Microstory 2652: A Wing and a Prayer

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Malika Turnbull follows her friend’s instructions, not knowing if it’s going to work. Truthfully, she hates mythology, but Mandica needs her, and she’s willing to stomach it for as long as she must. Hopefully Plan A will work, and it won’t be too terribly long. She’s standing at the maintenance entrance, still in the plaza, not even too far from the reception. The door is locked, which they figured would be the case since it’s a secure area. She locates the nearest camera, and holds a photo of Mandica up to it. This really probably won’t work. Daedalus would have to be monitoring it, or have some sort of alert system connected to it. Why would he even do that? He’s supposed to be an NPC. He’s not supposed to have any access to the outside world, or the inner workings of any dome. There’s just no way—the door swings open on its own. “Oh. Okay, then.”

She goes through the passageway then lifts the trapdoor, and ends up in the meadow that Mandica described. Oh, she almost forgot. She detaches the pole from her back, extends it to the right length, and jams it into the stone wall to prevent the hidden secondary door from trapping her here. As a visitor, she would have every right to leave, but that would be a whole thing. Hopefully this guy doesn’t take long.

Several hours later, a man wearing brown and gray wings swoops down from the sky holding a torch. He jams it into the ground, and smiles cautiously. “I’m Daedalus. What fate has befallen Mandica Kolar of Tribe Kolar?” Would Daedalus say that?

“She’s fine. She just can’t leave where she is, so she sent me in her stead.”

“Did she find the woman for whom she was looking?” he asks.

“Yes, but Morgana is powerful, and angry with Mandica, for no apparent reason. Mandica is calling in the favor that you owe her.” The original script had her qualify that with expressing the hope that the favor still stands, but Malika suggested that she hold firm so it doesn’t become an argument. Mandica accepted the attitude, because after all, she’s not the one who has to be here with these creatures, wherever they might be lurking. “She is asking you to engineer a pair of wings for her. She requests raven black.”

“Hmm,” Daedalus says. “What is your name, child?”

“Don’t call me that. I’m probably older than you. My name is Malika Turnbull.”

“Fascinating. Are you two related?” he asks offensively.

“Oh, because we’re both black, we must be related.”

“Your names, dear traveler. They’re similar. That is all I meant.”

“Oh.” Malika shrugs. “People have similar names. It happens.”

“I wouldn’t know.” There are other people named Daedalus out there, Malika is sure of it, but she wouldn’t expect the bot version of the original to understand that.

“So. How about those wings?” she presses.

“I will not have to build something new for her. If it is raven black she is after, then it is raven black she shall have. I have a new line of wings back in my shop that I think she’s really gonna love. More compact than ever, more advanced in every way. They exist in your world, but they are quite rare. I had to sacrifice a lot to persuade—”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t need your life story.” Yikes.

“Very well, my new blue friend. Back or front?”

“Huh?”

“Would you like me to carry you, or let you ride on my back?”

“Neither. I will stay here and wait for your return.”

He shakes his head. “This area is unsafe. Spriggans lurk in these woods. You have been lucky so far. Had I known that you would be coming, I would have been waiting for you. Please, you must come with me. You may be immortal, but I do not want to return to this spot to find your dead body, and have to wait for your replacement.”

She refrains from arguing that it was she who had to wait for him before. Instead, she lets him pick her up by her underarms, and fly her over the lands. “This is some bullshit,” she complains on the way. She doesn’t like being controlled by other people.

They land on the top of his tower in the center of a great city. Crowds of people are cheering for him, and seemingly praying. He waves at them respectfully, and blows them kisses, but does not stay long before escorting Malika inside. “This is my flight lab,” he says when they enter the room. “I have others, but I’m obviously fond of wings.”

 “Right.” Again, Malika is not into this sort of stuff, but she is an educated woman. She knows enough about the stories to know that Daedalus didn’t just keep building wings, and become the emperor of the world, or whatever he is here. Mandica said that the mythology has evolved on its own with all these unrelated characters being forced together, but it’s surreal seeing it up close. She still doesn’t wanna stick around.

