Orthogradient: The Hawthorne Family (Part II)

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Limerick started to run up the stairs, hoping to get to his family in time. Some kind of weird giant train thing had just appeared out of nowhere, and was sliding down the road. People didn’t really use roads anymore, not for driving anywhere, but they were still there, and necessary bridges between two places that people needed to walk to. He couldn’t tell if anyone was hurt, but his only concern right now was his wife and daughter. He met them on the landing, and his heart jumped back up to where it belonged in his chest. Once he caught his breath, he said, “go back up to the panic room. I’ll figure out what’s going on here.”

“I know what’s going on,” Treasure explained. She didn’t say it out loud. Instead, her voice was coming through a silver tiara on her head that he had never seen before. “That’s the Transit. Azura has come back for me.”

Limerick’s eyes darted over to Freya, who shook her head, having not yet heard the story either.

Treasure sighed. “I’ve been traveling...without you. I spent weeks in multiple branes, and I’ll explain later, but right now, I have to go meet my friend.”

Limerick shook his head. “If that thing is from another brane, then it can travel through time, and literally anyone could be in there. It could be your friend, or it could be your enemy. It could be a fictional character from your favorite movie. You just don’t know. You’re not going anywhere.”

“I’m an adult now, you can’t stop me.” Treasure started to pass her father.

“You turned eighteen already?” Freya questioned. “You said you had been gone for weeks.”

“Maturity isn’t just a number, mother. I’ve seen some shit. That’s why I’m an adult. Now, if you’ll excuse me...”

“Why are you talking like that? Why don’t you move your lips?”

Treasure was growing ever frustrated and impatient. “I either don’t move my lips, or I cut myself. Which would you prefer?” She started to hop down to the first floor.

“Why would those ever be the only two options?” Freya shouted to her.

“Why isn’t she wearing her necklace anymore?” Limerick questioned.

“Haven’t you heard?” Freya popped back as she was following her daughter. “She’s seen some shit now.”

The three of them went outside. Limerick tried to walk between Treasure and this giant spacetrain thing, but she was confident, and completely unworried. A woman stepped out from the second car from the front, and looked around. “Azura!” Treasure cried, louder than expected. She was amplifying her voice using the tiara thing.

Azura started jogging down the ramp. “Treasure! You found your way home!”

“It wasn’t easy,” Treasure admitted. “We didn’t come straight here.” They took each other into a hug.

Azura could clearly see that Treasure’s parents were not happy. “Mister Hawthorne and Madam Einarsson—”

“Missus Hawthorne,” Freya corrected, “and I suppose you can just call me Freya.” She took her husband’s name when they married to further distinguish herself from her alternate, Saga Einarsson.

“Limerick.” He shook the stranger’s hand while his wife did not. “You came in pretty fast. Did you hurt anyone on your way through?”

“Dad,” Treasure scolded.

“It’s a valid concern,” Azura admitted. “No, sir, we did not. The Transit is designed to seek out the closest entry point to the given coordinates that is unimpeded. An impediment can mean an empty car on the road, or a tent full of party people.”

“What exactly is your relationship with my daughter?” Limerick went on.

“Dad!” Treasure repeated herself with far more indignation this time.

The nearest portal trees suddenly began to shake. “That’s probably the government. Do not resist. They are more powerful than you may imagine.”

“We come in peace,” Azura insisted.

Several people came through the portal, four of them being a security contingency. They maintained a circle around the others, keeping their heads on swivels, but paying special attention to the Transit. One of the others was Treasure’s teacher, Thack Natalie Collins, and another was the Principal Guide, who was the leader of the entire world. Limerick did not recognize the third person. The fourth was the Treewalker, who kept his distance behind everyone. Principal Guide Rao brushed her guard away when he tried to stay between her and the Transit, much in the way that Limerick had tried with his own charge. “Azura of Ansutah, my name is Principal Guide Usha Rao. Allow me to be the first to officially welcome you to Voldisilaverse. Before we proceed, please understand that we have rules here. You will keep your onboard weaponry deactivated at all times. You will keep all of your mobile weapons inside the Transit walls at all times. All shore leave requests must be approved by my office. Fighters will not be allowed to congregate in groups more than two, but crewmembers will be allowed to group in fours.”

“I understand, and accept your terms,” Azura said, then shrunk a bit in embarrassment when she realized that the Usha wasn’t finished yet.

Usha didn’t flinch. “Furthermore, one guard will be posted next to each car of the Transit, on each side, and one will be posted on top of it, for a total of three local guards per car. A number at my discretion will be allowed into the Transit to monitor activity. They will stay out of your way, but this is not negotiable. I will also need a full manifest of your current crew and army, as well as obviously your intentions on my world. Do you accept all of these terms in full?”

“I do,” Azura replied without hesitation.

“Very well,” Usha said. “Please return to await the security detail. You will be alerted when it’s time for our debrief and negotiations.”

“Thank you, sir.” Azura went back towards the machine.

“No,” Miss Collins said when Treasure tried to follow.

“But I—”

“I know,” Miss Collins interrupted. “And the answer is no. Your debrief begins right now.”

“Don’t you already know what I went through?” Treasure figured. “Weren’t you watching me the whole time?”

Miss Collins took some time to respond. “For your protection...no.” She turned around to head back to the portal trees, followed closely by the Treewalker. “Come along, dear,” Miss Collins urged. “You may come as well, mom and dad.”

The Hawthornes stepped into the portal, and exited on the other side of the country, where Miss Collins lived and worked. They continued in silence, into her work building, and up to her office. Treasure went out to the computer lab down the hall to retrieve a chair for herself while her parents sat down in the two that were already there.

Miss Collins took a breath. “I have been watching over your daughter for her entire life. I’ve been there for your whole family, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Absolutely,” Limerick said.

“Yes,” Freya concurred quickly.

