Microstory 1063: Mattie

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A plane almost fell out of the sky, or so it would seem. Mae had a vision of a falling tire, but as you know, it took her up until yesterday before she realized that that’s what it was. She called us immediately, but we didn’t know what to do. We still didn’t know where the tire was going to fall, or if anyone was destined to be hurt by it. We didn’t know what we could do to help the situation, even if we had all the necessary details. Mae’s drawings have only ever proven true once the future becomes the past, and we realize what it meant all along. This was the first time any of us had any clue what might happen before it actually did. So we finally brought Margaret’s brother in on the full story, and he had an idea. Or rather, it was more like he was the missing piece itself. Viola didn’t specifically tell us that we were meant to keep the prophecy stuff a secret from him, but she didn’t tell him herself, so we kind of inferred. As it turned out, we needed him to sort of—how might I say—complete the circle. Four of us together made our collective psychic connection so much stronger than it ever was when it was just us three girls, or just the twins. Him being totally on board gave us the tools we needed to complete our mission. What we realized was that the tire was bound to fall on top of Masters Country Club, and it was going to do it during a special production from Blast City Senior High’s Magic Club. I guess they were dedicating the show to Viola? The tire itself was as big as you would expect from a heavy airliner, but that didn’t mean it was only going to hurt a few people. First of all, we still didn’t know exactly where it was going to crash, so we couldn’t just keep people away from that area. We also couldn’t stop the plane from taking off in the first place, warning them that they needed to perform extra maintenance, though that would have been the ideal scenario. No, our only hope was to evacuate the building, and our only way to do that, was pull the fire alarm.

Well, lots of people saw Martin attempt to do just that, and they also saw him fail. Something was wrong with the electrical system, I guess, and it wouldn’t go off. Even if it had, those witnesses wouldn’t have left, because it just looked like he was trying to pull a prank. Margaret stood up on a table, and tried to warn everyone the old fashioned way, but nobody listened. The tire was going to crash right through the roof so hard that the whole structure could fall down on top of everyone, but they weren’t concerned. It sounded insane, and several people pointed out our story’s similarity to a certain ancient avant-garde indie film about time travel, and creepy bunny masks. I then had this intuition that maybe our combined power was stronger still, and that we were capable of solving this on our own. I directed the other three to each stand on one side of the country club, so that we formed a perimeter around it. Then we formed a deep psychic connection; deeper than we ever had before. We started concentrating on the idea of protecting the club, in whatever way that might work. Though our eyes were closed, we could feel an energy rise from our stomachs, and envelop the building. We could also feel the tire, having already broken from its plane, and falling towards the ground. Just before it reached us, the energy bubble was complete. The tire landed on it safely, and once our bubble burst, it continued to fall, until hitting the roof, and rolling off to the ground. All told, the country club building only suffered minor structural damage, and no one was even close to being hurt by it. It’s unclear how many lives we just saved today, or rather, it’s unclear how many lives Viola saved, because she was the one who gave us our abilities, and predicted when we would need them. I had always assumed we would lose them after fulfilling the prophecy, but our bond remains. Who knows what else we might do with it?

Fervor: Swingin’ on the Flippity-flop (Part VII)

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I’m about to get myself as far from the temple as I can when I remember that I never did send that time pigeon to my past self. I’m meant to summon one to me using a special phrase, spoken over a podium, and surely this place has one. I sneak in the building, fearful that a mormon is about to catch me. I’m not worried they’ll kick me out for trespassing; I’m worried they’ll try to convert me. I saw the Book of Mormon, I know how this works. I see several people walking the halls as I’m slinking around, and a few of them notice me, but none of them bothers me, which is a great relief. I make my way to the sanctuary, or whatever it is they call their worship space. Thank Lord Xenu no one’s in here, because I’m about to do something strange.

I stand at the podium, but take a moment to recall the words that Laura taught me. I take one more look around, before repeating the line, “if he or she does their schoolwork seriously; does well, takes school.” A pigeon appears literally out of nowhere, and waits patiently for me on the podium. I remove the coffee receipt from my pocket, and prepare to write a note to myself. I can’t remember exactly what I read before, but that’s probably for the best. It’ll be more natural if I just write what I feel. Paige, take a photo of the wall outside of the cell. There, that’s both cryptic and clear. I tie the note to the pigeon’s leg, and shove it into the air. It disappears through a portal.

