Microstory 2693: Settle

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Omni Flash

They have settled down, and settled into a routine. Ronan built a small home for them to live in, with some help from the boy, Vith. Vith is not who they thought he was. He was an adult in the technical sense, but he grew up on a planet not unlike the simulation they’re in now. For him, it was real. They planted and caught their own food, and built their own structures. And if they failed at any of these things, they could die for good. He seems to be of two minds. On the one hand, after he was essentially rescued by Castlebourne, he realized that he never got a real childhood. On the other, he isn’t comfortable in the modern world, and actively sought a place that resembled his original home. Ronan and Mayumi aren’t confident that he is entirely mentally okay, but instead of trying to exit the dome, and ask for help, they decided to raise him on their own. Little Talus will have a big brother to look up to, which they didn’t originally plan.

It’s been nine months now. The harvest is going well, but Vith is having to work their garden on his own today. Mayumi is in labor. They talked about this at length before coming to the Nordome Network. Were they going to try to find someone to help her deliver the child, or do it themselves? In the end, they decided on the latter. It wasn’t the only way to do it, they were in it for the long haul. When they form a community, it will come naturally, not just because they notice a bunch of other people in their vicinity. For now, it’s just the three of them, and in this room, two.

In over 300 years, Mayumi has never given birth before. They never even had children, but out there, they would not have done it naturally. This is part of the experience that they were seeking. They want to know what it was like before genetic engineering and gestation tanks. They didn’t have to go quite this far back in the past, but they have other reasons for admiring this culture, in this time period. She is in a lot of pain. There are no drugs. There’s a wooden spoon that Vith fashioned for them several months ago. It’s very soft. Her teeth marks are going to be in it forever. Hopefully, he will be okay with that. She is screaming her head off, but she is strong, and she’ll get through this. They will be a complete family again, once Talus returns.

Ronan can see the head. He encourages her to keep pushing while he guides the little guy out of her. He’s not crying, and that’s not good. Ronan wipes the goop from his tiny face, and bounces him up and down a little, tapping on his chest ever so gently. It takes a couple of minutes, but he finally does after Ronan sticks his pinky in his mouth, and clears it out. It’s the loudest scream he’s ever heard—louder than even Mayumi was—but it’s such a beautiful sound. Apparently curious, Vith walks in. Ronan smiles at him, and shows off his little brother. Vith doesn’t seem to know what to think, but he doesn’t seem upset. He is just confused. He knew that Mayumi was pregnant, and that she was going to give birth. He knows where babies come from too. The truth is that he’s a little bit of an oddball. That’s okay, Ronan knows that he’s going to be a good brother.

“Good. We need to let mommy see him, okay?” Ronan goes over and tries to hand Talus over to his wife. “Mayumi. Mayumi?”

She’s not moving. Ronan too hastily hands baby Talus off to Vith, and tries to wake Mayumi up, but she doesn’t. She never does again. The three of them live in that small house for another few weeks, waiting for Mayumi to appear, having reentered the simulation. It’s not against the rules as it was an accidental death. But she never comes back, and the winter is about to get real bad.

Microstory 2692: Little Orphan, Vith

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3.1

Ronan and Mayumi, along with the rest of the players who came up with them, start taking stock of their supplies. It isn’t much, but the fruit could float, so that’s great. It is under someone else’s control, though. Most everyone has something which they are still holding onto for dear life, even though the storm is over, and they are out of the water. The two of them have the door. It’s large and heavy; not something that belongs on a ship. Ronan’s best guess is that someone somewhere on Danmörk commissioned it from some other region, and had it shipped there. If the players were supposedly on that ship, it would have likely been carrying other supplies that didn’t belong to them. They didn’t really know the story, though. The Custodians didn’t tell them that that would happen at all. And even if the story goes that someone did buy this door, they would probably be an NPC who isn’t looking for it at all, because it isn’t real. Even if they are, they’re not liable to find it. That’s their justification for keeping it. When they finally build their home somewhere around here, they’ll hook this door to it. They’ve earned it.

They’re not sure where they’re gonna go, though. Should they stay close by, or is this where all players begin their journeys? If that’s the case, it’s not a good place to start a life. At some point, they want to all but forget the way things were. If every time they try to immerse themselves in the lifestyle, someone new shows up who isn’t used to not talking about spaceships and computers, it’s going to ruin the experience. Ronan is not even sure if they want to stay close to anyone who is here right now. Yes, there is safety in numbers, but they can trust none of these people to have any honor. Who are their characters meant to be? They have already met a thief, who has been avoiding them, probably believing that Ronan might retaliate. He won’t. That’s not in Ronan’s character, but the thief doesn’t know that, and neither does anyone else.

Having possessions means someone might take them from you, but it also signals that you’re less likely to try to take from others, and that’s a valuable state to be in. Today, they’re in shock, and still full from a breakfast that took almost no effort to procure. Tomorrow, they will be hungry, and could descend into madness quite quickly. That’s why technology breeds civility. There is no need to act like an animal when a food synthesizer can print you anything you want in minutes. But here? There are no rules, and it’s about to get nasty. That’s why Ronan and Mayumi signed up. But they’re not idiots. They know they need to protect themselves. That probably means forging their own path. Once they start building their wealth, they will start to need to defend it, but they will also be able to, and they will feel more comfortable around others because of that. So Ronan picks up the door, and uses it as an umbrella for the both of them while they head into the woods to look for a private place to settle. It will be miles away.

“Wait, can I come with you?” It’s the little orphan Ronan saved from the deep.

“What’s your name, boy?” Mayumi asks him.

“It’s Vith, son of unknown.”

She giggles, and reaches out her hand. “Come on, Vith. You can help me look out for berries. Don’t eat anything, though. It might not be edible.”

“May,” Ronan argues, “we cannot keep him. You already have one on the way.”

“I’m not going to leave him to starve to death on the shore. I believe we were brought together for a reason. He stays.”

He stays. Then nine months pass.

