Microstory 2772: Dasshutsu

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There is a natural atmosphere on Castlebourne, but it doesn’t have the right composition for human lungs. That’s why the owner built tens of thousands of domes, so each could contain its own atmosphere. The hunters knew the risks going into this plan, but they didn’t talk about it, because it was the only one they had. As soon as Elise clears the dome opening, she turns and follows the curve back down towards the surface.

They already picked out a rendezvous point. The desert where the rocket was buried is not on any map they’ve ever seen. It’s much smaller than a regular dome, which has a diameter of 83 kilometers. It’s situated between Bloodbourne and Tokyo 2077, and was supposedly built exclusively for this hunt. For whatever reason, the single escape pod always transports the designated survivor to Tokyo 2077, where they find themselves having to navigate their way back home using directions found hidden in the pod. Rage once tried to ignore them, and exit herself, but the target exit is the only way to reenter the normal dimension, instead of this Facsimile thing.

Elise and Colley fly through the airlock, where they inject themselves with an emergency baseline cocktail, which brings their body back to equilibrium after exposure. They walk through the tunnel where they catch up with the rest of the group, who have already found Rage sitting on the edge of the pod’s hatch, reading the instructions.

“Don’t you just remember where to go?” Jolanda asks her.

“The exit is in a different place every time,” Rage explains.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Minotaur presses. “If you’re going back in time, why would it move, unless Hrockas is aware that you’re doing it?”

“He may be,” Miracle explains, “but even if he’s not, Rage makes different decisions in different time loops, which affect how the hunt progresses, if only due to the butterfly effect. I don’t have to go over the butterfly effect, do I?”

When Rage shakes her head, she notices something. “We’re missing someone.”

“Zelda didn’t make it,” Elise answers solemnly. “I couldn’t carry both.”

Colley hangs his head low. “It should have been me.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Elise argues. “There were no good options.”

“There might be a way,” Miracle claims, “to get her back.”

“How?” Rage asks. “Is death just a form of time travel?”

Miracle chuckles. “No. But you have to understand that, in the world of time travel, if something ever exists, it always exists. We can get her mind back by stealing it from the past, and pulling it up to the present. We have to find Zelda’s body before it wakes up, though, because the Zelda we meet there will begin to be her own person, and blending their minds together is ethically tricky the longer we wait.”

“Well, I can’t read this,” Rage complains. “I’m starting to think that Hrockas is aware of my time travel. It’s always, always, always in Japanese, which is why I uploaded the language into my neural net, but now it’s in something else.”

Colley takes the paper from her, and studies it. “It is Japanese. It’s an old style called Kuzushiji; basically their form of cursive. They stopped using it nearly 700 years ago specifically because it was hard to read, and they wanted something standardized.”

“So we have to find someone to translate it,” Rage decides, snatching the document back. “It takes forever because people are assholes. I think that’s why this is Tokyo 2077, rather than 2050 or 2100. It was a complex time in Japan’s history. And the NPCs are just as modern as me, so now we need a scholar who studied this ancient form of writing, which will make it even harder. Zelda doesn’t have time for this!”

“It might actually be easier,” Colley reasons. “Scholars love history. If we go to the nearest university’s language department, they’ll probably be excited to see this.”

He was right. The Head of Linguistics is ecstatic to see the directions because he was programmed with a passion for dead languages. He agrees to transcribe it for them, but only into modern Japanese hiragana, and only if he gets to keep the document. That is absolutely fine. Once they know where to go, they won’t need anything else from it. Elise suggests that he start with the last step in case it’s the only one they need, and that turns out to be the right call. It saves them a ton of time. Rage has familiarized herself with the city enough to navigate. The problem was, the exit is in a bad neighborhood.

“Well, they’re all NPCs, right?” Elise asks. “One restriction when it comes to fighting is holding back so you don’t accidentally murder someone. But here, that doesn’t matter. We can go full force with anyone who attacks, and not feel bad.”

“It’s not that easy,” Colley contends. “Ambients are programmed to be reactive. If you fight harder, they fight harder. That’s why conventional wisdom says to use diversion combat methods, like aikido, or maybe judo. Try to deescalate the situation.”

“Again, Zelda doesn’t have time for that,” Rage argues, “and she didn’t teach us either of those things. I’m guessing you only know them academically.”

“Let’s just try not to make trouble, okay?” Minotaur suggests. “This isn’t a video game. A confrontation is not guaranteed to pass the level. We might be okay.”

Minotaur’s advice was sound but unfortunately inaccurate for their situation. They aren’t only in a dangerous part of town. They have to walk into a den of thieves, surrounded by people open-carrying firearms and underneath nude video billboards. While it’s true, they didn’t study the gentler martial arts, they do have an intuition for similar tactics, based on what they did practice with Zelda and Jolanda. The latter still being alive obviously takes point, but she isn’t able to handle all attackers on her own. Everyone has to participate, including kinder Colley. They keep moving as fast as possible to reach their exit. Luckily, there’s no final boss to destroy.

By the time they reach the door, they are all bloodied and bruised, but still breathing, and once they do open it, all the fighting ceases. The NPC criminals instantly begin to ignore them, and go on with their fake lives. So it is a little like a video game. Meanwhile, the hunters cross the threshold, through the magical dimensional portal, and back into the real world. They end up in the same basement, but it’s the polar opposite as it was before. It appears to be a school, or a childcare facility. They’re attacked again, but this time by a bunch of children gawking at the unusual strangers, who are mostly dressed in racing uniforms, and also one of them is a green moth.

Amidst all of this, they make their way back to the outer walls of the real Tokyo 2077 dome, get on the vactrain, and travel clear to the other side of the planet to The Terminal. This is where everyone who comes to this planet by casting their consciousness through the quantum network shows up. Every dome has its own highly secure vault of primary and backup substrates, and people have their own pods in their private residences. They don’t know where Zelda will end up, so this is the only place they can go to find out since it should store routing priority procedures in its database. This is the hard part, though. It’s time for a good old fashioned high-tech heist.

