Microstory 2369: Earth, September 6, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

I was trying to decide how to send this to you. I didn’t want it getting mixed up with the open letter I wrote to the whole base. I really should have sent this first, and the open letter the next day. So, sorry for the delay, and I’m sorry you’re feeling bad. I’m really hoping that you feel better by the time you get this. Actually, I’m hoping you felt better by the time I got your letter about it. I might know of a way to help. When I was still young—so young that I can’t entirely trust my memories of those days. The poisons had not yet destroyed the environment, but things were pretty bad already. I guess I’ve never really gotten into it, but the gases were kind of a breaking point for preexisting struggles all over the world. They were nowhere near the beginning of conflict. That was a hard time for us, but I was oblivious, because I was too young to understand. I was a little hungry some of the time, but not starving, and definitely not neglected. Dad did the best he could to provide for us during a difficult period in history, and that often meant spending time away from me to make money. Since he had to be away so much, a babysitter cared for me. We couldn’t afford much of course, but she must have been willing to do a lot for not very much money. She was so kind to me, I always thought she just enjoyed my company since I was a pretty cute kid. Thinking on it now, though, maybe there was something between them. Maybe she was never a babysitter at all, but a girlfriend. They didn’t tell me her last name, so I can’t look her up, and I’m afraid to ask. I have never otherwise known him to date. I don’t know why I’m telling you this. It’s just that, I was having my own troubles during all that where I was getting sick kind of regularly, and in different ways. Man, maybe I really should ask dad about that to see what was going on. Was I terribly ill, with something concrete and diagnosable? No matter what was wrong, one thing that my caretaker did for me every single time was make me chicken noodle soup. Also looking back at that, I doubt it was even real chicken. However, I still have the recipe, and I’ve attached it here in case you have the right ingredients to supplement what isn’t available. Maybe you have nothing that works. Or maybe you have chicken noodle soup all the time, and I sound like a patronizing doofus. Just...I hope you’re feeling better, and that things are going okay with you, okay? How’s Bray? How was my letter received by your friends? When are you coming down to Earth for a visit?

Take care of yourself,

Condor

Microstory 2060: Of Opium Floating

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

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 5, 2426

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Sheriff Kamiński’s posse, and some of the former slaves that they had recently freed, constructed a hock in the building that they took over to live in until Team Matic could return, and teleport them all to the other side of the world. The natives stayed away from Fort Welrios, and the Welriosians stayed away from everyone else, unless they were conducting their searches and investigations. The people they interrogated cooperated as much as they were able, scared to death that the team would do to them what Leona did to their previous monarchy, or worse. No one knew where Maqsud Al-Amin’s son, Aristotle was, but the family he was staying with was missing as well. Child slaves were treated differently than the adults. Their duties were limited to performing household chores, and never anything outside until they reached double digits. Even then, the work was light, which the slavedrivers probably figured was a really nice thing to do for them. When there was no more work left each day, the masters of the house homeschooled them. The curriculum included indoctrinating the young ones into believing that this was what was best for them. Cool.

“He won’t talk,” Sheriff Kamiński explained. “He’s the only one left that we’re not sure about, which leads me to believe that he knows something.”

“He’ll talk to me,” Leona said, determined to find that boy.

“He’ll talk to me,” Mateo argued. “You’re too angry right now.”

“I’m not too angry!” she shouted.

“Is that what I said?” Mateo asked. “I misspoke. I meant, you’re needed on the other continent. I’m sure there’s an invention or something that the Welriosians could do with, and I certainly can’t help with that.”

“You’re on thin ice, Matic. Get me a lead.” She disappeared.

“Were I you,” he said to her through comms. He cleared his throat, and walked down the hall to the makeshift interrogation room. “What’s your name?”

“It’s—” the prisoner began.

“Don’t care. Do you know what space is made out of?”

The prisoner was confused. “Umm...nothing?”

“That’s exactly right. Or it isn’t. Maybe there’s dark matter up there, or giant spacewhales, I don’t know. What you say you and me go up and find out?” He offered his hand to him.

The prisoner slunk back as much as he could against his chair.

“Not interested?”

“I don’t care to be threatened.”

“I don’t care to not know where my friend is. Now I promised his parents that I would take care of him. You don’t want me to disappoint his mother, do you? I mean his real mother, not the one who literally abducted him, and forced him to do her work.”

“I don’t know where they are!”

“But you know something, don’t you?” Mateo guessed.

The prisoner shook his head, all but confirming that he was holding onto at least one small bit of vital information.

“I don’t need you to consent to the spacewalk,” Mateo said, standing up, and starting to make his way to the other side of the table.

“No!” he cried. “Fine. I really don’t know where they are, but I saw them leave.”

“Leave where? I mean, what direction?”

“No direction. They just disappeared.”

“What did it look like?” he teleported to the other side of the room. “Like that?”

“No.”

“Did you see anyone else?”

“The mother, the daughter, the neighbor, and the boy. That’s all I saw.”

“The neighbor? No one said anything about the neighbor. What neighbor?”

“The neighbor next door. They were in his apartment. I don’t know why they went over there. He’s just this old man who lives alone. He didn’t have any slaves. He was alive back when we had them before, but he never did. He doesn’t even hire labor. I don’t know where he gets his money.”

“The family where Aristotle was staying, they were rich?”