I hear the sound of papers falling to the floor, and look over to see a man wearing a white button-up shirt and black tie, staring at me in awe. He falls to his knees. “It’s a miracle,” he exclaims. “You have returned as proof.”

I walk down the steps, and approach him, and he bows his head. “Stand, my child.”

He stands up, and regards me with reverence and admiration. “Are you a new prophet?”

“Let me see your phone.”

“My phone?”

“Yes, your phone.” I’m using a gliding voice to impersonate this holy creature he believes I am. “Did you take any photographs earlier today?”

“I...I did. You know this.”

Closed time loops are confusing and dangerous things, but if the man says he’s seen me, then I better go prove him right. I have him open his camera roll, and show me the latest one. “Why did you take a picture of a stump?”

“The workers were meant to remove the whole tree,” he answers. “I was planning to send it as proof that they did not complete the job.”

I make my eyes burn, and travel into the photograph, back in time a few hours. I’m standing on the trunk, arms outstretched like a welcoming messiah. The man from the future drops his arms down in shock. “How did you do that?”

“You will drive me downtown,” I order him.

He has so many questions for me, but I just tell him that he will understand everything when he is ready. I make him buy me a burner phone, then take me back to J.U. Mithra Labs, which has not yet slid back to the 15th century. Someone’s left a window on the second floor in full view, and if I were more like this guy, I would pray that no one was in that room. “You’ve been trained how to spread the good word?” I ask him as I take a quick photo of the window.

He stutters a bit. “Uh...yes, I’ve memorized thirty percent—”

“I don’t care about that. Just go in there and try to get whoever you see to accept Jesus Christ into their hearts, or whatever. Be as loud as you can. We want the whole building coming down to hear what you have to say.”

“Yes, prophet, he says. Then he eagerly leaves the car, not even asking what I’m going to do.

I take one last look at the window, only to see myself up there, giving me a salute. “This is going to have to take some getting used to. First order of business once this is all finished is finding a way to store in one place every single photo that has ever been taken, or will be taken, in the history of mankind, so I can go when and wherever I want withing running into myself. Shouldn’t be too hard.

As the mormon—which I think he probably doesn’t want me to call him—is providing a nice distraction, I lean against the wall, and jump through the photo I took moments ago. I then step over to the window, and give Past!Me a salute. Then I hide out there for the rest of day. Just before the building goes back in time, I take one last photo of a strip of shops in the distance.

I’m about to go down and free my friends from the basement hock, but then I remember that this did not happen in the original history. I have to preserve the timeline as much as possible. In fact, I may not be able to change the past at all, no matter what I do. Maybe my life has all been written, and I’m just fulfilling my destiny, with free will being nothing more than an illusion. Armed with these deep existential ponderances, I wait out there for another couple hours, surprised with every passing minute that I go unnoticed. But then someone comes in.

It’s a security guard, but not the same one. He sizes me up real quick, then hands me his electroprojectile gun.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Protect yourself,” he says, as if I should already know.

“Why would you help me?”

He takes a mobile device from his pocket, and shows it to me. “This is live security feed from the basement. There are your friends, and here you are on the outside of the bars. Don’t worry, I’ll erase this, but you might want to get back down and free them soon. I’ll escort you down there.”

“Again, why are you helping me?” I ask him as I’m following.

“I had a partner once; Kolby Morse. He went to work for the good guys, and I chose the bad guys.”

“It sounds like you regret it,” I say once we’ve reached the bottom of the stairs.

He shakes his head, and points to a door on the other side of the hallway. “I don’t at all. I’m deep undercover.”

People keep helping me, as if they have foreknowledge of my future. The mormon, I guess, actually did have such knowledge, but who is this guy? And who was the man who gave me the telescope picture? I don’t have much time to think about it. I hear the first guard shout, “hey!” to a past version of me. As I’m opening the door, I see myself fall drop my phone, and crumple to the floor. Then I pixelate and disappear, on my way back to 1972. The guard is staring at me in shock, so before he has time to figure out what to do, I raise the gun, and shoot him in the chest, to give him a taste of his own medicine. I then notice a tiny little screen on the back of the weapon, and discover that there are two kinds of projectiles. I switch it to the tranquilizer darts, so I can put him down without him causing any more problems for awhile.