Microstory 2771: Three-Two-One Liftoff, Jetpack, Shoot Into Space

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Elise and Colley learn that the maze the other team members were making their way through is a rocket buried in the ground narratively from crashing. It’s heavily damaged, and not likely spaceworthy, so they’re pretty sure that their goal was never to learn how to pilot it. It is of apparent alien design, based on the mysterious writings and glyphs all over the place. One particular room off of what they believe to be the bridge is calling out to them, like path funneling in a video game. It just looks important. This is partially because it sits opposite the exit that led them back to their friends on the surface. This hunt is all about movement. It must be the next step in their journey.

They came across other locked doors, but they served mainly as dead ends for the maze portion of the challenge, because if the ship were real, it probably wouldn’t have actually been designed as a maze on purpose. This room is different, and they think Colley may be able to figure out how to unlock it. Their best guess is that it’s a puzzle.

Colley is standing at the door now, looking at the symbols carved into it, having already examined the writing on the consoles. Elise stands a little to the side. She has no idea what the symbols mean, but she’s watching Colley’s facial expressions closely. He doesn’t look like he’s studying them. His face is solemn and reflective. At times, it’s unclear if he’s looking at anything at all, or simply staring into space. After a moment, he pivots 45 degrees to look over at Rage. “You’ve always known.”

“What?” Rage questions. “I’ve always known what?”

Colley quietly looks back at the door. “You’ve always known we would end up here. Or maybe you thought this time would be different...that you could change it.” He looks back over at her again. “Which is it? Hope, or inevitability.”

Rage looks as confused as before, but then her face falls into cold understanding. “I did what I had to do. We’re so close. Next time, we’ll make it all the way, I know it.”

“What is going on?” Jolanda questions. “What are you two talking about?”

Colley begins to look around. “The door is dead. We got here too late.”

“There’s power,” Zelda reasons. “We can figure out how to reroute it to the door.”

“No,” Colley contends, shaking his head. “It’s not that kind of door. It’s powered by time, and the clock ran out before we even stepped foot in the maze.” He faces Minotaur. “Do you have any idea who brought you down here? Did you catch a glimpse? Any clue whatsoever?”

“No, why? I assumed it was Azad, or a programmed Ambient, like those pirates.”

“I don’t think they were supposed to grab you,” Colley begins. “I think someone was trying to help us get down here faster. It turned out to not be enough because of the other delays we faced, like Elise’s death, and Miracle’s surprise return. Rage knows more about it. She’s been here before. Haven’t you, Rage? You’ve been through all of this.”

“It’s not like that,” Rage says. “They give us different challenges every time. Even this last one is different. It’s the same crashed ship, but the path is always changed. That’s why I started recruiting Mino, so they would help us get through it faster. But like the man said, it wasn’t enough. The countdown has already begun.”

“Explain,” Minotaur presses. “What do you mean you started recruiting me?”

Rage sighs. “I don’t have the whole history, because I’m not always the designated survivor, but—you have to understand that at first, a part of me thought they were just dreams. When I could remember past attempts, I thought my brain was just making it up, because the memories don’t really feel like mine. The more time passes, the more I realize that they’re real, and I start actively trying to change things.”

“Ah,” Miracle says. “You don’t store all of your thoughts in the network. You learned how to keep them in another dimension. I probably taught you how. Though, if I did, why would I not have those memories?”

“Because you have to be the one who survives,” Rage explains. She points at the mysterious door. “Once we open that, two things will happen. The ship will ascend, and bathe this whole dome in exhaust and radiation. The dome is smaller than it looks. A single-person pod will unlock, and allow one of us to survive. That person’s consciousness alone will continue, go back to the beginning, and recruit everyone to try again. It’s usually me. We vote and agree that it will be me since I’ve become the one with the most context. I think I sometimes just don’t make it this far so you have to pick someone else. I have been trying different ways of winning, but delays add up. Speeding through it won’t work either, because it usually just ends up getting everybody killed. I made one huge change this time which got us closer than ever.”

“What did you change?” Zelda asks.

Rage looks over at Elise. “I recruited a seventh hunter. She was the missing piece. If we go one more time, I know that we can make it. You just have to let me get in that pod one more time. Once I regain access to the right equipment, I will send my consciousness back in time, like I always do, and restart. Please, trust me.”

“How can we trust you?” Colley questions. “You have been lying this whole time. Did you ever think of reading us in, and maybe we would work through it better?”

“Of course I’ve tried that,” Rage contends. “Those iterations go worse than any. We get in our own heads, and we get in our own way. Placing my trust in you is what gets us far, as well as thinking outside the box, like when I found Elise.”

“Why can’t we just walk out here right now?” Elise asks. She dips her head a little. “I can still see light coming in through the executive exit. We’ll go back to the desert, armed with water this time, and make our way to the wall. We won’t win the hunt, but all of our memories will remain intact, rather than only yours.”

Rage shakes her head. “We’ve tried that too. As soon as one person steps over that threshold, the ship takes off and burns them alive before they cross the desert. Anyone who manages to hold on and stay inside when that happens asphyxiates once the ship reaches altitude.”

“Well, we could teleport,” Elise turns to face the person who knows the most about all this time travel stuff. “Miracle, I’m surely charged up by now, aren’t I?”

Miracle nods. “You probably are, but you can only take two people at a time.”

“Yeah,” Rage agrees. “Miracle managed to retain her own powers in one iteration but that didn’t work either, because the ship launched, and I guess triggered some kind of teleportation suppression field. That’s when she taught me how to send my consciousness into the past. We were hoping to subvert the challenge changes, but we later decided that we decide what challenges come up, based on our dynamic and capacity for teamwork, which changes constantly. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I was trying to keep everything as predictable as possible.”

“But you said that I’m new,” Elise reasons. “You made a change, but also tried to keep everything the same? Which is it?”

“It’s both,” Rage answers. “It’s complicated. I’m sorry. It’s gonna happen again.”

Elise shakes her head. “What if I flew people out of here?” Elise asks. She turns to Miracle again. “I think I’m strong enough. The ship has to escape the dome somehow, right? It is a spaceship, after all, and there’s no outer space inside the dome.”

When Miracle defers to Rage, the latter goes on. “I once climbed into the escape pod, but intentionally didn’t escape right away, to see what would happen. Yes, it does fly all the way into space. You’re not strong enough to carry six people, though.”