“Ah, right here,” Daedalus says as he’s walking a dress form mannequin more towards the center of the room. He smiles proudly, which is odd, because there’s nothing on the mannequin. He reaches behind it, and presumably flips some switch. Nanites emerge from the back, and form themselves into wings. They are raven black, as requested. “What do you think? I have other corvids, but this one was specifically inspired by the raven. There are other black ones too, though they’re more metallic.”

“I think she will love these,” Malika has no choice but to admit.

“Do you want to try them out first?” he asks, still standing tall and proud.

“Oh, no. They’re not for me.” Malika walks around to get a better look at the backside, and the housing unit. “Besides, what would I be testing? She didn’t specify what she’s looking for. She didn’t know they could collapse like this. As long as they work, she will accept them. I presume you don’t have a return policy.”

“For her, I absolutely do,” Daedalus says. “But you really should try them. If not, I have other models, perhaps in blue? This might be your last chance.”

“Okay, fine.” She’s a guest here, right? She doesn’t want to be rude. She only gave up being a superhero in Underbelly because her substrate was destroyed. She still likes to have fun. The blue wings are not quite the same shade of blue as her character, but perhaps that’s a good thing. Blue Umbra is dead, and unlike Ravensgate Rescuer, she’s never coming back to life. She lets him help her put the apparatus on, and take her out to the edge of the building. If he’s trying to kill her, he’ll fail. Her mind will just stream over to her nearest backup. She leaps from the building, activates propulsion, and begins to soar through the air. It’s a magnificent feeling. She was obviously just flying, but it’s better to be in control. She spends an hour up there, feeling the wind in her face, and enjoying life for the first time in a long time. She lands back on the roof with a huge smile. “Thank you for letting me have that experience.”

“It doesn’t have to end,” he says. “You can keep them.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, why not? No one here can appreciate them like a real-worlder can.”

“Well, thank you,” She’s not gonna argue. “Do you have one in red and black?”

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.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 21, 2399

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Alyssa left for a few hours, claiming that she was going to ask Dalton to agree to a meeting with Team Matic. When she came back, she apologized for not being able to make it happen. He was apparently still upset with her for losing the Dilara Cane, and only maintains any sort of relationship with her because he still needs her to be in charge of the Omega Gyroscope. The good news is that Alyssa has so far been able to keep to her word. She didn’t leave the Superscraper ship after relaying the news, and spent the night here. She had a lot of work to do before, but most of that is over now. Things should be working on their own without requiring constant attention.

“Thank you for trying,” Mateo says to her during breakfast. “I’m not sure I said that to you yesterday.”

“I’m sorry for how I behaved. That’s not me.”

“It literally wasn’t. Don’t worry about it. We’ve all done stuff like that. Ramses sacrificed himself out of his guilt for what he had done. Don’t let that happen to you. We’re a team, and we can get through anything. Together,” he adds.

She smiles. “Where’s Leona.”

“She’s getting ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“For our response to Dalton.”

“Hmm. What response would that be?”

Leona walks into the kitchen in her Shabatica best. She’s wearing a pretty floral dress that shows off her figure, but isn’t revealing or distracting. Her hair’s been done up all nice, and she’s wearing a modest amount of concealer makeup. “You told me to not wear blackface, so I’m not.”

Mateo shakes her head. “I still think it’s going to work. They just need to see what you can do.”

“Who needs to see what she can do?” Alyssa questions nervously.

“The Meeting House,” Leona replies. “I’m going to reveal myself as an illusionist.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“You’re right. I hadn’t given it any thought. I’m just doing this on a whim.”

“I thought we were friends again now,” Alyssa says.

“That’s how I talk to my friends sometimes. You’ll learn.”

“She’s anxious about it,” Mateo tries to explain. “It’s kind of a big deal.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Leona says dismissively. “People already saw this building appear out of nowhere magically. They just need some details.”

“She’s too anxious to be honest with herself about it,” Mateo adds.

“That may be, but do you think your remarks are helping?” Leona asks him.

“What exactly is the purpose of this?” Alyssa asks.