“As you know, I can witness events on any of the nearest branes to ours, and that comes with a heavy weight of responsibility. I have never been able to give Treasure my undivided attention, so she is lucky to have two amazing caregivers to pick up the slack in that regard. You might not want to hear it, but your little girl is all grown up now, and it’s time for her to make her own way. She was never going to wait until she turned eighteen. I could see that, even though I can’t watch events in this universe unless I’m standing right there. I think you knew it too. She is an Einarsson, who is patient, thoughtful, and careful. But she’s also her father’s daughter. That makes her impatient, reckless, and unpredictable. You, I, and her other teachers, have all done what we can to teach her to be a good person, and as a lifelong learner myself, I don’t believe that ever ends, but at a certain point, your personality is kind of locked in.

“She is an amazing young woman, destined to do great things throughout the entire bulk. Whatever she just experienced during her first solo mission was a test that she gave herself, and only she can tell us whether she passed. So, how about it, Treasure? What was your score?”

Treasure squirmed in her chair. “I dunno...” She cleared her throat, even though she wasn’t using it to speak. She tried to look away, but Miss Collins didn’t allow that when they were having a conversation. “Can’t you just look at what happened now?”

“No. I must be careful about what I see, and when I see it. My spirit ability is a constant threat to the continuity of time. We wouldn’t want a paradox to destroy the multiverse, would we? I’ve taught you that.”

Treasure stood up to pace around the room a little, gathering her thoughts.

“I got shot.”

“What!?” Limerick and Freya exclaimed simultaneously.

“Let me finish,” Treasure requested. “When I screamed, I went to Azura’s universe. Well, it wasn’t her homeworld. She’s from Ansutah. She’s half-human, half-Maramon. At any rate, the space station where she was working was attacked, and I was caught in the crossfire. They shot me in the neck, and Azura pulled me to safety. She was trying to save her one escape route for later, but she used it to save me. I managed to illustrate that I needed to go to Salmonverse for help, and that’s how we ended up finding the Transit. A bunch of the attackers accidentally came with us. She fought them off single-handedly, and then patched me up. Over time, while we were all stuck there together, we grew close, and worked hard to figure out how to get out of there. We started to go to other universes, asking for help with power sources. It did not always go well, but I survived. I made friends, I fell in love...I think. He’s waiting for me in a random brane out there. Or maybe he’s not. Maybe when I go back, only seconds will have passed. The point is that my journey was not without its speed bumps, but I persevered. Did I get a perfect score? No. But did I pass? Yes, I should think so. Parental unit, you haven’t told me everything that you’ve done with your lives, but based on the stories that you have told me, my life is not unlike yours. Hawthornes end up in dangerous situations all the time, and we make it through. That’s what we do. That’s what I’ll continue to do, and I would love for you to be on my side, and to support me in that, but it is not a requirement. I’m Treasure Hawthrone, natural traveler of the bulk, and I’ll be damned if I do nothing with that responsibility.”

Her parents and Miss Collins didn’t say anything, stunned by the logorrhea that just spilled out of Treasure’s mouth.

She plopped back down in the chair, and slouched. “Oh, and I wear this tiara, because it translates my thoughts into audible sound. I have to do that, because my body metabolizes bulk energy, but it leaks out every time I speak, so if I want to keep it in, I can’t talk anymore.”

Freya stood up, and gestured for Treasure to do the same. She took her daughter in a warm embrace. “I love you, and I support you. But I’ll also always protect you. You don’t go anywhere without telling me. I don’t care how much bulk energy you lose, don’t rely on Miss Collins to update me on your whereabouts. No more secret trips, okay?”

“Okay,” Treasure answered.

Limerick stood up to hug her too. “Does this boy know how you feel?”

“Pretty much, yeah. His name is Quino. He was part of the attackers, but he wasn’t a fighter. He just carried stuff.”

“What did you give him?” Limerick asked.

“What, you mean, like, a present...or an STD?”

Limerick just flinched.

“I didn’t give him anything,” Treasure clarified. “He gave me a gift.”

Limerick gave his wife a kiss on the forehead. “We’ll be back.” He walked towards the door to punch the air. It wasn’t really the air, though, not when he was opening a shatter portal. He reached back and punched it again. He kept punching and punching. It made the objects in the room jiggle a little, but not enough to break anything. He punched and punched, and punched until the portal was wide enough to climb through. Then he reached back to offer Treasure his hand.

Without knowing exactly what was going on, Treasure accepted it, and went through the portal with him. They landed on a gorgeous field of various flowers. To one side of them was a pristine beach, and a calm turquoise sea. To the other a forest. In the distance were snow capped mountains. Treasure noticed all of the color around them. It felt like they were standing inside of a painting.

“I want you to pick out, or make, a gift for this boy. This is what Hawthornes do to show our love, respect, and commitment to our partners, especially in the beginning. I should have taught you this before, I just didn’t realize how much you had grown up until it was too late. It can be anything. When we were on prehistoric Worlon, I made your mother a garland chaplet out of twigs, leaves, grass, and flowers. But it doesn’t have to be hand-crafted. There’s a village where we can barter a few kilometers that way, and a city not too far from that.”

“You’re not mad? I thought you would hate Quino just from hearing he existed.”

“No, I’m not mad, hon. We’ll have to meet him, of course, but you’ll need a gift regardless. Even if the next time you see him, you break up, you must go with a gift.”

“Okay.” Treasure did want it to be something special that she made herself, rather than a heartless trinket from the market. She looked around; the field, the forest, and the beach. In the end, she made him a charm bracelet out of sea glass, seashells, sand, and stones.”

