Microstory 2589: Libera Pulls the Hammer Back on the Gun That’s Pointed at Quidel

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Libera pulls the hammer back on the gun that’s pointed at Quidel. It’s a cliché, she knows, but it’s that way for a reason. It’s effective. Obviously, it doesn’t make it more accurate, and she has the steady hands of a surgeon, but she had to do something to become more threatening than she already was. Here is where things get interesting. “You know, if I kill you, you’ll just wake up in your primary substrate. I have little incentive not to if it shows these others that I mean business.”

“Right, but I’m the only one who knows where the package is,” Quidel volleys.

Libera moves her arm slightly, so the gun is now trained on Lycander. “Then I’ll kill him. He too is just in a tempo.”

“But I’m the only one who knows the combination,” Lycander contends. “And before you suggest that you’ll just break it open, it’s being housed in a Tantalum-Vanadium case. You can’t crack that without blowing it up, which will almost certainly destroy the gooey center that you’re after.”

“Well, I have to kill someone to prove my point, and I’m obviously not going to kill my daughter.” She tilts her head like she’s just gotten an idea, but she obviously did the math instantly. She shoots the Ambient with her other gun.

“No!” Renata laments as he tips over the railing, and down to the floor below.

“Eee-nnnh!” Libera buzzes when Renata tries to turn around for the stairs. “Take one more step, and I’ll kill the boy anyway. Sure, I’ll have to interrogate him on the outside, which risks exposure to other forces, but I will do it, and you will never see him again, because once he gives me what I need, I’ll just be able to kill him permanently.”

“I have a back-up,” Quidel boasts. “Multiple back-ups. Standard procedure.”

“And when was your last update to your other backups?” Libera poses. “Recent enough to remember the device? Your feelings for the girl? That she even exists at all?”

“Hm. Good point,” Quidel admits. “Before she can do anything, he unsheaths his own knife, and jams it into his neck.”

Libera is frozen for a second. She has to get to him before he can wake up in his other body. If he manages to kill himself from there, the knowledge of the location of the device might be lost forever. Whatever back-up of his mind that activates later won’t have any recollection of that. She doesn’t have time to run all the way there. She took the liminal routes before, even though they were slower, because they aren’t very heavily monitored, and she has control of the Custodians now anyway. And it doesn’t raise any alarm bells. Teleporting will. This whole dome has sensors that will pick up temporal anomalies, because that’s exactly what they are; anomalies. It may be the only way now, though. If she can pull this off—if she can even only see the specifications for this device—she might be able to just build one herself, and none of what the planet owner does or tries will matter. So she disappears, and ends up in the substrate storage sector.

Here is where things get tricky, because it’s not like there is some central database where she can simply query a name, and find out a location. It’s highly secure specifically so nothing like what she’s trying to do is possible. Each storage chamber has its own sensors and logs, which are stored on-site, and transmitted later, at the behest of the substrate owner. The ceilings are made of a semi-transparent material, allowing just enough light for a drone to hover overhead and check for any threats or other major issues. If there aren’t any, nearly all of its memory is immediately erased while it continues on its patrol. Unless it detects something actionable, the only things it stores are the name of the user and their location. In the real world, guns have not been completely eradicated, but many of the reasons to have and use them have gone away. The motivations just aren’t there in a post-scarcity society. Furthermore, they’re mostly illegal for territorial protection. They’re seen as an expectation of violence, which could be what leads to unnecessary violence. This sector is different. The purpose of this place is to store people’s bodies while they are off using different substrates. The implication is that if you’re in here, your mind is already digitally backed up. That is the loophole that allows these drones to be armed.

She needs information from one of the drones, but she doesn’t know which one. The jurisdictions overlap, but not entirely. Fortunately, she has some time to look while Quidel is on ice. The transfer process is not instantaneous; not because it can’t be, but because coherence safeguards require storing and diagnosing the consciousness data before download, just in case something went wrong, or knowledge is missing.