“Do you think that Dalton would change his mind if you asked about us again?”

“No.”

“That’s why.” His initial reaction was totally predictable. She didn’t think that he would go for it. If Dalton wanted to talk to them, he would have shown up anytime in the last year. This was just a wave hello. It was pleasant. It was nice. He’s going to wish he had answered it. The next move might hurt a bit. He’s the god here, and if someone makes an appearance, claiming to be just as powerful, that would cause quite a stir.

“I don’t understand,” Alyssa admits.

“We want his attention,” Mateo elaborates. “We’ll get it.”

“Are we not worried about the repercussions?” Alyssa presses. “The side effects?”

“It’s like the man said,” Leona begins, “they’ve already seen the building. If a house had appeared out of nowhere, we could have chalked it up to a magic trick. But a gigantic spaceship that’s taller than any building in the world by a hundred meters? In the middle of downtown New York City? Try explaining that away. The secret is out, and even if it wasn’t, it soon will be. The world is about to be destroyed, and everyone here is going to need to be moved to an entirely new universe. We have a term for that in the main sequence. It’s called The Edge, and it marks the year when everything changes. I think it was off by a few months, because this is happening, and it’s happening soon.”

“Okay,” Alyssa decides. “You do you. Can I come, though?”

“Absolutely,” answers a voice in the doorway.

“Imani Pettis, meet our good friend, Alyssa McIver. Alyssa, Imani.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Imani says, stepping into the room, followed by Heath.

“Likewise,” Alyssa returns.

“Do I look okay?” Leona straightens her dress at the hips.

“You look perfectly acceptable,” Imani says, but she doesn’t sound happy.

“Oh, no. What’s wrong?” Mateo asks.

“I’ve been praying on it, and I don’t think this is a good idea anymore.”

“To be quite frank,” Leona begins, which is never the best way for her to start a comment to someone of which she is asking a favor. “Assuming Dalton is a real god who can hear your prayers, he’s the one we are trying to summon. If he doesn’t want to be summoned, of course he’s going to tell you that we shouldn’t do it.”

“First of all,” Imani replies, “Dalton is not a god. He’s a leader, and his power is undeniable. Secondly, what Dalton would want is paramount. If he doesn’t want to come, that is his prerogative, and nothing we do can alter it. Especially not you, since you are an unbeliever. That is why I’m allowing you to do this, because if he appears, our prayers will have been answered in that regard. If he turns out to be a fraud, then we will welcome this revelation, because it will be the truth, and the entire purpose of our religion is to seek the truth. That brings me back to my final point, which is that I’m not canceling your appearance. I’m merely postponing it. I was worried about it before, because it was such short notice. I realized that it will be better for us to do it on Friday. That will give us time to spread the news, and for people to make arrangements.”

“Oh,” Leona says. “Thank you.”

“Plus,” Imani continues, “we only broadcast services for the occasional very special event, usually to turn unbelievers such as yourself towards the light. We need time to test the system before we do that, because it has been some time.”

Leona lowers her head. “This was very thoughtful of you,” she says contritely. “I apologize for my outburst.”

“It’s quite all right. I would ask you, however, if you could...maybe...?”

“Show you again?” Leona guesses.

“If it’s not asking too much,” Imani says, uncharacteristically shyly.

“I’ve been practicing.” Leona winks at Alyssa. A beam of light shoots out of her chest, followed by another, and many more. She’s a humanoid beacon of light, and then she’s just the light. When it recedes, she’s made herself look like a growing oak tree.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: Saturday, July 12, 2127

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No one in the history of Tamerlane Pryce’s afterlife construct had been assigned Level 11, white. He agreed with the other Designers that people living in the real world would not be ready to learn the truth about what happened to organic entities after death until at least the 25th century. Of course, Mateo already having experience keeping secrets meant that Pryce didn’t think this one case would be a problem. Mateo was already living on the fringes, and no one would notice his resurrection, because they didn’t know about him in the first place. Other time travelers wouldn’t be suspicious either, because they were used to crisscrossing each other’s timelines.

