Microstory 2789: Well...They Will Sew Him Up At Least

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The candidates created something called a chore wheel. Every time they clear the entire house of smart dust surveillance, the producers replace them. They are spending a great deal of time hunting for the dispensers. That is one of the jobs, but there are others. First, the dust has to be blinded and grounded. That takes oil or glue, which can be found in their cooking spray and hairspray. Once the spies are coated, they fall to the ground, but they can still hear. They have to be mopped or shampooed up. Any dust that was already on a surface has to be wiped up too. The rags are then microwaved to destroy the miniature electronics. The rags are cleaned, inventory is recounted, and the whole process starts over again the next day.

They can’t figure out why the producers are doing this, though it might be because of how cheap the dust is to replenish. They don’t have to come out and argue about it because it’s not a big deal to put things back how they were. But for a few hours every night, it’s quiet. Or it’s not. Some are starting to get paranoid that the producers have plenty of other ways to keep the broadcast going, and that it doesn’t matter what they try. The dispenser hunters are also responsible for searching for other surveillance equipment. They have so far found nothing, and they’re running out of time.

Jande stops hearing the hissing sound of the nearby spray bottle. He looks over.

Kool is shaking it, looking at it, shaking it again, and trying to spray again.

“I told you that we were using too much,” one of the Eyrenlanders argues. “It doesn’t take a lot. We should have been more conservative with it.”

“We only have one flashlight, and we’re out of batteries too,” Dare argues. “We couldn’t hold it in place while we sprayed the entire house. Wide spray; cover the whole space. That was the only way to do it, and we all agreed. You said nothing before.”

The Eyrenlander woman plops down in the egg chair. “Well, now it’s over, and my hair looks like a mess. And we’ve not had a decent meal in days because we can’t cook with oil anymore. How did our ancestors survive without synthesizers?”

Jande sits on the ottoman’s edge. “We need to consider the possibility that we were never meant to overcome this as a challenge.”

“Why have they not given us any challenges since day one then?” she asks.

“To make us stew,” Ersence offers. She tosses her own spray bottle in the trash. “They want tension, they want conflict. Well...they’re getting it. Just now, you’re complaining about it, and I bet the audience is eating it up.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault?” the Eyrenlander spits at Ersence.

“You have an amazing ability to make everything about you,” Ersence responds.

The Eyrenlander woman leans forward and vigorously talks with her hands. “You literally just blamed me!”

“It was one example, ya scratchcather!” Ersence cries.

“All right, let’s try to not be so ironic here,” Jande suggests. “We’ve decided that that’s what they want, right? So let’s not give it to ‘em, and maybe they’ll have to intervene. We might hate what they do next, but at least we’ll get some feedback.”

An Eyrenlander man comes in from the fake backyard. “You want feedback?” He aggressively powerwalks through the room. “I’ll get you feedback.” He picks up one of the wooden dining room chairs and starts to bang the leg against the window.

Jande stands up to put a stop to it, but Ersence holds him back. “No. You can’t help him. You would only escalate the issue. The best thing we can do is sit back and stay out of his way. He’s like an animal right now. I’ve seen it in my men. They get cabin fever, and they won’t listen to reason. Don’t give him ammo. Don’t give them footage.”

“This isn’t actually the 21st century,” Dare reminds him. “The glass won’t break.”

The glass breaks.

As it turns out, their ground level house is actually high up in the air. The open window reveals not open sky, but clouds. The sudden change in pressure tries to suck the Eyrenlander man out. Jande jumps up and manages to catch him by the ankle at the last second. It’s out of the frying pan and into the fire, though, because not all of the glass fell away from the frame. The man has fallen right on top of some shards. They cut deep into his stomach. Blood spills out of him like a torn bag of milk. They lift him off.

“Haoran!” Jande takes off his shirt and desperately tries to plug the wounds, but some of the glass is still in there. “Haoran! Get down here right now!”

“He can’t hear you in all this wind!” Ersence explains. She runs off.

Haoran shows up and dives down to the floor. “Move your hands,” he orders. “Do you have any medical training, Mr. Ter Avest?”

“Not really,” Jande answers truthfully. People don’t die. In his world, if someone gets hurt this bad, you just let them pass on and come back in a new body.

“Okay, good instincts with your shirt.” Haoran starts to make adjustments. He takes off his own to add to it. “But you were applying pressure. That’s just gonna squirt out more blood. We can still stop the bleeding. I’m gonna need you to put your hands right here. Yes, right there, but don’t push down or forwards. Kool?”

Kool kneels down without hesitating.

“Kool,” Haoran goes on, “do what he’s doing, but below the glass. Once you’re both in place, push towards each other, carefully but not delicately. Good. Very good.” He looks up. “Dare, get that squeeze bottle that Pryce uses. Wash it with soap and water, inside and out. Fill it with one of those vodka bottles from the freezer, then dump it out, rinse it out again, and fill it with room temperature water. Got it?” After Dare leaves, he shifts his gaze. “Ersence, go find that sewing kit. The last I saw, it was in the girls’ room.”

“No, it’s under my bed!” Dare yells from the kitchen.

“Understood!” Ersence runs off yet again.

When Dare comes back, Haoran uses the water to flush bits of glass and blood out of the wound. Now that he has a better look at what they’re dealing with, he frowns and scans the crowd, which has since been filled out with the rest of the candidates. “None of our bedsheets are good. Kool, is that shirt cotton?”

Kool takes it off and checks under the collar. “That’s what the tag says.”

“Hold please.” Haoran takes the shirt and stands. He waits for a moment. “If ever there was a time for medical intervention, this would be it!” he calls out to the aether. “If you don’t come in with a medical team, you know what I have to do. It’s not safe, and it’s not pretty, but I’ll do it. You have until the cloth finishes boiling.” He starts walking.