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Microstory 2073: Heck of a Lot Worse

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Woke up to a gift from my landlord this morning. No, I should say gifts. She knows that I’m starting my job at the plant nursery tomorrow, and she wanted to give me some stuff that I’ll need. I’m sure that some of this will be supplied by my employer, but it was really nice and thoughtful. She got me zip-off cargo pants, a zip-off shirt, which I had never seen before, a water reservoir to go over my shoulders, sunscreen, insect repellent, gardening gloves, a cool hat, boots, and a jacket. I’m so grateful to her for taking me in, and being so patient and understanding with me. I can’t tell her enough how much I appreciate it. I give this universe a lot of crap, but I know that it could be a heck of a lot worse. Boring is good, boring is safe. I could just as easily have ended up in a world without my immortality, and danger lurking around every corner. So this post is for you, residents of Boreverse. I’m not gonna change your name, but I’m not gonna criticize you for it anymore. Cheers, mates. I would tip my glass to you, but I don’t drink alcohol, and neither do you, which I’m really glad about. So I really shouldn’t give you a hard time. Welp, I’m off to bed much earlier tonight. I’m expected to be at work by 06:00, and I have to take the bus, which means getting up at 4:15. I don’t mind, I’ve had early jobs before, but I should have better prepared for it by starting the new schedule sooner, so my body would be used to it by now. That’s some free advice for you, kids. Social jet lag can be a real problem. Don’t let it happen to you if you can avoid it.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 11, 2398

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It wasn’t easy, but they were able to get The Olimpia moving. They weren’t traveling at normal cruising speed, but they were making decent time. Three days later, they can finally see land again. It’s exactly where Ramses said it would be. They have to get pretty close to see any sign of civilization, but it is there, just without any skyscrapers or roads. The people who live in Vertegen reportedly like the quiet life, far from the hustle and bustle of everywhere else, but they’re not completely cut off. There’s a radio tower. The team hasn’t been able to learn too much about them, only as much as the blurb on the map can tell them. Ramses is missing some key parts that were lost to the deep in the crash, and the communications system was damaged the most. It’s unclear who they would call, though, considering that their friends are all locked away in a penal colony, and Amir Hussain is hiding from the U.S. government. They would rather meet someone who can help get the Olimpia back in the air, but it’s not going to happen. That’s okay. They weren’t holding out hope for a mechanic who can work on a vehicle that quadruples as a car, boat, submarine, and airplane. They just need to contact someone who may be able to help, and as remote as this settlement is, they have that. But who can they trust?

The people of Vertegen are trying to speak to them in a language that they don’t recognize, let alone understand. They seem to be able to tell that the four of them are speaking English, but none of them understands that. Ever the counselor, Angela takes over the responsibility of fostering communication. She points to themselves—particularly their lips—and says, “English.” Then points to the local, and raises her eyebrows to suggest a question.

The local points to himself, and the crowd behind him, and says, “Rakripa.”

She nods. “Rakripa.” Now they’re getting somewhere.

They learn a few more things as their ambassador is showing them around. He picks up a cup, and says “pani.”

At first they think he’s just trying to teach them a few words, but then he keeps trying to give it to her, so she accepts, and drinks.

“What is it?” Mateo asks.

“It’s just water,” she answers. “It’s nice and cold, though.”

The man smiles, and hands her another cup. “Panijiben.”

“Panijiben,” Angela echoes. She accepts the drink as well.

He gives her one more cup or just plain water, which they all think is a little strange, but who are they to judge these people’s rituals?

He says, “momma” and hands Ramses a small lantern. It’s then that they realize these aren’t lessons, but gifts. This becomes clearer when he presents Mateo with a beautiful knife, and calls it a “kjuro” but much less clear when he smiles at Amir, opens his arms wide, and says, “keri.”

“Keri?” Angela tries to decipher the code.

“Keri, keri,” the man repeats enthusiastically, gesturing to Amir. He points at one of the tents, and says it again. He indicates the whole settlement one more time. “Keri.”

“Home,” Amir realizes. “He wants me to stay.” He turns to face the group. “I think I’m meant to be here.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 7, 2398

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Mateo is startled awake. He’s nervous at first, because he assumes the person who’s shaking him by the shoulders in the pitch black is a friendly, but he doesn’t know that for sure. “Who is that?” he asks.

“Shh. It’s Heath,” he says in a whisper.

Leona turns over in her sleep.

Mateo drops down into a whisper too. “What is happening?”

“I wanna show you something.”

“Can it wait until morning?”

“It is morning. Come on.” He gets his hands further along Mateo’s shoulder blades, and pulls him out of the bed.

“Can I put on pants first?”

“Probably should.”

Mateo hastily pulls on some clothes, and follows Heath out of the room. He slips his shoes on too, and they leave the condo. They walk down the hallway, down the elevator, and down the hill. He rubs the sand out of his eyes as they continue walking for another couple of kilometers. He complains a little, but feels he needs to respect his host’s decisions, as bizarre as they seem right now. Finally they make it to a parking garage. There’s something different about it, but Mateo can’t place his finger on it, because he’s still so sleepy. As they walk through it, though, he realizes that the ceilings are very high. Some garages can’t even accommodate a heavy duty pickup truck, but this could handle semi-truck trailers. He yawns. “What are we doing here?”

“I got the notification that my present arrived, and just couldn’t wait.”

“Present for me?” Mateo asks.

Heath stops at a...plane? He extends his arms to present it. “Present for us.”

“Is that an airplane?”

“It’s a flying carboat.”

“What?”

Heath runs his hand along the curve of what looks like a turned up wing. “It can float in the sea, drive on the roads, and fly through the sky.”

“What, couldn’t spring for the one that’s also a spaceship?” Mateo jokes.

“No,” he answers genuinely. He continues to admire the vehicle.

“Where are the wings?” Mateo questions.

“It’s a lifting body, it doesn’t need wings.” He points to the vertical wing thing. “Or that’s what those things are. I don’t know. All I know is it works, and it cost me a fortune.”

“Do we need all of this? Could we not just take regular commercial jets where we need to go, and then rent cars?”

“Well, sure, if you wanna be basic.”

“Far be it.”

“Isn’t it beautiful? Come on, let’s check out the inside.”

It has to be really narrow, so it can fit in the standard road lane—and those weird wings do stick out a little—but it’s pretty long, and sufficiently tall. That’s why it needs this high ceiling parking garage, but it should be able to fit under any bridge just fine. The controls are in the cockpit, where you would expect, for a pilot and co-pilot. Behind it are four little cubbies; two on each side, separated by seats. By the door is a little kitchenette, then a lav, a toilet, and steps up to a loft. It feels like too much. It feels like too much. It all feels too extravagant.