“Poor people aren’t allowed to take the children in. They don’t know what to teach them. I’m the gardener for the old man’s neighbor on the other side, and I didn’t take any slaves either. I want to be clear about that. I just don’t want to lose my job.”

“Describe it.”

“Describe what.”

“I assume you saw something through the window? Four people disappeared before your eyes. Describe what it looked like.”

“There was a glow, and then his skylight shattered. The glow escaped from it, but it was so quick, I couldn’t see if the people were in it, or whatever. I looked back down, and the parlor was empty.”

“What color was the glow?”

“Gray, I guess.”

Mateo studied the young man’s face to see if he was lying, or holding back more information. He clearly had no idea how Maqsud’s power worked, but was describing what Mateo imagined it looked like from the outside. It was reasonable to guess that Aristotle inherited the same gift, though it was unknown if he used it accidentally, or on purpose. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was trying to escape this life, and the people he was with were just swept up in the energy field. Unfortunately, there was probably no way of knowing where they went.

“Someone patched up the roof the next day, long before the Welriosians started asking about it. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before, I just didn’t want to stand out. Workers who stand out get the worse jobs. Please don’t take me up to space.”

“Relax, I’m not going to kill you. I’ll go get someone to get you out of those chains, and escort you back to wherever you live.” Mateo stood up to leave.

“Wait.” He looked scared.

“What is it?”

“Take me to New Welrios, or whatever it is they’re calling it.”

“I don’t know how they’ll treat you there. I don’t know them very well at all. Most of our interactions have been us trying to rescue them.”

“Anywhere is better than here. I can work. I won’t expect them to do anything for them, I just can’t go back. My boss is...”

“You don’t have to explain. I’ll take you to a spot nearby. If you promise to stay put until I return, I’ll figure out whether you can join them. But if you’re requesting asylum, I’ll grant it immediately.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Mateo transported the witness to a backup location that Ramses and Angela found when there were looking for a place to relocate the Welriosians. Then he reconvened with his friends who had been listening through the comms the whole time. “Did I make the right call?”

“I think so, as long as he’s not lying, and he really didn’t own slaves.”

“Most people here never have,” Sheriff Kamiński explained. “There are hundreds of millions of them, yet only 11,000 of us.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” Leona says, watching her husband’s face. “We can’t save them all. Even if we could confirm who else never had slaves, we could not relocate them all here, nor anywhere else, for that matter.”

“We have to do something,” Mateo urged. “This world is so bleak. Everything sucks here for everyone, except for the one percent. Even most of the poor people with slaves don’t just sit around all day. They use the slave to double their productivity. They’re miserable.”

“I don’t feel bad for them,” Leona said.

“Neither do I, there’s no excuse. I’m just saying that there must be something we can do to improve conditions here, so no one feels desperate enough to enslave anyone, or pay with pennies.”

Leona sighed, and considered it. “Ramses, go to the old man’s house, and try to figure out if you can determine Aristotle’s vector. Mateo, bring that kid to us. I have some questions of my own. No anger, I promise.”

Mateo retrieved the witness, and brought him to the alpha site. He then started to help transport more supplies from the main continent, to the Welriosians. They had survived just fine over the last year, but there were a few things the natives had access to that they still did not. They were all still living in the cave, but had constructed a number of buildings within it, so the residents could have places to live in separately. It somewhat resembled the lava tubes that people lived inside of on Luna and Mars. The expanse was there to protect them from the outside—in that case, the vacuum; and in this case, the elements—but people still wanted and needed privacy. They cut down trees for these structures, and also figured out how to make mud bricks from scratch. It was an impressive accomplishment, finding a way to thrive here in so little time. They were not doing this without experience, of course. They had done something similar on their sanctuary planet before it was discovered, and ultimately destroyed. Perhaps one day this community will have the technology to rival what they had before, and then even the cities on the other side of the world.

The team reconvened once more an hour later, Leona with a vague plan, and Ramses with the answers they would need to solidify it. “It’s not like I can trace their ion trail, or photon trail, or any other trail that science fiction stories like to claim will make anyone findable in space. I do believe I have a decent idea of where they might have gone, though. The Monarchy gave me a list of inhabited star systems in this part of the galaxy. Once I figured out what the data meant, I converted them to standard galactic coordinates, and only found two possible planets where they might have gone. It’s a light year away. They all are. No one in the Goldilocks Corridor is ever more than a light year away from anyone else. I’m sure that’s why they call it that.”

“How many systems are there?” Marie asked.

“A hundred and twenty, though there could be more by now. The list I have is dated thirty-four local years ago, which is about thirty-five standard years.”

Leona shook her head. “All these people, and we had no idea they existed.”

“We know now,” Mateo reminded her. “Our current problem is that we don’t have a ship anymore. We can’t get to Aristotle, even if we go the right way, and even if he still happens to be there. I don’t know how long it takes for him to recharge, but I doubt that’s what’s keeping him in one place by this point.”

“Guys?” Olimpia jumped in. “Shouldn’t Lilac be included in this conversation?”

“I’ll go get her,” Angela volunteered. It was reportedly difficult to convince her to leave Fort Welrios, and come to New Welrios. She couldn’t leave the place where she had last seen her son. But they were certain that he had left the planet over a year ago, and she trusted their judgment on that. They started the meeting up again once everyone was there.

“I can build us a ship.” Ramses kicked at the dirt underneath his feet. “It won’t have a fancy-schmancy reframe engine, but it will get us to where we’re going. Eventually.”