Haoran returns with a long strip of Kool’s former shirt. After Pryce pulls the last shard from the wound, Haoran stuffs the cloth in to replace it as it’s the only way to stop internal bleeding while they wait for clotting. Then he sews the guy up, saying he’ll need another surgery later if he makes it that long. What he really needs now...are antibiotics.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: October 1, 2575

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Olimpia didn’t go straight to Sri Lanka after she came back to Earth. She spent one night in a guest unit in an Egyptian arcology so she could start fresh in the morning. In the room, she laid out all her supplies because she didn’t like the way she had it organized. That was when she discovered Mateo’s rendezvous card for the Snake Island medical facility. He must have slipped it in when she wasn’t looking. It was good for her to have a special place to go if she needed it, but she didn’t think that she actually would.

She and her brother, Delfinus, spent all day in the waiting area. She would think the magical card would have spirited them there during an open slot, and her guess was that it wasn’t that smart, but it turned out, it was just because it wasn’t truly her card. It was a waste of time anyway, because Dr. Hammer specialized in temporal issues. Apparently, Delfinus’ problem was on the psychic level.

That made sense, that it wasn’t really a time power. Olimpia never understood why this world had both time travel and psychic powers, but not any other things, like vampires or talking animals. Why only these two seemingly completely unrelated things? She never got the chance to ask Dr. Hammer about it because she was too busy to see them. Instead, they spoke with her associate, Siria Webb.

Siria took it upon herself to reprogram the rendezvous card to do more than just take them back to where they were before. When they reactivated it, they ended up making a big loop to 2575, but now at an unknown location, seemingly underground. Before them was a door, so Delfinus knocked, because what else would they do?

A twentysomething woman opened the door. “Oh,” she said, gently placing her three middle fingers against her forehead. “Your thoughts are bouncing around his head, and flooding into mine.” She looked at Delfinus. “It must be so much worse for you. Come in, come on in.” She stepped to the side and stood there to close the door herself.

“Delfinus was nervous as he looked around the room. His sister was more used to finding herself in new places, but this was only the second time he had traveled, and so far, he wasn’t a fan. Plus, the bunker was just scary and dark, like this woman wanted people to feel uncomfortable when they came here. He didn’t know, though. He could convert anyone’s thoughts into narration...but not hers. She could block him somehow.”

Olimpia looked over at the psychic. “You see what we’re dealing with, and I’m assuming you know why we’re here, so you already know if you can help us or not.”

“I do, and I will try to help him,” the psychic said, “but it may take some time. He doesn’t have mental wards, but don’t think that means I can easily diagnose him. Imagine a hose. You can’t see inside of it without a light, but even if you have a light, the hose has to be turned off first. His hose is on full blast. All I’m getting is the...the contaminated water, to maintain the analogy. I need to shut it off before I can determine what is contaminating it. I don’t need to ask you if that makes sense, because I already know it does. First step is giving you, Mrs. Matic, your own mental wards.”

“That will stop him from narrating my thoughts,” Olimpia pressed the stranger, “but will it stop you from reading them too, or are you immune to your own powers?”

The psychic smiled. “I’m Leida, and I have no interest in your thoughts.” She gestured around the room. “That’s why I live under a battlefield. I hate my powers because I can’t turn them off. Believe me, giving you wards is more for me than for you.”

“All right, then.” Olimpia stepped towards the stranger. “I’m trusting you.”

“I appreciate this.” Leida pinched her index and thumb together before placing them against Olimpia’s forehead. She increased pressure until Olimpia passed out.

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Microstory 2631: The Truth is That Even the Undigitized Are Digitized Because True Death is Dumb

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Datetime format not recognized. Cecelia Massey has been doing this job for less than twenty years. Her boss, Keilix has been doing it for centuries, but Cece doesn’t think even Keilix has seen anything like this before. “Uhh, K.O.? K.O.? K.O.? Keilix!”

The dead don’t need to sleep, but it’s a pleasurable experience, so people still do it all the time. Keilix finally wakes up. “What is it?”

“There—I think there’s something broken.”

Keilix gets out of bed, and walks over to the workstation. Her eyes widen in shock and fear when she sees it. “No, that can’t be right. This is thousands of people.”

“The numbers are still rising,” Cecelia states the obvious.

“Something huge must have happened, like a ship blew up, or something. Where are they coming from?”

Cecelia opens a new screen. “A place called Proxima Doma, Proxima Centauri. It looks like there was a delay in processing, but their local buffer filled up, so it sent a databurst to us. Why would it do that? We can’t handle this kind of volume.”

Keilix looks at a different screen. “The original programming was never altered. These are the same protocols that the original simulation had. It doesn’t know that there are only two of us now. It’s just dropping people off, and assuming that there will be counselors available to facilitate orientation.”

“I’m looking at the COD list. We have falls, asphyxiation, implosion...lava? I’m seeing a lot of lava here.”

Keilix looks over Cece’s shoulder. “This is an apocalyptic event. Let me look at something.” She takes out her handheld device. It’s not any more physical than anything else in this virtual world, but it’s the manifestation of the only thing that grants her access to some current knowledge out of base reality. It allows them to keep up with what’s going on, to a degree. They try not to use it too much. “There’s nothing in the news about it, but the link hasn’t updated in a while. What I can tell you is that the population of Proxima Doma, at last count, was roughly 1.21 billion people.”

“Are they all coming here?” Cece presses.

