The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 7, 2520

« < » > Table of Contents

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

Romana lay down on the digitization table. Ramses affixed the spongification helmet over her head. In a few days, this will absorb her consciousness, digitize it almost instantaneously, and transfer it to her new substrate. This part of the process was absolutely vital for the success of the endeavor. During the early days of mind digitization, test subjects were shocked by the new experience, at best resulting in independent duplicates, but at worst in something called bifurcated consciousness. This is when the single mind was divided across the old substrate and the new one. In the movies, this usually involves two copies of each other, one which exhibits some of the traits of the original, but at an extreme, while the other exhibits the polar opposite traits. This will be played for laughs if it’s a comedy, teach the person something about balance if it’s more serious, or even be an example of body horror if it’s meant to be disturbing. In real life, bifurcation isn’t so clean and concise. Neither copy will be able to survive. They will both be missing core physiological characteristics; not just personality traits, but vital neural functions, such as breathing and walking.

Romana was here to dabble in the digital world, so her brain could get used to the feeling of it, before her upload happened. Because once Ramses pushed that button, and began that upload, there was no going back. “Is it going to hurt?”

“It won’t hurt today, but about half of uploaded people claim to experience some pain during the procedure. Researchers are split on whether it’s a psychosomatic memory, or genuine physical pain.”

Romana sighed, and leaned her head all the way back. “Pain is pain. All pain is in the brain. Yet if my body were slain, and my brain placed in chains, that brain would sense no pain, but I would go insane.”

“Poem?”

“Song lyrics,” she explained. “Peter Fireblood. You wouldn’t know him.”

“Was he in the Third Rail?” Ramses asked.

She continued to look forward. “Let’s get on with this.”

Ramses had more to adjust on the equipment. “I need to prep you first. You’ll wake up in a plain white expanse. You will sense the walls around you, yet they will feel endless. Do not be afraid of the expanse. You are still in your body. It should feel just like dreaming.”

“I’ve done VR before.”

“Not like this,” Ramses said. “You cannot return to base reality without me. But I will be able to hear everything you say, so you can bail at any time.” He paused to continue with his work. “After your mind settles into the expanse, lights will appear before you. Some may be blinding, and you cannot look away, as they will always follow your gaze. This is the scary part. You will not be able to shut your eyes. Blinking is an autonomic process, triggered by external stimuli. It is surprisingly the most difficult biological function for digital avatars to replicate, even though in the real world, you’re fully capable of closing them whenever you want. Honestly, scientists still don’t know why, which is what I think is the scariest part. But it will be all right. You will figure it out again, just as you did when you were a baby. The lights are meant to teach your brain to recognize how much control you have over your own residual self-image. They will not stop until you finally do close your eyes. Next will be sound, then smells. Objects will then appear before you for you to feel, inedible ones at first before food materializes to reteach you taste. You could theoretically taste the chair, or whatever it is, before the food shows up, but it’s your call. Interestingly, taste and touch aren’t that hard to fake, at least not until you get into the deeper complexities, like...uh...”

“Like intimate touches,” Romana said. “I get it.”

“I was gonna say umami. Anyway, once you get through sensory school, you will be in the driver’s seat. The world will begin to respond to your imagination, and is only limited by that, as well as the AI’s rendering speed. You can do whatever you want, but I will gently pull you out after about fifteen minutes, depending on what your vitals readout says. It might be earlier, but it won’t be later. You shouldn’t stay too long during the first session. We’ll work our way up gradually over the next couple of days.”

“Okay, I understand.”

“Are you ready?”

“Do it,” Romana answered confidently. She closed her eyes, and tried to relax.

“Count down from eleven for me.”

“Eleven, ten, nine..eight...seven...six...”

Romana felt a shift in gravity, and had the urge to open her eyes. She was not in a white expanse, but a silvery metallic chamber. The space was steamy, or maybe it was only that her vision was blurry. She could make out small beads of water crowding each other on a tiny window before her. She blinked. She blinked just fine. And her other senses didn’t seem to be a problem either. She could smell the sterile scent of medical seating upholstery. She felt the soft grip of the bands of fabric, which barely covered her body, around her crotch, and her breasts. Her breasts. They were back. She was in her adult form. Ramses never said anything about that. They did look a lot smaller, though, which was...odd. She was compelled to taste something, so she leaned over to lick the wall. It wasn’t particularly pleasant, but about as expected. No flashing lights, but her vision was slowly coming into focus. Underneath the tiny window, a message was embossed. Slide down to see the new you. Whenever you’re ready. Another message caught her eye above the window. DON’T PANIC.

She reached over and slid the panel down to find a mirror. That was not Romana Nieman. That was some random chick. “Ramses. Ramses! Can you hear me? You said you would be able to hear me, but you never said if I would be able to hear you?” She waited a moment. “Ramses!” she cried louder. “Pull me out! Something is wrong!”

No response.

“Door.” She paused. Speaking was frustratingly difficult, and it felt like she had just used up her word allotment. “Open,” she managed to eke out.

The door slid open. Romana pushed herself off the back of her chair, and headed for the exit. It was pretty hard to stand too. She was a newborn fawn who had never used her skinny little legs before. Her legs were skinny, whoever this strange woman was. She was now in a dimly lit hallway. She looked to her right. A few meters down, a guy was stepping out of his own pod, struggling about as much; maybe a little more. “Hey,” she said, attempting to raise her voice, but only reaching a whisper. She tried to walk that direction, but her knees buckled.

Before her face could meet the floor, a pair of arms caught her, and lifted her back up. “It’s okay,” the sound of a woman came, like an angel from above. “I gotcha.” She picked her all the way up into the air, and gently lay her down on a gurney.

