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.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 27, 2398

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Ramses is responsible for taking readings in the Bermuda Triangle while Leona holes up in her little cubby to work on her fusion solution. He offered to help her with it, but she wants to do this herself. Obviously, he would never try to take credit for the accomplishment at her work—she doesn’t even care about that herself—but it still seems wrong. She’s already being dishonest with her employer regarding her background and experiences. She had to iron out a well-considered legal document that expressly barred the University from publishing her name, or other identifying information, anywhere for public consumption. In exchange, she agreed to not share the technology with any other entity. That goes against her instinct to make knowledge free and accessible, but that wouldn’t be good for her either, because it would shine a spotlight right on her face.

Before he quit his job at the electronics store, Ramses managed to steal just enough parts and equipment to build the instruments that they’re now using to conduct this research. One thing they’ve gathered is that the closer they are to the exact center, the stronger their time powers are, and the easier it is to teleport. Range appears to be stretched too, though that’s hard to test, because they’re in the middle of nowhere. They’re getting wet a lot, trying to test this out. They’re regretting the limited time they spent trying to figure out what was maintaining The Constant’s temporal energy, because it would have been a lot easier to walk around an underground bunker. This is worse since they can’t even travel all the way to the bottom of the ocean because the pressure is too high for The Olimpia to withstand. Fortunately, they’ve recently become confident in their assessment that depth is not an advantage. The energy appears to be sourced at the surface, rather than from something deep down in the abyss. The problem is, they still can’t actually find it.

This close to the center, higher concentrations of temporal energy seem to be more sporadic and—to put it in fitting terms—more fluid. It’s almost as if bursts of energy spontaneously emerge inside the water molecules, which float around until used up. They’re also pretty sure that these levels have been declining since they arrived, which makes sense, what with them being there to spend this energy. They have scooped up samples to be stored in the vehicle’s drinking water tanks, and will later study whether levels change after being removed from the area, and possibly even figure out how to compound or synthesize more energy. So far, even all this is not enough.

After the upteenth time testing to see if something changes about the water when heat is applied, Ramses trills his lips.

“Nothing interesting?” Mateo asks, knowing the answer.

“I think we should leave,” Ramses answers.

“Yeah,” Mateo agrees. “No land masses, no special shipwrecks. “It’s just a bunch of water, which somehow, for some reason, stores temporal energy. I don’t see any reason to stick around. I think it would be more beneficial to check out the other known locations, like Easter Island, Giza, and Stonehenge.”

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask about that,” Heath says, having seen it on Mateo’s list. “What is Stonehenge?”

The cubbies offer some privacy, but they aren’t exactly soundproof. Leona slides open the door. “You don’t have Stonehenge? In England?”

“What’s an England?” Heath questions, avoiding making the usual joke about thinking it sounds like the name of a band again.

Leona steps out, and walks over to the control room to initiate a map on the heads-up-display. She zooms into where the United Kingdom should be, but tilts her head in bafflement. She zooms out again, and drags it over, and back in. She keeps trying to find it, but can’t. “How have I not noticed this before?”

“Noticed what?” Ramses slides into the room, and looks at the map too. “Oh my God. Where is it? It’s just more water.”

“It doesn’t exist,” Leona utters, fascinated. “The North Atlantic Isles don’t exist.”

