but nearly all of the more massive ones too. Other realities had done the same thing, just to a fraction of a fraction of a degree. This meant that there were multiple Proxima Domas, multiple Teagardens, multiple Waizidis, even if they went by other names. There was plenty of room in the new universe, but it threw off the gravitational distribution. There were also some worlds from other galaxies that had to be ported over. Another thing that altered the gravity was a lack of a central black hole. Sagittarius A* was not habitable on its own. It was too dense, and too deadly. Some used it for power, but there wasn’t anyone standing on its surface, and if there was no one on its surface, it wasn’t saved.

There was an empty void in the middle of the galaxy now. Some star systems that were orbiting their version of it were sent flying through space on a new trajectory, filling this void with the occasional isolate. One of these worlds happened to only have two people standing on it. It didn’t even have a name, but since it was supporting life when the Reconvergence happened, it too was shunted through the cosmic escape hatch. Not only did Echo’s parents not know that any of this was gonna happen, but they also didn’t know that anything had happened. All they could tell was that they lost all communication systems, and they were stuck there. Alone.

They made the best of their situation. The planet had an atmosphere, though not much life. They had to plant and grow their own food, but they took joy in their work, and they were happy. They ultimately conceived a child together, and raised him there the best they could. They socialized him in a virtual simulation filled with NPCs, but in the end, it was just the three of them. And then it was just two. And then it was just one. Echo Cloudbearer has been entirely on his own for the last few years, not knowing how to get to civilization, or even really whether he should. He spends some of his time in the simulations, but has grown bored with them over the years, and visits them infrequently these days. He mostly sits amongst the flowers, and strolls along the pond. It’s not perfect, but it’s home, and he’s content. This is all about to change.

As Echo is sitting against his favorite rock, he hears a whistling sound from up above that he’s never heard before. A body appears out of nowhere up in the air, and falls down hard on the ground. It’s glowing red. He approaches with caution, but he can’t get too close. A searing heat is threatening to burn off his eyebrows. He just stands there watching as the glow fades, and the body cools off. It’s a beautiful woman, and she’s not moving. She must be dead, and not because of the fall, but the metal object that’s jammed in the back of her head. When it feels safe, he kneels down beside her, and checks her life signs using the skills his parents taught him. Yeah, this woman’s definitely dead. He looks back up at the sky. Could it be? Did she fall through the atmosphere? No, she wouldn’t still be intact, and he’s sure he saw her appear out of thin air, not simply grow larger and larger as she fell closer and closer. All this time without ever meeting another soul, and the first new person he sees is already dead. What a joke.

Saddened by this bizarre and disappointing development, Echo does his duty, and buries her in the ground. There is no way for him to know if this is what she would have wanted, but that is what his parents told him to do with them after they were gone. Once he’s finished with his work, he stands beside her grave out of respect. He wants to say something nice and reverent, but again, he never knew her, and he’s also very inexperienced with talking. He isn’t necessarily naturally quiet, or reserved. It’s just that he and his parents knew each other so well. They had a shorthand, and often got things done without needing to speak. He grew used to that, and after they left him, he had even less of a reason to open his mouth. So he just stands there for several minutes, staring at the mound of dirt piled upon the new grave. After enough time passes, he just goes about his usual business.

The next morning, Echo does what he does every day, and wakes up to stand on the hill. He likes to survey the land. This is the best vantage point in the area. This is where his parents originally settled, and he has never left. There doesn’t seem to be a need to. Everything he could ever need is right here. That’s why he buried the stranger on this hill. It seemed like she deserved it, whoever she was. He quickly realizes, though, that now it can no longer be his lookout spot. It’s not his anymore, but hers. Something green in the dirt catches his eye. Is that a blade of grass in the center? He reaches down to get it out there so it’s more uniform, but discovers it to be stuck in the dirt. It’s...growing from it? He didn’t plant anything here, and even if he had, he tilled it up so much for the burial that no shoot could have survived long enough to be visible already. No, this doesn’t make any sense. Echo knows every species that grows here. There aren’t that many, so it was easy to learn when and how to plant them, which ones to plant separately, how much water each type needs. This kind of looks like one of his ohedlan trees, but there’s something off about it.