“It’s been ages for me,” I say to my friends as I’m removing keys from the guard’s belt. You’ll never guess where I’ve been.”

“Well, we’ve just been here,” Laura says, “swingin’ on the flippity-flop.”

“Doing what on the what?” I ask.

“Never mind.”

I unlock the gate for them after only a few tries. Why are they still using physical keys when everyone has a perfectly good phone? “Come on. I took a picture of the future, so we can all get out of here.” I open the photo of downtown Independence, and hold it up in front of us, like I’m taking a selfie.

“Wait,” Laura stops me. “This might not work for us.”

“Yeah,” Samwise agrees. “The powers that be have a plan, and they may not let us out of our time period, until it’s...time.”

“You have to promise,” Laura says out of concern. “Promise that you won’t come back for us if it doesn’t work. We belong here.”

“It’ll work, so we won’t have to worry about it,” I say dismissively, and raise my arm again.

“Just promise,” Samwise insisted.

“I promise. Now let’s go before they send someone else.”

They were totally right. Despite the fact that Laura and Samwise were between me and Hilde, the latter is the only one who manages to come through with me. I wasn’t even touching her at the time. The evil group of unseen overseers have too much control over time and space. After we take of this Jesimula Utkin problem, I intend to go after them next.

“You’re back,” the mormon boy declares. Goddamn, is this guy in every one of my pictures, or what? “Did I do well?”

“You did it perfectly,” I say in my prophet voice. “Now do one more thing for me.”

“Anything, mistress,” the creeper says.

“Take off that outfit...not literally” I cry as he immediately starts trying to remove his clothes.

“I just mean stop being a mormon, because the religion is total garbage.”

“What should I believe instead?”

“There’s only one real higher power in the whole universe,” I announce, starting to drop my persona.

“And what is that?” he asks.

“Yeah, what is it?” Hilde asks.

I snap a pic of the empty lot in the distance where the laboratory once stood. “Time.” Hilde and I look at the photo, and teleport back to the parking lot, where our friends are standing around. They look lost and confused. “It’s a long story,” I say to them. “But we’re back, and we have some pretty good intel.”

“Story?” Leona asks.

“Intel?” Slipstream asks.

“Who are you people?” Hogarth asks.

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The Advancement of Leona Matic: September 9, 2186

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A Doctor Mallory Hammer showed up when called using her special pager number. Ecrin shook her hand like they were friendly acquaintances, though Mallory obviously had never met her. The pager was designed to pull her from a time after encountering the person making the request, but that feature wasn’t always reliable. She ran the standard battery of tests on Leona, confirming that she was indeed pregnant. She also had advanced instruments that would give more information than even today’s technology could. As far as they could tell, Leona was carrying two genetically healthy babies. If the human doctor had known it was twins, she never said anything. Mallory also possessed a tool that could seek out the father of the children, even across time and space, but it came up with nothing. She said that she had never seen that before; it was like the father didn’t even exist. Paige guessed that it was due to some corruption in reality, but they had no way of detecting that, let alone correcting it.

Mallory did all she could that day, then fitted Leona with a wristband that would monitor her status before, and after her jump into the future, and also any time in between, if there was any at all. Come the next year, the doctor was there, waiting to run some follow-up tests, to make sure the time jumps weren’t having a negative impact on the fetuses.

“How are you holding up?” Mallory asked while listening to Leona’s lungs.

“I just learned I’m pregnant with twins who have no apparent father. I’m not great,” Leona replied.

“Well, there’s one test I’ve not done, because it’s experimental, and not necessarily ethical. It’s been requested before, though, so I feel I need to mention it. I am in no way recommending it, though. It’s important you understand that.”

“I can’t really understand that until I know what it is.”

“That’s fair.” She took a few notes on her tablet before continuing. Then she made a point of facing Leona straight on, and got all serious. “I have the ability to show you what your children will look like in the future.”

“Any time in the future?”

“All times.”

“Would I be able to speak with them?”

“Theoretically.”

“You said you’ve done this.”

“Other patients were too nervous to try actually talking with them. I only bring it up because you’re salmon. Sort of.”

That Leona did understand. “If the father is also salmon, they could be born as choosers, and taken away from me.”

“Yes. Before you answer, I’m sure you realize this might be your only chance to meet them. If they’re not like you, three years will go by like that. Someone else will have to raise them, whether they’re choosers, or not.”