“Forgive us, the uneducated,” Olimpia began, “but why no reframe engine?”

“I don’t have any concentrated temporal energy, and I don’t have any way of manufacturing antimatter, which would be good enough to power it,” Ramses answered. “The natives here don’t even know what I’m talking about. The ships that come to pick up goods use fusion, and in fact, one of the things they process here is tritium. I’m sure we can steal some of that, given our...influence over these people. I also happen to have a mini-reactor in the basement of our lab, so...”

“The lab has a basement?” Mateo asked.

Ramses shrugged. “Yeah, it’s for storage. Anyway, I could build a reframe engine, but it would use a lot of fuel, and I still probably couldn’t get it to maximum speeds. We also have that time-jumping thing tonight, so faster doesn’t really help us.”

“It would help me,” Lilac contended.

“We wouldn’t leave you alone on a strange new world to find your son. You could be on the wrong side of the planet with no hope of getting anywhere near where he might be. And you would also have no one there to protect you.”

“I could protect her,” Sheriff Kamiński jumped in. “I also know that you have teleportation tech that anyone can use.”

Ramses sighed. “We have emergency teleporters, which store temporal energy for, of course, emergency use. You can’t just jump however much you want, unless your body metabolizes temporal energy on its own, like ours do. When I was a normal human, I couldn’t have used anything like that on a regular basis.”

Leona frowned. “I’m sorry, Lilac. We want to find him too, but waiting two more years is the only way.”

“Two years?” Lilac questioned. “Why two?”

“I need time to build the ship,” Ramses said apologetically. “One year to build it while we’re gone, and another to make the journey to the destination.”

“Put me in stasis,” Lilac demanded.

“Well, it’s a relativistic trip, so what will take a year will only feel like five—”

“No,” Lilac interrupted. “Put me in stasis now. My heart aches for my son, so put me to sleep, and don’t wake me up until it’s time to find him.”

The team exchanged looks for a few moments, reading each other’s feelings. “Okay. I’ll prep a pod for you.”

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 4, 2425

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Mateo woke up in incredible pain. There was something jammed into his waist, and up his spine. He tried to reach back there to feel for it, but it was hard to contort his arms into the correct angle. He was face down in the dirt. While it was more difficult to breathe than it should be in this upgraded body, it balanced out to being about normal for a regular human. He shut his eyes and reached out to his team. He could feel them all, and thought they were pretty close by. He struggled to turn his head, and was able to see them lying next to him. Most of them were beginning to stir, and he could finally see what was wrong with them. There were huge weights upon all of them. No, two weights each; literal balls and chains. He should be able to sit up if he just pushed them off of his back. He had to roll them a few times to build momentum, but they came off. Now that he was free, he could start to recover, and rebuild his strength. The sun was coming up on whatever planet this was, so he could use that to refuel his energy.

The rest of the team was able to do the same, and as the sky grew brighter, they gained more information about where they were. It was a desert, with structures scattered about, including what looked like the entrance to a mine. People were gloomily walking towards it with gear. No one was paying the six of them any mind. After an hour, they were strong enough to stand. “How much do these weigh?” Mateo asked.

“Over 200 kilograms,” Leona answered, swinging one around by the chain, careful not to let it crash into her leg. “That’s equal to the mass of roughly three people.”

“Which means we can’t teleport them with us,” Angela noted. Unless there was something special about them, a teleporter could only transport two extra people with them. Some people couldn’t even take that many. It didn’t seem tied to strength, or even the weight of the travelers. It was just kind of a vague arbitrary limit. One could push themselves to carry just a little bit more, but not quite this much more. Whoever placed these belts on them knew what they were up against.

“Okay, but why can’t I just teleport out of the belt?” Olimpia asked.

“It’s fused to your spine,” said a stranger. He walked up to them coolly. “A crude solution, but it works, doesn’t it? We do not have the technology to suppress temporal powers here, so this was our best option.”

“The solution to what problem?” Leona questioned. She made a step towards him. She was strong enough to drag the weights behind her, but it wasn’t pleasant. “What do you have against us?”

The man rolled his eyes. “Ours is a caste-based society. The rich pay the poor to do their work, and if they can swing it, the poor force someone else to do it instead. Over the years, forced labor has gone away after a number of unfortunate slave uprisings. It’s not what you think, though. They weren’t elevated to higher castes. They had to be killed for their ingratitude, but that means there are no more slaves now. Well, there weren’t. Last year, you brought us thousands of able-bodied men and women to fill that void once more. Thank you so much for that. As I believe the Earthans say...no take-backs.”

“Hence the weights,” Leona said. “You know that if we can teleport, we can decimate your system, and free the slaves ourselves without any of them dying.”

He nodded. “We are well aware of who you are, Mrs. Matic. You have all been famous for millennia. As time travelers, you could have shown up at any point in our history, so every child is taught to fear you.”

“The children should not fear us,” Mateo pointed out. “Only the adults.”

“Quite,” the slavedriver agreed.

They were never able to get the chains off the entire day. It appeared that no one wanted anything to do with the team. They just left them to the elements the whole time. No one came by with food or water. They were seemingly trying to let them die without having to get any blood on their hands. They pretty much just sat there with nothing to keep them busy. There was one more hope, and they didn’t even have to work for it. Midnight hit, and the team jumped forward an Earthan year. They left the weights behind. They were bloody and hurt, but the injuries from having the weights ripped out of their bodies would heal. They could not necessarily say the same thing for the people what done this to them.