Microstory 1794: The Message

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For the most part, my life was boring, so I won’t get into everything that I did. I’ll just talk about the most traumatizing, and simultaneously most transformative, experience I had. I worked on the factory floor for about half of my career, and up in the offices for the other half. It wasn’t something I thought I would ever achieve, but I was a lot more comfortable sitting in a chair all day, pushing paper. It was safer, and had better climate control. My boss was a decent guy, who treated people fairly, and always listened to his employees. He wasn’t great at pay. Well, it wasn’t really his fault. It was company policy back then to not give people raises unless they asked for them. Even if you were promoted to a higher level, they kept you at the same rate unless you specifically pled your case, which made for awkward conversations that could have been avoided. Some managers were better at making this less awkward than others, but mine was clueless and difficult. He also liked everything to be really formal, so instead of talking to him directly about some change you felt needed to be made, or a grievance, you had to write a letter. I hated writing letters, but I learned to do them well, and that’s how I ended up at the desk in the first place. This one day, after thinking over why I thought I deserved to be paid more, and why I needed it, I wrote a letter too hastily, and ended up spelling my manager’s name wrong. I didn’t realize it until after I had sealed it and sent it. I guess I just took a mental photograph of it, but didn’t check the film until later. I was so upset, and so distracted as I was driving home from work, that I didn’t even realize that I had tried to make a U-turn, let alone that there was a pesky concrete barrier in the way. I hit that thing hard. I probably would have died instantly if the turn itself hadn’t slowed me down. I don’t remember feeling any pain, but an intense pressure on my legs. I do remember what I was thinking while I was sitting there, and it’s embarrassing.

I should’ve thought, this is it. This is the day that I die. This is the way that I die. I’m never gonna see my family again. I’m never gonna have another nice steak dinner. But all my brain could focus on was that spelling mistake. I had to fix it. That was what kept me going, as absolutely insane and irrational as it was. Pretty much everyone dies with unfinished business, and it’s sad, and it’s not fair, but that’s the way life is. A normal person is driven to wake up the next day so they can make something of themselves. All I cared about was getting to my boss before he opened that envelope. It didn’t make any sense, but that’s me, I guess. I can’t be sure how much it played into it. Maybe if I had been thinking about how much I hated to be alive, I still would have survived, because my mind wasn’t powerful enough to have that much of an effect on my body, but I always attributed it to that letter. I held out long enough for rescue. I was in hospital, of course, so I never managed to intercept the letter, but also of course, he didn’t care. He wasn’t offended, and he even said that he almost didn’t notice. He just wanted me to get better, and that I did. I lived a good fifty years more. It truly was a good fifty years too, because I learned that day to try to relax, man. Everyone makes mistakes, and people tend to be more understanding if you give them a reason to. I worked hard to become more personable and likeable, and I found that people would generally give me the benefit of the doubt. I think that’s the most important lesson that I instilled in my kids, and I die in peace, knowing that this simple message remains my legacy.

Microstory 1767: Piscis Austrinus

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I’ve been an honorary fish for a few months now, and I’ve loved almost all of it. There’s something missing in my life, though. I’m the only one of my kind. The other fish have accepted me into their school, but I’m not truly one of them. I’m a giant, and I still look human. Every other member is paired up. That’s how this species works. It’s hard to communicate with them, but I’ve been able to gather some information, like how their pairings are a defense mechanism. When they swim in their circles, they create a bunch of bubbles, which makes them difficult to pinpoint. It allows each pair to move off from the school, and hunt for food, or maybe find a little alone time. I don’t want to mate with a fish, or anything, but I do feel lonely. Like I said, they’ve accepted me, but that doesn’t mean one of them is going to circle with me. I don’t want that anyway. I want to find another human to transform into a fish. Unfortunately, that’s damn near impossible. The reason I discovered this species is because they live deeper than 600 meters below sea level. I’m the first person in history to scuba dive to that depth, and since I never came back up, I doubt anyone else is going to be trying it anytime soon. They wouldn’t likely survive; I was the best in the world before I became a fish. Submarines have come this far before, but not regularly, because there’s usually no point. The chances of finding a mate are just too low to hold out hope. I’ve tried encouraging the school to swim closer to the surface, but they won’t do it. They’ve never done it before, and it’s not how they evolved. I don’t know why they transformed me into someone who can breathe underwater, but they seem to consider that act their one favor, and they aren’t interested in going for another. I’m free to go up alone, but that won’t matter. I’m not capable of repeating the miracle myself. I need them to do it. There’s no other way.