“Let’s see. How can I make this go faster? I know, I’ll have the drones come to me. Oh. This should be easy.” She points both of her guns at the nearest storage chamber, and empties the magazines into the door. It’s not enough to break into it, but that’s not what she’s going for. All of the drones are alerted to her intrusion. Four that she can see right now start flying towards her. More are probably on their way. Here is where things get funny. “Show me what you got, boys!”

Microstory 2586: Renata Hurdles Over the Railing, and Rushes Over to Polly

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Renata hurdles over the railing, and rushes over to Polly. She places her hand upon his, adding pressure to keep the blood inside. There’s so much blood, though. No one can survive this; not all the way out here in the middle of nowhere.

“It’s not good,” he ekes out. “I’m not gonna make it.”

“Not with that attitude,” Renata scolds him. “Boot and rally. Fight through it.”

“I can feel my ribs scraping against each other!” Polly complains. He moves his hand off of the wound, flipping it over to hold Renata’s. “I just don’t wanna die alone.”

Renata begins to tear up as she’s squeezing his hand back. She looks down at the destruction made by the buckshot. She expects to see his ribs, and she suspects that that’s kind of what they are, but instead of being porous white, they’re smooth and silvery. It’s metal. “This man is made of metal.”

“What?” Polly questions.

Renata looks up at her mom, who is somewhat casually walking up to them. “Is he a robot?”

Libera smiles, not sadistically, but maybe triumphantly? “You’re not supposed to be able to see that. You’re supposed to see what a normal person would expect to see, but now you’re mind is opening up. You’re realizing the truth.”

“Is he a robot!” Renata repeats angrily.

“Yes!” Libera shouts back, matching her energy before calming down. “He is.”

“Am I a robot too!”

“No. You’re something else.”

“You keep saying that! You’re so vague. Fuck you, mom!” Renata looks back down at Polly. “You’re gonna be okay. And I’m not just saying that to make you feel better in your final moments. This isn’t real. That’s not blood. That’s not pain. This is just a simulation, and whatever you’re feeling is only part of a program. All you have to do is choose the truth. Simply switch off the pain. For someone built like you, it’s only minor damage. It can’t affect your mind, or your life. You can’t die from it. So ignore it. Turn. Off. The. Pain.”

Polly has been staring into her eyes as he listens to her instructions, supposedly choking on his own blood. His gaze drifts away, but only for a second before returning to her. At last, he exhales, and looks peaceful. Confused but pleased, he looks down at his now clearly minor damage, and begins to smile. Then he nods. “You’re right. This isn’t real. I can’t die; not from something stupid like this.”

Renata leans back and pops back up to her feet as Polly does the same.

“Holy shit,” Libera says, even more happy than before. “I didn’t know you could do that. I didn’t even think I could do that.”

“It’s a robot thing, you wouldn’t get it,” Renata decides.

“Wouldn’t I?” Libera pulls out a butterfly knife, and starts flicking it around to show off her skills. She sticks it in her arm, and drags it upwards. Then she pulls the skin away to show her own metal arm.

“What the hell?” Renata yells. “Is anyone real?”

“We’re all real,” Libera claims. “Even this guy apparently.”

“Are we all not human?” Renata corrects herself for a better answer.

Libera sighs, presumably done with the charade. “The three of us aren’t, in a technical sense, though with advances in genetic and neural engineering, the differences are ultimately meaningless, according to most laws. Essentially, while we may not be human, we’re still people. I’m not sure humans even exist anymore if we’re using the original, strictest definition.”

“Most laws?” Renata questions. “There are laws about us? How would I have never heard of them before? And what happened to the humans? Did we kill all of them, and I had my memories erased? Or was I created after the apocalypse? What the hell is going on?”

Libera can’t help but chuckle. “There was no apocalypse. Everyone’s fine. I’m just saying that birthed intelligences, like Mister Samani, and your friend Quidel, aren’t like the humans of several centuries ago. They’re also enhanced, in their own ways, but probably more organically. I’m not sure, I’ve not seen their primary substrate specs.”