“She won’t have to carry all six,” Miracle claims. She begins to stretch and roll her neck. “There’s a reason I’ve been so subdued since Hrockas made me come back in a different body. I’ve been focusing on induced limb growth.” She tenses up like she’s having a baby, and hunches her back. Two beautiful white angel wings sprout from her shoulder blades, and unfold before their eyes. It looks a little painful, but once it’s over, she smiles and breathes. “Ahhh, loophole!”

“Oh my God,” Zelda says. “That’s bad ass. You have to teach me how to do that.”

“There’s a problem, though,” Miracle says as she’s flapping her new wings, presumably to get used to them. “I couldn’t will myself to have superstrength, and it doesn’t sound like Elise has it either. I reckon we can each only take two passengers.”

“Someone’s going to have to stay behind,” Zelda realizes. “There’s apparently usually only one survivor, but this time, there will be one death. How poetic.”

“I’ll do it,” Colley volunteers. “Before you say anything, I don’t have any special argument in favor of it, but the way I see it, I called it first, so I win. I shouldn’t have to explain myself. I don’t have this big speech about what I learned, and what will happen to my alternate self when he wakes up with no memories. This is just gonna be what happens. So go on and yell all you want, but I’m not budging.”

Rage looks at him like he’s an idiot. “There’s still an escape pod,” she reminds him. “It’s got my name on it. I’ll take that. You take the ride.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense,” Colley agrees. “But we have to time it right.”

Everyone gets into position. Rage prepares to open the door with the code while the flyers stand at the exit, their respective passengers on either side of them. On Rage’s mark, they fly out of the hatch as fast as they can. Miracle gets going quickly, which triggers the launch sequence. Elise is having more trouble. Her wings may not be as fragile as a real Luna moth’s, but they’re not made of carbon nanotubes either. They’re still organic, and she still has limitations.

They’re only a few meters over the surface, and Elise is fighting just to stay at that level. She just can’t reach elevation. As she’s flapping her wings as hard as possible, they look down and see the sand slipping away from them like an hourglass. She’s not getting higher; the ground is getting lower as the ship displaces it with its initial lift off. The boosters are just about to fire and burn them to death. They have to go now.

“I guess I am gonna sacrifice myself!” Colley yells, obviously preparing to let go.

“No!” Elise cries. “Just hold on! I can do this!”

“There’s no time!” Colley shouts. “Don’t argue with me! Save Zelda!”

“Save Zelda?” Zelda questions. “I was born for this.” She lets go and plummets towards her death. “Wooooo!” They lose her amidst the rain of sand below.

Now there’s really no time...no time to mourn, no time to dwell. Elise tightens her grip on Colley, and flies up towards the zenith as flames nip at their heels.

Microstory 2737: The Whole Universe

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Sora takes half a step forward. “You—”

“I will handle this,” Pribadium!One insists. “You have done quite enough, Mr. Shimizu.” She looks at her alternate self. “You were killed in a streaming dead zone,” she explains bluntly. “You were on a manned mission to explore and investigate a dimensional barrier. There is a gap between your memory and the moment of cessation. It is not entirely clear how long, though. Your consciousness may have been transmitted to the afterlife buffer. You may be a duplicate. I am sorry for your loss.”

The other Pribadium blinks as she looks between the two of them. “What is the last thing I should recall? Because I don’t remember any of that. I don’t know this dimensional barrier, I don’t know him, and I don’t know you.”

Pribadium!One winces. “I’m Pribadium, an alt of you.” She gestures towards her own face. “This is how we originally looked.” She stops for a moment to think. “Well, it’s not exactly how we used to look, but it’s fairly close. Who do you think you are?”

“I’m Pribadium,” the dupe contends, almost combatively. It doesn’t seem right to think of her as Pribadium!Two since so much has evidently been lost. “I don’t recognize your face at all. I don’t know what you mean by alt. I’m the only me that has ever been.”

Pribadium!One points to a nearby mirror. “Do you recognize that face?”

The other Pribadium walks towards it and touches her own chin and cheek. “Yes, this is the Stonehenge model. It explains why I have a British accent I suppose.”

“What did I do?” Sora questions. “Did I pull the wrong backup? I grabbed the second most recent one. I assumed the most recent one was you. It was time-stamped earlier today. There were no other iterations. How did this happen?” He is distraught.

Pribadium!One sighs. “There should have only been two, and you’re right, the most recent one would have been me. If you had pulled the wrong one, what should be happening is that she thinks she’s me. But she doesn’t think she’s either of us. Her mind has been entirely corrupted.” She clears her throat. “Pribadium!Three—that’s what we’re going to need to call you—I need to run some tests on you. Do I have your consent?”

Pribadium!Three stares at who she perceives to be a stranger. “I will run the tests. I don’t trust you, and I don’t need you.” She strips off what little clothing she has on, climbs into the nearest medical pod, and begins to operate it herself. She programs it for a full diagnostic run, which will include periods of unconsciousness. “I’m locking you out of the pod, but I would like you to leave the room as well.”

Pribadium!One starts to pull Sora away when he doesn’t move immediately.

“I’m sorry,” Sora desperately apologizes to the mysterious duplicate in the pod.

“It’s okay,” Pribadium!Three replies. “Je pense, donc je suis.”

Sora’s eyes widen, recalling that as the phrase he used for her as well. Still, he allows himself to be dragged out of the room. “Did you hear what she said?”

“Yes, it doesn’t mean anything. It’s only a coincidence,” Pribadium!One is not sure she believes that, though. She opens her mouth to continue, but he interrupts.

“Don’t say what you’re going to say. I know, I was rash and impulsive. I’m sorry.”

What’s done is done, so they just wait out in the corridor for Pribadium!Three to finish. She comes out half an hour later. “I know what I am now. I’m not Pribadium.”

“Who are you then?” Pribadium!One presses.

“I’m the universe.”

Microstory 2736: Introducing Pribadium!Three

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Pribadium didn’t think that Sora—or anyone, for that matter—would be able to bypass her security protocols, so she doesn’t rush to chase after him. Once she sees him enter the substrate library, however, she grows worried. She immediately tries to teleport into the room with him, but the closest she gets is outside in the hallway. He has managed to not only breach the sector, but lock her out if. How did he do that?

She bangs on the hatch. “How are you doing this?” She bangs on it more.