Leona was nodding solemnly. These were good points, but there was something unnatural about meeting an older version of your own kid before they’re even born. Coming across people going different directions in the timestream happened all the time, but this would be very different. In the end, she had to decline the offer, which Mallory seemed relieved to hear.

“Hello?” came a voice from the other room. Then he appeared from around the corner.

“Dr. Sarka?” Mallory asked, surprised to see him, but not bothered.

Baxter wasn’t bothered either. “Dr. Hammer, I was assigned Leona’s case.”

“I came as a favor,” Mallory explained. “I’m not here to step on anyone’s toes.”

“No, it’s quite all right,” Sarka assured her. “Can’t hurt to have three medical professionals.”

Right on cue, a very young Saga Einarsson came through, carrying Sarka’s medical bag.

“Saga?” Leona questioned.

“Oh,” Saga said. “If we meet sometime in my future, be sure not to tell me about it.”

“Yeah, you’re right, I wo—” she stopped herself to work out the math in her head. “Actually, it’s not a problem. You’re the other Saga.”

“There’s more than one of me?”

“Something changed in the past,” Leona explained. “Something big. It rewrote everyone’s history, but a few of us remember. And a few of people actually survived the transition. You and your partner, Vearden were two of those people.”

“I had a partner?” Alt!Saga asked. “With a name like that?”

“I guess you never met in this reality. I guess you’re not even a doorwalker.”

Alt!Saga looked to Sarka, who appeared to know what that meant either. This was the curse of blending one’s brain.

“It’s about to get even more awkward.” Ulinthra was there, Harrison in tow.

“I’m sorry?” Sarka asked, confused.

“Wait,” Ulinthra said. “I timed that wrong. “Restart the conversation, I’ll come back in when you get to the right point.”

An exasperated Leona sighed heavily and loudly. “I thought I was supposed to try to catch you. Why do you keep attacking me?”

“Attack?” Ulinthra was offended. “How is this an attack?”

“Because I don’t want you here. This is a private moment.”

“I understand that, but it concerns me too,” Ulinthra claimed.

“How so?”

“I have been fascinated you since we first met,” Ulinthra began.

“In which reality?” Leona jumped in.

Ulinthra shrugged. “This one. I didn’t quite see what I could as powers. I had excellent intuition, like everything I was experiencing had already come to pass, and I just couldn’t quite remember. Turns out, that’s exactly what was happening. Keep in mind, that’s before I got my brain blended, and figured out how to use my full powers. But you know those movies where the hero meets some random person—often an old gypsy woman?”

“Racist. Where are you going with this?”

“Just be patient,” Ulinthra said. “Wait, is there a reason you three are still here?” She was looking at Mallory, Sarka, and Alt!Saga.

“Harrison, did you have enough time with that gun that that, uhh...security guard uses?”

“Mister Morse?” Harrison confirmed.

“Yes.”

“I believe I did.”

“Shoot them, please.”

“Now, don’t you dare!” Leona tried to fight them, but it was no use. Harrison removed his index finger to reveal the business end of a weapon. He fired a laser at his three targets, and they disappeared.

“Are they in Beaver Haven?” Leona asked, referring to the salmon-chooser prison.

Ulinthra smiled. “I can build my own jails, thank you very much. Now, where was I? Gypsy women, yes. They always give the heroes this weird look—sometimes they’ve been upset by them—but they curse them, or tell them some prophecy. Then the movie continues, and you don’t know for sure if she was the real deal, but then the future comes to pass, and it was, not quite like we all thought.”

“You’re not great with words.”

“You’re not great with your face!” Ulinthra volleyed.

Harrison couldn’t help but smirk. Leona might have an in with him.

“That was wrong of me, I’m sorry. Your face is actually amazing. My point is that I met a sort of gypsy woman when I was very young. I won’t bore you with the details, but I ignored her words at the time, as you’d expect. It wasn’t until I started learning about people with time powers that I suspected she may have been telling the truth.”

“And what was it that she told you?”

“She said that the Daughter of the Lion would be my downfall. That’s why your baby means something to me. She’s going to kill me one day.”

Leona pinched the bridge of her nose like Stan Marsh. “You just said said that the prophecies in those movies never turn out like you thought. Whoever you talked to said this...entity, let’s say, will be your downfall. That doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll die. And it doesn’t necessarily mean she’s my daughter, or even a person. Maybe it’s an actual lion. You can’t know if that’s all you have to go on.”