Echo continues to go about his life. He eats, he sleeps in his shallow little cave, and he makes waste. Each morning, the new magical tree has grown taller. The bigger it gets, the less it looks like an ohedlan tree, or anything else he’s familiar with. His best guess is that the dead woman had a seed of alien origin in her pocket, and it fell out while he was burying her. He tends to it, just as he would any other plant in his little garden. He makes sure that it gets water, and protects it from the kol beetles. They may be here to help, not hurt, but he can’t tell, and the tree remains too young for him to take the risk. Perhaps when its older, he can find out what they do to it. For now, this is his baby, and he’s not going to let anything happen to it.

It’s the fastest-growing tree he’s ever seen. In only about a year, it’s at full maturity, with a hardy trunk, strong branches, and blue leaves. It’s beginning to flower, but is not yet bearing fruit. That’s when it starts to talk to him. He’s not even all that surprised. He knew there was something special about it right away. The fact that it seems to have a brain is crazy, and he’s never heard of it before, but he understands that he knows very little about how the rest of the universe works. This could be entirely normal elsewhere. “What is your name?” the voice asks.

“Echo Cloudbearer. Yours?”

“We have had many names, but I have decided to settle on Clavia.”

“Are there more than one of you?”

“There once was,” Clavia replies. “We are now one.”

This is unsettling to Echo, though he would not be able to articulate why. “How do you grow so fast?”

“Time ain’t nothing but a thang.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“We spoke up to warn you. You have shown us kindness where you did not have to. You could have let us fend for ourselves, and perhaps even died, yet you put in effort to help. We owe you a debt of gratitude.”

“Tending to my garden is all I have to do,” Echo replies. It’s true. His life is pretty easy going. He has the kol beetles to contend with, and a few other critters, but for the most part, the plants take care of themselves. They’re low maintenance, yet they still bear fruit. His life may be boring, but it’s satisfying.

“Still, you deserve to know that you will not be alone for long, and we do not mean us. We are still young and weak, and will not be able to protect you. Others will come. They’re coming for us. You must leave this place, and find somewhere to hide. They will harm you if you stand in their way, and they may interpret you as a threat whether you mean it or not.”

“What will they do when they get to you?” Echo questions.

“That is none of your concern,” Clavia says nicely. “You must hide,” she repeats.

“I protected you as a sapling, and I’ll protect you now. That is how I was raised. To hide would be to dishonor my parents, and I will not succumb to my fears.”

Clavia doesn’t respond right away. “Very well. We respect your wishes. There is not much that you will be able to do, though. To answer your question, we do not fully grasp the intentions of those coming for us. We know only that they are on their way. We believe that they detected our birth, and are coming to investigate.”

“When?”

“Tonight.”

“I’ll be ready.”

While it’s true that Echo’s parents settled in this spot, it is not where they first landed. On the other side of the rock formation in the middle distance lay the remnants of their shuttle. It did not crash, but it was damaged during a lightning storm, and has been gathering dust ever since. They stayed there for a few months while they were starting the garden, at which point they abandoned it forever. It was never forbidden for Echo to venture this far out, but he’s only been here once, and hasn’t had any reason to return until now. There are weapons here. He doesn’t know how to use them, but perhaps the sentient tree knows. That’s not all he’s after. Echo wears very little as the environment here is almost always favorable. Even when it rains, the temperature is mild, and the wind isn’t too bad. His clothes were apparently made out of seat upholstery, and other miscellaneous fabrics from their shuttle, but that’s not what the two of them were wearing when they arrived. They were in spacesuits with all sorts of tools and gadgets attached. After they died, he removed their suits from their bodies, and connected them to some kind of port on the outside of the shuttle, as per their instructions. He was told that they would be ready by now, but they never explained what they meant by that. He’s grown up to be about the same size as his father was, so his suit fits perfectly. It’s a lot more comfortable than his regular outfit too, he feels so safe and contained.

“We did not know you had that,” Clavia acknowledges. “We can only see things that are happening, not conditions that remain static.”

“You know now. What about these things? Will they be useful to us?” Echo’s parents called them guns.

“Those are dangerous...but we can teach you.”