Sora looks at her through the view window with a frown. He holds up an object so she can see. It’s a cephalobud, and it looks like it’s already been used and spent.

Pribadium invented it a few decades ago. It’s somewhat comparable to other neural drives, except this model can pull information directly from the timestream. It allows a user to download whatever digital data they want into their brains. Unlike other kinds, this will transfer knowledge even if you’re not digitized. It’s very dangerous, especially for a normal human like Sora. Time travelers have different neurology and biology, and that’s who she designed it for. It was kind of a weekend project that she forgot about. He must have found it in her lab, though, when she left him alone earlier.

“Your external security is extremely robust,” Sora explains, “but your internal security is laughable. I didn’t download the secrets of the universe, but I did capture the specs of this base. I thought you might turn on me, and I would need to escape.”

“You’re the one who has turned,” Pribadium argues. “Don’t do this.”

Sora looks around, presumably searching for Pribadium!Two’s next substrate. “I like this one. She looks even less like you than you two before. It will be easier to tell you apart.” He approaches the console, and starts working it like a pro.

“Sora, this isn’t what she wanted. She’s literally gone to a better place. It’s fine.”

“You don’t know that,” Sora responds as he keeps working. “You two split from each other over a year ago, according to her. She and I apparently...” He trails off. “You don’t know her anymore. She was a different person, and I’m going to give her a choice.”

Pribadium shakes her head. “That goes against every principle you have. If you truly felt that way, you would have digitized and enhanced yourself years ago, yet here you are, a totally normal organic human. You of all people should understand our ways.”

“I’m not normal anymore.” He taps on the back of his neck where he would have applied the cephalobud. “Now I know why people do this. It’s better to have power than to not. Even if you don’t use it, it’s better to not let others have power over you.”

Pribadium sees the pod power up. “Don’t! You still have time to undo it!”

Sora hovers his hand over the interface and turns his head to look at Pribadium. “She’ll thank me one day, even if she’s mad now. Elle pense, donc...elle est.” He hits it.

The stasis pod continues to power up as Sora stands back. He watches it as he sidesteps over and unlocks the hatch for who now has to go back to being called Pribadium!One. They both watch now as the IDCode downloads and unpacks itself in the new body, rewiring the neural pathways in realtime to bring Pribadium!Two back to life. This wasn’t part of the plan, but there is nothing to be done about it now. Now that she’s alive, she will want to stay that way, which Sora would probably point out means she always deserved to. Duping is philosophically complex. Millennia after it was first being contemplated, ethicists have still not figured it out.

The pod opens. The new Pribadium!Two climbs out. She regards them. “Report.”

Microstory 2634: In the Doghouse

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Mandica is less than four weeks into her trip, yet 48 years have passed for the rest of the universe. She thinks about that sometimes. If she had never latched onto this relativistic ship, she would be 76 at this point. A couple of centuries ago, had she died at that age, people would have said that she lived a good, long life. Now 76 is still quite young, even for the undigitized. It’s not like she doesn’t accept any medical intervention. For the less enhanced, it’s still unusual to not make it to at least 100. But that means in about 15 or 20 days, she will have passed her own expected lifespan. Her parents were already pretty old when they had her, and she was only 22 when they died themselves. She spent the next six years carrying on their nomadic legacy, but alone...except for Mordred and her bot pack. It is finally time to move on from that. By the time this arkship comes to a full stop, it will be the 26th century. Who knows what the world will look like by then? She doesn’t even really know what it looks like now. Castlebourne isn’t open to the public yet. They only announced it early to build hype, and give ship travelers like her time to cover the expanse.

Most people have no use for the ships. Once Castlebourne does officially open, they will simply transmit their consciousnesses through the quantum network, and arrive in a matter of days at worst. She doesn’t know if they will have facsimile substrates waiting for them or skeletal android bodies, or what. She doesn’t pay attention to that stuff because it doesn’t apply to her. She has chosen to not be able to do it. Those are the values that her family instilled in her. You’re born, you live, you die. That is the cycle. That is how humans have been doing it for millions of years. That’s what life is. She honors her ancestors by becoming one of them one day. Going on this trip isn’t changing the plan, it’s just delaying it by a century, and making it happen on a different planet. If someone had invented faster-than-light travel like they have on the TV shows, she would have absolutely done it that way instead, and stayed on the schedule that her parents predicted for her. But this is what she has. She has a 108-year wait, experienced as 56 days. Then, for the next 80 or 90 years after that, she will lead the kind of life that she wants, and die peacefully on her terms.

Mandica set herself up with exigent alerts. While she can’t see outside—which is normally no problem, because there’s usually nothing to see—the pod has external sensors, keeping tabs on the environment. That environment is always shifting as they’re shooting through space at luminal speeds. That’s a new word she learned. Luminal is for those extremely high relativistic speeds that allow her to survive the journey in a reasonable amount of time. Any slower, and it’s not worth it given her lifespan. That gift isn’t enough now, though. There’s a breach in the hull. Nothing in the ship is going to die, but it needs to be dealt with, and they will send a bot out here to do that. Since there are live specimens on board, most of the vessel has to be spun to simulate gravity using centrifugal force. They don’t spin that whole thing, though. The spinning section is fully enclosed, and kept separate from the hull using electromagnets. The spinning cylinder is fine for now, but they can’t just leave that gaping hole there like that. Someone will come eventually.

The alert told that there was a problem, but it didn’t give her the whole story. A deeper dive into the “local news” explained it further. A micrometeoroid, probably the size of a grain of sand, managed to make it through the shielding, and puncture a hole in the front of the arkship. The EM shield surely slowed it down, after the plasma shield ionized it, but wasn’t enough to deflect it, and definitely could not have stopped it. Since the space between the spinning cylinder and the hull is also a vacuum, it was able to continue to fly backwards like a bullet. It then blasted another hole in the back as an exit wound. Right now, the automated systems are prioritizing that entry wound, because it makes them more vulnerable, but it’s only a matter of time before they head this way. It’s close enough to where Trilby attached the barnacle that a bot would spot her. She doesn’t know exactly how it will react, but it won’t ignore her. It will report the intrusion to a higher tier intelligence at the very least. She has to act.