“Who are you?” Romana asked.

“I’m your Acclimation Specialist.” She looked around. “This is the newborn wing. Anyone who hasn’t transferred before comes through here. There aren’t many of you left. Welcome to Castlebourne, Miss Brighton.”

“Who the hell is Brighton? My name is Romana.” It didn’t hurt so much to talk anymore, but she was slurring her words like a drunkard.

The angel checked her wristband, and looked up at the top of the pod. Then she looked back down at Romana. “Are you sure?”

Romana lifted her new hand, and pointed at the specialist, fighting to keep it aloft. “Hundo-p.” She lowered her hand and tapped on her own temple...or rather, this Brighton person’s temple. “Sharp as a tack. My name is Romana Neiman. I’m friends with Hrockas. He’ll wanna hear about this.”

The specialist tapped on her wristband again. “We have a possible Code Five. I repeat, possible Code Five. Subject claims wrong target.”

“Are we in The Terminal?” Romana asked.

The specialist stepped over, to the back of Romana’s gurney, and began to push her down the hallway. “Seal all newborn pods and halt new travelers to newborn wing. Quarantine all consciousnesses in transit to the emergency digital holding environment.”

“All transiters?” A voice questioned.

“All of them!” she screamed. “Make way! Make way!” she yelled as she continued down the hall. She suddenly stopped. “Owner Steward. Where did you come from? You...you just—”

“Never mind that,” Hrockas said.

Romana couldn’t really see anything from this angle, so Ramses stepped into her line of sight. “Romana?”

“Yes, Rambo. What did you do?”

“I honestly don’t know. What did you say to me, when we were in Underburg? We were at that office cookout. I asked you what your favorite subject in school was.”

Romana turned herself over to the side. “That never happened. It was an implanted memory.”

Ramses stood there for a moment. “Good enough.” He looked up at the Acclimation Specialist. “Thank you. You can go now.”

“Sir?” she asked.

“It’s fine,” Hrockas replied. “Go deal with the lockdown. We’ll determine if this is a fluke, or a new system vulnerability.”

“Thank you, sir.” She left.

“Is it?” Hrockas asked.

“Is what what?” Ramses volleyed.

“Is it a new vulnerability? Should I be worried that body swapping is going to start happening left and right?”

“I draw power from the grid,” Ramses explained. “Might as well. It’s free and easy. I’m plugged into your network for archive updates, but I don’t use your processing power. I don’t need it. I don’t know how this happened. There should be no link between my localized digitization equipment, and your Terminal casting infrastructure.”

“This is the newborn wing,” Hrockas told him. “None of these people has cast their consciousness before. Most of them have not even used surrogacy. Some of them are even escaping colony cults. Isn’t Romana new too?”

“She is, but we were just acclimating her. I hadn’t transferred anything yet. And again, we’re not connected to the Terminal.”

“You are close, though. Treasure Hunting Dome is very close to this one.”

“I don’t see how proximity has to do with anything, if Miss Brighton was coming from Earth.”

“Figure it out, Abdulrashid,” Hrockas demanded. “This wasn’t us. It was you. Millions of castings, not a single problem. You and your time tech are the variables.”

Ramses scooped Romana up, and kissed her protectively on the forehead. “I know.” He teleported them away.

“Beginning decon—”

They were back in Ramses’ lab. “Decontamination override, Ramses Abdulrashid echo-echo-one-nine.” He carried her into the restricted section.

Young!Romana was waiting for him there. She was presumably the real Miracle Brighton. She looked surprisingly calm. “Yep. That’s me.”

“I’m so sorry about this,” Ramses said to her as he was laying Romana down on the secondary digitization bed.

“Don’t worry about it. I came here to have adventures.”

Romana got back on her side. “Can you walk?”

“I walk just fine,” Miracles answered. “It was a lot easier than they told me it would be.”

“It’s your EmergentSuit,” Ramses explained as he was fiddling with the machinery. “It would be like being born in a powered exoskeleton.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Romana decided. “Are you just gonna switch us back?”

“I don’t know if I can,” Ramses said. “I mean, I’m capable of it. People have switched bodies before. It’s a niche leisure activity. I just don’t know what your father is going to say. If I don’t call him back in, will he be madder than if I let him actually see the damage?”

Miracle chuckled. “You’re trying to decide if you should glue the broken vase back together before your parents get home, because at least they come home to a fixed vase, or if it’s better to fess up right away so you look more honest.”

“More or less,” Ramses admitted.

“Too late,” Mateo said from behind.

“Mateo, I didn’t hear you come in,” Ramses said to him.

“Yeah. Decontamination protocols are down.”

“Right. Digital acclimation is a safe procedure. It’s been for centuries. This never should have happened.”

Mateo stepped closer. “I want to comfort my daughter, Ramses, but I don’t want to touch a stranger...” He looked over at Miracle in Romana’s body, “and I don’t want it to look like I’m touching a stranger.” He looked over at Romana in Miracle’s body.

“I’ll switch them back, right away.”

“No,” Mateo said. “That’s stupid. Her new body is ready now, right? It’s in temporal stasis, but fully grown?”

“It’s ready,” Ramses said. “You still weren’t sure, though...”

“I’m on board,” Mateo told him, but he was really saying it to Romana. “Her mind has already been digitized. You might as well finish the process. Forcing her back into that child’s body is just a waste of time and power.”