“If the whole world was destroyed by something almost all at once, then maybe. But...some of them should be digitized. Their consciousnesses should be routed to local simulations and backup substrates. They shouldn’t actually die.” She looks back at her device, reads a little more, and shakes her head. “But apparently, this one planet boasts the greatest undigitized population in the galaxy right now. I get the sense that they’re proud of that. Some of them are entirely unenhanced humans, just like I was when I died at the turn of the 22nd century. I didn’t have as much choice, though.”

“Well, I did, I still ended up here too.” Cece has pulled up the arrival history. “Yeah, I’m just scanning our logs now. Proxima Doma, Proxima Doma, Proxima Doma. I guess I never noticed that when people do die, they tend to come from there above all else. Almost no one from Earth these days.”

“We don’t usually ask them where they’re from, we don’t care.”

“So, what do we do? Can we...make them all go dormant maybe?”

Keilix sighs, and scratches the back of her head to relieve the tension. “I don’t know how to do that. We need help. Either way, we can’t do this ourselves.”

“Who do we call? Gilbert?” Cece suggests.

“No, he’s not great with people. Neither is Nerakali. They’re not bad, but they won’t know what to do either.” She looks over at the small red button on the wall.

“This is an emergency,” Cece seems to agree.

“The problem is, I don’t know who we’re gonna get. Hades...or Persephone.”

“Which one are we hoping for?”

“Hell if I know, I’ve never met either of them. I don’t even know what their real names are. I just know that they’re both bad, and that’s why we don’t push that button.”

“I think we have to,” Cece decides. “Unprecedented is an understatement. We are not equipped for this. Honestly, I wouldn’t have taken this job if I had died back around when you did. It’s too much pressure. I wanted to help people...but only a few at a time.”

“Okay.” Keilix takes a deep breath and walks over to the button.

Cece stands. “We’ll press it together.”

“No, I got it.” She presses it.

Ding-dong, goes the doorbell.

A door materializes on the wall, then after a few seconds pass, it opens. A young woman in her pajamas is on the other side. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, it’s uhh, uhh...Armageddon? There could be as many as over a billion people dying at once. We were told to push this button if we ever needed help.”

The woman looks over at the button. “Oh. No one told me. So, I’m assuming that this is the afterlife simulation?”

“Yeah.”

“What year is it?”

“I forget,” Keilix admits. “The 2520s.”

“Well.” The woman steps into the room. “I don’t know what to do in this situation, but I will help in any way I can.” She offers her hand. “I’m Ellie Underhill.”

“So, you’re Persephone?” Cece guesses.

The woman winces. “No. I’m Ellie Underhill,” she repeats.

“Persephone is a code name. We don’t know who she would really be,” Keilix explains. “That’s why we’ve never pressed it before.”

“Hmm,” Ellie begins. “Well, you don’t have to be afraid of me. I’m not a weirdo with a Greek god complex. I didn’t actually build the simulation, I just came up with it. A guy stole it from me, but interestingly enough, he was not entirely without honor, so when I finally showed up after thousands of years, he gave it back. I didn’t realize it was still running after I moved all of the dead people to a new universe.”

Keilix’s eyes widened again. “That was you? Should I bow?”

Ellie laughs. “No. Let’s just get to work. Show me what we’re dealing with here.”

And so the trio look through the operator’s manuals, and start learning how to deal with this issue. As it turns out, while this planetwide catastrophe is absolutely unprecedented, the “Hades” founder still considered it a possibility, and still planned for it. They find a way to slow down the ingress, and bring in a little extra help. After a few days, the deaths taper off, ultimately numbering in the low millions. They slowly get them through orientation. Some are disappointed that this isn’t the real heaven, but many are relieved, and regret not doing more to protect themselves intentionally. But they will all be okay. The afterlife simulation is fully operational once more.

Microstory 2630: If You’re Going Through Hell...Keep Going

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April 3, 2527. Each pod can hold about 2,500 people, and with three tether systems running concurrently, that means around 2.16 million people can be evacuated every day. On the north side of the planet, only around 147 million people ultimately needed to evacuate. The rest had died, transferred their consciousnesses to other worlds, or refused to leave. A lot of the people who had originally settled in the surviving domes saw no reason to go, and no one spent much effort trying to convince them otherwise. The future is wildly uncertain at this point. Science suggests that the poles will remain safe indefinitely, but that’s assuming nothing more changes about Proxima Centauri, and that anyone truly understands what’s happening. This has never occurred before. If Earth were this hostile, nothing would have likely evolved on it, let alone a species as intelligent as humans. The safe bet is to leave, but many don’t see it that way.

It’s been 69 days now. Breanna, Cash, Notus, and Calypso are still here, along with a handful of Tangent workers who are just finishing up. They have made one final announcement in case anyone wants to change their mind, but it’s time to leave now. People have had multiple chances to get on board, so this is it. They need to pack up and head off to the southern pole to do it all again. It is reportedly going to take a lot longer, as more of them want to leave, but the four of them have completed their responsibilities. They weren’t even expected to stay for the whole two-month stint, but they did, because they wanted to help. They have not been shown a whole lot of gratitude for their efforts by the evacuating Domanians, but that’s not why they did it, and it was a rewarding experience anyway. The Bungulans initially left two pods down here as staging pods. Each one is several stories tall, so filing everyone in was a lot faster when they were already in place. One of those staging pods has finally gone back up, completely empty, which means it can do it a lot faster. This last one is for the last remaining workers. They all climb the steps, along with Heracles.

“Wait! Wait, wait, wait!” Someone says. He’s jogging through the holo-stanchions, and jumping on stage. It’s none other than Sorel Arts.

“Hey,” Breanna says after he climbs into the pod. “You’re coming with us?”

“Yeah, everyone who’s ever gonna say yes to the upload has already done so. I see no point in wasting my time here. The southerners need my help now.”