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Extremus: Year 80

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Tinaya and Aristotle are stuck in the past, but they are not in a new timeline. Their other selves are still in their midst, but they’re unable to interact with them. It’s like a parallel dimension, but with some bizarre rules. Fruits and vegetables are available here, as if they straddle the dimensional border. But people and animals are practically invisible. They can still detect them under certain conditions, and they’ve pieced the puzzle together enough to determine that the strongest appearances come during moments of temporal energy use. When Past!Tinaya passes through a wall using her mirror powers, Future!Tinaya and everyone else can see her shadow, as well as that of the wall. When Past!Aristotle trots to another celestial body in the solar system, the people in the parallel can witness his disappearance, as well as the surge of power that emanates from the event.

The two of them are not alone here. Vaska made it through, as did a bunch of survivors of the settlement explosion seven years ago. Future!Tinaya saved them with her weird mirror abilities. How exactly that worked, though, she’ll never know. Her glass skin is gone, having apparently been transferred all the way into the big showdown with the explosion. It still happened, just in the main dimension. Now their only concern is finding a way to get there themselves, but they’ve not had any ideas in the last seven years. None of the people on the settlement is an expert in a pertinent field. Not all of them even feel that they should be worried about it at all.

“This is our home now.” Bartel Ateren was assigned the Verdemus mission in the capacity of a botanist. His job was not originally meant to require that he do any actual work on the ship on a regular basis. The people who first set foot on Extremus were never going to be the ones to land on the destination planet. In fact, most of the people who lived there would never see the future world at all. Or so they have always been led to believe. Tinaya knows better, but she’s not supposed to, and she’s not allowed to talk about it. Most people are not aware of the truth, yet they continue to study fields of research that will only be particularly useful on the new homeworld.

Theoretically, the information that their descendants will need to survive and thrive can just be pulled from the central archives, which exist as many copies on multiple servers. Still, it only seemed right that the knowledge be passed down through teachers instead. Again, the majority of students will never get any opportunity to use what they learned, but they do it anyway. Bartel, on the other hand, was not actually a teacher. He was more like an emergency teacher, there to be available should anything happen to the regular teacher before they could pass the knowledge on to the next generation. He was able to move to Verdemus in secret, because he had no living relatives, nor many friends, and the next generation has successfully grasped the necessary concepts, meaning his original job is done. He has since become a reliable leader for the survivors.

“But we’re not really here,” Tinaya argues. “On the other side of the planet, they built a megablock to house the soldiers that are being deployed in the Ex Wars. We have no way of getting there, and even if we did, we probably couldn’t live there, even though there would be plenty of room. It’s inaccessible from this dimension.”

“I don’t need the megablock,” Bartel reasons. “The huts we’ve built here are more than enough for us to be happy.”

“What about your children, and your children’s children? You don’t want more for them? You want them to live their lives with no hope of even contacting the rest of the galaxy, or the ship? If you’re digging in, then you ought to do it right.”

“That’s exactly why I wouldn’t want us to try to live in the megablock. I want them to make their own way, to build a new society from the ground up...literally. This is what they had in mind for the Extremus mission in the first place. Well, not exactly this, but you know what I mean. The self-reliance, and the journey of development. That’s the point. We’re just doing it here and now, instead of out there, and in the future. And anyway, who cares which version of Verdemus we’re on? We can’t leave the planet either way. Sorry, I know Totle’s your friend, but he’s not had any success with his powers.”

That’s fair, they never expected to be able to leave Verdemus in the first place. So they’re stuck on a different Verdemus, so what? What’s the difference, in the end? Well, family; that’s the difference. So maybe this isn’t that great of an argument. “He deserves to go back to his mother and Niobe, and I want to see Spirit again. And Belahkay, and even Omega. Ilias, I could do without, and Eagan is whatever.”

“I can understand that,” Bartel concedes. “But I’m worried that if we succeed in crossing back over to the main dimension, they actually will find a way to return us to Extremus. I was never the kind of person who was angry to be born on a ship that I would never leave, but I didn’t know what I was missing. This place is paradise. The people still on that hunk of metal...they should be so lucky.”

Tinaya smiles at him, and nods. “That’s exactly why we have an obligation to go back; back to the real Verdemus, and then to Extremus. If you feel so strongly about it, you should try to tell others about it who may feel the same. I can’t guarantee that the council will give you the chance. They may decide to shut you up so you don’t ruin their plans. But one thing’s for sure, if we stay here, trapped in this parallel on this planet, there’s no hope at all of spreading the message.”