“Which is why you’re still alive,” Ulinthra said. “I have to know for sure if I’ve subverted that warning.”

“There’s another possibility,” Leona put forth.

“And what’s that?”

“That this person who told you this was nothing more than a charlatan, or mentally unstable. Maybe it means nothing, and the only reason you think it has anything to do with me is because my name means lion. If you had met a pregnant girl with a lion tattoo before me, you’d probably have obsessed over her, and not even given my name a thought.”

“That’s a good point,” Ulinthra said. “I may be freaking out over nothing. Then again, we’re all time travelers. Well,” she said as she was looking at Harrison, like he didn’t matter much. “Except for you.”

“Quite,” Harrison said simply.

“There’s one thing you have to remember, though.” She started walked around to the side of Leona’s bed.

“Oh no. Whatever you’re about to say can’t be good.” Leona was genuinely scared.

Ulinthra took out a knife and held it to Leona’s throat, and whispered into her ear. “I’ve already had this conversation.” She pointed to the corner. “And there’s a camera up there.”

“So what?”

Ulinthra swung her arm away from Leona, and aggressively jammed it into something right behind her. Then she swung the rest of her body around, revealing Paige to be the victim. A violently angry Ulinthra twisted the knife with her one hand, and forced her to her knees, which was something Paige could probably still survive. Her upgrades would keep her alive until she made it to medical attention, but Ulinthra had no intention of letting this happen. She lifted her other hand, and balled it into a fist, engaging a whistling electrical charge. Then she struck Paige right in the forehead, and electrocuted until the energy had reached critical mass, and the gauntlet lost all power.

Ulinthra’s rage was very gradually dissipating as Leona tried very hard to react. She couldn’t, though. She just sat there in fear and disbelief. Ulinthra continued to catch her breath, watching the motionless Paige on the floor, sparks still popping out of her mechanical parts. Then she looked at Leona. “I still don’t know if you planned this. If you somehow coordinated this...attack. I don’t even know why there’s a security camera in your room. But this is good proof that I will do what I must to survive, and keep what is mine. You remember that first reality; the one where I was a killer?”

Leona was unable to answer at first, but did eventually. “I don’t remember you as a serial killer. Horace just told me about you two later.”

“Well, there’s something you might like to know. That wasn’t the first reality. The only person you know who even existed in the first reality was Darko Matic. Are you two related, or something?”

“What?”

“Whatever. My point is that the you have memories of three independent timelines.”

“Right.”

Ulinthra nodded. “Well, I remember all of them. And in most cases, I was worse than you’ll ever know, because if you ever meet that version of Ulinthra...you’ll have no more than five seconds to live.” She started walking out of the room. “Clean that up, Harrison, then shoot Leona to the hock. I’ll see her again next year.”

“Hey, Yuli,” Leona said bravely.

Ulinthra turned back around.

“I don’t know what that fortune teller thought she knew, but I can tell you one thing.”

“Go on.”

“You’ll be dead before my daughter is even born.”

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Microstory 777: Hector

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Some might say that Hector Cubit’s nickname as The Protector is proof that we are destined to be who we later become. The truth is, though, that he could have just as easily been named Bobby, or been deemed The Guardian. Still, though he generally had little enthusiasm for rhyme, he was proud of his title, and adopted it happily. It was quite useful, too, to have something that remained with him always, since he barely had time to make his name in one job before he moved on to the next. Hector attributes his protective instinct to his mother, Joaquima, who was also famous for her propensity to save people’s lives. It would seem that danger was stalking Joaquima, for she constantly found herself in mortal danger. From bank hostage to boating accident survivor, Joaquima had no shortage of stories saved up to later tell her children, of which she would ultimately have none. What people didn’t realize, however, was that danger wasn’t following her at all, she was actually looking for it. There have been lots of people throughout history who have been born with special abilities, but most of these are associated with some subspecies of human. Ambers, anomalies, vampirs; these all have abilities, because they were genetically engineered to be different than standard humans. What they could do was the result of something being done to them, with very little of it being natural. The universe, however, also contains a mystery or two, one of these being Prophets. Unlike some fictional stories, prophets do not simply see the future. They do not gaze into crystal balls, or make judgments from tea leaves. Real prophets are simply those destined to lead the world through great sociopolitical breakthroughs, using radical forward-thinking ideas. Yes, it’s true that they often possess some connection to the fabric of the universe, but their real power is what they do with it. Joaquima Quintana could not literally see the future, but she did feel the push and pull of safety and danger. Another possessing this trait would use it to avoid perilous situations, and possibly some higher power controlling all this had that in mind, but that was not what Joaquima decided to do with it. She placed herself in the hazardous situations, using her intuition to prevent a tragedy altogether, or at least save as many as she could. Her husband, seeing her path to be of great value to the world, provided for them both with a steady job for decades. She retired from this life, and took a regular job, when she had Hector at a relatively old age, but not before, some believe, she passed her gifts onto him. Though he was never considered a true prophet, the reason Hector kept switching jobs was because he always had to be where he was needed most.