“Good on ya,” Cash says. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Likewise,” Sorel replies as the doors are closing.

One of the Bungulan workers comes over as the pod is closing and being moved out to the tether. “Listen, we were hoping to do an express trip. Can you all handle that? The pod isn’t equipped with inertial dampeners. We had to manufacture too many of them on our way here. It was simpler to basically just make a tin can tied to a string.”

“How many Gs are we talking’ here?” Breanna presses.

The Bungulan reaches over and waves a sliding door open. “A hundred and twenty. Because we have to break through the atmosphere first, so it will take nearly fifteen minutes total.” She steps to the side, revealing what’s in the other room. It’s a giant tank of some kind of fluid. Breanna is guessing perfluorocarbon.

“We’re trained for that,” Cash says, pointing to herself and Breanna. “They’re not,” she explains, indicating Notus and Calypso.

“No, it’s all right. We can handle it,” Calypso insists.

“You don’t understand,” Breanna says. “If you accelerated at these speeds without that tank, it would kill you. No matter what, unless you’re maybe a couple of certain someones, there would be nothing you could do to survive.” She gestures towards the tankroom. “This allows us to do it without feeling the full effects of such extreme acceleration, but you’re submerged in a special water that you breathe through your skin as it also fills your lungs. Everyone panics the first time. Even I did, and that was a controlled pull, at a lower acceleration than this.” She faces the Bungulan. “I’m sorry, I won’t allow it. You’ve been at this for seven months. You can wait sixteen more hours.”

“No.” Notus steps forward. “We have been through this much. We did things we never thought we would. None of those things was our choice, but this is. Let us do it. We promise, we’ll make it through. Even if it traumatizes us, it’s a story that we can tell our grandkids one day.”

“Our grandkids?” Calypso echoes.

“Our...respective...collective...grandkids.” Nice save.

“I assure you, it’s quite safe,” the Bungulan promises. “You won’t be able to talk, but it comes with an AI coach. Even the veterans will hear it guide us through the experience. The voice has been clinically tested, and proven to be fairly universally calming and helpful without sounding robotic or irritating.”

Breanna sighs and looks at her friends. They all seem amenable to the idea, and he’s right that it’s safe. The concern is not that something will go wrong, but that they won’t like, and won’t be able to tell anyone to stop. “Well, because of the atmosphere, I suppose we have to start off rather slowly anyway, so that will give us some time for human coaching, right?”

“Right,” the Bungulan agrees.

“Okay, fine,” Breanna concedes. “I’ve never actually done it in the field, so you’ll have to walk us through it. Explain like we’re five.”

“We can do that.”

Everybody climbs into the tank, and dips into the water. At first it feels like nothing, and then they move. They can feel the resistance of the thick fluid surrounding them, but still, the suit itself is fully sealed. Once everyone is in, the pod begins to move, but at very low speeds. The Bungulan instructs them on what to do. The suit, being as versatile as it is, is designed with the ability to accommodate this very thing. Valves open to let the fluid in. It’s the weirdest part. Humans evolved without the ability to breathe underwater. They are hardwired to not even try. It takes a great deal of will to force one’s self to overcome that impulse. Yet everyone does. While they’re still moving at fairly low speeds—though already accelerating—the group reports being prepared for this. Notus retains the wherewithal to send a message to Heracles, who is still in the main area of the pod, telling him that they’ll see each other on the other side. The pod moves faster and faster. Then it goes faster, faster, faster, and faster. The AI voice responds to their reactions, and alters its guidance accordingly. It’s rough and frightening, but they all get through it. Minutes later, they’re on the platform. Breanna may never see Proxima Doma again. She’s not sure yet if she wants to head for the southern pole, or take a shuttle somewhere else. She doesn’t have to decide right away.

Delegator Chariot greets them when they arrive. “Welcome to The Tangent. The Captain would like to meet you.”

Microstory 2426: Waterworld

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There is an ancient movie called Waterworld, and this has absolutely nothing to do with it. The only connection is the abundance of water. I kind of feel like they did that intentionally. It was one of the first domes ever to come into commission, obviously because water is so important. It makes me think that they knew about the movie, and deliberately used it as the name for this place so they wouldn’t have to adopt the franchise for a themed dome. Do you think that’s possible? Maybe I’m just being stupid and paranoid. I didn’t come to this planet specifically for it, but I got excited when I saw the dome on my brochure, and then my heart sank when I quickly learned that it’s only a Utility dome. I guess I really am dumb, because I was in the wrong section of the catalog. All the fun ones are listed completely separately. So. What is this? It’s a water processing plant. Not so exciting now, is it? They send a ship out into the outer solar system, where water can’t exist in liquid form (for the most part). They drag the ice that they harvest from the smaller celestial bodies, and transport it back to us. I went to Waterworld because it was already in my brain, and when I make plans, I tend to stick to them. Then I stayed to learn about it anyway. They don’t just lasso the ice chunks in a net, and pull it along behind them. They encapsulate it in a highly regulated tank, which is only partially insulated. They adjust this insulation and pressure accordingly as they’re on their way back. This allows the ice to melt into a liquid, and drain into a second tank without sublimating into gaseous form, which is what it would typically do in a vacuum. It’s the sun that accomplishes this for them, allowing them to get a little bit of free energy. Obviously, it still takes power, but it sounds like a pretty cool system at any rate. Pun intended. By the time they get back, the ice should theoretically be fully liquified, so they can dump it into Waterworld. The dome itself is basically a giant fish tank...without any fish. I’m oversimplifying it, because that’s what it looks like from the outside, but the truth is that the water is divided into compartments, which protects the system from total and utter cross-contamination. If there’s an issue with one compartment, at least it doesn’t ruin the entire thing. All told, we’re talking a volume of 145 billion megalitres. I mean, just picture that. You can’t, can you? Well, just take the vactrain to Waterworld, and they’ll show you. It’s evidently never filled to the brim, but it still looks interesting. You’re not gonna want to spend a lot of time here. It’s not closed to the public, but they clearly haven’t set it up for visitors. Don’t get me wrong, they’re ready for you, but I don’t think they could handle it if it suddenly became super popular. If you’re only mildly intrigued, I think reading about it on their prospectus is probably good enough, but if you really want to, you can come take a little tour. It won’t take much time out of your stay on Castlebourne, and might be a nice reprieve from the exhilarating activities. I’m still mad about that name, though.