The Welriosians had to be slaves for yet another year while the team was gone again, but there was nothing they could do to undo that travesty. All they could do was fix it now. It was time to show these people how right they were to fear Team Matic. They approached a few passersby who weren’t dressed well, but also weren’t working, suggesting that they were the impoverished slaveowners that the man was talking about last year. They were all so fearful of helping, so they had to try a few people, but they finally learned where the head of the snake rested. They teleported up to what was literally an ivory tower. Well, it was white, anyway. The guards put up a fight, but they did not have firearms, and the team could always teleport away before their blades could get anywhere close to drawing blood.

The boss of this world was just called The Monarchy. “You have no right!”

“You have no right!” Leona shouted right back to him. “Let them go! Let them all go!” she demanded.

“This is how our system is built,” the Monarchy defended. “You came to our world. We didn’t ask you to do that, but we took you in. All of our slaves are well-housed and well-fed. Now, we understand that you six are special, which is why we have no plans on enslaving you as well, but I will not allow you to interfere with our way of life.”

She pursed her lips to consider their options. She looked over at another man. “Are you second in command?”

The other guy’s eyes darted towards the Monarchy.

“Don’t look at him. Look at me. Are you next in line?”

“I am.”

“I am ordering you to free the slaves.”

“I do not have such power,” he answered with a shake of his head.

“You will.” Leona took the Monarchy by the shoulders, and teleported away. She returned a few minutes later, soaking wet, and smelling of salt.

“What did you do with him?” the new Monarchy asked. “Did you drown him?”

“He’s alive...but he won’t be making any decisions from now on. “I suggest you do not make the same mistakes that he did. There’s plenty of room on that island. I can do this all day.”

Afraid, the new Monarchy breathed deeply. “It’s true, you could do whatever you please all day, but no longer than that. I am willing to free the slaves. I honestly don’t care who does the work, just as long as it gets done.”

“And I don’t care about how your society works. I’m not here to blow up your shit. If you let the Welriosians go, we won’t have a problem. We’ll leave, and you’ll be free to continue on from there.”

“But that’s just it,” the new Monarchy continued. “Perhaps you will one day be able to leave, but what about those Welriosians? I will not live forever. I could lose power tomorrow, and my successor could spend the next year undoing what you ordered me to do. Can you take 11,0000 people with you? I mean no disrespect, I’m just trying to explain the risks here.”

“How far spread out are you over this planet?” Leona asked him.

“Not far,” he replied. “There are a few hundred million of us on this continent.”

“What about on other continents?”

“I wouldn’t know, sir. We are all slaves here, who answer to a greater power. It is possible that there are others elsewhere of which we would not be cognizant. Our technology is deliberately suppressed.”

She almost felt bad for him. She turned to Ramses. “You’re better at lasting in orbit. I have trouble seeing while I’m up there. Would you please scout for us?”

“Sure, boss.” He teleported away just after Angela took him by the hand to go along with him.

Meanwhile, Leona tilted her chin, and the rest of the team could tell that she was doing math in her head. “It should only take us about an hour to ferry everyone to wherever they’re going. The only reason we didn’t do that during the evacuation of the bunkers is because there were so many nooks and crannies, and it was very cramped in some places. If we can organize the slaves into one wide open space, this should be easy.” She looked back at the new Monarchy. “You’ll need to do that for us as well.”

“It will take us longer to organize and gather all of them then it will be for you to transport them to wherever it is you decide, sir,” the new Monarchy explained.

“Then you better start now. We’ll give you 22 hours, but earlier would be in your best interests; believe you me.”

“Right away, sir.” They didn’t love that he was treating them with such high regard, because it was clearly because he feared them, but it had to be this way to get stuff done. They were fine playing the part of gods among ants.

Ramses and Angela returned a few minutes later to recruit help from Olimpia and Mateo. They had spotted a sufficiently-sized land mass, but they still needed to make sure that it was safe enough for the Welriosians to live on. Ramses happened to have an edibility testing device with him, so he taught Olimpia how to use it. Over the course of the next half a day, she tested as many fruits and roots as she could in the immediate area, but there would not be enough time for them to check everything available. They would leave it with the refugees so they could take care of it themselves while the team was unavailable. While Mateo and Angela were scouting the immediate area to make sure there weren’t any other dangers lurking, like dinosaurs or unstable ground, Ramses programmed a nanoexcavator to start building the Welriosians a place for them to live that was out of the elements. It was just going to be a really simple artificial cave, but it would take care of them until they could build their own shelters throughout the next year. They were going to take whatever supplies and other resources they needed from the natives too, and just hope that it would be enough.

All of this had to get done in a matter of hours, because Team Matic was going to disappear at the end of today. There was nothing they could do to stop that, but it didn’t look like anyone here had spaceships, or even airplanes, so the Welriosians should be safe...for now. Life wasn’t going to be easy, but it wasn’t easy where they were living before. The real danger came from out there. This planet here was being controlled and used by the empire that reigned over this region of the galaxy. Representatives could arrive at any time in their own ships, and who knows how they would react to this development? Perhaps they already knew, and someone was on their way. The new Monarchy claimed that no one in the Goldilocks Corridor had FTL capabilities, except for the prime world, which no one here had ever been alive to encounter. They were a mysterious super-ruling class which may or may not exist anymore. If Bronach Oaksent was the true master of all, though, his capital planet probably was still in power, but was perhaps, busy with other things.