Microstory 661: Return the Belt of Andrea

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Long before the galaxy of Fostea was settled, our ancestors lived on a single planet in Lactea. Due to some unsanctioned scientific experiments, there lived for a time a group of people with extraordinary abilities. It was often these who inspired many of the technologies we now take for granted today, including our ability to reach faster-than-light speeds through simplex dimensions. During this time, a contemporary of these anomalous peoples carried with her a special belt that allowed her to simplex dimensional space pass unharmed through solid walls. It was an even more ancient invention that had been passed down her family line since its creation. After her death, the belt lied dormant in a warehouse, along with a number of other ancient technologies. It was eventually rediscovered, and claimed by someone who would later come to be known as Eido Andrea. Though powerful when used by the vigilante, technological progress had moved on by the time the belt fell into the hands of Andrea. She kept it mostly for the way it looked, but did also use it innocuously in order to avoid having to open doors. Andrea was a companion of Peter Fireblood’s, and had no intentions of having much to do with Fostea. But she was moved by the Sacred Savior’s words, and little by little, she began to believe. In time, she left Peter Fireblood’s side, and joined the Light of Truth. As punishment for this, Peter Fireblood stole the special belt from her, and sent it back to Lactea, where it has remained ever since. When the small group of Irritants arrived in our galaxy just before the taikon began, they brought with them a few relics from the past, including the Belt of Andrea. They likely did not know what it was at the time, but eventually learned what they had. After witnessing the realization of so many foretold taikon, the Irritants started figuring out that maybe their evil works against the Light were not such a good idea. Maybe they would lose this war, maybe they were on the wrong side, and maybe they didn’t want to die in the process. In order to garner some goodwill from the Lightseers, they offered to return the Belt of Andrea to Ileana Ulaire, who had long been appointed as the replacement for the original Eido Andrea. She accepted this gift, and a level of cautious peace was finally reached.

Microstory 660: Gathering of the Highlightseers

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At the moment Enaji Habicht placed the First Ring on his finger, a summoning spread out across Fostea. Every Highlightseer in the galaxy suddenly teleported to Enaji’s planet, in and around the cemetery. The first Highlightseers rose to power around the time that the last of the original eidos were disappearing. As much as Sotiren Zahir wrote in the Book of Light, he never really touched on the subject of community leadership. He presumably felt that the structure had to develop naturally on its own. The Sacred Savior did not want to interfere with whatever his followers wanted out of their faith after he died. Highlighteers are never appointed, nor elected. They come to be by proving themselves to have the utmost faith and dedication to the cause. They must spend the majority of their time studying, and promoting the religion’s teachings, especially towards those who do not yet believe. Never in the entire history of our civilization have they all been together in the same place. Everyone always knew that one day, there would have to be a gathering of the Highlightseers, but no one knew how that could happen. The logistics of such a thing would be damn near impossible to accommodate. Choosing the location alone could take weeks. Even amidst the achievement of the taikon, a Highlightseer’s job is never done. We must all continue to live our lives, and only contribute to the prophecies when called upon by the Light. As said before, no one really knows what the First Ring is. We know only that Sotiren never removed it from his finger until it was lost to him shortly before his death. Someone completely unknown to the records ended up hiding it somewhere, but no one had any idea where. In the end, it was exactly where it needed to be in order to gather all the Highlightseers together through powerful technology. It was time to get down to business, and make some decisions vital to the future.