But what can she do here? She can’t just move the barnacle somewhere else. This entire back section is exposed, and she is visible to anything nearby. She might be able to slowly walk around the engine nozzles, and hide behind them, but that’s a long-ass walk, and dangerous. Trilby said there’s a reason he chose to stick her in this spot. Even though the ship is coasting, and the engines aren’t on full right now, they still generate heat. Her suit, the tether, the barnacle; any of things could suffer damage during transit. She has to think, and she has to think fast. The port side maybe? That might be fine for now, but she’ll then be exposed to the kinds of micrometeoroids that just ruptured the hull. Again, that’s why Trilby put her right here. The way she sees it, she only has one choice at this point. It’s incredibly risky, but the worst that could happen is the bots finally do apprehend her. If she tries any alternative she could die instead.

Mandica gathers everything she can, namely the half-complement of dayfruit growers. After a quiet goodbye to her temporary home, she untethers herself from the barnacle, initiates the release procedures, and watches it fly off into the nothingness. Now she’s staring into the black. It’s haunting. Nothing on Earth is as black as this. No stars, no debris, just endless void. Everything is completely redshifted and invisible to the naked eye. They are simply moving too far away from it all. She shudders and turns away. It shouldn’t be her concern right now. There is no way to know how soon the repair bots will come. She trudges across the hull as fast as she can, which isn’t very fast. Her magboots have to be on maximum, unlike they would be if she were on the inside since a misstep out here could cost someone their life. She sees it with her flashlight now. It’s the hole. Man, is it huge. She was worried about being able to fit, but it’s not going to be a problem at all. You could send a truck through this thing if you had to.

She carefully contorts her leg to magnetize against the edge. To a giant, it would be an edge, but to her, the hull is so thick, it’s like its own wall. She walks along it until she’s fully inside. Now she’s looking at the rotating cylinder, moving at about one rotation every two minutes. It seems to be holding up. She watches it go by, looking for something—anything—to grasp onto. There, that’s it. It’s some kind of access panel. Hopefully, it grants her access to the inside, and not just wiring, or something. She leaps. The microthrusters on her PRU are designed for helium and neon, so they’re not particularly powerful, but they keep her pointed in the right direction. She grabs the handle, and holds on. Then she turns it and pulls. It’s unlocked, which makes sense, because who would they be worried about breaking in? Pirates? Insane human stowaways? She crawls up the tunnel, and comes out through a hatch in the ground, surrounded by timber wolves. “Hm. Could be worse.” It is here that she spends the next four weeks trying to figure out how she’s going to get off the ship unnoticed.

Microstory 2633: Riding the Blinds

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It’s the year 2424, and the trip to Castlebourne will take 108 years, because it is 108 light years away, and the ship will be able to travel at just under light speed. Due to special relativity, however, it will only feel like a couple of months for anyone on the ship. That preposition is more appropriate for Mandica than for anyone or anything else. They will actually be inside of it while she’ll be on the outside, like a parasite.

“That’s not the right term,” her pilot argues. “It makes it sound like you’re hurting the ship. I promise, it won’t even notice you. You’re not a parasite, it’s...” He trails off as he looks it up on his device. “Phoretic. You’re a phoresy. Yeah, that sounds better.”

“You literally called the pod The Barnacle,” Mandica argues.

“It’s a joke,” he defends.

“That hat is a joke,” she snaps back. She knows, she shouldn’t be so mean.

“Uh, it’s a trilby, and it’s what we call retro-stylish,” he boasts.

“All right, Trilby.” She notices that he seems to like that nickname. “Tell me how this works so I don’t vaporize myself in the middle of interstellar space.”

Trilby literally pulls back the curtain to show the little pod that she’ll be in. It looks like the inside of a nutshell, but only half of it. There is no other half. This will evidently be sealed against the hull, so the hull acts as the fourth wall, and if that seal ever breaks, she’ll be exposed to the vacuum of outer space. “Okay. You’ll have to be in your Integrated Multipurpose Suit when we begin, helmet and all. You can hold onto these handles so you don’t slip off. Of course, you’ll be tethered, but if you slip out during the process, the seal will snap that tether, and you’ll start to float away.”

“Got it. Hold on tight.”

“Right,” he agrees. “Once it’s sealed, I wouldn’t unseal it until you reach your destination, or you’ll be screwed. It can be resealed, but you would have to keep your grip on it for that to work, so just don’t do it. There’s no door. You can only get out by detaching from the hull. I assume you’re halfway decent with computers. Everything you need is on this console, and it will interface with your suit. It has its own powersource, but it’s minimal, so I suggest you let it siphon from the arkship. Don’t worry, it’s a small pod, and you’re only one person, so the power draw will be well within the margin of error. As long as you don’t do anything crazy, you won’t be detected.”

“Can I take my helmet off in transit, or even my suit?”

“Helmet off should be fine. This thing has its own climate control. I would leave the suit on most of the time, however. If you do remove it, do it in short bursts to let your body breathe, but don’t fall asleep like that, or anything. It’ll be a tight seal, but I won’t be there to fix any issues. It will all be up to you.” He lifts a flap on the end of the console. “Here’s a copy of the operator’s manual, in paper form. There’s obviously a virtual version of it, but this is just in case. He opens a small cupboard. It also has dayfruit growers, but I could only fit four of them, so you’ll want to supplement with the meal bars below it, and your dayfruit smoothie in your Portable Resource Unit. I don’t remember how long regular humans can go without food, so rationing will be up to you. Just be careful and pay attention to your supplies.”

Mandica sighs and looks over her little lifeboat. “Any exercise equipment? I’ve actually never been to space before today, and I spent most of the time hiding in that shipping container. But I hear that we regular humans have trouble with zero-g over long periods of time. I assume I’m subject to the inertial dampeners, or I simply wouldn’t survive high relativistic speeds at all anyway.”

Trilby nods. “The pod will leech from the inertial dampeners, but it’s weird because of how it attaches.” He points to some of the controls. “You’ll be able to tune it, however. If you just turn this dial, it will lower the effects slightly, allowing you to make the back of the pod down. Don’t be scared of it, you will not be able to turn your private dampeners so far down that you splatter against the wall. And this isn’t even the wall. Think of it as the floor. See? Here’s your bed.” He slides the bed lid away. Because of this little shuttle’s own inertial dampeners, it looks like the bed is up against the wall, but that will change once she’s attached and on the move. “You can still do exercise. Your suit has a number of programs built in, which you can peruse yourself. Just be sure to narrow the results to close-quarters, or it may try to get you to run away.”