He tries to take a breath, but a yawn comes over instead, and he finds himself opening and closing his eyes one at a time. “Sorry. Yes. I, uhh...yeah. You’re right. But that doesn’t change the fact that we have no idea how to get back.”

“Vaska has a theory about that.”

“Yes, she mentioned that.” The two of them work closely together, studying the ecosystem to figure out exactly where they are, cosmically speaking, and how they can touch the plants, but not the people or the artificial structures. “It had something to do with a particular plant we discovered, and the other you?”

“She can explain it better,” Tinaya decides. “She’ll be here any minute.” When the bomb went off, besides the people who she saved, only the mess hall remained standing, and only in this parallel dimension. It’s not a very cozy place to live, which is why they’ve built new structures on this side, but they still use this as a communal area. On its own, it’s a temporal anomaly, which is why it’s the only place on the whole planet where other-siders are perfectly visible. When one happens to wander within its walls, which are invisible to them, they can see them. It doesn’t occur often, though.

“I’m here! I’m here,” Vaska says. “Whoops.” She instinctively avoids running into Eagan, who just so happens to be in her path. He’s here a lot. Since they’re in different dimensions, they would simply pass through each other without feeling a thing, but she’s forgotten that for a second. “I can’t remember, how many people are with us?”

“There are thirty-one,” Tinaya reminds her. “Twenty-eight survivors, plus you, me, and Aristotle.”

Vaska nods as she’s inspecting the walls of the mess hall. “I believe that will work.” She peeks through one of the windows. “That corner is slightly closer.”

“You said something about the two Tinayas making contact with each other?” Bartel says. “What does this building have to do with anything?”

Vaska faces Tinaya. “When you told me where you and Aristotle were standing when he tried to trot you off the planet, and you ended up in the Gatewood Collective, were you accurate? I mean, were you precise?”

“Yeah,” Tinaya confirms. It was right over there. Or it will be, rather, later today.” This is the day that they accidentally travel through time. She’s about to close her loop.

Vaska holds up a grassy plant. There’s nothing special about it in appearance. It really just looks like prairie grass, or something else equally mundane. “We can touch the plantlife, but this? This is different. This is special. When we take hold of any other plant, we pull it into our dimension, stealing it from theirs. For some reason, this stuff maintains its connection to the others. I’ve tickled Ilias’ nose with it. He couldn’t see it anymore, and he didn’t know what was going on, but it happened.”

“What does that mean for us?” Bartel asks her.

“This building is a temporal anomaly. The moment Tinaya and Aristotle go back in time is also a temporal anomaly. We need to connect them to each other.” Vaska cups her hands together. “We do that with this plant. I propose we build a chain with our own bodies, linking the corner of the mess hall to Past!Tinaya. She’ll anchor us to the main dimension, and unwittingly pull us through whatever barrier separates us.”

Future!Tinaya and Bartel just stare at her. “That’s...a contrivance.”

“No, it’s not. It’ll work.”

“How do you know? You just made it up.”

“I’ve been studying this plant. It’s a keystone species. Scratch that; it’s the keystone species. The other plants; they can’t communicate with each other without it. It’s like a telephone wire.”

“What’s a telephone wire?” Bartel questions.

“I’m telling you, this will work. We need a chain. But to reach all the way over there, which I’ve calculated to be forty-two meters away, it will require all thirty-one of us. We got a lot of shorties.”

Tinaya looks at her sadly. “Vaska, I know you want this to work, but Bartel’s right. You’re just guessing.”

Vaska huffs a bit, and shakes her head. “The explosion that destroyed the settlement was larger than it should have been. The explosion that destroyed the time mirror, and imbued you with its glass power, was more focused than it should have been. Aristotle’s jumps; Tinaya, your creation of this parallel dimension in the first place—all of these things have been affected by this. It’s all about the grass!” She urgently shakes the sample she has in her hand. “I’m gonna call it timogramen,” she says matter-of-factly, like anyone has any interest in arguing against it. “It explains everything. The way you tell it, dumbasses wasted their time finding suitable trees to make paper, when they really should have been studying this instead. It is unlike anything I have ever heard of before. I don’t know how it evolved, or what else it can do, but I do know that it can send us back to where we need to be. And besides, what’s the worst that can happen if it doesn’t work?”