I give up on pleading with them. I don’t think it’s gonna happen, even though the second generation seems to be a little more open-minded. I just surrender to the fact that I’ll live the rest of my life alone. It’s still a blessing to be down here. I’m setting records left and right. As it turns out, 600 meters is a little high for these fish. We spend most of our time at 800, which is a depth I never dreamed of seeing. It’s dark, but my eyes have adjusted accordingly, so it basically looks like tropical snorkeling to me. I don’t even think there’s a regular species with that kind of eyesight. Some have even lost their eyes to evolution, because it’s too dark for them to see. It’s a wonder, all the underground mountains, and other unique terrain. As I’m watching some kind of crustacean crawl around on the floor off the coast of Australia, the school suddenly shoots upwards, faster then they ever have before. I have to work hard to keep up. They gave me the ability to breathe water like air, and to withstand the pressure, but I didn’t grow fins. I’m still using the carbon fiber ones I came down here with. It’s not long before I see what all the fuss is about. It’s another diver. She’s only at 500 meters, but she’s descending quickly. Something is tied to her leg. My God, it’s a cement block. Someone is trying to kill her. I wonder why they left her with her scuba gear. Anyway, her attempted murderer is not going to succeed. The fish do to her what they once did for me. We bite off the rope, and swarm her, using magicks to keep her from dying. I smile, glad to finally have someone that I can relate to again. She does not feel the same way. The first thing she does is swim back up to confront her attacker. I feel compelled to follow. Maybe I can help.

Microstory 1766: Pisces

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I’m the best scuba diver in the world, which is saying a lot, because I was afraid of it when I was a kid, and I come from a family of masters. I’ve since surpassed all others in skills and experience. I can venture to the deepest parts of the ocean that are humanly possible to survive. I can use any kind of tank, and complete any task. Today, I’m about to set the record for the deepest dive ever, and cement myself as one of the absolute best in history. I’ve already passed the last record, but I’m not satisfied with that. I have to get to 600 meters. No one will try that depth after me without a submarine. I check my watch. I had to have it specially made to survive these pressures too, and so far, it’s done me well. I’m at 570 meters, and so pleased with myself. No one has ever seen what I’m seeing right now. Of course, like I said, submarines can descend this far, but they haven’t, not around here. My cousins are going to be so jealous, I can’t wait to run it in their faces. None of them thought that I would make it, and I’ve yet to prove them wrong. It’s not really the deepest dive if I die down here, is it? Maybe they’ll still count it, and sing songs of my brave and tragic end. I keep going: 580, 590, and...600 meters! I reached my goal. If I stay too long, I really will die, though, so I immediately prepare to ascend. Then something catches my eye. It’s a fish. No, it’s two fish. Wow, it’s an entire school. There’s something strange about this species, but I can’t put my finger on it. Oh, yeah, they’re swimming in pairs.

These fish are exhibiting behavior that I’ve never heard of. I’m no ichthyologist, but I know what species live around here, and this ain’t one of them. Every single fish is paired up with another, face to tail. They’re swimming in circles around each other, or more appropriately, around some mutual barycenter between them. Since they’re not going straight, the only reason they go anywhere is because the spin isn’t constant. They nudge themselves in one direction, like propellers. Why the heck are they doing that? Is there some sort of evolutionary advantage to spinning? Perhaps it has more to do with the pairs, and less to do with the way that they swim. I obviously have to take photographs and video of this phenomenon. If I’ve discovered a new species, it will only make me more famous, which is kind of what I’m going for here. I don’t even have to survive. The footage is being automatically beamed back up to the boat. There’s no way for me to communicate with them directly, but I can.imagine my mother urging me to begin the ascension process. It’s going to take an extremely long time, and the extra tanks they left hanging for me at my stop intervals won’t be enough if I don’t maintain my schedule, not to mention the risk of getting bent. I’m about to let it go, and save myself when the fish change behaviors. They stay in their paired circles, but also begin to circle me. They’re aware of me, but probably aren’t sure if I’m a predator. I’m amazed but frightened, but the latter grows faster once they start biting at my equipment. They tear off the straps, and cut the breathing tubes. Welp, I guess I really am gonna die. Except I don’t. I suddenly stop feeling the intense pressure, the freezing cold, and the need to breathe. They’ve somehow transformed me into one of them, and once I realize what an amazing gift this is, I all but forget about my past life as a human, and together...we dive deeper.