Mandica nods repeatedly. She’s growing quite nervous. It was bad enough when he snuck her onto the space elevator, but now she will be completely alone. If this fragile thing pops off, and she manages to survive that, she won’t be able to get into the ship. She won’t be able to ask for help. Even in an emergency—even if she’s willing to get caught—the arkship may be fully automated, and help may be difficult. Some bots don’t respond to black swan events. They won’t know how to respond to her pleas. And she’s not going to ask this guy if there will be any intelligence present, because nothing should go wrong at all. She will be tucked away safely for two months, and be free of Core World rule forever. She doesn’t hate the establishment, but she wants to remove herself from it, and this is the only way. She can’t afford the energy credits for anything else.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Trilby says to her.

“Have you done this before?”

“Not this exact thing, but I’ve tested the barnacle pod. It will work, as long as you treat it right, and don’t push the wrong buttons.”

“No pressure,” she says.

He takes a chance and places a hand upon her shoulder. “You’ll do well.”

She doesn’t know him, but he’s been helping her, and risking a lot to do it, so she decides to go for it and give him a hug. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He looks over at his screen. “We’re comin’ up on it. Remember what I taught you, and for everything else, rely on your survival instincts. Digitized people don’t have those anymore, but yours will know what to do. Better put on your other two IMS layers, but first, fix your inner layer. You have it on backwards. The autozipper goes in back. Let me know when you’re ready. I have to seal the bulkhead before I open the airlock, but we’ll be able to talk on comms. I’ll stay with you until I get out of range myself, or the arkship launches, and you speed away in a flash.”

“All right.” She puts her suit all the way on, and tethers herself to the barnacle pod. He opens the airlock, and lets the pod drift out for a little bit before seizing it with his grabber claws. He maneuvers the barnacle in front of his shuttle as he makes his approach. She wants to close her eyes, but that would just be unsafe, so she watches. She looks around for any cameras, drones, or lurking spacewalkers. No one. No one will know she’s here. The claws push the pod forward, and automated systems automatically latch on. The vacuum seal engages until she’s fully secure. They spend the next few hours getting to know each other better before the arkship powers up and flies away.

Microstory 2630: If You’re Going Through Hell...Keep Going

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April 3, 2527. Each pod can hold about 2,500 people, and with three tether systems running concurrently, that means around 2.16 million people can be evacuated every day. On the north side of the planet, only around 147 million people ultimately needed to evacuate. The rest had died, transferred their consciousnesses to other worlds, or refused to leave. A lot of the people who had originally settled in the surviving domes saw no reason to go, and no one spent much effort trying to convince them otherwise. The future is wildly uncertain at this point. Science suggests that the poles will remain safe indefinitely, but that’s assuming nothing more changes about Proxima Centauri, and that anyone truly understands what’s happening. This has never occurred before. If Earth were this hostile, nothing would have likely evolved on it, let alone a species as intelligent as humans. The safe bet is to leave, but many don’t see it that way.

It’s been 69 days now. Breanna, Cash, Notus, and Calypso are still here, along with a handful of Tangent workers who are just finishing up. They have made one final announcement in case anyone wants to change their mind, but it’s time to leave now. People have had multiple chances to get on board, so this is it. They need to pack up and head off to the southern pole to do it all again. It is reportedly going to take a lot longer, as more of them want to leave, but the four of them have completed their responsibilities. They weren’t even expected to stay for the whole two-month stint, but they did, because they wanted to help. They have not been shown a whole lot of gratitude for their efforts by the evacuating Domanians, but that’s not why they did it, and it was a rewarding experience anyway. The Bungulans initially left two pods down here as staging pods. Each one is several stories tall, so filing everyone in was a lot faster when they were already in place. One of those staging pods has finally gone back up, completely empty, which means it can do it a lot faster. This last one is for the last remaining workers. They all climb the steps, along with Heracles.

“Wait! Wait, wait, wait!” Someone says. He’s jogging through the holo-stanchions, and jumping on stage. It’s none other than Sorel Arts.

“Hey,” Breanna says after he climbs into the pod. “You’re coming with us?”

“Yeah, everyone who’s ever gonna say yes to the upload has already done so. I see no point in wasting my time here. The southerners need my help now.”

“Good on ya,” Cash says. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Likewise,” Sorel replies as the doors are closing.

One of the Bungulan workers comes over as the pod is closing and being moved out to the tether. “Listen, we were hoping to do an express trip. Can you all handle that? The pod isn’t equipped with inertial dampeners. We had to manufacture too many of them on our way here. It was simpler to basically just make a tin can tied to a string.”

“How many Gs are we talking’ here?” Breanna presses.

The Bungulan reaches over and waves a sliding door open. “A hundred and twenty. Because we have to break through the atmosphere first, so it will take nearly fifteen minutes total.” She steps to the side, revealing what’s in the other room. It’s a giant tank of some kind of fluid. Breanna is guessing perfluorocarbon.

“We’re trained for that,” Cash says, pointing to herself and Breanna. “They’re not,” she explains, indicating Notus and Calypso.

“No, it’s all right. We can handle it,” Calypso insists.

“You don’t understand,” Breanna says. “If you accelerated at these speeds without that tank, it would kill you. No matter what, unless you’re maybe a couple of certain someones, there would be nothing you could do to survive.” She gestures towards the tankroom. “This allows us to do it without feeling the full effects of such extreme acceleration, but you’re submerged in a special water that you breathe through your skin as it also fills your lungs. Everyone panics the first time. Even I did, and that was a controlled pull, at a lower acceleration than this.” She faces the Bungulan. “I’m sorry, I won’t allow it. You’ve been at this for seven months. You can wait sixteen more hours.”

“No.” Notus steps forward. “We have been through this much. We did things we never thought we would. None of those things was our choice, but this is. Let us do it. We promise, we’ll make it through. Even if it traumatizes us, it’s a story that we can tell our grandkids one day.”