This came with both perks, and downsides. Mateo’s new body would be in perfect condition, and resistant to disease, which Tamerlane called the pristine edge all resurrected people would have. He also maintained a permanent remote connection to the afterlife, so he would be able to communicate with his friends while he worked to figure out how to get them all out too. There was a catch, though. He was fully capable of dying yet again, and if that happened, he would lose his Level 11 privileges, and have to start over. Honestly, this was a crapshoot when it came to Pryce’s warped mind. He may make Mateo spin the death wheel again. He might just send him back down to Earth, and maybe even sever his connection to his friends—which he might do at any time anyway. If Mateo ever returned, Pryce could also just cut his losses, and delete his code permanently, so there was nothing anyone could do. If he wanted to save Leona, Ellie, Sanaa, J.B., and Angela, he needed to be smart. He needed help. He needed Jupiter Fury.

Mateo didn’t know how to contact Jupiter, and he didn’t want to speak with The Delegator again. He had kind of burned that bridge, so he had to find some other way. Holly Blue had a special phone number to call her, but there was no way he was smart enough to remember all fifty-two digits. Dr. Malloy Hammer had a phone number too, and while it was a lot easier to remember, he never knew it, so that still wasn’t helpful. Someone on Tribulation Island, or anywhere else on Dardius, would be more than happy to help, but there was no way to get to them. He still didn’t know where the Earth Nexus replica was, so if he wanted to travel the intergalactic void, he would have to go to Egypt. Well, that wasn’t impossible, but Pryce didn’t bother to give him a new identity, so catching a flight would be problematic. In his mind, there was only one solution to his isolation, and it was kind of fitting, because it was starting to become a real useful trick these days, albeit for a different reason every time.

It always seemed to be the truth to them that the powers that be didn’t want him dead. It was also true that they appeared to ignore this concern when he had to save J.B.’s life. Or maybe they didn’t. Maybe they were only seemingly all-powerful, but millions of years ago on Dardius was actually out of their purview. It wasn’t the craziest hypothesis that they might try to save his life if something were to place it in danger. And hey, if this didn’t work, he knew exactly where he was going to go after death, and it wasn’t all bad. He chose to not call Leona about his decision, because she would probably try to talk him out of it, and be stressful about not necessarily being able to. He took the elevator to the platform of the Kansas City arcology, walked to the edge, climbed over the barrier they erected to stop this sort of thing from happening, and swung himself over.

He fell down and down and down, until a pair of arms wrapped themselves around his body, and teleported him to safety. It was Paige Turner, who was these days filling in for Savior of Earth, Xearea Voss. “Sup,” she said simply.

“Sup,” he echoed.

“Are you from the future?”

“I am.” He paused a moment. “Looks like you’re still here. Feel any dry mouth?”

“Nope, I think the PTB want us to talk for a moment. What’s on your mind?”

“I was hoping to contact Jupiter Fury.”

“Fury? Not Rosa?”

Mateo rolled his head side to side. “Rosa would do, yeah, sure. Can you help?”

“I don’t have my powers anymore,” Paige said. She patted her pockets. “I don’t have any photos anyway. If you flung yourself over the edge just talk to me, I’m afraid you wasted your time. Arcadia and Memphis have me on a tight leash.”

“Well, it was a longshot, I guess.”

Paige frowned at him. “I’m not really part of the choosing one network right now. I really only have one name for you. It might not work; I’ve never tried it. Some choosers have special ways of contacting them, and this guy has one of those ways. He’s, like, a time god, or something. Reaching out to him might be a little...uncomfortable for you, what with you being Catholic.”

“I’m not Catholic anymore.”

“Well, you might have lapsed...”

“No, The Superintendent took away my faith completely, I’m surprised you remember. The only reason I do is because I borrowed Nerakali’s memory manipulation powers.”

“Oh. Then you’ll probably be fine. You have to pray, like he’s an angel. You pray to him hard enough, he may come, and hopefully agree to hook you up with the network.” She started smacking her lips. “I’m about to leave. Real quick, his name is Vendakaiel.” And with that, she was gone, off to save someone’s life who actually deserved it.