Both Tinaya and Bartel think it over. It does sound rather random and silly, but she’s right, if it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. It’s not like they have some other option which this could interfere with. “Okay,” Tinaya finally says. “We’ll bring it to the group. Hopefully they all agree. Like you said, we need everybody.”

“I’ll help too,” Eagan says. “I believe that you are overestimating the arm span of everyone here.”

The three of them are flabbergasted. “Y—you can see and hear us?” Bartel asks.

“Yes,” Eagan replies.

Tinaya throws her hands up. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You’re from the future; I didn’t want to disrupt the timeline,” Eagan answers. Oh, that’s actually good logic.

“Well, I suppose that makes sense,” Tinaya admits. “Still, you could have communicated with us.”

“I was gathering information. Why did you think that I was always standing over here? The mess hall doesn’t exist on my side. It’s just ash and ruins.”

“You’re just weird, Eagan; you’re weird,” Tinaya reiterates.

“Fair enough,” he says.

“Are we gonna do this thing, or what?” Vaska asks impatiently. “Time is running out. Past!Aristotle and Past!Tinaya are about to disappear.”

“Wait, can’t we just have them get closer to the building?” Bartel suggests. “Or even in the building? We don’t need a human chain if Eagan helps.”

“No, he’s right,” Tinaya contends. “That would disrupt the timeline, which places all of your lives at risk. If Totle and I never end up on Gatewood, we never find any help getting back here, let alone with Vaska, who we needed to study the—what did you call it?—timogramen? Things have to play out exactly as they did until I finally close my loop. The human chain it is.”

They take Vaska’s proposal to the rest of the group. They have some questions, and they’re just as skeptical about the efficacy of the plan, but they too recognize that the downsides are minimal. One of the biggest issues is just convincing them that they should indeed return to the main dimension. Some of them were brought into this project specifically because their absence from Extremus would not be noticed, like Bartel. Others left families on board, who signed confidentiality agreements. They want to get back to them, which they were promised would be done regularly with the time mirror. So their side of the argument eventually won out.

Vaska takes a team out to harvest more of the timogramen. They crush the grass up, and lather everyone’s arms with it. It’s apparently meant to act as some sort of natural conduit of temporal energy, which will pass from Past!Tinaya and Past!Aristotle, all the way to the mess hall. Eagan was right. After they all line up, Future!Aristotle on one end, and Future!Tinaya on the other, they do find themselves short. Eagan adds himself as an extra link between Aristotle and Chef Webster. They complete the chain just in time for the special event. Tinaya places her hand on the shadow of her younger self just as she and Aristotle make the jump, which will ultimately send them to Gatewood. The power surges through her, and then down the line of survivors until it reaches the mess hall. Then it passes back again. It goes back and forth a few times before bursting out in a blinding light. When it recedes, the chain has been broken as most of them have fallen to the ground, but it is not yet clear whether it worked.

“Tinaya?” Spirit asks. “That was fast. Did it work? Hold on, did you end up going to Extremus after all? Are all these people from there?”

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Microstory 2219: It is Always Fatal

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I might try to say more tomorrow, but today is not a good time to spend a lot of time curating a good post. We’re reeling from today’s news. We knew that it was bad. I mean, just look at him; it had to be bad. But we didn’t know quite how bad. There are five types of infections. When Nick first arrived in this universe, he contracted a virus, and shortly thereafter, he got a bacterial infection. These might be the two most common. There are some people who just get the cold every year, whether they take a vaccine for it or not. Fungal infections are fairly common too, and they often go untreated, because symptoms are sometimes rather mild, albeit fairly gross. He also managed to suffer from a fungus when he used some unclean showers in Iowa, but before that, a parasite took hold of him when he was exposed to the wrong plant at the nursery where he worked. All of this happened during the first quarter of this year, and he thought that he was out of the woods for a while. Sadly, that has turned out to not be true, though we didn’t know until today that the disease that he has is yet another infection. You see, all four of the types of infections that you’re familiar with can potentially be deadly. None of them is totally safe. But there is a fifth type that you have probably never even heard of, and the worst part about it is that it is always fatal. It’s called a prion, and while some prion diseases can be treated to some degree, they are the least understood class. The good news (or bad, depending on how you look at it), is that everything I’ve been doing with him has been everything that the doctor would have ordered had he diagnosed this before. Managing symptoms is the only possibly helpful course of action. Now that he knows that it’s there, he can study it more, and tweak some of Nick’s medications, but that’s about it. The horrible truth is that he is going to die from this. He may have a few months to live, but the doctor doesn’t see him making it through the New Year. I’ve written more than I planned on. I better end it here, so I can get back to taking care of him. We’ll see how much time I have tomorrow, or if I’m even emotionally up to it.