Microstory 2691: Mettle

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Omni Flash

Ronan and Mayumi are at the entrance, waiting for the elevator to lift up to the surface of their first dome. He’s staring at the screen, which is playing footage of the Nordome Network, as if they’ve not already bought into the adventure. He’s not paying attention to the video itself, but the fact that it’s on a screen. They weren’t invented until the 19th or 20th centuries. That seems like so long ago, and they’re jumping so much further into the past than that. But he’s not really thinking about that either. He’s thinking about that screen; about how it’s the last one he’ll ever see for decades. His character is 29 years old, and Mayumi was made to look about 18. Historically, she probably would have been younger, but there are limits to how authentic they’re going to be. This is wild west of the Charter Cloud. Castlebourne’s laws don’t care how old someone appears to be, as long as the totality of their experiences make them an adult. He’s never heard of any substrate-play which—he doesn’t want to think about it. They’re both adults. Their characters have been married for a year. She’s pregnant. That screen.

They’re sitting here with a couple dozen other people who are entering the simulation at the same time. The walls are gray and metallic in a very rustic way, almost like their means of bridging the gap between the modern era, and the Viking Age. Or maybe it’s just a cheap way to build since all this thing has to do is take you up to a forest that’s meant to look like one you would find in Danmörk on Earth. As he’s still watching that screen, getting a little bit of cold feet, Ronan starts to realize that the only reason the metaphor is creeping into his mind is because of what’s actually happening to his feet. At first, he thinks someone spilled their water, but then he sees that there’s way too much of it. The walls are leaking, and the pod is filling up fast. Others have noticed as well, and start to get worried. There are rules about what your substrate has to be. You can’t come in here as a condor, or have advanced physical traits, like the kind of strength a true Norsemen wouldn’t have ever been physically capable of achieving. And you can’t have gills. His and Mayumi’s consciousnesses are still streaming to the remote servers, and he suspects everyone else’s is too, but they still don’t want to die.

They’re floating now, the water is so deep. People are trying to find some kind of emergency hatch, or a way to contact help. Ronan looks over. The display is still showing the hype video, but it’s starting to shutter and shake. The lights are flickering, they’re about to die. Something bad must be happening on the surface, like a simulated hurricane so powerful that it’s breaking the fourth wall, and literally leaking into the infrastructure of the dome. All four walls suddenly separate from each other and fall away. The rest of the water rushes in so they’re fully submerged. He finds Mayumi, and holds her close to his chest as he looks up. There’s a light, filtering through the water, showing their way to escape. They kick their legs and breach. Ah, their supplies. Some of it is floating around, but some of it isn’t buoyant. The ocean floor isn’t too far away. He might still be able to reach it. “I’m going down for the tools!”

“Okay!” She yells. It is storming, though it’s probably not a hurricane. Splintered slabs of wood are scattered about, which weren’t in the elevator. It’s a shipwreck.

Ronan takes a deep breath, and dives back down. As he’s searching for their tool basket, he spots the elevator pod. The walls are coming back together as it’s dropping back down into the shaft. This is obviously not anywhere close to being an accident. The Custodians set up an elaborate way to introduce them to the world of the Norsemen, and they did it in spectacularly terrible fashion. He absolutely loves it, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to go back up there with nothing. He spots the basket, so he adjusts his heading, and goes for it. Someone else reaches it first. The stranger starts picking up the tools that fell out, and putting them back. Ronan is about to fight him for it, because that’s what a Viking would do, but then he sees something else. A young man is drifting around. His eyes are closed. He’s clean-shaven, wearing farmer’s clothing.

Ronan can’t vie for the tools and save the boy too. He doesn’t know who this is, but if he’s half as enthusiastic about this simulation as Ronan and Mayumi is, he wouldn’t want to die on his first day. Would they let him back in? Is there a waiting period for screwing up this badly this early? Plus, Ronan isn’t even sure that he’ll survive at all. You do not have to be immortal to come here. You have to sign a bunch of waivers, just like Mayumi did with baby Talus, but they will let you in if you really want to test your mettle. Yeah, he has to save this guy. He adjusts his heading slightly once more, and reaches the kid. He takes him by the underarms, and swims them both up.

“Ronan!” he hears Mayumi call. “Ronan, over here!” She’s holding onto a big wooden door. The guy who stole their tools is trying to find refuge on it too. “Get the hell off!” she demands, physically pushing him away. She wasn’t even there when he stole from them, but she has ver good instincts.

Ronan drags the victim over to the door, and together, they lift him onto it. Okay, back then, no one in the world had any clue how to perform CPR, but Ronan has his own rules and limits. He’s not going to compromise his integrity for what essentially boils down to a game. He went down there, and pulled this guy up, so he’s going to get the water out of his lungs, and make him breathe again, even if it’s not historically accurate. While Mayumi steadies the door, Ronan presses on the victim’s chest, and provides rescue breaths. He only does it for a few minutes, and never needs to take a break.

The boy lives. He instinctively turns to his side, and spits the water up. He coughs and breathes erratically as he fully returns to the land of the living, or rather the sea of the living. “Thank you!” he says when he gets the chance. “I’m an idiot.”

“It’s quite all right, son,” Ronan says. “Are you here with anyone?”

The boy shakes his head. “My character is an orphan who just escaped indentured servitude in search of a better life in Danmörk.”

Ronan smiles, and slaps him on the back, incidentally causing more water to spill out of his mouth. “Well, you’re gonna find it.” He looks over at the thief, who is trying to grab onto a skjöldr. It keeps flipping around, and as the storm starts growing even worse, he ultimately loses the tools to the deep. “Stop!” Ronan orders. “It’s gone! If we’re going to make it to that shore, we have to do it together!”

He continues to lead the participants. He figures out how to bring them all together, so no one gets pulled away by the waves. They make their way towards the land mass, which started out about a kilometer away. Man, these people really know how to make life interesting. He didn’t sign up to start this whole thing with practically nothing, but it’s the best thing that could have happened to him, and is only invigorating him. Now they have to really build something here. Now they have to fight for survival. The first step in their long journey is over, and it’s probably the easiest one they’ll run up against. They’ve made it. They start climbing up the beach. And so it begins.

Microstory 2629: Last One in, First One Up, Like a Skeptic

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3.1

January 24, 2527. When the survivors submitted a reapplication to the dome because of Aeterna’s pregnancy, they informed the leaders that there were eleven people, one beetloid, and one optional rover. When the dome agreed to that application, they agreed to those numbers, and they were firm on them. So when they showed up at the back door as a group of fifteen, it was a problem. It’s not like four extra people were going to choke out the carbon scrubbers or broil the residents out of existence, but it was a principle that they weren’t willing to let go of. Eleven people could walk in, or fewer, but not more. It would have been very easy to force the four who weren’t in their group to stay on the outside if not for the fact that they were a family with young children. It was the little boy who spotted one of them, and the mother who decided to stop and investigate. Shimizu’s camouflage was working fine, but he had tied a shiny purple scarf tied to his ankle in remembrance of a loved one, and that stood out amidst the dull colors of the rocky world. So it would have been easy to kick Shimizu out too, but that would have only solved one of their four problems anyway.