Microstory 640: Indulge a Summit for Patience

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It hasn’t been long now since the Lightseers executed a plan to take control of the galactic economy, but rivals are already feeling the pressure. A new council composed of corporate executives, military officers, and other world leaders was recently formed to see if there was anything they could do about the “lightseer problem”. They deliberated for a considerable amount of time before ultimately determining their best course of action was to simply discuss matters with us directly. They could tell right off that they, even when combined, would be no match for the true leaders of Fostea. They proposed to meet for what they called a Summit For Patience. Of course, we knew right away that they were doing this in order to gain some goodwill from us, seeing as that a Summit for Patience is mentioned in the Book of Light. But that just proves that Sacred Savior, Sotiren Zahir was and is more than a mere prophet. He did not simply predict the future, but through his actions, created it. He was able to convince a group of leaders he had never met, thousands of years in the future, to do exactly what he wanted. By calling for this summit, and by even calling it what we would have, our rivals have proved that there is no stopping the taikon. Even those who do not believe in our ways cannot escape the light. Ye, blessèd is the light, and all who see it...and all who hide from it, but feel its warmth. Of course Highlightseers from all over the galaxy agreed to the summit, but only if it could take place on Narvali. Predictably, the rivals agreed to our terms, and also that it would be moderated by the unbiased thirty party of the dodulkori refugees. This was perfect for us, because the dodulkori were in debt to us for having graciously given them our paradise planet. The rivals walked away from the summit believing it to be a success, but we knew better. We would not only continue with the conquest, but ramp up our efforts. But then something happened we never thought could, even while hinted at in the Book of Light.

Microstory 638: Celebration of Guardian Appreciation Day

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The successful achievement of the thirty-eighth taikon was less about fulfilling it as it was fulfilling all the ones before it. There are very few holidays in this galaxy that are observed across more than one or two star systems. Only one of these is observed in all systems. Sotiren Zahir’s extraordinary gifts manifested themselves at a very early age. He was able to see and know things that no one could explain. He was not an amber, or an anomaly. He was no witch, time traveler, or basic old world prophet. He was something different; in a class of his own. People around him rarely believed his truths, even as he proved them before their eyes. They chalked it up to coincidence, refusing to see reality, and reject their old religions. His parents were not like them, though. They supported him in everything he did, they always believed him, and they encouraged him to explore his shocking understanding of the universe. He speaks of them at length in the Book of Light, and how beneficial their reactions to his—sometimes disturbing— visions of the future. He demanded a Guardian Appreciation Day, to be celebrated annually all across the galaxy, on the day that splits the difference between his parent’s respective birthdays. Though a few worlds have attempted to ignore this tradition, they always end up falling in line the following year after their trade deals suddenly turn sour. It is one of our founder’s few commandments, so the least anyone can do is be part of it. And for the most part, even planets dominated by rival religions continue the tradition. As with any year, Guardian Appreciation Day was set to be observed during the taikon year. It cannot be moved up or down the calendar, and if all of the previously thirty-seven taikon were not reached by the time this day rolled around, the entire prophecy would be forfeit. It was positively vital that the taikon be experienced in the right order, and under this deadline, or everything Lightseers and general Fosteans alike worked for would be meaningless. Fortunately, now-Eido Wurnti Kaddow presented herself in just enough time to let this happen. Guardian Appreciation Day was observed, and all was well.

Microstory 593: Prophet Warner Clemons’ Death Ruled Murder

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This world has seen a great many Prophets over the years. They arise outside of any pattern, and they cannot be predicted. Anyone can be born a Prophet; be it a king, or a beggar, or salesman. They come with a wide variety of skills and educational background. Some are teachers, some are poets, some are musicians, some are journalists. The one thing that binds them together is their drive to spread their spiritual message to everyone willing to listen. Prophets hold the world together, providing its peoples with unconventional perspectives when they’re needed most. One of our more recent Prophets, Warner Clemons decided to take his message as high as he could by pursuing a life of politics. He started out small, as most politicians do, running for class president every year of grade school. He didn’t always win, but he always learned something new, and this was when he began to form lifelong friendships with people who believed in his words. He started out officially in local government, making sure his neighborhood’s voice was heard, and soon started to make waves on larger scales. The Council of Prophetic Scrutiny officially certified Clemons as a High Prophet amidst his first senatorial campaign, fittingly on his thirtieth birthday. This pushed him over the edge in the polls, with some detractors claiming this tactic to be unfair to his opponents. In true Prophet Clemons form, he ended up absorbing all of these opponents into his advisory board, ensuring that they retained their own voices in the government. Prophet Clemons went on to become Ambassador to the Confederacy seven years ago, but did not hold the position long, for he was soon chosen to be the organization’s Chief Mediator. He used his words to spread peace and understanding between the most unstable of enemies. His works have not been met with total support, which is to be expected. Factions of Amadesins opposed his position on world government, leading the Chief Mediator to carry with him a higher number of personal bodyguards than usual. Unfortunately, one of his own men has turned out to be the perpetrator of his murder.