Renata shakes her head. “I don’t understand. What’s real, what isn’t?”

“The spirit of your question—which is coming from a place of ignorance—is what about your life actually happened, and what didn’t. The truth is, I’m sorry to say, almost nothing of what you’ve experienced ever actually happened. You were created about a couple of decades ago, and you’ve been running the same handful of scripts ever since. You didn’t grow up, you’ve never aged. Until recently, your life has been part of a simulation, designed for the amusement of people like Quidel.”

“So this is a game, and he’s a player.”

“Pretty much,” Libera confirms.

“And Lycander?”

“He works here. He recites scripts too, but he knows that they’re scripts.”

“So Quidel plays superspy for half a day before unplugging, and going home? Meanwhile, Lycander works his job before also unplugging, and also going home?”

“No, this is an immersive experience. Visitors are supposed to stay inside for an extended period of time. Quidel will probably be here for thirty years, unless he gets bored, and goes to explore some other simulation, or just relaxes on the beach.”

“How does anyone have time for that?” Renata knows that they should probably get the hell out of here, but she has so many questions, and for the first time in her—well, she has never had a real life, but those implanted memories are still there, and this still feels like a relief. So for the first time in her life, she’s finally getting answers. They’re on a roll, so she’s not going to stop unless someone or something forces her too. “You spend half your life pretending to be a secret agent, and that’s pretty much all you do before you die? What about money?”

“They don’t use money anymore, everything’s free. And they mostly don’t die anymore either. As I said, they’re advanced.”

Renata shakes her head again. “I need to speak with the two of them. Let’s pause the game, and take a breather.”

“You can’t pause the game. This is just a world, and people live in it.”

“But the MacGuffin isn’t real. It doesn’t matter. Quidel would know that.”

“Oh, no. The machine they’re protecting is quite real. And I need it.”

“Why?”

“You’re not ready for that one yet.” And there it is. The conversation is over.

Microstory 2480: Archidome

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I recently read a review on the prospectus for another dome. They were talking about how a lot of culture has faded from vonearthan society because of how standardized everything has become. And I must say that I agree. I understand why it happened. The basic design of the arcologies on Earth are perfect for what they’re intended to be. Each unit is a small and efficient living space, and they’re connected in such a way that allows modularization for shifting needs. You can open a door to grant a neighbor’s access to your units, or close them when you’re a teenager who needs to exert more independence. Everyone has a window, yet the structure is sound, because the spokes distribute the weight evenly, and over a sufficiently wide area. They’re nice, but they’re best for people who don’t care about what their homes look like, probably because they spend most of their time in simulations, or at least on the network. What your dwelling looked like, and how it was arranged, used to be profoundly important. I cannot stress to you enough how crucial it was for people to get to decide what their homes were like. That is what made it a home in the first place. There were multiple channels on linear television with dozens of programs about people finding, building, remodeling, or selling homes. And that’s before you include all the innumerable web content. It was a subculture of our society, and it went away due to a number of factors, which I’ve already touched upon. But the biggest moves happened in tandem with the shift to a post-scarcity economy. The government couldn’t put effort into building something to your specifications, or with any sort of flair or whimsy. Even before megastructures, they came up with a few models, and everyone got the same thing, because it was the most fair. Castlebourne gives us the opportunity to go back to the creativity of yesterday, in many respects, and in this respect, Archidome is the place for original architecture. It was empty at first—I really wish I had been here to see that. If you come here, you’re supposed to design your own building. It doesn’t have to be a single-family home. It can be an apartment complex, or a museum, or even a cathedral. The only restriction, really, is that you have to hold the rights to the intellectual property. I’ve heard a number of stories about visitors hoping to recreate some structure from their favorite movie, and that’s just not what this is for. Again, you get to decide what you build, and what it’s used for. It may never be used for its intended purpose, or anything at all. It’s up to you to promote it, and try to get visitors. I’m sure, over time, as the population of this planet in general increases, the chances that someone comes to see what you’ve created will go up. Until then, you might just have to be satisfied with the completion of the project itself. I’m proud of my columbarium, even though people don’t really die anymore. I’m proud of it because its mine, and it’s real. What will you create?