Microstory 2376: Vacuus, October 14, 2179

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Dear Condor,

It’s nice to hear from you. I know that you weren’t writing that open letter directly to me, but it felt very personal, even though I’ve never experienced anything like what you did. I’ve heard more about you from Corinthia. I’ve known about your whole situation almost as long as she has. You and I have a lot in common. My grandfather was the Chief Helmsman of the ship that brought us to this planet, and before that, he was a space shuttle pilot, and before that, an airline pilot. I spent a lot of time on the bridge with him at the helm as we were on our way out here. He would tell me stories about all the places that he used to travel to back on Earth. I’m younger than you, so I have never set foot on your world before. I guess that’s what fascinates me so much, because I feel like I have all these somewhat similar personal experiences. I know that they’re not my own, though. I dunno, I suppose I just felt a connection with you that I’m probably making up in my own head. As for clothes, I do like them, but not necessarily any more than anyone else. I gravitated towards this job partially because there was an opening, and partially because I probably have even less of an interest in going outside than Corinthia does. I just want to stay in my little room where it’s safe. My work area doesn’t even have a window, because some of the rooms have to be on the interior sections, and they can’t all be lavatories and closets. My job is really not that hard. It may be more involved than your sister’s on a day-to-day basis, but there’s a whole lot less pressure. If I mess something up, I can usually fix it before anyone else sees it. The truth is that anyone could do this, because the fabricators do most of the work. I don’t even know how to sew by hand all that well. I did learn, but I don’t use those skills at work. I’m mostly there in a supervisory role. The machines aren’t hard to operate, but rather than training everyone who needs clothes, they only worry about making sure that I know them, and I make sure that nothing gets screwed up. It’s pretty low-key. I have some free time, which I typically spend making up new designs. I’m not exceptional at it, but there are no deadlines, so I eventually figure out what it needs to look like. Corinthia has actually tested out a lot of my own clothes for me. She says she likes them, but you never really know, right? She could just be being polite. I did design the outfit that I’m wearing in the attached photo, so you can tell me what you think. Be honest. Cori thinks there’s too much cleavage, but maybe you have a different opinion?

Hugs and kisses,

Velia

PS: I like your outfit too. It fits you well, though I would imagine just about anything does with a body like that. Trust me, I'm a professional.

Microstory 2265: Be One Small Part of It

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I’m glad that I waited, because what I’ve learned is that I’m not really allowed to tell you hardly anything about what’s happening with my upcoming interview. I can’t even tell you the date that it’s happening. All I can say is that the local part of the local talk show is going to be stretched pretty thin for just the one episode. Well, stretch is a bit of a stretch. (Ha, that’s funny.) They’re just not going to be local at all. Apparently, the whole station is part of some kind of group of dozens of other local stations. They call it a Regional Network Cooperative, and while I can’t totally explain what they do, it’s not that they’re owned by a parent company, but they do enjoy some kind of collaborative relationship. I think the biggest benefit of this is that, if one region comes up with a certain segment—say a fun game for their guests—another region can use it too, and even call it the same thing, without worrying about a legal issue. They may negotiate advertising deals too, though don’t quote me on that. Anyway, they would like to try something new with the episode that I’ll be on, which involves simulcasting it in other, or maybe even all, regions in the cooperative. If this pans out, it’s going to take some time to coordinate, because other regions may have special segments that they’ll want to include. It’s not like I’ll be on there for several hours on end. I’ll still only be one small part of it. Obviously, this only puts more pressure on me, but who am I to decline? I’ll just keep practicing with my interview specialist, and hope that I don’t screw this up. Or if I do, hope that I can leave this world eventually, and escape from the humiliation. Whew, that kind of sounds a little like suicide. Sorry, I meant that I might literally leave this world, and travel to another, which I’ve done before. No violence here. Carry on. I’ll tell you more about the thing when the legal department says that I can.

Microstory 2260: Put it Off Forever

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Dutch’s interview with the talk show went great yesterday. He didn’t lie, but he kind of embellished a little, making it seem like there’s a lot more drama going on behind the scenes at the house. We’ve had our disagreements, but I don’t ever go into detail here, because I don’t think they’re that important. This is more about what’s happened, and how I feel about it. I feel like the rest of it is rather personal, and not my place to say. But you have to understand that we are three people from different walks of life, who have been forced together through unusual circumstances. We’re not gonna agree on everything. But it’s all okay. Anyway, it sounds more interesting than it’s ever been, so now the producers want me and Kelly to go on the show too. I couldn’t tell you how she feels about it, but I still don’t really want to. I’m very quiet and awkward, which you wouldn’t know from just reading these posts, because expressing myself is all I do here. But the written word is a lot different than in-person conversation, which is a far cry from a televised interview. Still, this is what people are asking me to do, and I’ve been getting requests from national outlets since I got sick from the prion disease. I guess I can’t put it off forever, and Hello, KC Metro is a good choice for a first attempt. Yeah, I suppose I would rather start at the local level if I have to do it at all. I won’t have to travel for it, and the pressure will be a little bit lower. So okay, I’ll do it, if they still want me. I’ll let you know more information as it comes in. Dutch’s interview was sort of last minute, but I should think that guests are usually scheduled weeks in advance, so don’t be expecting something tomorrow.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: November 19, 2398

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Leona pulls the gear off of her head. “What do you mean, Mateo is never coming back? Where is he?”