Brandis Cunningham started his short life as a common criminal, robbing convenience stores with his uncles and older siblings. Over the years, his crimes became more violent, ultimately resulting in a charge of attempted murder when he was only seventeen years old. The justice system gave him a choice: go to prison, or join the Usonian military, and learn how to channel his rage productively. Interviews would later reveal him to have become a model soldier, instinctively protecting the weakest in his group. He even took the fall for misbehavior that had actually been carried out by others. But not even this was enough to keep Cunningham from going back to his old ways. He was dishonorably discharged following an altercation with a superior officer that left them both in the intensive care unit. It would have seemed that his career was over, but Prophet Clemons saw something in him. He used different tactics, and channeled Cunningham’s skills once more. He focused less on the rule-following, and more on the protector instinct, quickly fostering his aptitude for private security. It wasn’t long before Cunningham became the Prophet’s primary guard, protecting him at literally all times. They not only lived together, but slept in adjoining rooms. There were even unverified rumors that Cunningham, Clemons, and Clemons’ wife were in a polyamorous relationship with each other. Investigators do not wish to speculate, nor does this publication, as to the motives for Prophet Clemons’ murder. It has only been confirmed that Cunningham was the culprit. Shortly after inflicting fatal wounds against Clemons in front of his wife in the Chief Mediator’s office, Cunningham attempted to escape. He was met with his former comrades in arms, who apprehended him, and tried to take him into custody alive. He continued to fight, however, eventually the point of being gunned down by an unconfirmed member of his own security team. The police will be releasing further details at the appropriate time.

Microstory 525: Savons Are Barely Not Human

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Ever since savons, elves, dwarves, and hiniaur were reintroduced to the world, scientists have been eager to learn more about them. We don’t know exactly where they came from, or how they came to be. All we know is how different they are than us. Elves are generally leaner, taller, and top-heavy when compared to humans. The bones in their upper body are denser than ours, which is why they are unable to swim. They can’t get their heads above water in order to breathe. What they lack in the water, they make up on land. They’re faster, stronger, tougher, and possess a greater amount of endurance. On the superficial side, they also have an almost silvery, powdery, tint of purple eyes and hair. Like elves, dwarves are known for their stamina. They require very little sleep, and are particularly adept at manual labor. They are, however, short and stout, and are technically capable of swimming. They’re nothing when compared to hiniaur, though, which are at their best in the water. Every hiniaur is born with gills, but not always in the same place of the body. They’re capable of walking around on land, but require considerable amounts of salt in order to survive. They will carry little pouches of salt around their necks in case they ever find themselves too far from saltwater. It is often unsettling when first meeting a hiniaur. They grow up normal to an adolescent stage, but then they stop aging. They’ll live nearly another 120 years, but will show no outward signs of it. Biologists believe they were created long ago in an attempt to cure aging; one that failed...but not completely.

Perhaps simultaneously the most interesting, and the least interesting, of the new races are the savons. They are noted for their tendency to speak in riddles and noncontextual metaphors. More research needs to be done, but they claim to have some kind of insight into the future; one that may or may not rival that of prophets. As far as their biology goes, they can possibly be considered the opposite of hiniaur. Their bodies age extremely rapidly for several years, before hitting a plateau, and appearing elderly for the rest of their lives, which will likely be somewhat longer than humans. Despite their advanced age, they are indistinguishable from humans, and some have even been hesitant to believe that they exist. Geneticists have found this to be not too far from the truth. Testing has shown that savon genes so similar to normal humans that results are often negligible. They appear to have such minor differences that it is almost not worth treating them as a separate human subspecies. A full report will be released to the public next month.