Obviously, as they always felt like these people were their responsibility, Breanna and Cash chose to pull themselves out of the running, which only left two extra bodies to get rid of. Notus, still feeling guilty about what he did to get into this group, was one of them. The other was Calypso, who may have feelings for him, or is simply a nice person. They said their goodbyes to their friends once again, and made the walk back out into the wilderness. Cash recalled the rover to pick them up. Silver lining, there was a lot more room in the vehicle now that most of the people were gone. That was over three months ago, and their journey may be nearly complete.

Everyone in the rover is napping when the alarm begins. It’s not too urgent, but it’s enough to wake them up. Before too long, a man appears on screen. “People of Proxima Doma. My name is Captain Reed Ellis of the BSE Tangent. We are a space elevator from your neighbor, Bungula, Rigil Kentaurus. You may have heard stories of how I came to power, and how this platform ended up en route to you. I say, if you take issue with how we came to be here, you do not have to participate in the evacuation. You may stay on the surface if you wish. We will not force you to leave. But if you do step on that elevator pod, we have some rules for you to follow, which will be presented to you in time. At the moment, we are hovering directly over the northern pole of your planet. Our fleet of pods are making their way down to you, and the first evacuees will board shortly. If you are currently in the southern polar region, do not fret. We have been negotiating with your leadership, and have been told that you will be fine without us until we finish with your northern friends. We promise, we will get to you as soon as possible.

“My crew has been scanning the ground, and gathering information on the distribution of the population. A plan has already been made to determine the order of departure. You will receive word from your local representatives of your individual and group assignments. Disorder will not be tolerated. Violence will be met with swift action, and a potential refusal from my ground-based coordinators, who are presently descending in the first pod, along with a heavy security contingency, which is prepared for any eventuality. I would like to apologize for the delay in our arrival, but we are here now, and ready to bring you on board in a safe and organized fashion. Stand by for further instructions.” The broadcast ends.

“What a handsome man,” Cash noted.

“Are you leaving me for him?” Breanna asks.

“In a heartbeat.”

Reed Ellis suddenly reappears on screen. “This message is for all extra-domal survivors. It is clear that the situation on the ground is dire, but we expected a greater level of respect and compassion than we have seen. As reward for your patience, and survival outside of the community, we would like to extend an offer to be part of the first wave of evacuees. Anyone outside of any dome, navigate to the attached coordinates for early boarding procedures. You may be tempted to spread the word about this gift, but it is not for anyone else to know. This is for you and you alone, because you have been living without support for months, and deserve the first chance at stability. Please contact this inbox for questions, or ask your boarding coordinators on site. Thank you.”

They all exchange a look. Breanna gets on the horn. “Tertius? You were right. They’re letting us go up first. Get everyone, including your daughter and granddaughter, and meet us at the back door. Keep quiet about it. They don’t want us doing this.”

“Ten-sixty-nine, message received,” Tertius replies.

They carefully and slowly drive back to the dome. They’ve stayed in the shadows since the whole race into the dome a few months ago, so luckily, no one is trying to follow them this time. Their friends aren’t alone when they arrive at the door. A guy who seemingly works there is holding it open for them. “Are you coming too?” Breanna asks.

“My responsibility is to the people of Skylight Kingdom. I will remain at my post until I have no more charges to protect. Until then, I bid you all good luck.” He closes the door once everyone has gotten back into the rover, for the last time.

“We—we’re missing one,” Cash points out.

“Yeah, we lost touch with Shimizu,” Tertius says as he’s helping his daughter get situated. Her baby, Dilara was born in the dome, and is safe in a vacuum carry-cot.

“Oh, no, I hope he’s okay.” Notus with the unmistakably feigned concern.

From there, they drive onwards to the coordinates that the Captain sent them and the other outside rovers. Surely the dome people would have noticed by now, but it sounds like the Tangent people are prepared to handle it. The first pod has landed, from the descent tethers, and is being transported over to the ascent tethers. They can see more pods dropping down from the sky. The survivors are directed to enter an inflatable habitat, where they are free to remove their helmets, and get in the queue. It’s already pretty long, but not as long as it will be soon enough. A regal woman who seems to be in charge around here climbs down the steps, and approaches Breanna’s group. “My name is Jodene Chariot. I welcome you to Elevator Ingress, but you should know that we tagged every vehicle, and traced its route. You didn’t follow instructions.”

“We’re sorry,” Breanna says. “We had to get our friends...and the baby.”

Delegator Chariot smiles. “It’s okay. Children are our future. we’re still gonna let all of you up,but not all right away. Your actions will come at a price.”

“I’ll pay it,” Breanna insists. “They were following my orders.”

“I appreciate it,” Chariot responds, “but I’ll need six of you total. You see, we’re not as equipped to handle this as we would like. We could use some volunteer workers.”

Cash unsurprisingly volunteers. Notus and Calypso exchange a glance before the former looks back at the Delegator. “How about four and a beetloid?”

Microstory 2628: The Welcome Sign Has Been Flipped Upside Down

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3.1, and Google Gemini Pro, powered by Lyria 3

October 16, 2526. Breanna and the small group of survivors are parked at the drive-in. That’s not even just some metaphor. They are on the outside of a dome, parked with a bunch of other rovers, and before them, a film is being projected. Right now, they’re watching a very old movie from the 22nd century called 100 Years. Well, they’re not really watching it, but it’s playing. It’s stupid, really, and just an attempt to make their lock-out feel fun, instead of a humanitarian crisis. The domes are full-up, according to the people running them. They are only letting in people who don’t even have rovers, which don’t exist anymore, because if you came here without mobile protection like even a suit, you’re already dead. The Teaguardians dispatched two more dropships to build giant temporary bridges between the northern polar region, and the rest of the Terminator Line in the northern hemisphere—like the one they made in the south—but it’s not seeing any use. Again, everyone is already here or dead.