Microstory 1705: Aquila

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I sit in the darkness, head in hand, muttering to myself. I have no sense of direction, and no clue how to get out of here. I’ve been in the dark before, but not like this. I can feel it seeping into my eyes, like it’s made of something, like it’s alive. It’s the pressure of being underground so deep, I imagine, or maybe it’s just my mind playing tricks on me. I’m exhausted, but if I want to survive, I have to get back to finding a way out of here. As I get down on the floor of the cave, ready to start feeling my way to some kind of corridor again, it hits me. I fell pretty far to get down to this spot. I’m not too badly hurt, but the drop still must have been a few meters. It’s possible that the only way out is up, which actually means it’s impossible, because there is no way I’m getting back up that high. I don’t know why I agreed to go on this trip to Dark Eagle Caverns, or how I let myself get separated from the group. I suppose I’ve always been lost, and this pit of despair is just a metaphor come to life. Is it even life? That fall could have been farther than I remember. Or I could have landed on my neck. Or I died long ago from something else, and everything I’ve experienced since then has been my own personal hell. I may have never been alive at all, and everything I’ve seen has been an illusion to make me feel small, sad, and alone. This then would simply be a deeper level of the hopelessness that I have never not felt. I realize that it doesn’t really matter. Hell, real life; I still have to do everything I can to get out of here. If that means confirming that the pit is all there is, and my only option is to climb, then so be it. No one is going to find me down here, and even if they did, they would probably become trapped too, so I best just get on with it.

I carefully crawl in one random direction, feeling myself around the rock and moss. Can I eat this moss? Can you eat moss? I’m not that desperate yet, but I tear off as much as I can, and stick in my pocket in case I can’t find it again later when my situation does indeed become that dire. I’ve finally reached the wall again. I am so disoriented that I can’t tell if I’ve already checked for openings here. Irrelevant. I continue around the circle, if it even is a circle. I have no clue what shape this cave is, or how big it is, or how far it goes. I keep feeling the wall, hoping that something will give. I pray for that moment when my hand escapes me and swings forward. It does happen once, but it’s literally a misdirection. It doesn’t lead to a corridor, but a cranny, or something. I’m still feeling around on the wall with my right hand when my left hand runs into something. Apparently, for as slow as I was moving, it wasn’t slow enough. My ring finger isn’t broken, but it doesn’t feel great. I feel around on my left, and realize it’s another wall. I’ve run into another dead end; just a larger one than before. Tired and disappointed, I roll over to my back, and try to sprawl out. My right foot hits a wall too. Did I get that much turned around? No, my left foot hits the main wall. My God, it’s a spiral. I’ve been in a corridor for who knows how long. I could have already gone in a circle a few times for all I know. I guess nothing has really changed. This is as good of a place as any to die. Because of the darkness, it doesn’t really feel any more claustrophobic than it did in the bigger room. The future looks bleak, but I won’t give up. I just need to rest again, and then I’ll keep trying. I fall asleep for an unknowable amount of time. When I awaken, I find it dire enough to try the moss. A few minutes after I eat it, something in my body changes. I begin to glow, and the path before me becomes clear.

Microstory 1595: Monster of the Depths

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Prompt

This is my chance to escape. I want to get away from my problems, and the best way to do that is to fake my death. My SCUBA buddy is distracted by a pretty fish. We’re supposed to stay together, but he’s a flake, so it’ll be a long time before he realizes he can’t find me. I swim away as fast as I can...