The team was doing the best they could with what they had, and now that they were completely shipless themselves, that wasn’t a whole lot. They never stopped working, scouting the area, testing the food, building the infrastructure, and coordinating the emancipations. There was so much, and it was impossible to make sure they had everyone in the time allotted. Mayor Merrick was still alive, and in possession of a full town census, but the priority was getting as many people to the new continent as possible. If that didn’t amount to everyone, the rest were just going to have to wait. They weren’t actually gods. “That’s not good enough,” Merrick complained.

“I’m sorry, it’s the best we can do.”

“No, I’m not blaming you, but we can’t just go hide under a rock, and hope that we all made it. We can take a new census while we’re there, but then what? It will be another year until you can ferry the missing, if we can even find them in another day.”

“What else can we do?” Marie asked. She was in charge of the gathering on this end. “You don’t want us to transport you somewhere closer, do you?”

“No. I want you to get my people as far from here as possible.” Merrick paused. “But some of us should stay behind. The strongest fighters, and I will make sure that none of these people hid one of my own somewhere in a basement, or something.”

Marie shook her head. “Far be it for us to tell you how to lead your people, but I’m not sure if I would feel comfortable deciding who has to stay.”

“I’ll get enough volunteers,” Merrick assured her. “I won’t need to force anyone. Sheriff Kamiński!”

The crowd parted so a man could step forward. “Right here, sir!”

“Organize a posse for me. Make it clear that it’s voluntary. I need ten to stay here for a year until the teleporters return. We’ll be responsible for finding any stragglers.”

“You shouldn’t do it,” Sheriff Kamiński insisted. “You need to be there to lead everyone else. Someone has to run a count, and then relay that information to us, so know who’s missing.” Everyone seemed to agree with that, that Merrick should be on the other continent, and they vocalized as much. “I’ll lead the posse from here. We will need a way to communicate, though.”

“We can handle that,” Marie clarified. She tapped on her own communicator. “Rambo, I need two spare comm discs.”

“Coming right up.”

Once the logistics were cleared up, all six members of Team Matic started to teleport the Welriosians once again, two by two. Three hours later, midnight central hit, and they jumped to the future. They were glad that the sheriff’s posse stayed behind. Over a hundred people were not emancipated when they were meant to be. This included Maqsud’s baby mama, Lilac, who was now safe in a building that they had seized. It was now called Fort Welrios. Her son, Aristotle, however, was still missing.

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Microstory 2004: Colorado

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For most of their lives, my grandparents weren’t able to go on vacations. My grandpa was so poor, if he ever had a day when he wasn’t working, he was trying to do other things for work. He would paint a neighbor’s fence, or help out at the local gas station. Anything he could find to save money, he was doing it. This continued for many years, even after grandpa got a better job in Wyoming. They occasionally went to places nearby, but nothing that anyone would call a family vacation. In 1981, which was five years after the new job, grandpa was experiencing something that my dad calls burnout. That means his job was really hard, and he wasn’t taking care of his mental health. He had recently gotten an even better promotion, and he was working all the time. His wife made him take some time off so they could go on a real vacation. They chose Denver, Colorado. They chose it because it was in a different state, but also not too far away, so they were able to drive to it in a day. My papa was about to become an eight-year-old, and it was the summertime. He had a lot of memories of this period in his life, but he couldn’t remember much about this trip. He knew that he was at some kind of sports game, and also that they went hiking. He thinks they probably spent one of the days shopping too. What my grandma said is that my papa’s father loved this trip, and it changed how he saw the world. They would start going on more trips from now on, which is what helped my papa to end up going to all fifty states in the United States.

Microstory 2002: Montana

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When my papa was younger than me, he lived in a city called Billings, Montana, but like Alabama, he doesn’t remember it. Also like Alabama, he went back a few times when he was older to visit friends of the family. He only lived there for real for three years before my grandpa found a better job in Wyoming. For three years, he worked at things that my dad calls odd jobs, which means that they didn’t last very long. He was always very stressed and angry because he lost his factory job, but he was still a very nice man. He always gave my cousins a lot of great presents before he died. Grandpa died eight years ago, so I never knew him. He was born in Montana, and lived there for many years before he had his own kids. He retired in Florida, but that’s a story for another slide. I’m telling you about Montana now, which is where my papa lived until he was three. The house that they lived in was very small, because his family didn’t have very much money. He and his sister had to share a room with the dog. When my grandma was talking about this, she said that my papa was the best baby she had ever met in her life. Her daughter was a very fussy baby, but not my papa. Papa’s sister, who is my aunt, was only two years older than him, so she was born in 1971. Her name is Aunt Cooper. My grandma said that papa was a very happy baby, who was happy where they were living. Luckily, he didn’t have to be like that for very long when his father got a great opportunity to run a new plant in Wyoming. You can go to the next slide to hear about that.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: October 2, 2398

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Angela’s company was a great idea, but she was a fool to think that it could last. This reality is not her home, and she doesn’t want to stay here any longer than she has to. This doesn’t mean that she doesn’t care about what happens to it. There’s some decent people here, and if she can help lift those voices, she will feel more comfortable walking away when the time comes. It’s unclear when that might happen, if ever, so she has come up with a continuity plan. She will keep working as long as she’s around to do so, but she’s also going to have a line of succession, and one that does not rely on friends which might follow her through the dimensional exit. She was already looking to expand the team, so she had a short list of candidates, but one in particular has been on her mind, so this morning, she set up a same-day interview for the afternoon.