Their group has become somewhat famous as being the last to arrive, because once that ring fault broke apart, and the chasm appeared, no one else was able to cross it. They either didn’t know how, or died in the attempt. Still, the notoriety hasn’t earned them a spot in the domes, except for Sorel. He was able to convince the leadership of a different dome to let him in so he could potentially alleviate the strain that this influx in population is placing on their limited resources. He’s in there now, or potentially in some different dome, proselytizing about the benefits of interstellar consciousness transference. The locals love him, because he’s helping get rid of the “unwanteds” but his friends don’t know how successful he’s been lately. It’s been a while since they’ve talked. He’s at least seen some success, but the domes haven’t reopened their doors, so it’s either not enough, or they’re pretending that it’s not.

They made contact with the other Levins and Breckenridgers. Not all of them survived the perilous journey, but most did, and the majority of those are in a dome a few hundred kilometers away. This one here is the only one which might plausibly welcome the extras eventually. Until then, they’re making do. The rover isn’t particularly roomy, but it has a lavatory, and the top-down recycling system is functioning optimally. Morale is okay, for the most part, but Shimizu is always huffy. They were on their way out here on foot, which was harder, but also would have placed them in a better position to be let in. So, he’s mad at Breanna for picking them up, as if she could have had any idea that the rover would harm their chances. The rest are being more logical about it, and just feel lucky to still be alive. He’s also unhappy about Heracles, who sits on top of the rover, and may or may not be lowering their chances of getting in this dome as well. The concern is doubtfully warranted as many other rovers are also stuck out here—all beetloid-free—which is why they’re even bothering to screen these movies.

Tertius initially volunteered to leave with his daughter to give everyone more room, but Aeterna is glad now that the group refused to take them up on that after she turned out to be pregnant. Shimizu is wary of them as well, ignorantly believing that immortals can only procreate with each other. If that were true, the disgust would be justified, but Aeterna assures them that it’s not the case. It’s offensive that he would even suggest the possibility. She is simply under no obligation to tell them who the father is. At last, it seems that their persistence has paid off. Whoever needed to learn of Aeterna’s condition has responded to their new application, and is ready to let them in.

“See?” Calypso says, “you were pissed off about nothing. The baby helped us.”

“It is too soon to tell. We’ll see,” Shimizu recited, fancying himself a philosopher.

“Another message,” Cash says, looking at her screen. “They’re asking us to drive along the perimeter, at least a hundred and twenty meters from the dome, to what I’m guessing is a remote area, and pull up to a different entrance. They don’t want other hopefuls to see that we’re getting in.”

“Well, it’s gonna look weird when we suddenly restart the engine, and get moving again” Breanna says. “No one has budged since we got here. There’s nowhere to go.”

“I’m pulling up satellite imagery now,” Cash says. “Yeah, if we head this way first, it will appear as if we’re giving up, and trying our luck at this dome to the east. Then we can circle back around, and avoid being spotted.”

“You think they’ll fall for that?” Notus questions. “They can see the satellites too.”

“They’ll have no reason to check them,” Cash decides.

“All right.” She pounds on the roof. “Hold on!” she yells to Heracles, like it matters. She starts the vehicle, and gets on Cash’s suggested route. It turns out not to be that easy when it starts a new caravan. Seeing them move is likely causing others to believe that they know something no one else does. It’s kind of true, but it’s not going to help them. “Shit. We have to shake them somehow.”

“I have an idea, but it’s reckless, and you’re gonna hate it,” Cash says.

“Give it to us anyway,” Breanna prompts.

“Don’t go any faster. Just let them follow us. Everyone, get yourselves sealed up. We’ll be abandoning the rover. Aeterna, you can still fit, right?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Aeterna replies. “I’m barely showing. Hold on tight, little Dilara,” she says to her belly as Tertius starts helping her put her suit back on.

“Okay,” Cash continues. “I don’t have time to teach you all to activate active camouflage, so give me access. This is non-negotiable. If one of us gets caught, we all get caught, you can’t opt-out...unless, I suppose, you just decide to stay with the car.” They all do as she asked. “This doesn’t make you invisible, it’s not magic. You will still need to find cover, but you will be harder to spot. It basically scans the coloring and texture behind you, and repaints your front to match. But you still want to hide, and don’t move around too much once you find your spots, okay? We won’t walk back to the dome until it’s clear, so wait for my signal. Everyone ready? Helmets on. On my cue, only when we turn around bends,” she adds as she’s crawling back that way.

Breanna puts the rover on autopilot, and crawls back there too.

“What about Heracles?” Notus asks.

“He can’t come with us,” Breanna says apologetically. “He’s too conspicuous.”

“He has camo too,” Notus argues.

“But the rover doesn’t,” Breanna says as Cash is sending people out one at a time. “The rover can’t make it look like he’s still there. I’m sorry, we’ll get you a new one.”

“That was insensitive,” Notus points out.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. We might be able to send for him later, but right now, they won’t let any of us in if anyone else tries to get in too. Please understand.”

“Fine,” Notus says, obviously still upset.

“Now, go, go, go!” Cash directs.

They continue to jump out, but Shimizu ultimately gets them all caught.

Microstory 2547: Director of Housekeeping

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3

A lot of people don’t know that I’ve been working here the longest. It’s been even longer than Landis or the Foundation Director. We still call this a hotel, because that’s what it is, but before Landis bought it and converted it into a place of healing, it was just, indeed, a regular hotel. We didn’t have any official guests yet, because there were funding issues, but housekeeping was already a thing, and I ran it. Before things fell apart, the original owner held a soft open, where guests could stay at a heavily discounted price. They were asked to complete surveys, and help decide the direction the hotel would go. These weren’t just random people snatched off the street. The owner either knew them, or knew someone who knew them. They agreed to help because of their connection, not because they needed a place to stay overnight. It was still real, though. The experience had to match what they were hoping to offer following the grand opening that never was. So there was a staffed kitchen, and bellhops, and a concierge. I was the only housekeeper, but it wasn’t hard to keep up, because the guests were very clean. They were also incredibly respectful. I’ve been doing this for eighteen years, and not everyone is like that. That’s really why I stuck around. The owner, before he found a buyer, kept me, and me alone, on the payroll. The rest moved on to other things. Actually, I take that back, the original janitor now works as a line cook in the cafeteria, but he’s only been back for about a year now, so it’s more of a coincidence than anything. And he still doesn’t beat my record. While he was in limbo, the original owner lived here, and I was just his housekeeper. I treated the job like any other, and did the work that I would have been expected to do under normal circumstances. Now I run a full staff, though the work is easier than it is at other places. All of our guests are permanent, and there is a different expectation in such cases. They mostly pick up after themselves. They can even come down and retrieve more toiletries or towels when they need them. We do handle the laundry for their bedding, but they bring it down, and retrieve a replacement set on their own. My people run the machines. We also provide a little extra care for our mothers and expectant mothers, but really only when it’s hard for them to move around. It’s a pretty cool job, and a lot different than what I used to do. It’s still busy, busy, busy, but we have a good atmosphere, and I’m happy to help keep it clean.