“These cubby seats recline into flat beds, while these two are just for sitting .” He pulls down one of the three jumpseats along the wall by the door. “You could technically fit eleven people, though these three of them wouldn’t have anywhere to sleep.” He continues the tour, pointing around as necessary. Cargo is stored behind the shower, to leave space underneath for mechanical. Retractable floats allow water takeoff and landing. Of course, the wheels retract as well. Back there is a powerful boat motor, but you could opt out of that in favor of just using the jet engines. Distributed propulsion, obviously more fuel efficient. Solar panels mostly provide power for internal systems and land travel operation, but they can support flight in a pinch. Well, they can support an emergency landing.”

“This is...” Mateo doesn’t want to repeat himself. Heath knows it’s a lot. He knows what he bought. “When did you have time to buy this? Was it on your wishlist before we got here?”

He laughs, “no. I ordered it as soon as we first started talking about the mission five days ago.”

“Quick delivery time,” Mateo notes.

“Was it?” It must be pretty typical in this reality.

“I really appreciate everything you’ve done, including this, but not excluding everything else. You’ve been a great help to us, and I thank you for helping Marie when she had no one.”

“You speak as if you’re about to leave alone.”

“I know this thing is yours, and I’m not saying you should give it to me—I would find another way—but I assume it runs itself, because no one has mentioned you having a pilot’s license. I’m just reminding you that I’m fine doing this by myself. You don’t have to spend time away from your wife. I know you two are going through something profound.”

“Yeah, we’ve been talking about that,” Heath says, nodding his head. “You need to add another destination to your list, which we’ll be going to first. Marie needs a real abortion.”

“Where is it?”

“Croatia.”

Microstory 1677: Structural Integrity

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The Whrwehs discovered pretty easily that time travel was impossible. It wasn’t something they wanted to do, but they needed to research it, in case there was anything they needed to do to prepare for someone else using it against them. They were pleased to know that the timeline would remain intact, and that they did not have anything to worry about. Unfortunately, this rule only applied to their universe’s proper physics. Anything that can interfere with them from the outside can do so at any point in time, which is a sort of loophole to any time travel limitation. It’s kind of why bulk travel wasn’t ever part of nature’s plan. People were never meant to crossover, for any reason. Anyway, one of the ways to travel the bulkverse once came upon this universe to ask the Whrwehs for help. The Transit lacked sufficient power sources, and needed to purchase some from a world they knew was advanced enough to spare some extras. Luckily for them, the Whrwehs agreed to help. All they needed in return was a quick little trip to the past to retrieve a historical figure. He predicted the way that they would one day live, but it was more like he made it happen by showing people how much more efficient and peaceful it would be. They didn’t want to change anything about their history, but they felt that this man deserved to see the fruits of his labor. He deserved to live forever, in a healthier world, which he was instrumental in creating. The mission did not go well, and it appeared that the only way to fix the issue was to return him to his rightful place in the past. He apparently would not be able to live in the future. It’s a perfect example of how bulk travel can cause more problems than it solves...by avoiding paradoxes.

Let’s use Salmonverse as an example. When a time traveler goes back to the past, and makes some change to the timeline, it alters the course of future history. The universe compensates for this by adding a new layer on top of the old one. If it’s a parallel reality, then they will coexist, but if the universe can’t support them both simultaneously, then the old reality will collapse, and it only have to worry about the new one moving forward. The universe we’re talking about today does not work like that. It can’t support new realities at all, not even by collapsing the old timeline. Any alteration that someone makes using bulk travel technology will have an impact on the entire universe: future, present, and past. The physical structure of the brane actually transforms to account for the change. So while other forms of time travel only begin to take effect at the point of divergence, bulk-based time travel can have an effect in both directions of time. But if the past has been changed, then the future that caused the change doesn’t exist, and technically never did. So when the crew of The Transit went back to remove Mizakh Bordalajner from his deathbed, they weren’t just removing them from his future, but all of time. This disrupted everything. It made it so that Bordalajner never existed at all, and since he was such an important figure in history, this ended up having massive repercussions for all of reality. You might call this a hole in the fabric of spacetime, but it was more like pulling a thread, and never letting go. A domino effect took hold, and humanity essentially fell apart under the constant threat of a paradox. The only way to undo this was for the crew to return Bordalajner to his deathbed, and let him die. Then the question remained, if they were unable to fulfill their promise to the natives, how would they pay for the power systems that were already on board their vessel?

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: November 18, 2256

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The adjoining of Radiant Lightning, and The Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez was totally finished when Mateo returned to the timestream. While they did fit well together, geometrically speaking, they weren’t designed with that in mind. There was still a lot to be done to adapt them to each other. Whatever it was that made the AOC go before first had to be taken out, which was apparently the easiest part. There was always a way to jettison it in case something went wrong, such as what happened in that movie where Tommy Lee Jones goes crazy alone in space. The end result of the new ship was exquisite, even though Mateo wasn’t intelligent enough to know what exactly this meant. They could now get to any planet in this region in a matter of days, sure, but why that was suddenly now possible was something that would always fly right over his head.

On a personal note, Leona and Cassidy were still off on whatever it was they were doing, wherever they were doing it. They kept in contact with Homebase, so people would know they were still alive, but neither of them agreed to talk to Mateo. Cassidy had done nothing wrong, and Leona certainly hadn’t, so Mateo was rightfully being treated as the bad guy. He just hoped this didn’t mean his life was essentially over. If he couldn’t be with Leona—either literally, or as soulmates, or both—he didn’t know how he would survive.

Things were awkward in 2256. The crew of the AOC had already known what happened between Mateo and Cassidy, but now that it was no longer an open secret, and just open, it couldn’t be ignored. Mateo, on the other hand, was ripe for being ignored, which was what most everyone was doing. Trinity had a completely different personality than he remembered Paige having before. That was no big surprise, though. They were two totally separate people now, who had experienced wildly different lives. She was ignoring him as well, but it didn’t seem to have anything to do with his indiscretion with Cassidy. She kind of acted like she didn’t love that there were now so many people here, and was ready for some to leave. Eight Point Seven seemed fine with Mateo, leading him to ask her if she would shrink him like she did for Leona so many times, but Eight Point Seven said that it would be a conflict of interest. This decision was probably for the best. The only person who didn’t seem to have a problem with him was Ellie. She was still as bubbly and tenderhearted as ever.