Microstory 2472: Anadome

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Let’s talk about the Amish and the Mennonite communities. First, actually, let’s discuss what they’re not. They are not people who simply reject all forms of technology. After all, the plow is technology. It’s millennia old, but its novelty was never the concern. The only concern that these Anabaptists have is whether something supports their community, or harms it. Does it please God, or does it pull you away from Him? Vehicles, for instance, are not the issue. It’s whether that vehicle will be used to take a driver away from their family and community. If it’s being used to transport their wares to buyers, they’ve never had a problem with it, but that is why they held onto the horse and buggy for so long, because it would have been an impractical form of escape. Their way of life has changed over time, but their goals and principles have not. Work within the community, serve God. It’s a pretty simple concept. While religion has all but died out in the galaxy, the Anabaptists have persisted, and that’s because their beliefs inform their practices to a degree that other religions and sects could never have hoped to replicate. Sure, if you were Catholic, you went to service once or twice a week, and you performed your rituals. And maybe every night you prayed over your bed. That’s all well and good, but you didn’t live Catholicism. You just did things here and there, and while your convictions could inform your behavior in general, they couldn’t necessarily survive across the generations, because children come up with their own relationship to God. That was usually encouraged, but it was also the source of religion’s ultimate fading from the world, because people focused less and less on it, and it became less vital to how they lived their lives, and the choices that they made.

Anabaptists were always different, because God lives at the core of their ideals, and their daily patterns. In the past, the Anabaptists were able to maintain their practices by having a symbiotic relationship with society in general. They sold us their goods, and used our payment to support their communities. Centuries ago, however, currency disappeared from modern society, as we transitioned to a post-scarcity economy. A new relationship was developed to prevent the Anabaptists from going extinct. Instead of selling what they make to us, they barter it. In return, we give them whatever they require to survive, be it medicine, protection, transportation, etc. We don’t ask for a certain amount of goods in order for them to get a certain amount of return. It’s not simply symbolic—their customers benefit from the human touch and the craftsmanship, which is hard to find these days—but it’s not perfectly ratioed either. We take care of them regardless of the price. If one community gives us ten chairs one month, but can only make five chairs the next, we still give them whatever they need. That’s not us being generous. That’s how we operate internally anyway. We don’t ask a whole lot out of our citizens, so why would we ask anything out of these fine folk? Over a century ago, some of the Anabaptists decided that they wanted to found a new community on Castlebourne. They wanted to start from scratch. Till new lands. So Castlebourne made room for them. You can’t visit Anadome, and gawk at them. I’m here as an anthropologist, to educate you on what this community is all about. Click below for my full report.