Vendakaiel. Hm. Okay, well, this should be relatively easy. Mateo went over to the nearest tree, and got down on his knees. He closed his eyes, and held his palms together, like a silly cartoon. Then he got all the cynicism and skepticism out of his system, so he could genuinely pray to this regular man who probably liked having people believe he was some kind of time god. He only had to concentrate for a few minutes before he felt himself being pulled away. He opened his eyes, and saw the tree before him stretch taller and taller, as if made of elastic. Everything else around him was doing the same, as he was sliding alongside them. This was a form of transportation he had not yet experienced. It looked scary, but it felt great. When it was over, he was still on his knees, now in a flowery garden. It was a very relaxing place to be, and immediately made him feel calm and stress-free.

“I am Vendakaiel,” came a voice behind him.

Mateo smiled dumbly, and turned around slowly. “I’m Mateo Matic. It is a pleasure to meet you, sir.” He could see a figure before him, but couldn’t really make it out. There was something very wrong—or right, depending on your definition—with the way his brain was processing information.

“Likewise. I have heard great things about you.”

“Where are we?”

“The Garden Dimension,” Vendakaiel explained. “It is where I live.”

Mateo looked around some more. “Oh, I’ve been here before.”

“Yes, it was just over a decade ago. I remember The Conservator asking The Horticulturalists’ permission to visit.”

Mateo breathed deeply. “Is there opium in the air, like that one show with the magician who got his stuff touchers chopped off? I can’t remember the name.”

“Actually, yes, where do you think they got the idea? It’s only in this one section, though. I use it to make people feel at ease, so they do not tremble at my appearance.”

“I am not so easily disturbed,” Mateo promised. “Could we go somewhere without recreational drugs?”

“As you wish.” Vendakaiel spirited them away to another part of the Garden.

It took Mateo a few minutes for his head to clear, but that was probably faster than it would have been had he taken the drugs directly. He could see the time god fully now. It was a monster. Mateo had never seen it before, but Leona had, and he could recall her memories of the event. He just needed to think harder for a moment. What did they call it again? “You’re a speedstriker.”

“Very good,” Vendakaiel said with a bow.

“You can teleport?” he questioned.

“Eh, that’s not really the right word to use. What I do involves a lot more running. When you called to me, I had to come get you, not just snap my fingers, and make you appear.”

“I see. Well, I appreciate it. Wait, I was to understand that time monsters didn’t have agency. They weren’t conscious, just glitches.”

“I’m evolved. Some human scientists trapped me, studied me, and finally, taught me. I am profoundly grateful to them for the gift of slowness. I didn’t realize how much better it is to not be in constant motion.”

Mateo nodded understandingly. “I was hoping you could help me find someone I lost track of. His name is Jupiter Fury?”

“Yes, I know the name. You’ll have to give me a second, so I can go find him. I found him.”

“Ah, that’s great.”

“I’ll take you to him, but I require something in return.”

“Naturally.” Hopefully, if it was something he couldn’t pay, Vendakaiel wouldn’t force him to pay, but just send him back to Earth empty handed.

“I need blood.”

“Oh, no.”

“It is the only thing that slows me down. The drugs help, but there’s nothing better than human blood. I don’t kill, or drink it; I inject it, like a normal person.”

“Yeah, that’s normal.”

“Look, if you can’t do it, I won’t make ya. I was just under the impression you needed my help, so...”

“You can have some of my blood, okay?”

“No can do. If I transfuse the blood of a salmon or chooser, I take on their properties. I have no interest in skipping time. It has to be a regular human.”

Mateo let out a short growl. “Ugh. Fine. I will find a blood bag when I’m on Earth. Jupiter himself will be able to help me with that too, so it’ll be a win-win.”

The creature might have been smiling, but it didn’t have very human facial features. “You better deliver, because if you don’t, you’re gonna find out just how fast I am.”

“I understand.”

The scenery stretched again, and transplanted him right in front of Jupiter Fury. “Miss me?”