“Speaking of which...” Ramses walked over to the wall, unlocked a panel with his biometrics, and flipped a lever. The lights shut off for three seconds before returning. “We’re off grid, and all signals are blocked. We’re completely isolated. No consciousness is getting out, and none is getting in.” He moved over to the gestational pod where Romana’s new body was floating around. “Romy will jump into this, and Miracle will jump into her new body.”

“And my old body?” Romana inquired. “The one that looks like a little girl.”

Ramses looked down solemnly. “It will be destroyed. That’s the hardest part of this. I would have rather you be proverted anyway, but I don’t think we really have time for that. I don’t know any proverters.”

“I do,” Mateo said.

“Yesterday, you made it seem like you didn’t,” Ramses reminded him.

“It’s you. You can provert that substrate. After this kind woman leaves it, you can place it in a temporal field, and age it up, so you’re not watching a child’s body be destroyed.”

“Well, I don’t really have to watch as it happens. I just put it in a—”

“Ram. This is how you should do it. You don’t want the memory of even placing her wherever it is you were about to say.”

They waited there in the depressing silence.

“That got dark,” Miracle mused.

“Our lives are sometimes dark.” Ramses flipped another lever, and started to drain the fluid from Romana’s pod.

More silence.

“Wait,” Miracle said. “Don’t do what you were talking about with the temporal field. I’ve never heard of that, but I can guess what it is. I saw you suddenly disappear from here, so there’s obviously a lot I don’t know about the universe.” She took a breath. “Just leave me in this body. I can wait to grow up again. In fact, after what I lived through on Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida, it might feel like a fresh start.”

“Are you certain?” Ramses asked. “Once I destroy your Castlebourne body, you’re stuck with this unless you choose a new one, in which case you’re just passing the burden to someone else.”

“I understand. I want this.” She hopped off of the bed. “I promise. As long as it’s okay with this one that she has a doppelgänger walking around.”

Romana looked over at Mateo, and said, “actually...that’s a family tradition.”

« < » > Table of Contents

Microstory 2494: Biolock

< > Table of Contents

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

When this planet was first discovered, it was a barren wasteland. It still technically is. It has not been terraformed. It’s been paraterraformed, which means that the only places where anything can survive are under the domes. You can’t just plant a seed in the dirt, and wait for it to grow, and start producing oxygen for you. The composition of the atmosphere at the moment is not suitable for life, and if we wanted to make it so, we would have to be extremely destructive. Terraformation is always a centuries-long project, which even today, we’ve only completed on one planet, and there are rumors of alien intervention with that one, because no one knows how it was possible. Besides, the whole point of Castlebourne is having these special themed domes. Even if we were to make the rest of the world habitable without destroying everything currently standing, we wouldn’t want to. For that, you can go to Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida, which was already habitable when we discovered it (though, I have my doubts about that too, because what are the chances?). I digress. What I’m saying is that, in order for us to have any life on this planet, it had to be transported. In some cases, that means digital DNA, but even that’s tricky, because you’re gonna need feedstock to actually develop the organism into something physical. In other cases, we transported live plants and animals, on something called an Arkship. While it took 108 years to get here, the ships were traveling at relativistic speeds, so the time as observed by the passengers was only about two months. It was during this time that the specimens were being monitored under their second quarantine. They experienced their first while still on Earth, which lasted four months. Six months isn’t bad, is it? You should be able to tell whether something has a disease or not in that time. Eh, probably. We’re probably always safe enough, but we don’t want the bare minimum. We want to be extra careful. Besides, the conditions on Castlebourne are different. The atmospheres in the domes are typically optimized, not natural. The surface gravity is different. In order to satisfy our requirements for safety, specimens are kept in special habitats in Biolock for an additional six months so that we may observe and study them, but also so they can acclimate to their new conditions. Once this time period is complete, they will be either transported to their new home under whatever dome they are destined for, or a parallel preserve for further acclimation efforts. Up until now, this was only a Logistical dome not fit for visitors. We have recently completed renovations, which will allow visitors to come through for tours. You will not be able to touch or interact with any of the specimens, but will be able to see them from the protection of a sealed corridor while your tour guide teaches you about our process in greater detail. My superiors asked me to write the first review just to get things started so that our prospectus is ready for it once the first tours go through, and reviews are unlocked for public contribution. Thank you for your time.

Microstory 2367: Vacuus, August 28, 2179

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google ImageFX text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 3

Dear Condor,

I’m not feeling all that well today. I didn’t get much sleep last night, and I think I caught a stomach bug. The doctor has me self-quarantining, which is funny because that’s just how I typically live my daily life anyway. I wanted to respond to you, though, because I received your open letter. I attached the new document with my markups, but you can take them or leave them. If you just sent it to the base how you originally wrote it, it would be fine. I’m not surprised, your letters to me are always very well-written. Overall, I think it looks good. You didn’t say too little, or be too cryptic, but you didn’t overshare either. I would say go for it, if you’re comfortable, but you still have the option of declining the request. It’s not a big deal either way. Though, I do think you should change what you said about people asking questions. I’m willing to take on that role as intermediary. My suggestions are very minor, so it’s up to you whether to accept them. That also goes for whether to even send it or not. I won’t cloud your decision any further. It’s not like people will be mad at me if you decline. Both worlds will keep turning. I feel like I’m repeating myself, and should probably go back to bed. I’m going to be a little bit late with my thoughts on this latest Winfield Files book, but did you notice that we got a few spoilers from the last season of the show? It looks like they jumped a little ahead in the story, which I guess is what happens. The books are only told from the main character’s perspective, but the adaptation has the freedom to explore other people’s perspectives more directly, which has sometimes given us a bit of a sneak peek into what’s to come, before Winfield finds out about it in his own time. I don’t think it’s going to ruin anything, or that we should change our strategy. I just thought I would point it out.