“Oh hold on.” Ellie pulled a pair of glasses out of her bag, and a clipboard. She crossed her legs, and looked at him inquisitively. “Go on.”

“I’m not really looking for a therapist,” Mateo said. “I just don’t have anyone else to talk to.”

“So I’m your last resort. How does that make you feel?”

Mateo laughed at this. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m just joking”

“How do you feel about what happened?” Mateo asked her. One of his biggest problems right now was that no one was expressing their thoughts on the matter. Did they just not know what to say, or were they deliberately trying to make him feel bad, simply because he certainly didn’t deserve to feel happy?

Ellie shrugged. “It’s not really my business.”

“But Leona is your friend.”

“And when she comes back, I’ll be here for her. That doesn’t mean I can’t be here for you too. Shitty sitcoms from the two-thousand aughts teach us that the friends of a couple in distress have to take sides. But that’s really reductive; relationships are more nuanced than that, and very complicated. You screwed up, and there’s no denying it, but you’re not irredeemable, and Leona isn’t beyond forgiving you.”

“That’s a very mature position to hold. I’m not sure I would be so thoughtful if I weren’t the one who done it.”

“Well, you gain perspective when you can eavesdrop on the conversations of faceless strangers from thousands of miles away.”

“You do that a lot?”

“I see what you’re leading to,” Ellie said. “I’m not going to listen in on Leona and Cassidy.”

“What if they’re hurt, or lost?”

Ellie reached back into her bag, and retrieved a tablet. She tapped on it a few times, and then turned it around to show him. He could see what appeared to be vital signs, separated into boxes; one for each of the core group at Homebase, plus the two who weren’t there at the moment. Only Mateo wasn’t on there at all. “We chipped everyone after Leona got lost on another continent. As you can see, they’re both fine.”

“Eight Point Seven is on here.” It looked different than the others, though, since she didn’t have a heart rate, or blood pressure, or any other biological reading.

She chuckled a bit. “Well, yeah. We still need to know how her internal systems are faring.

“What’s wrong with that one?” Mateo was pointing at a box that should have been displaying someone’s vitals, but whoever it was, they appeared to be dead.

“Oh, that’s Briar’s. His chip was damaged recently, but I guess he’s not allowed to undergo any medical treatment for this whole month? It has something to do with his religion. I don’t know anything about it.” She dropped the tablet back into her bag.

Mateo decided to change the subject, because he had another question. “Hey, um. Is that a bag of holding?”

“It is, yes,” Ellie confirmed, holding it up. “Do you two not have your own?”

“No one had them on Tribulation Island, which would have been a good place to stock them. I don’t know where else to find something like that.”

“I got mine from an old man I met in 1804 Kansas. Or rather, what would become Kansas a few decades later. I don’t think he made it, though. I won it off him in a game of poker.”

“I don’t suppose you would be willing to reconnect with him.”

“I would have to find him throughout time and space, and then I would have to speak to him. Both of those things require using my time power, which I’ve agreed to not do while I’m on Bida.”

Mateo nodded. “I understand.”

“There would be no guarantee he would have what you’re looking for anyway. Transdimensional bags aren’t the rarest thing in histories, but they’ve never been mass-marketed either. Lots of people who can create pocket dimensions can’t link them to a bag like this. It takes pretty refined skill.”

“It’s just..Leona has always wanted one.”

“You’re not gonna win her back with a gift, Mateo, and I think you know that.”

“If the gift didn’t win her back,” he began, “she would at least still have a bag of holding. I don’t see the down side.”

“I do,” Ellie claimed. “If you give a gift now, you’re just like any other cheater who thinks it’s possible to make up for the betrayal. You can’t compensate for it. Your only hope is to regain her trust. That’s done through things like being a good person from now on. Listen to her, acknowledge her contributions, ask her for help; basic things that a decent human being does for another. She has to feel like you think of her as a real person. A gift, of any kind—even something less materialistic, like a fun or romantic experience—will only perpetuate her perception that you think she’s a broken object you can repair. Relationships can’t be repaired; they can only grow a new branch, in a different direction, and hopefully leave the dead branch far enough behind that it doesn’t kill the whole tree.”

“Wow. Maybe I was looking for a therapist.”

“I’m not a therapist, Mateo. I’m just a woman.”

He nodded, but didn’t say anything.

After his little therapy session with Ellie, Mateo went out to take a walk on his own. Everyone said it was one of the most beautiful planets, and that Trinity had settled on the most beautiful part of it. The path did not disappoint. The trees and other plant life were gorgeous and calming. Even the animal noises sounded more pleasant than he ever remembered hearing on Earth. Maybe they were just different, and given enough time, he would grow used to them. This wasn’t his first time outside on this world, but he hadn’t paid much attention before. His walk wasn’t perfect, though. Throughout the whole thing, he had this sickening feeling that he was being watched. Perhaps that mad scientist who was trying to transfer people’s consciousnesses to animal droids was following him around, or a hungry real animal. His anxiety worsened every few steps, until it was no longer worth it to keep going. He turned to leave, and came face to face with that guy Leona found alone in the woods. He was acting creepy, but Mateo wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Oh, hey. Briar, right?”

“That’s right,” Briar said. “I’m here to kick your ass.”

“Mateo sighed. “To defend her honor?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll let you hit me once. I can say that I tripped, or something. But if you hurt me more than that, I’m gonna have to tell her what happened, and she isn’t gonna be happy.”

“I dunno, I think she would probably be really happy about that.”

“You obviously don’t know her very well. She abhors violence.”

“She what’s violence?” Briar questioned, confused.

“She hates it,” Mateo translated.

She hates you more.”

“That’s not true. I know I made a big mistake, but she and I are going to get through this. It doesn’t matter what you do to me, she’s not going to leave me, and run to you.”

“This has nothing to do with me. I’m not gonna hurt you to get you out of the way, and take your place. I’m gonna hurt you, because you deserve it.” He started inching forwards.