Microstory 2546: Midwife

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3

I am a Certified Nurse-Midwife, and the only one that this Foundation has ever seen. I have delivered every single child born of Landis, and many of the children of staff members who happened to get pregnant while they were employed, and chose our team instead of another facility. Landis makes an attempt to procreate with one of the legacy consorts once per night, which means that, on average, I deliver one baby a night. But of course, the timing doesn’t work out perfectly. Everybody is different, and every body is different. It has been known to happen that I’ve delivered two babies in one day. My busiest day was on October 7, 2023 when a perfect storm of storks arrived all at once. I’m mixing metaphors here, but I delivered six babies within a period of 24 hours. It was crazy, but an amazing experience. I’m obviously not entirely alone here. There is an obstetrician, and a host of other nurses and doctors. We’re a pretty streamlined outfit, but every mother here is very well-taken care of. Or I should say family. We take care of families here; that’s our mission. I don’t know much about the healing side of things. I’m pretty busy in the Legacy Department. I do know Landis, though. He doesn’t have the time or bandwidth to raise all of the children, and in order for it to be fair, the decision has been made that he doesn’t raise any of them. Researchers fought against this. They actually wanted there to be an imbalance, so they could measure any differences in development. But the psychological well-being of these kids is more important than their research. There are 815 of them right now, and they deserve stability and predictability, as any child would. They are each raised by a single parent, which that parent is fully aware of when she signs up for the program. She’s then reminded time and time again throughout the program that she will be on her own, except for the care that we provide as third party participants. Landis meets every one of his babies once. He holds them for 15 to 30 minutes, and then they move on with their lives. It might sound cold, but it would be impossible for him to be there for them all, and worse for him to give preferential treatment to a handful of them, or some arbitrary number. I can’t speak to his mental state, but outwardly, he has accepted this dynamic. I don’t think it’s easy, but I had nothing to do with the plan for the Legacy program. I just deliver the babies. Some of my colleagues have told me that it’s unethical, and honestly, they may be right; you’re having babies as an experiment. But I do stress to them that the children will be protected for their whole lives, and they don’t undergo tests. They don’t have their blood drawn, or receive shots, or anything that goes beyond the normal, conventional means of physical health. We had to fight the researchers on that too, but the kids aren’t lab rats. They’re people, and if they develop abilities later in life, they will come to that realization on their own, not because some lab tech sequenced their genome. I won’t have it, and I’m backed by the support of everyone at the Foundation, including Landis, as well as the mothers. Like I said, I don’t know if we should be doing this, but since we are, at least I know that we’re doing it the right way.

Extremus: Year 101

« < » > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3

Around the time that Tinaya was shutting the forced pregnancy program down, something else major was being shut down. As it turns out, the popular immersive role-playing game, Quantum Colony wasn’t only a game. It was real. Players were piloting real substrates tens of thousands of light years away in the Charter Cloud of the Milky Way. It was the infamous Team Matic who figured it out, and threw their weight around to end the whole thing, presumably citing the many ethical violations that it was making. The Military outpost, Teagarden forcibly removed all players, casting them back to their real substrates in the Core Worlds, or in the case of the Extremusians, back here. This had two consequences, which came down to timing. First, people were frustrated, because that game was one of the few distractions that they used to escape the confines of the ship. Without it, they felt more pent up and isolated than ever. But also, because they were being encouraged to procreate anyway, people were relieving their stress through sex. So it’s been a really complicated last few months.

Waldemar was a particularly avid player of Quantum Colony, and he is at the age where he wants to have a lot of sex, even though he doesn’t have the capacity to experience love or affection. Audrey was not his girlfriend at the time, but she could tell that his eyes were starting to wander as he was looking for a mate. She ingratiated herself to him, pulling his attention away from the other girls in his vicinity. He didn’t see a problem with her being a minor, nor being younger than him. Again, because of the way his brain was wired, those kinds of social constructs seemed just as arbitrary as anything. So he fell for her very well-calculated wiles, and focused all of his attention on her. They have been keeping their distance from Silveon—and his whole family, for that matter. Audrey knew that Silveon would not react positively to the news that she was pregnant. On the occasions that they did see each other, she wore carefully selected clothing, was always eating to explain why she was getting noticeably larger when the ponchos weren’t enough, and eventually resorted to holographic trickery to fake her normal, thinner figure.

That has all been lost today. Silveon didn’t catch her showing the true size of her belly, but a mutual associate did. She thought nothing of it, not realizing that anything was being kept a secret. She mentioned it to Silveon casually, having no idea the beast that she was awakening. At this point, Tinaya has known the truth for a couple of weeks, and has been unable to get Audrey to elaborate on the circumstances leading up to her situation. Silveon is determined to get it out of her now.

“Silvy. Silvy! Stop! You look like you’re about to hit her,” Tinaya scolds as she’s physically holding him back.

“I’m not going to hit her!” Silveon insists. “I just want an explanation.” He looks back over at Audrey. “How did this happen? I didn’t even know you liked him. Do you know what he is?”

Audrey is tearing up. “Dougnanimous Brintantalus.”

The initial look of horror on Silveon’s face when he hears that; Tinaya has never seen it before. He’s always been so confident and collected. His expression sinks now, as he begins to hyperventilate just a little. He’s starting to have a panic attack. That, Tinaya recognizes. He’s never been through it before, but she has seen it in his father. “Come on,” Tinaya says. She pulls the two kids closer to her, and teleports them to the giant sequoia. They’re not at the base of the tree, but a couple of decks up. “Thistle. Cone of silence.”

Thistle doesn’t have a way to magically prevent others from hearing what they’re saying, but he can place them in a parallel dimension where light passes, but sound does not. People will be able to see them here if they happen to walk by, but they won’t be able to eavesdrop. They came to this location because the tree has a calming effect on people, which is why she planted it in the first place, along with the rest of the forest. “Cone established.”