Her name is Derina Torres. She’s young and active on social media, advocating for more government community support programs, and less reliance on individual religions to help the impoverished and disenfranchised. She actually built her own platform, which is impossible to control with a dogma filter or region block, allowing oppressed peoples to vocalize their needs, and reach out for help. She would be perfect for the job, if she were willing to take it. She was apprehensive of Angela and her intentions during the interview, and clearly has trust issues, which is understandable. Even so, her responses were respectful, considerate, and open-minded. Some of the questions were a little unorthodox, but she never flinched, and she’s clearly as passionate about social change as her persona appears. Her answers reminded Angela of herself in her younger days, in the time before she died, but after she met Ed Bolton. She has great potential, but she would never be able to do this on her own. She needs a partner; preferably a realist with experience. That might be a harder ask.

After Derina’s interview, Angela started researching business people who are particularly known for integrity and high ethical standards. It’s a short list too, based on what she’s already seen so far, except one that she’s going to have to build from scratch, because there is no database with such information.

“Yes, there is,” Leona tells her.

“There’s a database of good people?”

“Pretty much, yes. It’s not Winona’s department, but the government has curated a list of every member of the country’s labor force. It uses a rudimentary artificial intelligence to rank them according to tendency towards dishonesty and corruptibility, as well as level of import within their current company, and social status in general.”

“Why would they have that? Why would they make that?”

“That’s how they know who to exploit or turn into assets.”

“There it is, that makes more sense.”

“Yeah, so all you would have to do is sort it in reverse, and all the good people will suddenly be at the top of the list.”

“That’s all, huh?” Angela asks sarcastically. “I suppose this list is a matter of public record then?”

“Not quite, but I’m sure I could get you access to it.”

“I don’t want you to burn a favor. At some point, they’re gonna get sick of you.”

“Let them try. They know they don’t want me as an enemy.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 12, 2398

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Angela is sitting in the welcome room. It has a conference table, multiple screens, a snack bar with refrigeration, couches, and comfortable chairs. This is where she’ll first meet clients. It’s a playground for them to explore what kind of software they might want to create without the limiting factors of a stuffy office. Completing this room was the final flourish. If she wanted to take a meeting today, she would be ready for them. Well, the building would be ready. Psycho-emotionally speaking, she may never be ready. She’s nervous already, and she hasn’t even opened the doors yet. Can she do this? Is she ready? Should she do it?

Kivi peeks her head into the room like a sideways prairie dog. “Hey.” She’s Angela’s researcher. Angela knows how to counsel people, and she knows how to code, which is a lot of work for one person. It will be Kivi’s responsibility to find people who might be interested in their services, but who might not be aware that it’s even a thing. Or they might not be aware that they can do it for free. This is a highly competitive field, but most companies charge for development. Angela isn’t even sure that she wants to call them clients, because once they go into business together—if it goes that far—they will be more like partners. They will work together to build something, and share in the profits, and if it fails, they will share in the loss. The point of this is to take on the financial burden, because her only partners will be people who both can’t do it on their own, and can’t afford to invest monetarily.

Angela takes a deep breath. “You found my secret hiding place.”

“You mean the biggest room on the floor besides the lobby? Yep.”

Angela nods, but doesn’t say anything.

Kivi walks over and sits down next to her. “What are you feeling?”

“Hesitation.”

“Hesitation,” Kivi questions, “or cold feet?”

She shakes her head. Does it matter? The result is the same when this whole project is cancelled. They should never have even tried, and they wasted so much time, money, and effort getting to this point. They don’t need the money. The entire pursuit is all about her, inspired by the simple fact that Leona and Ramses only needed one floor for their lab. The business doesn’t do the team any good, and it doesn’t do the world much good either. It’s selfish. She feels so selfish, spending so much time on this.

It’s like Kivi can see all this detailed angst in Angela’s eyes. “You don’t have to feel bad about doing this, just because Leona is working on fusion, and Ramses, Mateo, and Alyssa are trying to get Trina back. They want this place to succeed. We all do.”

“It’s all so stupid compared to everything else going on.”

“It’s not, and you won’t feel that way when I show you the profile for your first partner.” She casts her tablet to the big screen. A group of teenagers are laughing for the camera. “The boy in the green shirt has been walking two miles to the nearest internet cafe everyday to research ways to help his community. The area is poverty-stricken, and the school’s population is dwindling as a cult promising riches recruits kids for what he realizes is actually a militia. He has some pretty cool ideas to put a stop to it, but not the resources to follow through. Upon your go-ahead, I’m prepared to reach out.”

Angela reads about him on the screen, and thinks. “Okay. Call him.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 30, 2398

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Winona opens the door, and lets them in. This is a much nicer place than her forging den. Either being the daughter of a U.S. senator has its perks, or she’s just rich. It would make sense. Poor people don’t outnumber the rich ones in politics, no matter which reality we’re talking about. “Welcome. Would you like something to drink?”

“We’re not here for that,” Marie answers.

Winona nods, and starts making herself something.

Mateo is waiting patiently, but Marie has known Winona for a lot longer, so she doesn’t have to be polite. “Do you have it?”

“Well, yeah, but we need to talk about returning the favor.”

“Are you looking for someone too?” Mateo asks.