“I did,” Jupiter said sincerely. “You died.”

“I’m back,” Mateo said.

“For good?”

Mateo chuckled. “Is anything in this universe good?”

Jupiter smiled softly, and nodded in agreeance. “Report.”

And so Mateo went about telling him the story of how he died, where he went after it happened, and what his wife and friends were doing without him. He didn’t know if Jupiter himself would be able to help, but perhaps the virtual construct was like another reality, and there was a way to break into it without Pryce knowing about it. After the story, though, Jupiter didn’t think that was the case. The most likely explanation was that the simulations were being run on a massive network of computers, which were orbiting together in a massive collection, around some star. This star was probably located very far away so as not to allow the Earthans to discover it too soon. He would have to take some time to think of their options, which was a really good sign, because it meant Jupiter was truly interested in helping.

While he was waiting on that, he went into the other room alone, so he could form his technopsychic connection to the afterlife. Leona answered the call, which prompted him to appear before her like a hologram. Except this was all virtual, so he could interact with the things around him just as much as she could. It was all just ones and zeros. Leona called them avatars. “How have you been this last year?”

She held up both of her wrists, where he could see a Cassidy cuff on each. “Pryce wrote the code for them. We’re all on the Bearimy-Matic pattern, just like we were before. I’ve only been here a day.”

He wasn’t sure whether to be upset about that, or not. At first, he didn’t think it should make a difference, but then he decided it might be for the best. Mateo was in the main sequence now, and Pryce heavily implied that he managed to encode his original pattern into the new body. If true, he and Leona would be separated through space, but at least not through time. “I’m going to get you out. I’m working on it as we speak.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Leona said. “Angela doesn’t deserve this. If you can only rescue one of us, let it be her. The rest of us are fine.”

“If I rescue her, he’ll punish you,” Mateo reasoned. “Everyone is getting out.”

“Okay.” Leona didn’t just not want to argue. She seemed to agree.

“Now.” He smiled reassuringly. “How about a tour?”

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Microstory 1012: Edith

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Death is such a horrific topic, I don’t want to talk about that. Let’s talk about life; specifically Viola’s beautiful, but tragic, one. I spoke with her dozens of times over the years, and the last one was a couple weeks before it happened. I was walking by her in the library, and noticed that she was doing tons of research on religion, which is a subject I know quite a bit about. I was going to leave her alone with it, but she stopped me, since she knew I was an authority. She wanted to know the difference between a religion and a cult. I know the difference, but it’s something I never think about, so I struggled to articulate my truths. We ended up skipping seventh period to discuss it more thoroughly together. She argued that all religious institutions brainwash their members into believing something, but that’s not true. Cults isolate vulnerable people from their support systems, demand unyielding loyalty from them, and do so under the rule of a single individual. A religion is a network of people who have chosen to believe in the same things, through complete free will, and independently of each other. She pointed out that many children born into a given religion end up remaining there, suggesting some level of repression. I noted that this happens a lot, true, but there are probably more people who reject the beliefs of their parents than she realizes. Or realized, rather. Unfortunately, we never really came to an understanding. My faith is so important to me, but I had never really been in a position to defend it. Honestly, this town is so predominantly Christian that I don’t hear much questioning. I had always assumed she was Christian too, but this incident showed quite a bit of doubt in her heart. I didn’t want to push it, but she was starting to make me think she was actually an atheist. It may sound intolerant of me, but I don’t know of anything that would be worse than that. How terrible it would be to go through life not believing in anything? How lonely and sad would it be, not having anything to look forward to? All religions have some form of the eternal soul, but atheists believe that at the end of your life, you’ll just stop existing. They don’t even believe in some perpetual darkness. They think you won’t be at all. I can’t fathom it. It’s the scariest thought I’ve even almost thought. I’ve been praying for her every night since she died. I pray that she found solace, and that she didn’t leave this world thinking there was no other beyond it. Like I said, our final debate was a couple weeks prior, which was plenty of time to see the light. I will continue to pray that she ultimately found herself being welcomed into the Kingdom of Heaven by our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 24, 2017