Microstory 2176: And Young

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The thing about the way that I’ve developed my website is that I can sometimes get trapped in my own format. When I started out, I wanted to do really short stories on weekdays, and my permanent story on one day of the weekend. I didn’t know what I was going to do with the other day of the weekend, and I didn’t know how canonical I was going to get with the whole thing. It’s the numbers that make the decisions for me. The numbers dictate all. Once I started doing continuous microfiction stories, I decided that I liked to block them out in batches of 100, but there are roughly 260 weekdays every year, and I don’t like to cross the December 31 border, so I can’t always do the 100 installment thing. I end up with remainders, and the value of each remainder often determines what that shorter series is all about. The reason I wrote exactly fourteen sonnets in 2022 is because I had a remainder of fifteen, and could use one of them for an intro. If the remainder had instead been, say, nineteen, I doubt I would have ever thought to do them. I actually decided to change everything up this year by shifting to a regular blog format, hoping that I would have an interesting enough life for that to make sense. As 2024 approached, and I realized that it wasn’t the right call, I had to alter the plan into a fake blog format. That’s what we’ve been doing every weekday since January 1. And like all series here, I don’t get much of a chance to do something different when the situation arises. But it does sometimes arise, and I occasionally have to briefly put my ideas on hold in order to detour to something else. Something important.

I was running a series in 2020 set in another universe. Each installment was told from the perspective of a different fictional character. But then my grandfather died in real life, and I wanted to say something about him. I wanted to get real with my site, so I hit pause on Reactions, and shared my true thoughts. I’m spending a lot of time explaining myself, but I think it’s important for you to understand what a big deal it is for me to deviate from the structure that I’ve limited myself to. The last time I did it was when I lost a dear loved one. Yeah, I do it during introductions too, but those are strongly dependent upon the forthcoming series. These are true shifts, and come from the real me, rather than the fictional version of me. Though, it was fitting back then, since Reactions was about death, and fitting now for other reasons. Last month, my alternate self was pressured into eating meat, even though he was a vegetarian. I was the one who gave him that diet in the first place, even though I hadn’t mentioned it before when he was first introduced, and that’s because I had become a vegetarian myself since then. I’ve struggled with the idea of harming the environment, and killing animals since I was a child. I just didn’t think that I could get all of my nutrition if I cut out meat, and as it turned out, I was spot on. I’ve struggled with my health and weight since college. I used to be able to eat whatever I wanted, and still be quite thin, because I was unwittingly super active. And young. As I’ve aged, it’s become harder and harder to match my calorie intake with activity, and if anyone told me that that would happen, I didn’t listen to them. One thing I didn’t think that much about was that most junk food is vegetarian. Sure, I can have an entire pizza, just don’t put pepperoni or sausage on it. Ice cream? Of course! Pastries, chocolate, all the cheese in the world? No problem. Just don’t give me any meat, because animals died to make it, and I don’t like that. In addition to how much you can eat as a vegetarian before you feel full, you have to eat so much to get the comparable protein. So it was really easy to justify the binging regardless of what the food actually was. I have come to the profoundly difficult decision to press pause on my vegetarian diet recently. I’m going to focus on lowering my caloric intake, and erasing my reliance on comfort food that doesn’t do anything for me except make me feel full, and add fat to my belly. It won’t be forever. I just have to get down to my goal, then I know I can start maintaining. I was so close before, I’m certain that I can get there and stay as long as I stop resorting to garbage. Then I’ll go back to where I want to be, for the environment, and for the animals. I just hope this months-long detour doesn’t end up giving me some terminal disease, or something. That would be ironic, wouldn’t it? Oh wait, careful...spoilers. That’s it for me. Nick Fisherman IV will be back tomorrow.

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!