Botner

...and think. This is a stupid idea. I can’t just hide. I should have confessed my plan when my family left for Europe and told them my mom made me go to rehab. I’m in trouble. The medics are looking for me. I’m alone, and don’t know where I’m going. I hate swimming. I hate diving. I hate being alone. I hate swimming back up to the surface. I lie here in the water, thinking. I’m still alone. I can’t escape. I have to swim back, but I’m not brave. Maybe swimming around for hours is the stupidest thing ever, but I have no choice. I swim for hours and hours and hours, and finally I can swim no more. I’m exhausted. The medics are waiting for me. I swim back to shore. As I climb out of the water, a monster rises out of the sky. It’s gigantic, and scary. It jumps out of the sky. I scream, and it closes in, and grabs me, and I’m underwater. I’m alone. I try to escape, but I can’t. I am crushed by the monster.

Conclusion

I’m crushed under the pressure. Finally, I reach land. It’s this tiny little island in the middle of nowhere. I didn’t know it was going to be here, but I figured there had to be something. I take a look around, and find no sign that anyone else knows about this place, except for the monster. It hovers over me, and overwhelms me, and won’t let me find happiness. The first thing I do is lie in the sun to get dry. Yes, it’s burning my skin, but I don’t feel I can do anything if I’m soaking wet, and it just feels good. I feel free. I don’t know what I’m going to do with all this scuba gear, it’s not like I can fill the cylinder back up with air, but perhaps it will become useful one day. The snorkel and mask will certainly help with the fishing. Fish, I need food. I need water first. I need fire first. I build the fire pretty quickly, using the skills I picked up in scouts, and from watching a certain survival show on TV. I get the fire going, and then I head out to look for fresh water. The monster follows me there, and follows me back hours later when I finally stumble upon a meager trickle stream. I’m sure there’s something better—that’s probably where this is coming from—but it will do for now. I scoop some up in my aluminum bottle, which was what should have alerted the other divers that I was planning to leave. You can’t drink while you’re underwater. The medics are waiting for me. I stay on my island for over a week, always hoping that the monster will leave me alone, but I guess that would be ironic. I am alone, which is why the monster is here, and it grows larger every day. Like I said, the cylinder is empty, so I could never get back to civilization, even though I’m regretting my decision. Fortunately, my whole plan eventually fails. The helicopter comes, and retrieves me. I’m going to have a hard time explaining how I could have possibly made it as far out as I did, on what air I must have had left, if I hadn’t been trying to get away on purpose. And yet I smile, because I’m going back home, and the monster can’t come with me. But it does. Months pass, years, and it’s still here. I’m surrounded by people, but I still feel alone, trapped in the depths, without enough air to swim out. The monster has become my everything. Not even the medics are waiting for me now.

Exemption Act: Critical Existence Failure (Part V)

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The team spent over a standard month in the Composite Universe, which was closer to six weeks in Earthan terms. The natives measured time differently. They learned a lot of things from these people while they were there, eventually figuring out that a nayko was equal to 2.442 kilometers. There was no Earth in this universe, but there were plenty of humans. Nearly all of them spoke English—though they did not call it that—and while they were genetically incompatible with people from other universes, they were indistinguishable in most cases. In a more taboo sense, men did not have scrota, so there were ways to tell the difference without a DNA test.

The information they gave Bellevue was invaluable to them, so much so that they agreed to give the team anything they wanted. Khuweka possessed a lot of knowledge about the Maramon, and their tactics, and Landis regaled them with fascinating tales of the voldisil. They even found Andraste’s input incredibly useful. People from her Earth were well known to the people in this universe, and they were decidedly off-limits. It was like the Prime Directive, except it only applied to this one planet. The chance to speak with one was a great honor to them, and they did not take it for granted. Earthan input was highly coveted on its own merits, as they had a completely different perspective, especially when it came to philosophy and psychology. Drug addiction was practically non-existent here, but not completely. Understanding how to help the few addicts they did have was something they had been struggling with for millennia.