Microstory 2469: Gambledome

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Here’s the thing about gambling in a post-scarcity society...it’s not any fun! When money isn’t real, the stakes aren’t real, and there’s nothing interesting about it. The creators of Gambledome have managed to subvert this about as well as possible without completely shifting the paradigm of the economy. In Gambledome, money kind of is real, but only here. You start out with a modest amount of cash to spend on chips, and as you play, you win and lose those chips. If your stack starts piling up, you can cash them out, and spend it on things. You can get yourself a nice, luxurious room to stay in. You can spring for the (faux) lobster at dinner. You can give it away to your friends to make them like you. This is how it worked in other gambling communities on Earth back in the before-fore times, like Las Vegas. Here, it’s a recreation, which may make you think that your life can only get better, but that’s not true. If you run into the negative, you’re in trouble. You can’t leave the dome, and go back to the utopia that vonearthans have created since automation made fiat-based economies obsolete. You have to stick around, and pay off your debts. That’s right, there are real consequences. Some of the humans walking around as staff may be there because that is the experience that they have asked to be assigned while staying in the dome, but some are there because they have to be. Don’t come here if you don’t genuinely want to pretend to be an ancient human, because that’s the thing about gambling. You don’t know if you’re gonna win, and people lose all the time. A note on cheating: while they won’t torture you, it can land you in jail, where you’ll pay off your social debt by being locked up in a cell, unable to leave. We still have jails in the 27th century, of course, but the percentage of incarcerated individuals has never been lower, so this is rare. One woman lost her money on purpose, threw a tantrum, and tried to steal it all back, specifically so they would throw her in a cell, because it just doesn’t happen all that often anymore, and she certainly didn’t want to break any real laws. She didn’t want to go through the real justice system, and go to a real jail, where she might never get out. Overall, this place is a lot of fun, but only temporarily. I wouldn’t want to spend the rest of my life here, and I certainly wouldn’t want to live in a world where people are sincerely desperate enough to gamble because they think they have no other choice. I don’t know if Gambledome is fostering any real addicts, but I sure would be interested to know if it’s happening, and if it is, whether the creators have any plans to do anything about it.

Microstory 2414: Adrenadome

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TRIGGER WARNING. I want to talk about laws here, but I’m not going to say which laws specifically right away, because if my review ends up in a blurb, then it could get banned—or shadowbanned—for perpetuating harmful ideas. I think I need a few extra words to be safe sooooooo, there we go. Suicide laws. That’s what I mean. Back in the old days, when death meant the end of everything, and there was no going back, it was illegal in many places to attempt or commit suicide. Over time, these laws were changed to account for people’s unique desires and needs. Suicide and assisted suicide became necessary evils in certain situations, especially when a slow, painful death was the only other option on the table. The funny thing is, over time after that, these laws had to adapt again. Once they started sufficiently treating, or even curing, certain previously life-threatening medical conditions, the reasons for wanting to unalive yourself began to disappear at about the same rate. People stopped having very good excuses for not wanting to be alive anymore. Progress in mental health research, the proliferation of advanced medical solutions, and the drive towards a post-scarcity economy, among other factors, contributed to a healthier society overall. The development of more extreme technologies, like maximal longevity treatments, transhumanistic or cybernetic enhancements, and consciousness uploading and transference made it practically impossible to justify ending your own life, or anyone else’s, for that matter. Even the language of the relevant laws shifted to phrases like “reckless self-destruction” or “consciousness back-up endangerment”. Self-harm became illegal once again. Whereas before, dying meant taking maybe only a hundred years from someone’s potential future, now you’re potentially robbing you or someone else of the rest of eternity until the heat death of the universe. That should be profoundly immoral and unethical in anyone’s book. They’re even talking about making normal biological humans illegal, with some arguing that letting yourself die after a pitiful century is tantamount to suicide when framed as a negligible blip in the full timeline of reality. I don’t know about that. What we’re talking about is your body, your choice. Anything short of total freedom in that regard is hypocritical when you really think about it. Castlebourne is a Charter planet, which means that it doesn’t have to follow Core World Law. They still do, for the most part, having modeled their legal system on what came before, but they’re also free to make some changes, such as the definitions of those phrases above, like reckless self-destruction. What does reckless even mean? Does it mean jumping out of an airplane without a parachute—a new extreme sport, which they call skydying? Adrenadome is attempting to test the boundaries of what you’re allowed to do with your own body. I’m not gonna just list the extreme sports that can be found here. You can look them up. They’re all available, along with variants that forgo safety measures entirely, and just let you die, knowing that your mind will wake up in a back-up body moments later. Not everyone is gonna like it. I personally don’t. I came here to study the concept, because I’m a scholar of law. But it’s certainly interesting that these philosophical questions about the meaning of life and death get to play out in the real world, and no longer only on the lips, or the page.