Alyssa is discernibly frustrated that she had to say anything, but if she wants this to move along, she can’t ignore Leona’s questions completely. “He stayed in the past. Danica made him. She said it was too dangerous to erase his mind a second time.”

“How far in the past were you?” Leona presses.

“There’s no time for these questions,” Alyssa argues. “Every minute we spend down here is another day up top.”

Leona shakes her head, and starts to pace. “No point in time makes any sense for you two to randomly jump back to, however you did it. If you were with Danica, the only non-random point in time would be when The Constant was first built, which was four and a half billion years ago. But that can’t be right. If a minute here is a day of realtime, that means you have observed over three million years. Are you three million years old?”

“Time wasn’t always moving at this speed. It used to be a lot faster.” Alyssa is growing very impatient. “You weakened the bubble just by coming here, but we still aren’t matched with realtime.”

“You’re just trying to avoid telling me what happened with Danica in the past.”

“No. Danica wanted to avoid that, so she put my memory on a timebomb, and she’s forcing you to either learn her secrets, and lose a lot of time with the rest of the team, or cut your losses, and pop the bubble for good.”

“Argh!” Leona looks around for clues to overcome the dilemma, like she’s just in a simple escape room. If there’s a solution, she can’t see it, and if she really is losing time, that could cause a whole lot of problems for their friends. “How do I break the bubble?”

“That box on the console that doesn’t belong. It tears tiny holes in the bubble, and sends out the distress signal that is probably what brought you here. If you can program it to open a hole permanently, the bubble will burst. At least that’s what she said.”

Leona goes down to the bridge, and inspects the box that she’s talking about. The first thing she has to do is figure out how to open it. She slides her fingers around the edges and the corners, but she doesn’t feel a release. It’s not made of adamantium, though. She takes out her knife, and jams it into the seam, then she pries the top open to reveal the guts of the machine inside. She scans the inner workings a little before understanding what she needs to do. Flip this switch to temporarily cut power to the oscillator. Pull the wire, and reattach it to the contact permanently. Reset the power. Boom. Done.

They watch through the viewport as the translucent bubble slides away like rainfall on a windshield. “I have time to tell you one thing,” Alyssa begins. “What you’re looking for is on Vulcan Point, but you’ll want to go there last. And it’s gonna take you longer than you think. You’ll be really tired by the end of the maze. But before you get any ideas, that’s not where Ma...” She trails off, and goes to la-la land.

This is what happened to Mateo just before he lost his memories in Lebanon. The trigger for him is hypothesized to have been the filling of Danica Lake. In this case, it was the bursting of the time bubble. This seems to be different, however, because he passed out—and there she goes, right to the floor. Damn, Leona could have caught her.

Leona drags the sleeping Alyssa up to the main loft, and lays her on the bed. Then she returns to the bridge, and tries to make contact with the team on the AOC. They don’t respond, but she gets a time announcement back, informing her that it’s November 19, 2398 at 15:05. A minute later, the announcement says that it’s 15:06, which means that the bubble is indeed down, and the urgency is over, as long as her friends aren’t in any danger. She uses their ship as a relay point, and manages to get a hold of Ramses. He’s in the lab with Cheyenne and—funny enough—Curtis Duvall. She hasn’t seen that guy in forever. She tells Ramses that she’s still at the bottom of the Mariana Trench, and just needs to figure out how to surface.

She postulates that there were two bubbles around the vessel. One altered the rate of time, and the other just protects The Bridgette from the pressure of the ocean above them. In submarine mode, it can dive deeper than its predecessor, The Olimpia, but not this deep. This is Constant magic at work, and she can’t be sure that it will persist through an attempt to rise back up to their safe depth. This little box was only designed to handle the time bubble, so the force field must be somewhere else. The most likely location is down in engineering. In the Olimpia, that could be found in the back. It was a tight space, but one could stand. Here, the ceiling is 75 centimeters up, making it a crawl space, and she has to get there by opening the steps that lead to the fuselage like a cellar door. Ramses sacrificed comfort for more beds to sleep passengers.

“Hello?” Leona can hear as she’s still working on the engine. She figured out right away that the pressure field will last as long as they don’t try to go anywhere. If they attempt to surface, it will collapse before they have enough time to go all the way up. It’s almost like it was designed that way. The issue is that she is this close to running out of power. A time bubble that can last billions of years would have taken enormous amounts of temporal energy. Not even the tanks on the Bridgette could store enough after being concentrated from immortality water. Yet it all runs out today; not a day too soon? Either Danica is trying to kill them in the most roundabout way, or there’s a way out of this that Leona hasn’t thought of.

Leona slides on her ass back towards the bridge. “I’m down here!”

Alyssa gets on her stomach, and sticks her head over the edge like a reverse prairie dog. “Is everything okay?”

“I don’t suppose you have any idea how we’re supposed to get out of here without the pressure of the ocean crushing us to death?”

“Where are we?”

“What is the last thing you remember?” Leona asks.

“Mateo and I were diving to the bottom of Danica Lake, just in case there were any clues left down there.”

“Were there?”

“I don’t remember.” She takes a beat. “I found this in my pocket when I woke up, though.”