Okay, goodnight,

PS: Are we gonna keep doing PS?

Extremus: Year 78

« < » > Table of Contents

Generated by Pixlr AI image generator

Tinaya and Aristotle are wearing their Integrated Multipurpose Suits. He’s been transporting himself, and sometimes his mother, to other celestial objects in the solar system, which is a power that his own father did not even have. Maqsud Al-Amin was a long-range teleporter. He could jump from one star system to another, but very imprecisely, and he couldn’t jump to different parts of the planet that he had landed on, or to neighboring orbitals. Aristotle, it seems, is much more powerful than his dad was in a lot of ways, but he still has his limitations. Some teleporters can, for instance, make a jump to the other side of a locked door, but that’s impossible for him. In fact, he has to be outside in order for it to work properly. He once blew the ceiling and roof off of a building when he was overcome with emotion, and uncontrollably transported himself and everyone else in the room light years away. That’s his main issue. He has very little control over it, and Lilac believes this to be a psychological problem. This means that he can learn to move past it.

Aristotle’s dream of sending everyone on Verdemus back to Extremus is loftier than it might sound. It’s certainly far enough away, but precision is non-negotiable in this case. Since the ship is currently traveling at maximum reframe speed, there is no close; only right on target. Even if they were to be all wearing suits, it could prove fatal. Perhaps they end up in the path of the ship, or halfway through a bulkhead. They can’t afford to—pardon the pun—jump hastily into this endeavor. Aristotle believes that he’s ready, but Tinaya isn’t so sure. He’s been spending a lot of time making his jumps, and coming right back, and so far, he hasn’t experienced any issues. He even went to a meteor in the next solar system over, and managed to return unscathed. And that’s all well and good, but she needs to see it for herself first. There are too many variables here, so unless Aristotle can be a lot more specific about what he’s done in his past to practice this power, he’s only going to work on her timeline. He still won’t even tell them exactly how old he is, or what he was doing before he finally found Niobe in the Goldilocks Corridor. That could be the key to solving everything.

One other major problem with Trotting, as it’s called, is the time issue. Teleportation is inherently time travel. In a vacuum, light moves at a constant speed. Temporal manipulators regularly break this speed, whether the result is that they end up backwards or forwards in time, or not. The reason a light year is called that is because that is the distance a photon of light will travel in the span of a year. So when one looks up at a star, they are not seeing it as it is in the moment, but as it was in the past. The light that is hitting their eyes first left its point of origin exactly as long ago as the distance to that origin in light years. When a Trotter pinpoints a destination in the stars, he can choose to tie himself to the original photons, or to the new ones. If a star is, say, five light years away, he can go five years backwards in time, or he can land there only moments later from when he started. But this is not a simple intuitive trick. Maqsud evidently took years to learn to master this skill. Sure, he was a free spirit with no roots keeping him from leaving, so he wasn’t deliberately trying to figure out how to do anything perfectly, but it still isn’t a simple matter. Aristotle is a long way off from achieving this as well, and even longer from proving it to Tinaya.

Today, they’re leaving their friends behind, and going on a test run. According to data that they managed to pull from a galactic mapping program called Project Topdown, there is a star within Aristotle’s range that hosts a planet with a possible breathable atmosphere. Even if the readings aren’t accurate, it’s certainly a terrestrial world. For now, Aristotle either has to see where he’s going, or know where he’s going, based on other information. In this case, he has both, because they specifically chose it for its relative proximity to their current location. It’s not in the direction of Extremus, but it’s not in the direction of the Goldilocks Corridor either, and that’s important right now, because they have no interest in running into any trouble. Again, this is just a test. Tinaya wants to see what he’s made of, and if he fails, only their own lives are in danger. Everyone else will be able to live on, even if they die of old age of Verdemus.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

“I am.”

“Am I ready?” he pushes, realizing what she means by that.

Tinaya looks over at Lilac, who nods, confident in her son’s ability. She’s already given her approval for this mission. He’s an adult now, but he still relies on her. Tinaya thinks it over for a moment. “Okay, you have a go.”

“We have a go,” he corrects. For the most part, starting in a body of water makes it easier to activate the power, but he’s been practicing without this crutch, because if he can manage without, then he can definitely manage with. He spreads his arms out before him to welcome the light from his destination star, kept in focus by the heads-up display on his helmet. “Yalla.”

They fly into the air, and then out of the air. They soar out of the Verdemusian solar system, and past dozens of stars. Their visors turn opaque as the doppler glow attempts to blind them. There’s no turning back now. He saw where he wanted to go, but now he can’t see anything, so he has either succeeded, or already failed. Either way, they’re going somewhere. A couple minutes pass, which is highly concerning. The target star is only 78 light years away, and it shouldn’t take this long to get there. Then again, they’ve not had too much time to calculate travel time for his other jumps. They don’t have a lot of data and experience yet, and neither Aristotle nor Lilac is a notable mathematician. Finally, the glow recedes, and they see the star coming at them. There’s something wrong here, though. This far out in the galaxy, it should be uninhabited. But they’re headed for what looks like a ship. Shit, the Exin Empire must have spread farther than they realized. They’re going to be landing in enemy territory, and there is nothing they can do about it.

They crash through a giant glass window, fall through the cylindrical habitat that they’ve found themselves in, and splash into what’s either a lake or a pool. No chlorine, it’s probably a lake. A crowd forms around them as robots begin to repair the damage from above. A few people hop into the water, and help them out. They ask if the two of them are okay, but they’re not surprised to see them, nor upset. That’s a good sign. Maybe not all Exins are bad. Some of them look like they’re using communication devices, probably to contact the authorities.