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While Mateo was slipping time for a year, the girl who had thrown up on him at the hospital managed to track him down. She arrived at his house with an apology casserole. For more than one reason, she was disappointed about not being able to speak with Mateo directly, but Carol managed to comfort her and relieve her of all guilt. For the first year that Mateo skipped, he was officially declared missing. For the following years, his parents had to claim that he was building schools and clinics in developing countries. They had to fudge his tax forms. The authorities were suspicious of this, but eventually let things go. There were witnesses at the hospital, so that helped to close the investigation. Unfortunately, their lie could blow up in their faces at any moment, and he would have no way of being around to help them.

The people who had been with him in the cemetery for his first jump had been the most freaked out about it. He spent his one day in 2017 going around to all of his friends to assuage their anxiety over the matter, proving to them that he was alive and well. Obviously, he had to exaggerate the part about being well. Kyle, the lawyer who had been looking directly at him during the initial jump had ended up in a mental institution. Mateo’s reappearance to him didn’t help anything at first. He became worse, assuming him to be a hallucination sent to torment him. Over time during the visit, however, things were able to get better. He even let Mateo hold him tightly and sing him his favorite classic rock songs. Kyle was kind of a jerk in his old life, and an apparently smarmy defense attorney, but he didn’t deserve this. Afterwards, Mateo took some time alone in the chapel, and prayed for him with his birth mother’s rosary.

He had always believed in God, and possibly even more so since the timeslipping problem started, but he had never prayed before. He didn’t like the idea of asking God for any more than he had already been given in life. But he wasn’t so much praying for God to help. It was more about asking for forgiveness. Even though he was not in control of the timeslips—at least not consciously—he felt responsible for the problems they had caused the people around him. At some point, he might even have to fake his own death. On the other hand, if he keeps going at this rate, he’ll quickly outlive everyone he knows by centuries.

His last stop was at his parents’ neighbor’s house. One of the girls from the cemetery, Frida lived there. She had moved back in with her parents to take care of her ailing mother who passed two years ago. She was now taking care of her father, and he wasn’t looking very good. When she opened the door, Mateo could see the teeneager from the hospital behind her. Evidently, Frida and Leona met in the front yard last year when she came by with the apology casserole. They soon became friends, bonding over having both lost their mothers. Frida was also her mentor, helping with math and college applications.

Frida was in the middle of a conversation and hadn’t seen anything at the cemetery that night, so she wasn’t as traumatized as some of the others. In the following months, she had been there for his parents, providing a shoulder to cry on when she wasn’t busy with her own family issues. She had always been kind and accommodating to others, even as a child. She didn’t let other kids push her around, but she never felt the need to win an argument or prove herself. She and Mateo dated for several weeks in high school but ultimately decided they were better as friends.

He tried to shake hands with Leona, but she seemed to be incredibly shy around him. When she left for the bathroom, Frida informed him that she had developed a crush on him. They talked about him probably a little too much, and the (made up) stories his parents told about the amazingly noble things he was doing for the kids in developing countries was doing nothing to change her feelings. He had a fleeting thought while Frida was explaining the situation. In only a few days from his perspective, Leona would no longer be too young for him. A handful of days after that, she would be too old for him. Not too much later, she would be dead. They would all be dead. Everyone would be dead by the time he had a hankering for Chinese food again.

Mateo shuddered and ran back home. He wept and complained in his parents’ arms until he fell asleep on the couch. It was nearly midnight before he awoke again. He jumped up, worried that they wouldn’t get to see him one last time. But they were sitting across from him in anticipation. “I’m so sorry,” he cried.

“We will be here when you return.” And they were. Exactly there. Midnight struck. Mateo jumped forward in time while looking at his parents. They were sitting in the same places as before, even wearing the same clothes, giving him hope that he hadn’t actually jumped this time. But no. They weren’t in the exact same position as before. And they even looked a little older. “Welcome back,” Carol was finally able to say to her son.

“Bit of a problem,” Randall said. “That girl, Leona saw you through the window last year.”

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