“As a matter of fact, yes, but not all favors are returned in kind. It just so happens to be the case this time.”

“Is this another Amir Hussain?”

She chuckles. “Don’t worry about him. Only Senator Morton cared about finding him, so wherever you left him, he’ll be safe...at least from us. I promise you that.”

“Her promises are solid,” Marie tells Mateo when he asks her with his eyes.

“Who are you looking for then?” Mateo asks, getting back to business. When she hands him the envelope, he opens it to find a picture of himself. “There’s another one?”

Winona shuts her eyes, slightly aggravated. “No, that’s your packet. He was last spotted in Howell, New Jersey. I’m giving you that in good faith that you’ll help me with my problem, even without incentive.”

“Don’t fall for it,” Marie warns him. “If we don’t follow through, she’ll use it against us later. Our incentive to pay her back now is to not have to pay her back later.”

“I understand,” Mateo says. “Go ahead and give us the second packet.”

Winona hands it to him. There’s a picture in this one too, but neither Mateo nor Marie recognize the woman in it. “We were friends as kids,” she explains. “Morton and my father worked closely together at one point. Then the former turned radically conservative, and dad had to cut ties with him. But then they both got elected to the senate, and suddenly had to start working together again. To be honest, we always thought it was just a way to get his daughter back in his life, but it didn’t work. They’ve been estranged for about eleven years now, I think.”

“Wait,” Mateo says. “The Honeycutts and Mortons were family friends. Then everybody had a falling out with Senator Morton, including his own daughter?”

“He wasn’t a senator yet, but yes.”

“Now she’s missing?” Marie asks.

“No, she’s not missing,” Winona clarifies. “We know exactly where she is, but you’re the only one who can bring her back into the fold.”

“The only one, who?” Mateo asks. “Which of us is the only one?”

“Her.” She points at Marie.

“What are you talking about?” Marie questions. “I never met the girl.”

“We have strong reason to believe that Bridgette has been keeping an eye on her father’s covert operations. That’s what happened between me and my father. He didn’t deliberately read me into all of this. I had to find my own way to the truth. The point is, we think she knows who you are.”

Marie sighs deeply. “You want us to approach her, and get her to come in to brief you on whatever it is she knows that you may not already know about your rival’s secret endeavors.”

“Bingpot,” Winona says.

“So, you want us to lie, or something?” Mateo guesses.

“No lying. Be honest. Tell her what you think of me, that’s okay. Just tell her that I wanna talk. We don’t want to trick her, but if I send my own people, she’ll run and go underground. You’ll be just enough of a curiosity to get her to pause, and listen for a second. There’s no huge rush, though. You can go find your doppelgänger first.”

Marie sighs again. “We can’t go try to bring him in, and then have to leave to do something else. When we do go, we’ll need to be able to give him our undivided attention. We’ll go talk to this Bridgette Morton for you. That’s all the favor is, though. We can’t guarantee it’ll work.”

“No one ever can,” Winona says. “Pleasure doing business.”

They leave Winona’s apartment, and head for Bridgette’s, which looks strikingly similar, as if they used the same architect and designer. Or perhaps it’s some common political aesthetic called senatorial modern. She’s surprised and excited to see them. “It’s you. You’re one of the people from my father’s menagerie. Please, do come in.”

“Is that what he called it?” Marie asks.

“No, that’s what I’ve called it. He had this thing about transparent prisons. He thought that part of a convict’s punishment should be losing all sense of privacy. The darkness surrounding your glass box was his form of a panopticon. Are you thirsty?”

“We’re fine. You knew what he was doing this whole time?” Mateo asks her.

“Yes, but I have limited data, and almost no resources,” Bridgette explains. “I’m the one who leaked your location to Winona, because I couldn’t get you out myself.”

“I believe she’s aware of that,” Marie says, “and she would like to meet with you.”

“To what end? Does she want to join forces? Look, I helped you out of the box, because it didn’t look like you deserved to be there, and as far as I can tell, the Honeycutts aren’t as bad as my father was, but they’re not exactly saints either.”

“I think she just wants to talk,” Mateo says sincerely. “For now,” he adds.

Bridgette scoffs. “That’s not all she wants from me.”

“What do you mean?” Marie asks.

Bridgette hesitates to go on, but seems to decide to when she notices Mateo and Marie not applying any pressure to her. “My father took notes about you. I don’t know exactly what he meant, but he said he couldn’t trust people like you. Generally speaking, any enemy of his is a friend to nearly everyone else. But still, I’m risking more than you could know by showing you this.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t feel comfortable,” Marie assures her.

This only deepens Bridgette’s belief that the two of them can be trusted. She goes back into a room, where they hear the distinct sound of her turning a permutation lock. She returns with an object that’s covered by a golden cloth. She hesitates once more, or maybe she’s just pausing for effect, and then she reveals what’s underneath. It’s a green glass telegraph insulator. “I’m not ready to tell you what this does, and I don’t know how it works anyway, but I can tell you that it’s immensely valuable.”

Mateo nods. “Ah yes, that is called the Insulator of Life. So tell me, who is it keeping alive?”