Leona slides farther up to get a better look at what Alyssa is dangling in front of her. It’s an auto-injector. “This is probably temporal energy, and probably enough for me to teleport us to the surface, but not enough to get the whole craft up there.”

“So we have to leave it here?”

“No,” Leona says. “We’ll get more in the Bermuda Triangle, and then come right back. I’m not losing another home.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: October 14, 2398

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Marie is back in Kansas City. Arcadia, of all people, is driving her and Vearden from Chicago in a rental, since The Olimpia has finally been destroyed, and a copy of the AOC sank in the ocean. The hospital was stunned by her sudden and miraculous recovery. They couldn’t explain it, but they wanted to. They held her for the better part of three more days, under the guise of needing to keep her under observation. Instead, they were running as many tests as possible, worried that the word would get out to the public. It was Winona who finally freed her using her political wiles.

They’re pulling into the basement garage now to avoid being seen by the new employees on the first floor, who don’t know a single thing about any of this. They’ve been informed that Angela is dead. It seemed easier to put it that way, rather than making up some excuse for why she bolted without so much as a goodbye. Ramses has been on the premises the entire time, and Alyssa has made herself moderately available for questions. Syntyche and Derina haven’t asked for much, and honestly, it’s hard for the team to care all that much about it, given everything that they’re dealing with. Even Angela wouldn’t have wanted to sacrifice her friends’ safety for the sake of the company. Perhaps the chapter is prematurely over. It may be best for them to distance themselves from it, and from society in general.

“I want my ship back.”

“Are you talking about the Olimpia, or the AOC?”

“The AOC,” Marie clarifies. “I know it sank, but did it survive?”

Ramses sighs. “I’ve been thinking about that, if it had tipped over in the water, it probably would have floated. The only reason it sank is because of the reframe engine, which I did not include in my initial designs. It sort of sucked the rest of the vessel under, so I don’t think there was a leak. It should be able to withstand at least fifteen hundred bars, and at an estimated depth of 10,000 meters...” He trails off when Marie, Arcadia, and Vearden look at him funny. “Yes, it probably survived, but getting down there would be a challenge. You could even call it...a deep challenge?”

They don’t get the joke. “I would ask you kindly to do some research on the matter,” Marie requests. I know that the Olimpia could not dive that deep, but maybe there’s a submarine out there somewhere that can, and if the government has any access to it, I will probably ask them, even if it’s the last favor they ever owe me.”

“Hold on,” Vearden begins, “your spaceship is at the bottom of the ocean. Can you just swim up through the water, and then fly into the sky?”

“I won’t know until I get down there,” Ramses replies. “Under ideal conditions, yeah, it could do it. I didn’t design it for a subaqueous launch, but in a pinch, I believe that it could get airborne. I just need to get inside first.”

“Is that where you wanna live?” Vearden asks Marie. “Not here, or the condo?”

“That’s where Heath died,” Marie says. “I don’t ever wanna see that place again.”

“That’s okay,” Ramses tells her.

“I don’t want to live here either. Every corner reminds me of him.”

“We could find somewhere else,” Arcadia suggests. “Living inside of a small spacecraft is going to be conspicuous no matter where we put it.”

“I don’t just wanna live in the ship,” Marie contends. “I wanna live in space.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 29, 2398

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Mateo can’t shower himself. He can’t feed himself, he can’t clothe himself, he can’t even open doors. He has sent a number of random items to God-knows-where in an attempt to gain control over his newfound ability, but he’s confident in his assessment that he has been blessed with suck. He’s basically King Midas, except that at least that guy was surrounded by a bunch of gold. He can touch his own skin, which is a small miracle, but if he was able to transport himself, maybe he could find out where he’s banishing everything else. It might still be the key to finding Trina.

Leona has returned from the store, where she picked up a number of stylish vests for him to wear. He’s fine with pants, as long as someone helps them on, but shirts are a no-go. A single brush against the skin from his wrist to his tips, and it’s gone. Vests are really the only type of clothing with arm holes big enough to avoid an issue. But that is nothing compared to the humiliation of needing help going to the bathroom. He really had to go while his wife was out, and Marie was the only one around who he felt comfortable enough asking. She did so without complaint or awkward tension. “Are you mad?” he asks.

“That Marie helped you with your clothes?” Leona asks.

“Yeah.”

“Did you cheat on me?”

“Of course not!”

“Then of course not, I’m not mad. What kind of person do you think I am? If you were an amputee—or your hands were mutilated—we would probably have a nurse for you, who would be doing the same things.” She carefully gets the vest around him so he can stop walking around topless.

“That’s true, it’s just...”

“It’s just that we’re family, and we’re all here to help you get through this.”

He appreciates that, but he’s having trouble expressing it. He can’t really express anything right now but frustration, anxiety, and depression. Once Leona is finished, he plops back down on the chair, and hangs his arms over the armrests. It’s not very comfortable, but it keeps his midan hands away from everything. “Thank you.”

She frowns down at him, slouched there. “You know, this could be a blessing.”

“How so?”

She steps over to the table, and picks up a package they received earlier today. “This is our new shower mirror.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

She removes the mirror from the box, and then tosses the box to him.

He instinctively reaches up to catch it, banishing it to the unknown. “Why did you just do that?” he questions.

“I’m your garbage man! I go across the land!” she sings as if that’s a song he’s meant to be familiar with.

“We don’t know where it went. We don’t know if it went to the same place as all the other stuff.”

“That’s why Ramses is in Lebanon.”

“He’s not going to find anything there.”

“We’re working on a way to get him into Russia. He’s just starting his field work closer to home. The Olimpia is almost ready to fly at optimum efficiency again.”

“He’s not going to find anything there either.”

“Mateo, that timonite sat there for upwards of millions of years without transporting anything anywhere. Otherwise, it would have destroyed the whole planet. Something has to be able to render it inert.”