Mateo didn’t get into fights when he was a kid, but he also wasn’t easily intimidated. He didn’t know why, but Briar was really freaking him out. It could have been the wrathful fire in his eyes, or just the way he was so convinced that this was the right call. Or maybe it was because they were now standing near the edge of a pretty steep drop. “She won’t forgive you.”

“She won’t need to.”

“I’m under the protection of the powers that be.”

“Then you shouldn’t be worried at all right now.” Mateo was starting to think this guy was genuinely mentally ill.

“Don’t do this, Briar.”

“Don’t do what?” Yeah, to be insensitive about it, he was definitely bonkers. “I’m not even here.” He presented the inside of his wrist. “My medical chip has been broken for a week.”

Briar had forced Mateo all the way to the very edge. If the powers that be were going to do anything to save him, like send the Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida’s version of The Savior to pull him back, this was the moment. Presumably banking on the unremote possibility that they weren’t going to do that, Briar delicately tapped on both of Mateo’s shoulders, and sent him tumbling over.

No Savior, no giant bird, no last-second portal. Mateo fell however far it was to the bottom of the cliff, and landed hard on his back. His whole body was in pain, and warm blood was pooling around him; almost like he was peeing his pants. After a few minutes of lying there, a butterfly-like insect started fluttering over his face, giving him one last beautiful thing to look at before he died. He couldn’t help but smile in wonder. This tiny little thing barely had what you would call a brain. It didn’t think, or feel, or hope. It just searched for food, and propagated the species. It probably didn’t even realize it was flying over the dying body of another creature. It probably just considered Mateo to be part of the landscape. He could feel his life slowly draining from him, but as it did, the insect slew down, until it was almost not moving at all.

This was the day Mateo Matic died.

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Microstory 1216: Ladonna Buhle

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Ladonna Buhle was born in Port Elizabeth, South Africa on October 21, 1981. Her parents were not in a financial position to get her help when she started talking about seeing angels floating in the air all over the place. They couldn’t stop her from claiming that these things were real, but with any luck, they could stop her from telling everyone in town about them. As it turned out, her ability was similar to Vidar Wolfe’s. She could detect temporal anomalies, which included objects with unusual properties, and also people with powers of their own, or salmon patterns. She couldn’t inherently take advantage of these things, but that didn’t mean they weren’t useful to her. She was strong and formidable, and crossing her was generally a bad idea, especially not when she was grown, and figured out the truth about what she was seeing. She kept in touch with her family as best she could, but like so many others, she pretty much shed her old life, and started traveling the world. Ladonna could go to any time and place of her choosing, as long as she found the right anomaly to cross through, but she chose to stay in the present day. She wasn’t worried about the act of altering the past itself, but she didn’t like the idea of there being multiple versions of her with the potential to interact with each other. It shook her religious core, and caused her existential anxiety. So she essentially became a teleporter, except she could only go to and from certain places. Anomalies were difficult to use properly, but with enough time and patience, she could figure anything out. But her power wasn’t what made her special. Others could detect—or even utilize—natural spacetime anomalies, and temporal objects. Her greatest contribution came because she studied them, and understood how they worked on a fundamental level. She created the first map of nonlinear spacetime, and it was her research that became the foundation for The Weaver’s invention of the Compass of Disturbance. Like Ladonna, the compass could detect and access anomalies, among other things, but any human could operate it. She wasn’t sure how she felt about this development. Theoretically, it was a dangerous thing to exist, but the only people who ever used it proved themselves to be noble and trustworthy, so she made her peace with the consequences of her choices. After some years of travel, it started to get a little dull for her. Sure, there were lots of places she hadn’t seen yet, but that didn’t mean she wanted to see them. She wasn’t the type of person who could experience more awe or joy while standing in an impressively constructed building than she could just by using the right tools on the internet. She found landscapes to be beautiful and calming, but this sense of tranquility was interrupted every time she tried to go somewhere new, so she eventually decided to settle down in just one beautiful place. She chose to make her home at Brooks Lake. It was the aquatic hub of Earth, naturally connecting every significantly large body of water to this one, relatively small, body. The transition from it to another place was so smooth that she even considered the trip itself to be a relaxing experience. It was here that she lived out the rest of her days, until she was killed for trying to get others to see things her way, and carrying out her beliefs in a way that contradicted her own values.

Microstory 1161: Ida Reyer

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After the death of her husband, Ida Laura Pfeiffer decided to fulfill her dream of becoming an explorer. She went all over the world, from Brazil to Persia; Australia to Oregon. She also jumped through time. In 1851, she found herself in Kansas City when it was still in its very early infancy, and there she met a woman named Holly Blue. Holly Blue was from the future, and after a weeks-long relationship, sort of accidentally admitted to Ida who she really was. Ida asked her to take her with her on trips throughout spacetime, but Holly Blue refused. At this point in her own personal history, she hadn’t yet discovered a way for nontravelers to safely travel through time. Certain people were capable of it, while others would experience terrible medical issues. She later overturned this decision, but it was long after Ida had left Kansas City, and returned to her life. Holly Blue went back to eleven years before they were meant to meet, and rewrote her own history—and Ida’s. She bequested Ida one of her newest, and most valuable inventions, which she called The Compass of Disturbance. Holly Blue disappeared without giving any explanation for why she chose Ida for this give, presumably not wanting to repeat their unfortunate breakup. The compass turned out to be a powerful tool. Its main purpose was to seek out, and stabilize, natural tears in the continuum, which would allow a user to travel through them, even if they wouldn’t otherwise be able to survive the trip unharmed. It had other functions as well, but it took months of trial and error to understand them all. And so Ida began to lead a double life. She spent part of her time exploring the world in her own time period, but part of it elsewhere. She particularly enjoyed going into the far, far future, because life there was just so fundamentally different. In her travels, she encountered others, but they were born to manipulate time, and did not require technology to do so. She learned of special places with unusual temporal properties, and of other objects that regular humans would be able to utilize. She even discovered that there was a way to live forever, given the right ingredients. Unlike her successor, Juan Ponce de León, Ida had no interest in finding immortality water, or in living forever. She wanted to live a full life, partially in the future, and partially in her own time, and she wanted to write about her travels. The reason she kept exploring her own world was so that she could publish her adventures, and build a legacy. That was her way of living forever. She knew it wouldn’t be safe to author her time travel stories, but she kept a fairly detailed diary in the internal memory of the Compass of Disturbance itself. A few years in, she met someone who recommended she go ahead and publish those works, so they could be distributed to people who had the permission to see them. She took her up on that advice, and eventually ended up with a full series on her life that most people in the world would never see, yet it made her more famous than would have been without the books. The woman who suggested she do that was known as The Historian, and anyone wishing to read her work, or those of others like her, could find copies in the library section of her museum on Tribulation Island.