“Do what I do,” Tinaya says calmly. She begins to breathe deliberately as she’s staring at her son, and holding his shoulders. No one speaks until he’s matched her breathing for sixty seconds. “Good.”

Silveon nods, and steps back to give himself some space. “I’m okay.”

“I have this thing where you tell me five things you can see—”

“I’m familiar with the technique,” Silveon interrupts. “I don’t need it.”

Tinaya nods. She shifts her gaze between him and Audrey as she asks, “what did that mean? That phrase sounds familiar.”

“It’s famous,” Audrey explains. “It’s called a trust password. People used to think that you could use them to prove that you were a time traveler, but...because of mind-reading tech, it’s unreliable. You could never really trust them. Still...”

“In the future, we joked about using one,” Silveon says, taking over the explanation. “At one point, we were both gonna come back in time. It seemed logical to not have to do this alone. We ultimately decided against it, because we agreed that partners would always distract each other. No matter the dynamic between them, they would end up having too many conversations that weren’t about Waldemar, or at least weren’t about what we need to do to stop him. It’s a one-person job, because that one person can focus all of their energy on this one mission.”

“I think I remember studying trust passwords,” Tinaya acknowledges. Then she quickly realizes that that’s not the point. “I understand the logic in the one-person mission, but she came here to protect you, not help you.”

“How long have you known about her?” Silveon questions.

“A few years.”

“I’ll deal with you later, young lady,” he says to his mother. He faces Audrey. “Whose idea was this? Crow’s? He never thought that I should be the one to go back, even though it was my idea.”

“It wasn’t anyone’s plan but mine. She was right. I came back to protect you, not to complete your mission. You were such a tiny little thing. None of us knew Waldemar when he was young in the original timeline. We didn’t know how he would react. Maybe he would see you as an object to be experimented on. He might have wanted to test what it’s like to set a human on fire, or see what people look like on the inside. We didn’t know anything!”

Silveon shakes his head. “You were meant to see me off that night...say goodbye. Now I know why you weren’t there, because you were sneaking back here, I assume through the prototype consciousness projector? You spent all this time watching me in secret, and you did a damn good job keeping yourself hidden, because we only met a few years ago.”

“That sums it up,” Audrey confirms.

“That wasn’t just a summary. It was a condemnation. I thought hearing it laid out before you would make you see how insulting it was, and how much you betrayed me.”

“Okay,” Audrey begins. “I want you to summarize your own mission with Waldemar, and see how closely it matches up with what you just said about me.”

“That’s my point! He’s the enemy! We’re supposed to be allies!”

“How could we have been allies if I was dead!”

“What?”

“Silveon. We killed everybody. When we projected our minds to the past, we collapsed the timeline behind us. That’s why I had to use the prototype at the exact same time as you. If you came back here alone, I would be gone! The girl named Audrey who you would have met in this timeline would have been someone else! It wasn’t just about you! I wanted to survive this!”

“I’ve never looked at it that way,” Silveon admits. “I always saw what I did as a sacrifice, but I had it backwards. It was everyone we left behind who sacrificed their own continuity...to save us...to save me.”

“They made it gladly,” Audrey tells him, “because they did it to save everyone else on the ship.”

“That’s what you did, when you let him do that to you?” Silveon gestures towards Audrey’s belly.

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen to this child, but he was determined to get someone pregnant. Better me than some innocent girl who doesn’t understand what he is. I can protect myself, and her.” She massages her own belly.

“You just said that we don’t know anything about him,” Silveon reminds her.

“We didn’t before,” she clarifies. “I know him now. I’ve learned coping mechanisms. I’m sure you have too.”

For a moment, there is a silence as the three of them absorb each other’s perspectives. A stranger does walk up, and seems to identify the intensity of the interaction, so he leaves. Silveon leans against the trunk, and slides down until he’s sitting. “It wasn’t supposed to go like his. Mom, why did you try to fix the population problem with a shipwide orgy? It’s fine. Both of us could have told you that it’s fine.”

“The population decline happened in your timeline too?” Tinaya questions. “I was taking it as proof that you butterfly affected something when you came back here. I figured you would have mentioned something at some point.”

Silveon brushes it away. “Yeah, the population goes down, but it bounces back.”

“Tell her why it bounced back,” Audrey suggests.

“I don’t—I don’t know why. Is there some particular reason?” He isn’t acting cagey. It sounds like he genuinely doesn’t know.”

Audrey has had enough of sitting down, so after allowing Tinaya to help her take a seat on the bench, she starts to educate them. “Waldemar takes his cues from history. Understanding social nuances was never his strong suit. One trend he noticed in the past on Earth is that populations tend to rise during periods of political strife. Like dictatorships. He noted that communities that are poor and less educated typically lead to higher populations. Unfortunately for him, achieving the kind of results on this ship are a little more difficult. We take our cues from the post-scarcity society that our ancestors were able to adopt when they were rescued from the Ansutahan universe, and housed in the centrifugal cylinders in the Gatewood Collective. There’s no such thing as poverty, and there’s no such thing as education disparity, because resources are easy to come by, and knowledge is so easy to access and spread. We are limited here, since we can’t just make a stop on a planet, and gather what we need, but we’ve found a workaround with the time travel excursions.

“Waldemar solved the population collapse crisis by making sweeping social changes that you chalked up to random expressions of maniacal power. He did them for a reason. First, he altered the excursion cycle, requiring timeship managers to give definitive proof of depleting resources before one can be scheduled. This may not sound like a big deal, but he would only authorize so many time excursions per year, and only for resources that were already proven low. In order to take advantage of one of these infrequent opportunities, they waited until more resources were low, which meant some resources were critically low, or completely out, before they were replenished. Furthermore, he reworked the contribution score system, so that high scores didn’t just lead to luxury, but to bare necessities. You had to have a job to feed your family, whereas before, such things were considered human rights. In addition, he changed child labor laws. It actually benefited the family to have children enter the workforce at a younger age. And in fact, the system made it so that it was beneficial to have more children, rather than fewer. You would think that it would be the other way around. A lack of resources should lead to lower population, but it encouraged it, because it was all about controlling those resources. Few people knew where they stood. They simply did what made the most sense for their family. His plan worked, but it obviously came at a cost.”