One of them steps forward. “Get them towels, and escort them to guest quarters.” He looks upon Tinaya and Aristotle. “There will be showers there. I’m sure that Team Keshida will want to speak with you soon, so do not waste time.”

“Of course,” Tinaya answers before Aristotle can question what the man just said to them. This is not a good place to be. Well, it’s fine, but it could be dangerous. They don’t even know what year it is.

They follow their escorts to the train, which transports them down to the far end of the cylinder. After their showers, they find new clothes waiting for them on the bed, and a note on the smartmirror that their suits have been taken in for service. When they open the door to leave, lights guide them down the hallway where they find an airlock. A small pod flies them thousands of kilometers away, to a different cylinder. When the hatch opens, none other than Captain Kestral McBride, and Lieutenant Ishida Caldwell are waiting for them. These are two of the most famous people in Extremusian history. Everyone knows Team Matic, and they’ve learned about the violent exploits of Anatol Klugman. They’re aware of the Preston family, and the powers that be. But Team Keshida is directly responsible for the successful launch of the Extremus mission in the first place. No two people are more important to it. They’re in Gatewood Collective, which is thousands of light years off course.

“Report,” Captain McBride says.

“Could you tell us the date first?”

“It’s August 24, 2269,” the Lieutenant answers.

“We’re Extremusians, from 78 years in the future,” Tinaya answers.

“Did you use the recall device to return? How come it’s just the two of you?”

“I am Aristotle Al-Amin,” he replies before Tinaya can stop him this time.

“I see,” the Captain says. “There is probably a lot that you should not tell us.”

“There is only one thing that maybe you can tell us?” Tinaya asks hopefully.

“We might be able to send you back to the ship,” Lieutenant Caldwell says, assuming this to be the question they were going to ask.

“That’s a problem,” Tinaya begins. “We weren’t on the ship. We’ve...found planets along the way. We do indeed want to return to Extremus one day, but it’s complicated. There are those we left behind on our outpost. We would have to retrieve them first, and would rather never see Extremus again if it’s the only way to reunite them.”

Captain McBride nods. “I may be able to rig up a sort of homestone that takes you back to the place you last left, rather than the place you were when you first time traveled. It will take us some time to figure out how to do that, though.”

“We would be eternally grateful,” Tinaya tells her. “In return, we would be willing to brief you on matters of the mission for the last eight decades.”

“That would not be wise,” the Lieutenant contends. “Extremus has not even launched yet from our temporal perspective.”

“Perhaps we can brief the archives, with a temporal firewall in place, which will only unlock a file once it becomes the present day for you.”

“Hmm,” Captain McBride says, considering it. “We would have to invent that too, but it would be acceptable.”

“It would be nice to be able to keep up on your progress,” the Lieutenant agrees, “even if there is nothing we can do to help you while you’re out there.”

The Captain nods. “In the meantime, you will report to the medical wing for a physical, and an adaptive quarantine.”

“Adaptive quarantine, sir?” Aristotle asks.

“It starts with eleven hours,” Lieutenant Caldwell begins to explain. “At that point, the medical staff will reassess. If the sensors detect an issue, and you need longer, it will jump up to twenty-four hours total. Then forty-two, then fifty-six, and then eighty-three. After that, we start measuring it in days, starting with eleven again. Let’s hope it doesn’t get that far.”

They end up staying in quarantine for eleven months.

« < » > Table of Contents

Microstory 1949: Those in the Know

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Workspace Labs text-to-image AI software

Reese: Oh, good, you’re here too. I was worried about you both, but you don’t have a phone, and she’s not picking up.

Myka: Sorry, I’m here. My phone died while we were in quarantine, and it’s still off and on the charger. Leo, we need to get you your own device.

Leonard: Yeah.

Reese: Is everyone okay? How did they treat you in there? [...] Somebody respond, I’m getting worried again.

Leonard: I’m fine, I was just trying to let the lady speak first.

Myka: I’m fine too. I missed you...both. I have something to tell you, though, and I don’t know how you’re gonna feel about it.

Leonard: Let me guess, they offered you a job.

Myka: Yeah!

Reese: Seriously? Both of you? That’s suspicious.

Myka: Why, you don’t think I would be cut out for it?

Reese: I didn’t say that. It’s just that the government doesn’t make a habit out of hiring the formerly incarcerated. Even the OSI has a thing about perfect prior records. What would you even be doing for them?

Myka: They didn’t say.

Reese: See? Suspicious. I don’t think you should even entertain the idea.

Leonard: I’m not so sure, and I think I know the reason. She knows about the aliens, and I am an alien. I think they would rather keep us close than far away where they can’t keep track of our movements and behaviors. I’m thinking about taking it. Like you said, I need a phone. And a place to live, and food. I need money for all that, just as I did on my world. How hard would it be to apply at, say, a carwash without a valid background?

Myka: You’re right, they’re trying to keep an eye on us, but that doesn’t doesn’t mean we should accept the positions. I assume you have something more substantial in the way of an offer than I do, but it sounds dangerous.

Reese: Well....

Myka: Well, what? Have you already changed your mind?

Reese: I want you both to be safe, and you knowing about aliens puts you in more danger than I’m in because I know about them too. Yes, you would be working for the people who are placing you in that danger, but maybe they’ll be less likely to go after you if you seem to share their interests. Government spies know government secrets all the time, and their government doesn’t kill them, because they’re on the same side.

Myka: So, you think I should take it?