Freya felt pretty useless here, as she had little to contribute. Her entire reason for being on the team was to help them navigate her universe. Not only was that probably not all that necessary at all, but it certainly didn’t help here. Faster-than-light travel was ubiquitous in the galaxy, except for the planet they were on right now, and even they were nearing these technological capabilities as well. Freya was able to give her insights about the Maramon, having spent time studying their descendants, the Gondilak, but that wasn’t much. Hopefully it was still useful information, however, because it illustrated an emphasis on nurture against nature, and suggested Maramon were the way they were by how they were raised; not by some inherent evil that was impossible to be rid of. Bellevue didn’t seem too bothered by how little Freya helped, but she did what she could, including a lot of grunt work when it came to hauling the retrofits back to salmonverse.

Bellevue gave them more than the power-enhancement platform, and the promises Zektene’s oncoming drug experiment. They retrofitted The Sharice Davids with its very own Nexus, which they could use to transport themselves to anywhere in the network. They also installed something called an astral collimator, which would allow them to enter their version of FTL known as the orange plex dimension. It would probably do nothing for them in salmonverse—or any other universe, for that matter—but it was nice to know it was there. They enhanced the Sharice’s capabilities with gravity transfunctioners, smaller transport ships with their own collimators, and they finally got the pocket dimension generators working, which were already there, but not yet in working order. It would seem Bellevue was even more advanced than they let on. They were ready to explore the galaxy, they simply hadn’t done much of it yet.

They had to travel back and forth from this universe to theirs a few times to transport everything through, so Limerick managed to get a lot of punching practice in. He was exhausted by the time it was over, but also a pro now. There was only one thing left to do. While all of this was happening, Zek was undergoing a battery of tests, first to prove she really was an anomaly, and then so they could tailor the ability-enhancing drug called Aukan to her physiology. They warned her of the risks, including unforeseen side effects, and she agreed to take the drug anyway. It was for a good cause, and she decided it was worth it.

They gathered in the infirmary, at Zek’s request, and watched as the doctor injected her with the substance. He explained it while it was still working her way through her system. “We have been working on this compound for decades. It comes from an old drug program a rogue group of scientists came up with that was dangerous and volatile. We’ve managed to correct their mistakes since then, and Savitri has helped us immensely.” Evidently, Khuweka and Savitri were part of a group of people who had lost their time powers while they were just trying to help other people who wanted to be rid of theirs. They went off on a quest to try to get them back, but the process was interrupted, and they all ended up just sharing each other’s powers. Soon thereafter, they were stranded in separate universes, and some, like Savitri, lived there without the others for centuries.

Zek reported a deep but dull pain throughout her entire body. While a nurse for a time traveling doctor named Sarka, Freya once got hurt herself, and was given narcotics. She recalled feeling heavy and stiff, and believed she could detect the blood moving throughout her body. This was what it looked like for Zek. It was surreal and uncomfortable, but at least not excruciating. Then it got excruciating. She started writhing and screaming, and the medical team had to hold her down. Landis tried to help, but they fiercely rejected his interference. There was no telling what would happen if their completely different kinds of powers interacted with each other. Zek turned blue, and not lack of oxygen blue, but a bright and glowing blue. Electricity surged around her skin, which was what her version of teleportation looked like, but only when she was in her home universe. It wasn’t supposed to last this long, or be painful. She just kept tossing and turning, and glowing brighter.

The blue light escaped from her body, and lit up the whole room. Then the room disappeared. It didn’t blink out of existence, but slid away rapidly, like they were on an extremely fast people mover at an airport. They were outside the hotel headquarters, and then they were across town, and then the state, and then the country. They flew across the ocean, through all the lands on the other side. More ocean, more lands, more ocean, more lands. They just kept circling the globe, randomly changing directions, sometimes going straight through the planet, and back out the other side. They appeared to be on the moon at one point too. They were falling and flying and being shot out of a cannon. Finally they stopped being able to see the world altogether, and were immersed in a sea of electric blue. It was hard to tell if they were still moving, or static. Zektene finally stopped thrashing about, though she appeared to still be in a little pain.

“Where the hell are we?” Freya demanded to know.

“This is an astral plane; the blue one,” the doctor explained.