Silveon looks over at his mother again. “So she saved us. She did what I’ve been trying to do this whole time. If his only reason for instituting all those laws no longer exists, he won’t be able to justify those actions.”

“You know better than that,” Audrey contends. “I’m convinced that we changed the future, maybe even for the better. But we didn’t necessarily fix it. Things may still be bad, just in a different way. Without that reason, he may need to come up with a new one, and he may do that if his underlying reason remains, which is that he wants power. What you’re trying to do is teach him to use his power for good, but Silvy...he always was. He just had a warped view of what that meant, and his ego always got in the way. I don’t know how to change that, but as I said, that’s not my job here.”

“Your job’s changed,” Silveon says with a sigh.

“How’s that?”

“You’re no longer here to protect me as a baby, but that baby right there. She’s your only concern. You need to go to Verdemus.”

“No, Silveon, you’re not getting it. That defeats the whole purpose. He’ll find someone else. He needs a family.”

“He doesn’t need a family,” Tinaya says. “He needs sympathy from the voters. Now that we’re in this situation, there’s another way to get it, but it’s sad and depressing, and you’re not gonna be able to raise that baby. She would have to go to Verdemus without you.”

« < » > Table of Contents

Extremus: Year 100

« < » > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3

After months of investigating and compiling data, Tinaya and Lataran had to put the inquiry on hold for a bit while the latter gave birth. She named her daughter Sable, and obviously started to focus on her while Tinaya continued. It was months more before she realized that she trusted the wrong people, and a few months after that before anyone agreed to sit down with her to explain the situation.

They’re in this meeting now, in the former mirror room, of all places. This operation is clearly completely off the books, but it goes pretty high up the food chain. Tinaya still doesn’t understand why. A representative from the Bridger Section is here. She hasn’t ever met him, and doesn’t know what his role is. Also present are Doctors Cernak and Gunnarsson, proving that she was right to conscript a third party physician from Verdemus. The current Consul, Head of Security, and some woman that Tinaya doesn’t know either are all sitting opposite her, but still separate from the others. They’re apparently waiting for someone else, and being very quiet while they do.

Finally, Captain Jennings walks in. “Oceanus,” Tinaya exclaims, standing up. “You’re in on this too.”

“Whatever this is,” Oceanus replies, “decidedly no. I’ve been told something has been happening under my nose, and it has to do with you and Lataran, but I do not yet know what it is. Explain, Darling.”

Consul Darling clears his throat. “It’s not my place. I was only recently made aware of the project when it became clear that Admiral Leithe was getting close to figuring it out on her own.”

“It’s not a project if no one knows about it,” Tinaya argues. “It would be an operation. But I just call it a conspiracy.”

No one responds.

“Who is in charge here?” Oceanus demands to know.

The Bridger stands. “Please have a seat, Captain.”

Still seething, Oceanus sits down next to Tinaya. They take each other’s hands. They’ve grown close over the course of the last year, having spoken nearly every day as he’s gotten better at seeking her counsel. She didn’t read him in on her side mission because she didn’t want him to be distracted from running the ship.

The Bridger makes one step away from his seat. “As you all know, Bridgers have access to future knowledge. We use this knowledge to guide Extremus on its mission, protecting its mandate at all costs.”

“No,” Tinaya interrupts.

“No...what?” the Bridger asks.

“No, your job is not to protect the mission at all costs, but to a reasonable and ethical degree. Your predecessors understood that. Why don’t you?”

“I misspoke,” the Bridger claims.

“I don’t believe you. You’ve been violating people’s bodies on a repeated basis. I don’t care what reason you think you had for this, it’s wrong.”

“You might not agree once you hear those reasons,” the Bridger claims.

“Well, get on with it, then,” Oceanus spits.

The Bridger sighs. He kind of looks like he wants to sit back down, but he has the floor. “As I was saying, we are aware of future events. Sometimes we can change them, sometimes we can’t, and sometimes we shouldn’t. This particular issue is hopefully the former, but we’re still not sure. It’s unclear how successful we’re being, if at all. We still don’t understand what the source of the problem is, but the problem itself is totally unambiguous. We have a population decline issue.”

“What?” Tinaya asks. “Population growth is a matter of public record. Our numbers have been rising.”

“You’re right, they have,” the Bridger agrees, “but not at a fast enough rate. One day soon, this number will plateau, and then it will start going back down. Trust me, I’ve already seen it play out.”

“So you rape women?” Tinaya questions. That’s a serious accusation.

Dr. Cernak shoots out of his chair like it’s on fire. “That is not what we’re doing! Don’t you ever frame it that way!”

“Doctor. Please,” the Bridger requests.

“Ah, so it’s a framing issue,” Tinaya sees. “You’re not denying breaking the Synthetic Age Oath of Ethical Medical Practice. You just don’t want me to talk about it. I get it.”

“No, you don’t get it,” Cernak insists. “We don’t even take the full SAOEMP in its original form. We have to take a modified version of it since we don’t accept certain forms of lifesaving procedures, like healing nanites or consciousness transference.”

“Don’t you?” Tinaya questions. She leaves it at that, because Consul Darling may not know about The Question, and the Head of Security almost certainly doesn’t.

Dr. Cernak huffs. “We didn’t impregnate anyone. We simply gave them the option to procreate by hastening the degradation of the silencing enzyme.”

“Without our consent, nor our knowledge!” Tinaya shouts.

“Admiral Leithe,” Consul Darling scolds.

“No, I’m not going to calm down. You think what you did is okay because of some future problem that almost no one knows about? I don’t care which ethical oath you took, it’s either not enough, or you broke it! This is unacceptable. It is a violation of our rights to identity and self-determination. That’s why we switched from the Hippocratic Oath in the first place, because it was woefully insufficient for the needs of a population in a world where death is more of a question than an inevitability. Yeah, Cernak, I actually do understand that you take a variant of the standard ethical oath, but that involves more restrictions on care, not less. Consent is everything, and you should have known that. I swear to God, you two, despite my lack of power as an admiral, I will see to it that you are both dismissed, delicensed, and sent to hock.”

“You don’t have that power,” Consul Darling states the obvious. “Not even the Captain can do that much.”