Reese: I didn’t say that. I just don’t think we should dismiss it. We really should learn what plans they have for you. You have skills, as do you, Leonard, but neither of you has the kind of résumé they generally look for.

Leonard: How do you suppose we go about procuring such information?

Reese: We don’t. I already work there, to a certain extent. I’ll go back in and see what I can find out. You two stay here and don’t go out unless you’re buying a new phone, and don’t separate until you have one...or maybe not even then.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 24, 2399

« < » > Table of Contents

Generated by Canva text-to-image AI software

During World War VI, Captain Tarboda Hobson was an active member of the air force, serving by dropping supplies into quarantine camps so no one would actually have to go inside. When a new vaccine was released, he would drop that in too. Of course, a new strain—or an entirely new pathogen—was coming into power seemingly every day back then, so he never took any time off. Even that seems like nothing compared to what he’s doing now. He’s taking advantage of his new chance on life, and trying to help as many people as possible. What he’s been doing is technically against global law, but it’s a gray area when it comes to Leona’s nation. Of course, he’s utilizing resources from the U.S. government, but he’s just pretending that that’s not really happening. It’s not his job to be concerned with the politics anyway. He and his new team have one objective, which is to rescue people who are being trafficked all over the world, and to relocate them to Leona’s magical new building. He forgot how much he loved doing this, not worrying about making the decisions. He flies, that’s what he does. It’s all he does. Well, he sometimes pilots in boat mode.

Today is different. He’s being temporarily reassigned to a new mission. While Leona does whatever it is she’es doing stateside, he’s on his way to the Island of Madagascar. The religion of Daltomism supposedly originated here. According to Mateo, who’s here with him, this might not be completely random. If you drew a line from Kansas straight through the center of the Earth, and came out the other side, Madagascar would be the nearest landmass. These are called antipodes, though the place where they’re going is not the exact opposite point. The exact opposite would be in the middle of the ocean, as it usually is, since the Earth is mostly water. This was close enough, and it is Leona’s belief that Dalton chose this region because it was the farthest from The Constant in what is now Kansas. That’s where all the mysterious immortal people live that Tarboda hasn’t dealt with directly yet.

“Don’t we think this is all happening a little too quick? Word around the government water cooler is that Leona’s about to announce something big.”

“It has to happen fast,” Mateo explains. “The Reality Wars are starting early next month. Dalton Hawke is the last piece of the puzzle. If this is where he founded his religion, we have to know about it.”

“How did you find this place specifically?”

“Our new friend, Imani gave us a copy of Word of Dalton, Book II, which she can evidently get in a lot of trouble for. Vearden was researching it for us before his...” Mateo trails off. “He thinks it describes this part of the jungle.”

“What do we think, there’s a hidden temple somewhere around here?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, we may find out soon.” Tarboda slows down, and shifts into hover mode. “We’re at the coordinates you gave me.”

“Is there, like, a camera on the bottom of this thing?” Mateo asks, looking at the floor. “I would like to see what’s directly below us.”

“Is there a camera?” Tarboda echoes with a laugh. “Ha!” He engages erasure mode, removing the floor entirely, showing them what it would look like if it didn’t exist, and they could just float in the air.

“Whoa. I’ve seen stuff like this before. I have an idea of how it works, but it’s still trippy to stand here. Can you scan for structures, or whatever?”

“Uhhh...” Tarboda taps through the manual on the built-in screen. “Scan. Here we go.” He presses the button. Nothing happens that they can see, but the computer says that it’s scanning. “It didn’t find anything. No ruins.”

“That’s not surprising, or someone would have found it a long time ago. I’ve always wanted to do that thing where we—”

“Wait.” He looks at the screen. It’s detecting radiation from that body of water.”

“Bad radiation?”

“Slight radiation.”

Mateo has to duck his head down to see the lake through the floor. “Does that mean we can’t do the thing?”

“What thing?”

“Sliding down to the ground on ropes hanging from the helicopter.”

“No, we definitely can’t do that.”

Mateo hangs his head.

Tarboda smirks. “Because this is not a helicopter. I’ll get the gear. That button over there will open the center floor hatch.”

Mateo goes over to open it. The floor reappears, but only in that spot. The hatch drops a little, then slides under like a pocket door. Tarboda drops the lines, and starts to get himself fitted with the climbing gear. He looks over the edge to see that the lake is closer than it was before. “What the hell? The jet has been moving on its own.”

“It has? You didn’t move it?”

Tarboda drops the gear, and runs back over to the cockpit and looks at the screen. The scanner didn’t find much before, but it’s found something now. All sorts of debris and wreckage is down in that water. It’s much deeper than it looks from a distance. “Close the hatch!”

Mateo slams on the button again. The floor starts closing back up. Just as it does, the jet tips over, sending him slamming against the back wall.

“You okay?” He asks.

“I’m all right!”

“I’m tryin’ to get us out of here!”

“Something’s pulling us down?”

“Yeah,” Tarboda calls back. “Hold on, we’re gonna start pullin’ some Gs!” He engages the thrusters, but whatever invisible force is tugging at them is reacting in kind. It won’t let them go, and it’s stronger than his beautiful new plane is. They gave this to him to please the team. They’re not going to give him a second one. “Try to climb back up here! I can’t get us out!”

“No! Jump, Tarboda!”

“What!”

“Jump down here! Trust me!”

These people brought him back to life; he has to do whatever they say. He undoes his belt, hangs between the seats, then lets go. They’re not perfectly vertical, so he slides on the floor, heading right for Mateo, who has his wrist up to his face. Suddenly, the jet is gone, and he’s tumbling on the ground. He gets himself to his feet and looks up to see the jet being sucked into the water, but not before it implodes.