Microstory 872: Equipathy

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My mother grew up on a farm, and had two horses when she was younger. I can’t recall their names, but I remember her telling me stories of them getting to know each other, and about all the shenanigans they would get into together. I’ve always loved horses, even though boys are supposed to be more into monster trucks, and...like, blowing stuff up, I guess. I hate big cities. They’re noisy and there are too many people, and you can’t see the stars. I don’t much like the country either, though. Everything is too spread out, and it takes too long to get places. I much prefer the suburbs, which is where my family lives now. The only thing I don’t like about it is that I can’t keep a horse. If our backyard had access to some extra spatial dimension that would add acres and acres of space, I would have asked for a horse a long time ago. It’s my sixteenth birthday, and instead of getting me a car, though, my parents finally fulfill my most precious dream. They buy me a horse, which I didn’t think was possible. As it turns out, if you head due East, which I never do, because there’s nothing there, then you don’t have to drive very far before reaching more open land. On the very edge of town is a little farm apparently known for taking in stray animals of all kinds. Pigs, ducks, llamas, goats, dogs, cats, and of course, my wonderful horses. The owner agreed to keep my new horse on his property, and charge me discounted stable fees. I can go ride and take care of him whenever I want, but I have to be able to do it often, because he’s now my responsibility. I’ve also been asked to spend a little extra time helping out with the other animals. I agree to this deal completely, because why wouldn’t I?

I try to name my new horse Satchel, but I immediately get the feeling that he doesn’t like that, and prefers to be called Estenavorissegabaladon, which he claims means flying water in his language. I don’t know why I made up that word in my head; I’m not a particularly creative individual. I’ve always been better at math; real math, by the way, not this new math. After some coaxing—fully aware that I’m not actually communicating with an animal—he agrees to let me shorten his name to Tenavori. I start off slowly with him, but even though I’ve only ever ridden on a few family vacations, he makes me feel like an expert. We’re completely in sync that it’s almost like I don’t have to do anything. He’s leading the way, and I’m just along for the ride. You’re gonna have to buy me a few more carrots for a real ride, he says. But he doesn’t say it. He sends the thought straight to my brain. But he can’t have done that either, because that’s ridiculous, he’s a horse. Then he says, a horse is a horse, of course, of course, and no one can talk to a horse, of course; that is, of course, unless the horse is me, bitch! What the hell is going on? I don’t say that word, so why am I thinking it? I don’t know that you can think at all, Tenavori says with a laugh, and I see snot shoot out of his nose. Okay, that’s freaky. “Can you understand me?” I ask. If you’re trying to talk to me, don’t say it out loud, he instructs me. I basically hear feedback and static. Just...think it. I stay quiet, and try to project my thoughts. He starts dancing according to my instructions, to outwardly prove that he’s the real deal. To the left, take it back now y'all. One hop this time, right foot, let’s stomp. Left foot, let’s stomp. Cha cha, real smooth. Turn it out, to the left. Oh my God, this horse is even better than I thought. We do a little bit more funky dressage before I decide it’s time do what horses and riders do best. We start racing over the prairie, and through the woods. For a moment, he’s going so fast, it almost looks like he’s running over the river. All the while, we talk. I complain about high school, and he tells me about how horseshoes actually do hurt, but he knows it’s all just in his head. It is the greatest feeling in the world. I’ve never been able to make good friends with humans, and now I don’t have to anymore. It’s getting late, and I have to go back home. But tomorrow, we ride again, headed due East...and we’re never coming back.

Microstory 867: Steadfast

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I need money. I need all the money I can get. I’m paying for college myself, so I sometimes walk around campus, looking for opportunities to make a little extra cash. When I was a freshman, I learned that grad students were always looking for people to participate in their research studies, and many of them paid. I’ve worn eye-tracking visors to show how people look at pictures, I’ve gone for days without sleeping, and I’ve even donated my saliva. I still don’t know what they did with my DNA, but hopefully nothing. After all this time, I know a few people in the right departments, and I usually know when something good is coming. The other day, a psychology professor called me up to let me know they would need a handful of people to come and watch a presentation. He said it could pay up to two hundred dollars, which is the highest I will have ever gotten, so I jumped at the chance. I walk in the building and find the right room. There are a lot more people there than the professor led me to believe, but that shouldn’t make a difference; it’s not a competition. Like many of these things, no one comes up to tell us why we’re here, or what they’re looking for. An orator just steps onstage and starts talking about fairly advanced concepts in the field of psychology. I start taking notes, because I take this very seriously, and they may test us on it later in order to understand the principles of comprehension. One by one, beautiful girls start coming up and standing in front of me so I can’t see the stage. With no provocation, they just start flirting, and I realize the study is not about comprehension, it’s about concentration. I’m resolved to get through this, though, so I ignore all their advances. All in all, I estimate there to be fifteen girls, and one guy, over the course of a half hour. Not one of them succeeded in breaking my focus. I watch the whole speech, understand a few things, and learn even more. The speaker says nothing about the girls, or even about the human brain’s capacity to focus on a task at hand. It’s actually about how smart people can often miss very obvious things because they overthink the problems in front of them. But I know that it doesn’t matter. The presentation itself is irrelevant, but how I react to the interruption. After it’s all done, I walk down the steps and approach my professor friend to ask him how I did with the experiment. He frowns and all but throws the stack of cash at me. “That was a ruse,” he says. “We’re all just trying to find you a girlfriend. You worry too much, and we thought a companion could help you relax.” I scoff. That’s a dumb experiment.