“It was inert because it was sitting under immense pressure,” Mateo argues, “pressure which would vaporize my hand, if not straight up kill me. I unlocked it. I relieved that pressure. And I seriously doubt there is anything in the universe that can shield against bulk travel. There’s nothing anyone can do. Hope is a teardrop in the ocean. Once it falls, you’ll never find it again, but you may drown in the attempt.”

Leona nods. “I applaud you for your hypothesis that it remained inert due to the pressure. That’s not something the old Mateo would say.”

“Maybe Erlendr is controlling me psychically again.”

“Maybe.” She doesn’t believe that, but her own mind is somewhere else already. He’s right, they can’t recreate the pressure of the depths of an undug mine, but he’s wrong about there being no hope. There are others with the ability to travel the bulk, which means that they must have ways of controlling how that happens. They must have access to materials that react to it differently than normal baryonic matter. Maybe that’s neutrinos, maybe it’s dark matter, but whatever it is, it has to exist. There is only one place on Earth that might have it, and they weren’t planning on going there until the winter. Well, it’s in the southern hemisphere, so really, it’s more about it being summer at the destination. Hopefully it’s not just a main sequence location, because then they really might be searching for teardrops in the ocean.

“I know that look,” Mateo says. “You’ve come up with an idea.”

“I need to order a few more things,” Leona tells him with a smile. “I’ll have you throw out the boxes for me.”

“Gee, thanks.” He cracks a smile. “What do you need?”

“For one, a good winter coat. I hear Antarctica is freezing this time of year.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 11, 2398

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Eleven hours later, the away team was over eight thousand kilometers away. Ramses performed a water landing, then kept The Olimpia in boat mode so they could dock at the marina. A taksi took them over to Bishopsworth Resort, where they spent the night. The concierge was insistent on knowing what time they would be fully awake and dressed in the morning. They were already feeling jet lagged, so they chose 10:00, and when the clock chimed ten times, a crew of waiters burst into their room unannounced, and began to serve them their welcome breakfast. It was shocking, and annoying that no one thought to tell them what would be happening. Perhaps they just assumed everyone would know. They failed to do their research, or rather, Heath did. No matter, the food was good, and they needed to fuel up before the mission. When it was over, they opted to walk back to the marina, where they climbed into their boat, and headed Southeast.

Three hours later, they have made it to reform.belief.paint. They can see all around them forever, but there’s nothing but water, water, and more water. “Does anybody feel anything?” Marie asks. “Do we get the sense that we can teleport again?”

“Not in the least,” Ramses answers.

Apparently the one with the strongest connection to any source of temporal energy, Mateo shuts his eyes and tries to jump all the way back to the entrance to the boat, but he doesn’t move. “Nothing.”

“Hm,” Ramses says. “If anywhere in the world would have it, I would have thought here.”

“Why is that?” Mateo asks. “It’s not really any more special than the pyramids, or Easter Island.”

“Because most of the British Isles are just gone?” Marie says. “That’s weird. It sure as hell sounds like some kind of temporal anomaly. The Great Pyramid of Giza is just sitting there, where it’s supposed to be. We’re not even really sure why it’s special in the first place. But the fact that most of Great Britain doesn’t exist, but some parts of it do...that doesn’t make much sense.”

“True,” Mateo agrees.

“Well, we can’t have come all this way,” Marie begins, “and not at least try to find some clues. There’s only one logical next step.”

Ramses nods, and takes them down as far as this thing can go, but still don’t reach the bottom. If there’s any temporal energy tied to the location of Stonehenge, it’s under too much pressure. It looks like this little side mission is just a dead end. Leona drew a border on the virtual map, so they can maintain their proximity to their target. Mateo keeps trying to jump every once in a while, but nothing happens, not even a hint. The trio keeps thinking that maybe something will surprise them just before they give up, but they continue to sporadically utter defeatist phrases at each other—like “there’s nothing here” or “this is dumb”—yet still nothing changes.

It doesn’t even necessarily have to be time-related. They could resurface to find a band of pirates who want to take them hostage, or a shady government helicopter who has been following them around since the parking lot. But when they break the surface, they find it just as it was before. Water, water, and more water. “I think I’m gonna call it,” Marie declares. “This was a waste of time.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Ramses contends. “We had to come here. If we hadn’t, we would have wondered about it. Now we can check it off the list. That’s the whole point of these little missions. We only have to find one thing that helps us get home.”

Marie nods, appreciating the sentiment. “Let’s go back to the island. We might as well be able to tell Heath that we did the bike tour. He was pretty excited about the prospect of us doing some real vacationy stuff”

Mateo heads towards the stern as Ramses is turning the Olimpia around. Recessed in the walls of the two back cubbies are footholds that lead up to an emergency exit in the ceiling. He opens up the hatch, and climbs outside. He stands on the roof, and continues to look around, hoping to see an ominous dark shadow of a giant creature as it swims underneath them, or a brilliant green whirlpool, or maybe a beacon in the distance. That would be satisfying enough, to rescue a random castaway. But as before, he finds that there is nothing special about this place. It’s just the middle of the ocean on the most boring version of Earth yet. He’s not yet lost hope, because they still have many other locations to test, but it’s sure not a good start. Though, to be fair, it’s not really a start. Magic exists here; The Constant proves it. As Ramses was saying, they have to keep trying, and keep checking things off the list.

After they’re sufficiently far from awaited.passively.landings, he climbs back inside, and hangs out with the other two until they get back to the resort. There they stay for two more nights to finish out their reservation. Island culture is a little bizarre and confusing at times, but overall a lovely experience. Next stop, Munich.