“I can.” It’s the mysterious woman who has been sitting quietly until now. Everyone seems scared of her, even the Bridger. She stands and stares at him to strongly suggest that he sit back down. “My name is Tiere Victorian, and I serve as the Superintendent of the Bridger Section. My power lies in personnel decisions, rather than policy, just like Superintendent Grieves. I am the sole voice who decides when and if it is necessary to replace an executive crewmember of the Extremus with a Bridger alternate. So I was not made aware of this operation before, because it was not required to do my job. But I have the authority to dismiss or discipline anyone on either ship for any reason with impunity for myself. I could fire you, Dr. Cernak, because I don’t like which side your hair is parted on. I suggest you start being less defensive, and more contrite.”

He shrinks.

Tiere goes on, “I have reviewed the data that my colleagues have made available to me regarding the population crisis, and again, I do not have the power to end the program, but I can make one vital change that will most likely end it anyway.”

They’re on the edge of their seats.

“I can place Admiral Leithe in charge of it,” she finishes. Yeah, that’ll do it.

Tinaya can’t help but smirk. She’s going to shut this down, effective immediately, and come clean—if not to the whole ship, then at least to all aggrieved parties. “I’m going to need everything on this. I wanna know who came up with it, who else was involved, and who was aware of it. I need to know who on this ship was impacted by it, either directly or indirectly. I need names and details, as well as any ancillary records, messages, and notes.”

Dr. Cernak stands now. “I’m not giving you jack or shit unless I’m guaranteed to hold my position as Chief Medical Officer until such time that I retire.”

There’s a quick silence. “I’ll get you what you need,” the Bridger says to Tinaya. She still doesn’t know his name. That’s probably by design.

“You don’t have the medical files,” Cernak reminds him. “Those are confidential.”

“Doctor,” Tinaya begins, “when one crewmember leaves their post, and that job is backfilled by another, what happens to the data that they collected during their shift? Do you think they take it to the grave?” It’s a rhetorical question, but she pauses a moment anyway. “When you’re officially let go, you’ll lose all access, and your replacement will gain it. We don’t need you anymore.” She looks over at the Head of Security. “What did you know of this program?”

“Dasher Bruin, sir. Head of Security, Year Ninety-Six to Year One-Oh-Three, sir. I was read into the situation on day one of my shift, sir, and was told to not ask questions, sir. I did my job, protecting the interests of the ship at the behest of my superiors, sir.”

“I am your superior,” Tinaya tells him.

“Yes, sir,” he agrees.

“Escort Misters Cernak and Gunnarsson to a holding cell in hock, please.”

What little light was left in these former doctors’ eyes now fades. She does not have the power to strip them of their medical licenses, but she’ll make sure it happens. However long that takes, they’ve each seen their last patient.

“Yes, sir.” Dasher lifts his watch to his mouth, and whispers, likely for a security team to come assistant him in his task. He takes two packs of dynamic EM tethers out of his pocket, and tries to fit Cernak and Gunnarsson with them. They can hold their wrists between fifteen and twenty-five centimeters apart, but if they try to pull them beyond that range, the attractive magnets will activate, and if the try to push them too close, they will switch to a repulsive force. They come in specific pairs, but Dasher accidentally mixes them up, which leaves the prisoners tethered to each other. They look like lovers, their four hands hanging together like that. “Oh my God, sorry.”

“Officer Bruin, are you nervous?” Tinaya asks.

“I just don’t know if...if this is it for me. Should I put a couple of these on myself too?” Dasher asks.

Tinaya considers it. She makes a decision quickly. “You’ll be turned over to a new Head when one can be found and appointed. You’ll face no criminal charges, though. You can tell people that you wanted to spend time with your family, or start a family. I can’t say the same for everyone else.” She looks around at the people in the room.

Dasher is clearly relieved. He deftly swaps the cuffs out so they’re back in their right pairs, and starts to leave. The cuffs also have a feature where the detainee can’t stray more than four meters from their escort, or can’t get closer than two meters. So they start being dragged behind him. “I think I’ll see if I can’t start a family,” Dasher says as he’s exiting. “If the ship needs more kids, I’ll give it more kids.”

Dasher is not alone in his line of thinking. As it turns out, honesty is the best policy. Tinaya’s new temporary job as Head of Population Sustainability not only involves ending the unethical program, but finding a suitable replacement. She’s still an admiral, but she has all these other responsibilities too. Shutting down the program isn’t as easy as flipping a switch. Thousands of aging women were injected with the intentionally defective silencing enzymes, and all of them need medical appointments to correct that. But before that can happen, new professionals need to be hired to actually perform these procedures, and that’s complicated, because Cernak and Gunnarsson were certainly not the only ones on the medical team who were a part of the conspiracy. To fill the ranks, a few doctors and nurses are recruited straight out of medical school for positions that were just a tad bit above their qualifications. As a precautionary measure, they will always have oversight, and their teachers expressed confidence in their abilities to perform admirably, and more importantly than ever, ethically.

As the proverbial swamp is drained, and replacements are selected, murmurs of what’s going on begin to echo throughout the ship. Some learn the truth outright, at least from the mouths of those who had to be told something ahead of the shipwide announcement. Others just notice that the crew shift changes are out of sync with the schedule, and very fishy. There’s a lot of confusion, though, and things need to be cleared up. Once all the prep work is done, Tinaya stands on stage, and makes her broadcast speech. She reveals the truth to everyone, in disgusting and uncomfortable detail. She explains that she herself was the victim of this morally bankrupt operation, as was Admiral Keen. The reaction is angry and visceral, and not at all unexpected. People are pissed about being lied to, and about the deep breach of ethics that these people committed.

There’s no violence, though, and once the fury subsides, the outcome starts to emerge. Dasher fathers three children with three different women within one year, with plans to conceive even more in the future, though he will hopefully slow down as there is a limit to how many younglings that a parent can responsibly raise at the same time. Others end up feeling the same sentiment, and begin to conceive more children than they were apparently planning. It’s not this big, advertised movement. People are just independently inspired to aid the cause. Tinaya doesn’t have insight into any changes they might be having on the future. Tiere is executing her own disciplinary action in house, and isn’t being any more transparent than the Bridgers have ever been. But it seems to be working. They have to hire more medical staff than ever to care for the baby boomers. For a hot minute, everything seems okay. Then they encounter at least one unfavorable consequence. Twenty-year-old Waldemar is just as inspired to support the population growth efforts as so many others. He ends up getting a now fifteen-year-old Audrey pregnant, and it is not immediately evident if it was consensual or not.

« < » > Table of Contents