“This is how she teleports in her universe,” Khuweka clarified. “She doesn’t just jump from one point to another. She falls through a simplex dimension.” No sooner did she say that did the lights turned from blue to a purplish blue.

“Okay, that’s weird,” the doctor noted. “Now we’re in the indigo astral plane.”

“One step lower than blue,” Khuweka added. “You can’t travel as far.”

The colors changed again, to full on purple.

“Okay, that’s bad,” the doctor said. “But we’ll be fine as long as it doesn’t turn black.”

Everything turned black; a hopeless void of busy nothingness. No one was talking anymore, but Freya still knew what they were thinking, like they were all communicating telepathically now. Zek started screaming again, but tapered off, not out of relief, but a lack of air. They sounded like the life was being choked out of her, and she couldn’t move. Freya couldn’t move either. She didn’t have a body anymore, just a noncorporeal mind. She couldn’t help. She couldn’t save Zek. All she could do was listen to her friend’s last thoughts as the space around her crushed her into a single point. Ten seconds later, the lights turned on, and they were back in the infirmary. Zek was gone, replaced by the largest diamond Freya had ever seen. You would need two arms to lift it up, even for a really strong person. You just couldn’t wrap your fingers around it with one hand.

“What happened to her?” Andraste wasn’t used to being so angry.

The doctor and her team looked ashamed and scared. She took off her stethoscope, and placed it on the diamond.

“What the hell are you doing?” Limerick questioned.

The doctor placed her palm on the diamond now. A few seconds later, she released. “It’s her.”

“What do you mean, it’s her?” Even Khuweka was lost.

The doctor sighed, distraught. She was trying to work through the problem. “This is like the virus, but they cured that years ago.” She stopped a moment, but didn’t wait long enough for anyone to press her for more information. “The drug this was based off of, it worked. It worked fine. It enhanced the anomaly abilities, sometimes even giving them related, but new, abilities. It had side effects, though, eventually causing the anomaly’s abilities to turn on them. Milo could no longer control magnets, but became helplessly magnetic. Diane, who once controlled fire, exploded. A few people experienced something called critical existence failure, which is worse than it probably even sounds. This was all before my time, I’ve just read the reports. They fixed that. They promised me they fixed it. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They used Aukan-6, this is Aukan-11.”

“Answer her question. Clarify what you meant when you said it’s her,” Freya demanded.

“Put your hand on the diamond.” The doctor took Freya by the wrist, and gently placed her hand on one face of the diamond.

“Freya?” came Zek’s voice. It wasn’t coming from outside, but inside Freya’s head. This was a psychic connection.

“You’re alive?” Freya questioned, both grateful for it, but horrified that her friend was now somehow trapped inside a gemstone.

“My consciousness has survived. As for whether I’m alive, I could not answer that question.”

“She’s in the diamond?” Freya asked the doctor.

“She has been turned into the diamond,” the doctor corrected. “Forced that way by the incalculable pressure from the black astral plane. It’s like being a one-dimensional object, I’m surprised the rest of us survived. We must have enjoyed a persistent connection with the higher dimensions.”

“I’m not enjoying this,” Limerick contended.

“Can it be reversed?” Carbrey suggested.

“It cannot,” the doctor apologized. “I am...” she trailed off.

“Landis,” Andraste prompted.

Landis had been waiting for someone to ask him to do his thing. “I’m obviously going to try. You cannot, however, get your hopes up. What’s happened to her is nothing like I’ve seen before, but it is not unlike being cremated. People have asked me to repair their cremated loved ones before, and I haven’t had any bit of luck. I don’t bring people back to life. I just heal them. At some point, they’re beyond my gifts. I would say being transformed into a diamond goes far beyond that point of no return.”

Freya presented him with the Zek-diamond. He stepped forward, and placed his hand on her so they could have some private conversation. Then he leaned over, and breathed upon the stone. Nothing happened, nothing changed. It didn’t even sort of almost begin to work, or even moderately illustrate that he had any kind of supernatural gift at all. The rock just sat there. Zek wasn’t gone, but she would never be the same.

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