Alyssa’s here with them. “Crushed it.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 4, 2399

« < » > Table of Contents

Generated by Canva text-to-image AI software

As an extra step of precaution, Mateo and Taraboda were asked to stay in separate level of quarantine just for them for a full day. This is a process that everyone who goes in and out of that place has to deal with, including the everyday soldiers. He’s fine with it, but it would be a lot to deal with on a regular basis, especially to coordinate. The government has not encountered a single new case of the virus, even from the three who came through the portal before it closed, but they’re still deeply concerned. They still don’t know how it causes its symptoms, or how to cure it. They haven’t even had time to devise a vaccine. This area is going to be the way it is, or worse, for a long time.

While Mateo was waiting, he found himself with a lot of time to think. Alyssa was brainwashed, and has commanded the Omega Gyroscope to halt all forms of temporal manipulation, advanced bodily upgrades, and similar anomalies. This was already a thing before, but there were loopholes. The rules are far stricter now, preventing Mateo from even communicating with his wife’s consciousness that should be somewhere in his brain. Had they not done that, he might have just let it all go, but if whoever did this didn’t want him to be an enemy, they should have been a little more lax.

He, Tarboda and Heath are on their way to Aotearoa now, where Mangroves Eleven, Twenty-Four, and Forty-Two were built. They’re flying into Eleven, the rocket of which will be launched soon. Mateo is going to be on it, so when he breaks free from the Gyroscope’s...scope, Leona should come back. From there, he’ll transfer her consciousness out of his body, and into Alyssa’s old body, and then he hasn’t come up with a plan beyond that, because he’s not as smart as she is. Winona has been hounding him for an explanation for why one of her secret tactical teams thinks they sort of remember a member of their team who never existed, but he can’t help them. Leona may be able to answer that question, and more. Now, she might have been killed when Alyssa turned the Gyroscope up to eleven, or she is in another dimension, or stuck in the 1950s. Regardless, Mateo has to try something. He has to leave Earth.

A man greets them on the tarmac when they land. G’day, folks. My name is Hemi, and I’ll be your pilot today. Are we ready to shoot on through, or does anyone need anything here?”

They look over at Heath, but he doesn’t know why. “Well, it’s just that you and Tarboda have been in space an equal amount, but Tarboda is a pilot, so...”

“I’m fine,” Heath replies. “I want to be involved. I want to show Marie that I’m okay. Let’s get on up there.”

“Perfect. Yeah, I did hear that you’ve done this before, but I don’t care about those other times. I still have to go over a few rules. We all wanna be safe, don’t we?”

“Yeah,” they agree in approximate unison.

After the briefing, Hemi takes them into the rocket to launch. They don’t see a single other person on the base. It’s Aldona who counts them down remotely from Balikpapan. One thing is that Mateo isn’t used to all the g-forces from having to break out of Earth’s gravity well. Aldona installed whatever crazy futuristic technology prevents them from feeling it, but it’s not working under Alyssa’s Gyroscope regime. Even so, they make it into orbit, and he tries to reach inward for Leona, but she’s not answering. None of his upgrades are working yet either. “We need to go higher.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 3, 2399

« < » > Table of Contents

Generated by Canva text-to-image AI software

Winona is in charge of so many things now. When she first got into this business, her father had maneuvered her into a position within the government. She by no means started out in the mail room, but she wasn’t top dog yet either. She proved herself over time, and did everything she could to move up the ranks on her own merit, rather than because of her dad’s political power. No one could have foreseen the sudden introduction of time travelers to this world. She’s been trying to juggle all of the new responsibilities with her regular duties, but it’s recently become too much. She was gradually passing work off to trusted subordinates, and it’s time to pass the torch totally. But even that is too much for her to worry about right now, because on top of the three and a half men that she has locked away at this black site, she’s just brought in a tactical team who are exhibiting unusual and erratic behavior. They all act like one of their members just died. There’s no record of that happening, but funny enough—not funny, haha; more like funny, oh God—there are meant to be seven people on a tack team.

“Who is your Spotter?” she asks.

“That’s it,” Team Leader Alserda says, having an epiphany. “That’s who we’re missing. Who is our Spotter?” she echoes to Winona.

Winona looks down to the floor and sighs. “It’s not Hurst?” she says, half as a question, and half as a statement.

“It was. He became our Technician.”

“And your Technician, Strand became your Engineer. And your Engineer, Klein became your Lieutenant.”

“Because my Lieutenant, McGuinness retired,” Alserda finishes. “Who is our Spotter!” she asks the whole universe.

“What was your mission?” Winona asks, fully knowing the answer, like a school teacher.

“We were looking for people who were going to hurt Leona Matic. That has been our primary mission for weeks.”

“We should have pulled you from that,” Winona notes. “We caught the people who set the bounty, so we were dispatching pub teams to spread the news, and infil teams to confirm it to the underground.”

“I dunno,” Alserda says sadly. “We were in Romania. We were definitely working, not on vacation. I don’t—I have memories from before, but something feels missing.” She’s mostly been staring into space, but now she makes eye contact. “Was it our Spotter? Did something happen to them? What could do that?”

Then it dawns on her. “A time traveler.”

“Madam?” she questions simply.