“Our grandkids?” Calypso echoes.

“Our...respective...collective...grandkids.” Nice save.

“I assure you, it’s quite safe,” the Bungulan promises. “You won’t be able to talk, but it comes with an AI coach. Even the veterans will hear it guide us through the experience. The voice has been clinically tested, and proven to be fairly universally calming and helpful without sounding robotic or irritating.”

Breanna sighs and looks at her friends. They all seem amenable to the idea, and he’s right that it’s safe. The concern is not that something will go wrong, but that they won’t like, and won’t be able to tell anyone to stop. “Well, because of the atmosphere, I suppose we have to start off rather slowly anyway, so that will give us some time for human coaching, right?”

“Right,” the Bungulan agrees.

“Okay, fine,” Breanna concedes. “I’ve never actually done it in the field, so you’ll have to walk us through it. Explain like we’re five.”

“We can do that.”

Everybody climbs into the tank, and dips into the water. At first it feels like nothing, and then they move. They can feel the resistance of the thick fluid surrounding them, but still, the suit itself is fully sealed. Once everyone is in, the pod begins to move, but at very low speeds. The Bungulan instructs them on what to do. The suit, being as versatile as it is, is designed with the ability to accommodate this very thing. Valves open to let the fluid in. It’s the weirdest part. Humans evolved without the ability to breathe underwater. They are hardwired to not even try. It takes a great deal of will to force one’s self to overcome that impulse. Yet everyone does. While they’re still moving at fairly low speeds—though already accelerating—the group reports being prepared for this. Notus retains the wherewithal to send a message to Heracles, who is still in the main area of the pod, telling him that they’ll see each other on the other side. The pod moves faster and faster. Then it goes faster, faster, faster, and faster. The AI voice responds to their reactions, and alters its guidance accordingly. It’s rough and frightening, but they all get through it. Minutes later, they’re on the platform. Breanna may never see Proxima Doma again. She’s not sure yet if she wants to head for the southern pole, or take a shuttle somewhere else. She doesn’t have to decide right away.

Delegator Chariot greets them when they arrive. “Welcome to The Tangent. The Captain would like to meet you.”

Microstory 2607: You Ever Find Yourself Hanging off the Edge of a Building, You’re Gonna Wanna Do At Least One

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August 19, 2526. Breanna and Cashmere’s joint escape pod is dangling from the side of the dome, but they don’t know how long the parachute is going to last. It might tear or slip off any second now. Breanna finishes synthesizing their status, and coming up with a plan. “We’re too far in the center of this pane.”

“What does that prevent us from doing?” Cashmere asks.

“We can melt the frame of this dome using an overboosted impulsive burn, and break a pane off. If the pressure doesn’t suck us right through immediately, we can then slip in and jump to safety.”

“Why don’t we release the parachute, and use the remaining thruster fuel to glide down on the outside of the dome?”

“Because there’s not enough fuel.”

“We could supplement it with the back-up parachute.”

Breanna shakes her head, knowing that Cashmere can’t see her. “We can’t control our descent in this thing. Whatever expanded the atmosphere is causing unpredictable weather patterns. We could end up knocking against the dome over and over again, leading to severe blunt force trauma. It’s a miracle that the main chute didn’t snap. We can’t risk the back-up. If it fails, we’re done for. No, the safest way down is for us to use our own personal chutes, free from the confines of the pod, and as far from the dome structure as possible.”

“I’m not arguing with you,” Cashmere replies, “I just want to make sure you have all of your options. Sometimes really smart people like you don’t see the dumb obvious things that people like me can’t see beyond.”

“It’s not the worst idea, but something happened to this planet, and until we figure out what, I only want us taking minimal risks.”

“Okay,” Cashmere begins, “I’m in. But how do we get the thrusters to where they need to be?”

Breanna hesitates to answer, because this is the hard part. “I sent a flutterby drone to inspect our situation. The canopy is hanging off of a maintenance dock. There’s currently no repair beetle on charge, thank God, or it wouldn’t have been able to snag. Most of the suspension lines are hooked separately, however, on a rectenna. They’re holding us up higher. If those lines were to let go, the pod would drop down far enough for the thrusters to be kissing the frame below us.”

“So get your flutterby to cut the lines,” Cashmere suggests.

“They’re made out of a graphene-infused fiber. The flutterby isn’t nearly strong enough to cut through that. I’ll have to go out there, and use the emergency escape torch.”

“No, I’ll do it,” Cashmere volunteers.

“You don’t have the experience.”

“And you do? Hung off a lot of domes lately? I know how to use a torch, and it should be me, because I’m on top. I would have to move out of the way to let you get out instead. That just doesn’t make any sense.”

Breanna obviously already thought of that logic, but it’s not her place to delegate work. She has no rank, no authority. She was only on that ship as a passenger. To be fair, the same goes for Cashmere. Though, she is more of a nomadic tourist. “Okay, but you can’t cut them all at once. We want the pod to slip as slowly as possible so the drone dock still holds the canopy.”

“Got it,” Cashmere says as she’s shifting to prepare to leave. “One at a time. Red wire, green wire, blue wire. Give me yellow, I’ll paint you the world.”

“Okay, take my hand,” Breanna offers, reaching down. “When I open the hatch, it’s probably gonna break off, and you could go flying out after it.”

Cashmere obliges. “M’lady.”

“Ready. Four, three, two, one, mark.” She pops the hatch open. It does go flying off its hinges. Cashmere starts to slip out of the pod, but Breanna manages to hold onto her. “Mag, mag, mag!” she urges.

Cashmere magnetizes herself to the bottom of the pod, but doesn’t stay there long. She begins to climb, letting Breanna give her a boost, and taking the torch along.

“Keep shakin’ that bush,” Breanna shouts. “Let me know how you’re doing!”

“Almost through the first line!” She doesn’t have to announce it when she does make it through, because the pod violently drops down a little.

“Keep one eye on the canopy to make sure it’s holding!”

“Aye, captain!” Cashmere returns. She keeps working on the suspension lines, breaking through them one by one. Finally, with the last one, the thrusters are close enough to the frame.

“Okay, come back!”

“Just burn!”

“It’s safer in here!”

“There’s no door anymore!”

“Just get your ass back down here!” Brenna demands.