Microstory 768: Salmon

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A lot of people wonder where the term salmon comes from. For the longest time, nobody actually knew, because it did not originate in the same reality. During one timeline, the powers that be decided to call upon one of their little pets, who was named Ed Bolton. He was living in the year 1809, but they pushed him forward one year to 1810. But he only stayed there for three seconds, at which point they pushed him again to 1811. Again, this was short-lived, as he was only there for three minutes, long enough to encounter his friend and roommate, who had been wondering where he was for the last two years. He didn’t have time to both figure out the truth, and explain it, when he was pushed forward two years to 1813. By then, his roommate had moved out of their unit, and somewhere else. It took Ed nearly three hours to find where this was, and then go to him, looking for help. But at this point, the powers that be pushed him all the way to 1816, where he spent three days discovering his friend had moved to the other side of the country. He continued to jump forward in time, hopeless, and completely alone; three weeks in 1821, three months in in 1829 and 1830, and three years from 1843 to 1846. Just when he was feeling comfortable in this new era, with some simple math, he realized he was destined to jump yet again, this time to 1867, where he was likely to spend the next three decades. Fortunately, he would not have to be alone the entire time. He found himself in the company of two other travelers, who were from the future. They immediately treated him with kindness and understanding, and he came to find out that they already knew him, for he was scheduled to run into them again, periodically over the next century. Each time he did, he knew them better, and they knew him less, for they were jumping through time in opposite directions. Through all this, at some point, somebody remarked that these friends were, in fact, going the wrong direction. But it was Edward who drew the analogy of salmon, who were known for traveling upstream to spawn in the same place they were first born. Now this moment—this seemingly innocuous moment—would have repercussions across all of time and space, spanning past, present, future, and all realities. Though earlier versions of the timeline left Ed Bolton free to live his life oblivious to time travel, they too would come to refer to travelers who had no control over their travels as salmon. Some call it inevitable, others fate or destiny, but this would not be the only example of something in a reality that does not yet exist having an inexplicable effect on prior timelines. It would not even be the most profound.

Microstory 495: Architect

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The Architect has a knack for solving problems, which I know, seems like something everybody around here can do. He’s always preferred to work alone but has recently become more engaged with others in an attempt to be a better person. He is often found with The Composer and The Crafter; two other quiet people who just sort of get him. Together they carry out special projects and missions, sometimes without speaking a word, each one understanding what the others are thinking by their actions. He acts as a conduit between these two and the rest; able to kind of translate what they mean by something. He can be a little over-critical, but he always has everyone’s best interests in mind. He has a level of secrecy, but unlike The Promoter—who has legitimate reasons to keep everyone in the dark—The Architect is really just trying to protect himself. Yet he can’t help himself when it comes to his interactions with other people. A lot of people know his secrets. What none of them knows, however, is all of his secrets. This level of compartmentalization serves as a subtle hint as to how the new organization should operate. Independent departments are created, inspired by The Architect’s theories of cooperation, each one tasked with taking care of a different aspect of oversight. But that is not his only legacy...

Microstory 494: Promoter

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A great deal of mystery surrounds The Promoter. He claims to be from a planet that no one has ever heard of. Nor can he tell anyone exactly where it is. A few theories are indeed floating around about planets spinning somewhere in the galaxy that have not yet connected with everyone else, or have lost contact, and been forgotten by history. The most recent of these was Rinen Rinen, but that was a special circumstance, because its settlers were traveling at relativistic speeds. Since its discovery, scholars and scientists have pored through the records, looking for any evidence of secret planets, but have come up with nothing, not even the Promoter’s home. Just the same, he assimilates into society perfectly. He and The Mastermind are best friends with much in common. Both are spontaneous and ever-present, but while the Mastermind tends to be more independent, the Promoter prefers to use his easy-going attitude to lighten the mood for others. He is always game for a good joke, or an intriguing story. He is an excellent problem-solver, and could probably work well alone, but chooses to help others around him find the answer at their own pace. He is a strong advocate for both self-reliance and communal assistance. He is often seen eating literally, or biting off more than he can chew on a new project. He has no apparent education—which only adds to his mystery—but likes to get his hands dirty and try new things. He’s always asking questions, and it’s hard to tell whether he wants to know the answer, or if he already does, and is just testing you. Because of how mindful he is of the present, he can often lose focus on the future, and stresses too much about immediate results. He also likes to disappear with no explana

Microstory 486: Composer

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I’ve spoken before on the fact that I ended up deciding that I wanted to do more series, and fewer standalone stories on this site. In reality, I don’t think I’ll really ever go back to the way it was in the beginning. Sure, the Dreams series will include a hundred different dreams, but they’ll still all be dreams. The problem with this plan is that the solar calendar doesn’t really make this easy. I end up with dangling remainders on both ends of the calendar year. This could be solved if we used a calendar that had 28 days in each of 13 months, but you people are too bloody superstitious. Anyway, these danglers are fine, because I end up coming up with something based on however many installment slots happen to be left over. And how many do we have this time? Well...14. I didn’t have any ideas broken up into 14 sections, but what I did have was a set of 16. This turned out to be perfect, because I could set aside two Saturdays to complete it, which helped with the mezzofiction math. Unfortunately, however, this meant I didn’t have room for an introduction, which I’ve discovered to be narratively important. If I don’t explain what’s going to happen ahead of time, I feel awkward, because I’ve just jumped into this weird new thing, and it never had a real beginning. So that’s what I’m doing here, instead of talking about Composers. Why would I talk about composers, you ask? Why because it’s a type of personality. Composers are observant artisan entertainers. They are creators, artists, inspirers. But they are also methodical, deliberate, and stable. They’re considered to be ever-present, choosing not to focus too much on the future, or dwell on the past. It is for this reason that, although I’ve discussed the future of this project, I cannot tell you what the other installments are going to be like. That’s mostly because I don’t know. But that’s okay, I’m not worried about it. Let’s just be here. Now.