“I need to make a call.” Winona starts to leave the room. That’s not a fitting word for it. It’s one of those nice locked chambers that the likes of Labhrás Delaney live in. “Try to get some rest. I’ll see about getting you com privileges with your team.” She dials her phone as she’s walking down the hallway. “Mateo? I have kind of a weird question. Are you still in transitional quarantine?” She waits for a response. “Okay, then we’ll talk later. But while you’re in the middle of that, maybe you could think about what could make an entire person disappear, both from the world, and people’s memories.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 2, 2399

« < » > Table of Contents

Generated by Canva text-to-image AI software

Despite technically being in an enhanced body, Mateo is no longer enhanced. He needs sleep, and because of everything he’s been through recently, he needs a lot of sleep. Annoyingly, it doesn’t look like he’s going to get much of it for a while. Winona wakes him after midnight with a phone call. “I don’t know why they didn’t call me right away. A few people came through the parking lot portal yesterday afternoon.”

“We always knew this could happen,” Mateo replies. “You had the military set up a special quarantine, right?”

“Yes, they’re contained, but one of you should go. I can’t get away.”

Mateo struggles out of his sheets, and trips out of bed. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Thanks.”

Mateo leaves his room, and is about to knock on Ramses’ door when he remembers that Ramses is dead, or so it seems. Heath needs sleep too, and won’t be much help in this situation. So he just walks downstairs, and heads for the garage. “Why are you awake?” he asks when he sees Tarboda sitting in the kitchen.

“I keep odd hours,” he replies. “Going somewhere?”

“Another mission,” Mateo explains.

“A solo mission?”

Mateo doesn’t know if Tarboda is asking if he would like him to come, or if he’s offering, or if he really wants to be a part of it, or if it’s just a question.

“You look tired,” Tarboda decides, standing up. “I’ll drive. It’s my job.”

“I was a career driver in another life,” Mateo reveals.

“That’s cute.”

The two of them drive to the parking lot. The tent is still there, as is the hamster tunnel to the office building, which has since been completely cleared out, and taken over by the military. The operation is fully staffed. The president himself considers this to be the current greatest threat to the country. They’re not generally too unwelcoming of refugees, but these people were preceded by a mass murderer. They do not deserve the benefit of the doubt. The checkpoint soldiers wave them through the newly erected gate, and direct them toward the transition tent. Here they put on hazmat suits, and equip themselves with deadly weapons. They’re really not taking any chances here. Mateo doesn’t care to carry a gun, but arguing against it could risk his credentials here, and he needs them. He’s the only true team member left.

They leave the small tent, and enter the big one, where they find three people being kept in the subquarantine zone. Mateo doesn’t recognize any of them, but they recognize him immediately, even with the headgear. They almost look relieved to see him. “Mister Matic. Tell them that we are not here to hurt anyone,” the woman requests.

“Where are you from?” Mateo asks. The usual prompt of report is for when two people are either equal, or dominance is unknown. Mateo is assumed to be superior to them until otherwise determined. They’ll answer his questions, in whatever order he asks them, and to his satisfaction. He’ll drive the conversation.

“We’re from the Sixth Key,” she responds.

“Are you infected?”

“We didn’t ask Humbert to do that. We didn’t want him to do that. When we found out that he had snuck through the portal, we were sent to help.”

“A little late,” Mateo says. “Everyone is dead. You didn’t answer the question. Are you infected?”

“No,” she claims. “There is no epidemic, or anything. Humbert infected himself with a bioweapon from a lost lab that should have been destroyed after the first war.”

“It should never have been created in the first place,” Mateo argues.

“I agree,” she says. “You can test our blood,” she insists. “These fine men and women of service took samples already.”

Mateo looks over at the soldiers who all have their weapons trained on the travelers. “The scientists took samples,” one of them confirms. “If the results have since come back, we were not informed.”

“And if the results haven’t come back,” one of the other travelers begins, “were you informed?”

Until now, the soldiers have kept their guns pointed in a more relaxed sense. They weren’t precisely aiming for the subjects, and were not quiet ready to fire. They jerk up now, ready to squeeze in a split second, particularly at this guy.

“Does this feel like the right time for attitude?” Mateo asks the travelers.

The leader gives the young man a look. “Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles reluctantly.

“How many more of you are coming?” Mateo asks.

She nods, knowing that it is in her best interest to be honest. “Millions. Or zero.”

“Please clarify,” Mateo says.

She looks for her words on the walls. “The reason my cousin has attitude is because there were supposed to be six of us. We operate in groups of seven. Humbert was our seventh, so we were sent to correct the situation. The other three didn’t make it here at all. We don’t know if that means the portal shut behind us, or if they were killed in the interversal void, or what.”

“The interversal void?” Mateo questions. “You mean the bulk?”

“Yeah. We don’t call it that, but yeah.”

“Are you trying to tell me that the Sixth Key is in a different universe?”

“You didn’t know that,” she states.

That’s interesting, but this conversation is over. “The portal closed on our end. If the other members of your scouting party were right behind you, my guess is that they’re dead. The rest of your population will have to find refuge elsewhere. This reality is closed, and what was even your plan? According to what we know The Reconvergence happens in a matter of weeks. You’ll just end up right back there.”

“What are you talking about?” the woman questions. “It’s 2099. It won’t happen for three hundred years.”

“You are off your mark,” Mateo informs her. “It’s 2399 already.”

Horror seeps out of the pores of all three of their faces. “He screwed us,” the leader notes, mostly to herself. “We were always gonna lose.”

“Yeah, Humbert screwed a lot of people. I’m sorry for your loss, but if you left your loved ones behind, you’ll never see them again. Even if we don’t stop the Reconvergence, you’ll be kept in a deep dark hole for the rest of your lives.”

“Don’t do this,” the woman begs.

“I don’t have time to deal with this crap. This world has its own problems.”

“Don’t do this!” She repeats it louder and louder as he and Tarboda walk away.