Without another word, Cashmere finally reappears. She carefully steps onto the floor of the pod, and remagnetizes. “I love it when you comment on my ass,” she says as she’s hugging Breanna for safety, and only for safety, right?

“Shut up. Is everything sexual to you?”

“Sex is everything,” she defends.

Breanna rolls her eyes. With the hatch gone, she has to use the manual controls on the side, which means she has to physically feel for how much fuel is being dispensed. No readouts here. She’s gonna burn fast and hard. If the fire goes out, and that frame hasn’t melted, they’re gonna have to take their chances out here, and hope the wind carries their gliders to safety. “Four, three, two, one, burn.” She pushes the flush lever to the side with her thumb. It hurts because it’s stiff, and doesn’t want to be moved. She only has to hold for a few seconds, though. The flutterby reports that the diamond pane has turned, revealing a small gap between it and the frame. Plus, the fuel has run out. The gauge was broken, having claimed higher levels.

“What do we do now?” Cashmere asks.

“Shit, I don’t know,” Breanna responds. “We might need to get out and kick it with our f—aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!”

Microstory 2606: There But For the Grace of God Go I, Yet I May Be Next

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August 19, 2526. Comms Officer Jeffries is operating the auxiliary station when the call comes in. He presses the tentative emergency button before the message completes, then listens intently to the rest. We’re experiencing a major hyperflare! You need to prepare for what comes next! You need to prepare for— is all he catches before the signal is cut. It doesn’t matter what the guy was trying to say, because there are only a few possibilities, and none of them is good. He doesn’t get the chance to hit the genuine emergency button before someone else hits it for him. He’s only on secondary duty right now. Everyone else is working the problem as the whole of Terminator Sentinel Alpha goes into mauve alert. His daughter is his number one priority now.

Jeffries races out of the room, and down the corridors, sliding against the wall as other people are racing to their own responsibilities. He finds Breanna in their unit, already putting on her integrated multipurpose suit. He smiles at her. “Good girl.”

“What are we doing?” she asks.

“Crew of Sentinel Alpha,” comes the voice of the captain through the intercom, “we are preparing for a hard turn into the nightside of the planet. Brace for inertial dampener disruption. Everyone is at PREPCON ONE. I repeat, all hands to PREPCON ONE! This is not a drill.”

“That,” Officer Jeffries replies to his daughter. “Get your helmet on.”

“What about you?”

“I ran out of the room without it,” he explains.

“You should have an extra one in here,” she argues.

“It’s in maintenance.”

“Goddammit,” she complains.

“I just need to get you to safety,” is all he’s able to say before the inertial dampeners glitch. He’s suddenly thrown against the wall. IMS units have their own onboard dampeners. It doesn’t save Breanna from the lurch entirely, but she survives it. Her father does not. Well, he does survive for a moment. His head is covered in blood. He’s enhanced, but not enough. He should have been wearing his full suit. Why wasn’t he wearing his suit? “Get to the pod,” he instructs. “Get out of here. You need to get underneath the magnet.” And then he dies.

She knows she doesn’t have time to mourn him. He wouldn’t want her dying up here too. Her body is more advanced than his, but she can’t survive everything. She runs out of the room, and down the corridor until she reaches the escape pod bay. She has always thought that each unit should have their own, instead of all in central locations, but this is an old ship, and they didn’t think of that yet. All of the pods are gone save one. She bolts towards it, but another girl shows up at the same time from the other entrance. “Cashmere.”

Cashmere switches her gaze between the pod and Breanna. “They’re technically large enough to fit two people.”

“Not with helmets on,” Breanna argues. There’s another lurch, but their magboots keep them upright.

“You ever heard of sixty-nining?”

“Jesus! Not the time!”

“To save our lives, there absolutely is.” Cashmere doesn’t wait for consensus. She pushes Breanna into the pod. Then she gets on top of her facing the opposite direction, filling in the space between her Breanna’s legs with her helmet. “You gotta operate the controls.”

“I know,” Brenna argues. “This better work, or we’ll both die. Goddamn pods designed like goddamn coffins!” she mutters as she’s engaging the pod. She flips on the boosters, and jettisons the pod out of the bay. It flies from the ship at Mach 20. They can see the planet below them through their HUDs. “Beginning decay.”

“I can see that,” Cashmere says.

“I know, but you’re supposed to announce it. Didn’t you read the manual?”

“I’m waiting for the adaptation!”

“Just let me know if you pass out, okay?”

“Will do, captain.”

“Targeting the northern pole,” Breanna announces. “Twenty minutes until atmospheric drag.”

They lie there together for another few minutes, not saying anything, but just stewing in the awkwardness. Suddenly, alarms start going off. They no longer feel the soft curve of their arc, but the shudder of turbulence. “What happened?” Cashmere questions.

“The atmosphere is too close. This doesn’t make any sense.”

“It’s expanded,” Cashmere guesses.

“How?” Breanna cries

“I don’t know!”

They begin to plummet like a stone, at a far steeper angle than they planned on. Their ablative shielding peels off piece by piece. It’s too early to pull the parachute, though. They have to wait until they’re closer to the surface. “Wait for it,” Breanna says. “Wait for it,” she repeats. “Brace for chute.”

“Oh, I don’t think we can brace any more than this.”

Breanna can’t rely on the computer to make the calculations as its estimation of the distance to the planet was about 500 kilometers off. She hovers her hand over the button, forcing her mind to stay alert so she doesn’t succumb to the g-forces. Finally, it’s time. “Now!”

The chute opens. The pod flips up so she’s fully upright, and Cashmere is upside down as they wait to complete the descent. “Do you know where you’re going?”

“There’s a dome not far from here. The thrusters will be able to push us close enough to it so we don’t have to walk far,” Breanna answers.

They fall and fall and fall, slowly, but certainly not gently. Her mental calculations are slightly off when it turns out they were actually a lot closer to the dome than she thought. They end up crashing into the side of it. The only reason they don’t slide down from there is because the chute gets caught on something. Now they’re hanging, and they don’t know what to do.

“Rescuers are gonna find us six months from now, and will think that we died having sex,” Cashmere mused.

“No, they won’t,” Breanna contends. “I’m gonna figure this out. Just...shut up.”