Microstory 1887: Feeling Poverty

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Even though I grew up as the son of general store owners, I always felt poor. I think it mostly had to do with the fact that we couldn’t afford the time it would take to enjoy luxuries, like vacations, because someone always had to be at the store. When mom and dad both retired, I took over fulltime, and tried to put my snazzy business degree to good use. We expanded into the empty unit next door to add more shelves, but I never thought to franchise out, or do major advertising campaigns, or anything like that. I just wanted us to be a little more comfortable, and work a little less. I ended up hiring a larger staff than we ever had before, and spent less time there personally. My children weren’t interested in helping out after serving their part time sentences as middle school and high school students, and I didn’t discourage them from pursuing their respective dreams. I ran a clean business. I filed my taxes accurately and on time—or rather I paid the right person to handle it all for me—and I treated my employees fairly. I also kept my prices fairly low; not enough to dry out my profits, but enough to support my community faithfully. Back in the late 1990s, this country suffered a terrible economic depression. Inflation was at an all time high, as was unemployment. Everyone was struggling, including us. But we did okay. I didn’t have to let anyone go, I just had to raise my prices a tiny bit. For some, that tiny bit was as vast as a canyon, and for the very worst off, an untraversable one. People starved to death. My heart went out to them, but I had to protect my own family. Still, I did what I could, instituting promotions where possible, usually when a particular item was in higher than normal supply. Even then, not everyone could afford to buy what they needed to survive.

We had a couple of security cameras by then, but they weren’t exactly HD quality. There were likely a number of instances of theft that went by unnoticed. A box of cereal here, a can of soda there. It happens, and anyone who runs retail just sort of has to accept the risk. One day, during this depression, I was stocking an aisle with canned food when I noticed a misplaced item. People do this all the time when they change their minds, you’ve seen it. All I had to do was hop over to the next aisle over, and reshelve it. I incidentally did this quite quietly, and happened to catch a young woman sticking baby formula inside her stroller, right under her baby’s legs. At that moment, we locked eyes, and she froze like a stunned animal. I recognized her as a regular, and I’m pretty sure she knew that I was the owner, and not just some minimum wage worker. All of those were on the younger side of the spectrum. I didn’t know what to say as we stared at each other, so I ended up not saying anything. I cleared my throat, shelved the item in its place, and walked away. I don’t know what was going through her head, but she probably had her own internal debate about what to do. In the end, she left with what she needed, and only actually paid for a carton of milk. Years later, she returned to my store in tears. I had seen her many times since the incident, and we never spoke of it, so I’m not sure what had changed, but she wanted to apologize. She wasn’t the real mother. She was actually the sister, and their mother had died, which was why she wasn’t producing breast milk. I told her it didn’t matter. The kid needed food, the kid got food; end of story, no apology necessary. I wasn’t able to help much during the depression, but I was able to help this one person on that one day. I guess it will have to do.

Microstory 1848: Rehabilitator

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Everyone believes that Landis Tipton was the first open voldisil in the world, but that’s not true. He’s not even the first healer, though we could argue semantics all day. Landis became famous because he knew how to leverage a business opportunity, and grow his brand. But the man I want to talk about to you today didn’t have that. He wasn’t flashy or sexy. What he did was painful, and comparatively slow, and it was a thankless job. It also wasn’t necessarily permanent. His patients had to work very hard to prevent themselves from falling into the same old habits. He cured them of their affliction, to be sure, but whatever caused them to walk down that path in the first place, it could happen again, or something else could do the same. He didn’t have control over their actions. I understand that, in my final moments, I’m meant to talk about myself, but I feel obligated to tell his story since apparently, no one else has before. As I’ve said, he didn’t become famous, and that’s a damn shame. Still, it’s probably reasonable for me to start the tale from a personal place. I was always very curious and experimental. According to my mother, I burned each hand on the stovetop two days in a row. A normal person—even one so young—will not be fooled twice by the same consequences. But I guess I couldn’t help myself. Sure, it burned me the first time, but why would that mean it would burn me again? In the era that I was growing up, it was perfectly normal for a child to go off on their own, on their bicycle, or whathaveyou. I was particularly bad about this, though, getting much farther away from the safe zone than I really should have. I loved to explore, and I never got lost, but my personality is what got me into trouble. I fell into the world of drugs when I was thirteen years old. I didn’t surrender to peer pressure, or need to destress. If I hadn’t tried a drug before, I figured I might as well, because what was the worst that could happen? Obviously, a lot. I was an addict.

Notice that I say that I was an addict, because I’m not anymore. Normally, that wouldn’t be accurate; someone like me would be in recovery, but would live the rest of their lives with that mark, and at a greater risk of backsliding. I don’t have to worry about that, because I rid myself of all temptation. Rather, I should say, The Rehabilitator did it for me. He had the special spirit ability to alter the neural chemistry of a client, as well as any physical dependence that they were experiencing. He could remove any addiction from you. I would know, he did it for me. I won’t tell you how I hit rock bottom, because I like to focus on the positive, and he positively fixed me. No more urges, no more second nature routines. I wasn’t disgusted by drugs, like other addiction therapies try to do for you, but I felt no need for them anymore. I returned a few weeks after my very cheap session to thank him for what he did for me. My life was on track. I was rebuilding relationships with people I had pushed away, and I had just gotten the perfect job. We were never great friends, but I stopped by to say hello and chat over the years. He kept doing his thing for other people. He would charge them pennies for a service that literally only he could provide. He could barely make ends meet, but the way he explained it to me, his clients were at their lowest, and charging them a premium would have needlessly made it harder on them. He died a few years ago. His obituary was short, but hundreds of people went to his funeral. The paper didn’t bother investigating why. He was a great man who deserved so much better. I owe him the last forty years of my life.