Microstory 2461: 10,000 Emerald Pools

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This, to the best of my knowledge, is based on a song, which in turn, is based on a physical address from a city called Las Vegas, on Earth before the Great Rewilding of the 21st and 22nd centuries. From what I gather, the song is about love, but it’s open to your interpretation. Castlebourne’s interpretation is quite literal. There are actually 10,000 Emerald pools dotting the landscape on the surface under this dome. Though don’t expect to ever see all of them from above, or even a handful of them. That’s not how it works. This is classified as a Leisure Dome, but it’s also sort of Residential, because there’s no time limit. If you wanna stay in your pit for the rest of time, it doesn’t sound like anyone’s ever going to kick you out. This is a very personal experience, which the prospectus doesn’t go into, so there’s a chance that my review will be autorejected for revealing too much information about it, but this is what happened to me, so I feel like I have the right to detail it. When I first went in, they asked me the standard questions about what kind of person I am. How organic am I? Do I have a heart condition? Do I require electrical charge? That sort of stuff. They needed to know if I needed hygiene facilities, or a bed to sleep in. They also asked me some psychological questions, such as how my mood is, how easily it shifts, and how much human contact I feel like I need. It’s a personal journey. When I woke up in my hallway, I had to pass through a plasma barrier tailored specifically to my DNA. I would not have been able to bring anyone with me, nor break into anyone else’s domain. But more on that later. After the questions were done, they processed the data, and assigned a pool to me. They didn’t give me a name or number for it, nor tell me where in the dome I would be going. It could have been clear on the other side, right by the entrance, or somewhere near the center. I just don’t know, because they had me take a sedative before I was allowed to continue. Don’t think you can get around this if you have any cybernetic upgrades, or something. They also have technosedatives. That’s why they needed to know my substrate specifications. Like I said, I woke up in a hallway. On one end was a metal door that said EXIT. A sign underneath informed me that I could leave at any time, but I would never be allowed back into any of the pits. That’s right, it is a one time experience, full stop. I’ll never be able to go back. It’s kind of sad, but beautiful, really. As soon as I walked through the plasma barrier, I was stripped naked. They didn’t tell me that part either. But I was happy, because this was a special gift. I walked through the wooden door, and into my pit. Before me on the ground was exactly what I was promised: an emerald pool of water. Flush with the grass was concrete coping, and the pool itself was lined with smooth concrete. All around me were trees and open spaces, but nothing else. I waded in the water for about two hours before I even thought about exploring. I walked less than 400 meters, up the incline of the pit, before I ran into the ceiling. That’s right, the edge of the ceiling started at the edge of the rim of the pit. To visualize it, imagine a bowl with a clear lid fitted on the top of it. I walked all along the perimeter, sliding my hand along the ceiling above me. There was no escape. The only way out was the exit door on the other end of the original hallway. I went back to my emerald pool, and jumped in. I slept on the bottom of it that night, using my gills to breathe. I won’t tell you what I thought about while I was there, because as I’ve been saying, it was very personal, but I’ll say that it was rewarding. The next day, I reopened the wooden door, walked back down the hallway, though the plasma barrier, and left forever.

Microstory 2388: Vacuus, December 11, 2179

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Dear Condor,

Don’t think I don’t remember what you told me the last time you sent a message to just me. I was going to address it right away, because that’s huge news, but then the Valkyries came, and Velia wanted to send a joint letter, and then you sent a joint letter back, and I’m also trying to keep up with our Winfield Files Book and TV Show Club in case the long-cycle interrupts us for years, and my mind has been so preoccupied with so many other things. Okay. So. Your nurse. Madalena. You hypothesized that she may have been tied to the twin study, but you didn’t seem all that convinced about it. It sounded like you maybe just thought that it was a possibility, which it always was. It’s crazy that you turned out to be right. I’m glad to know a little more, but I’m worried about you. That must have been a hard conversation to have. I watched the recording of the video chat that you sent, and your voice started getting a little trembly when it became apparent to you how involved she was with the whole secret program. Maybe you were just a bit cold, or needed some water, and if you tell me that something like that is the explanation, I’ll believe you. I just want to make sure that you’re okay. I don’t want to put any dark ideas in your head, but I can imagine that it felt like a violation, her taking care of you with ulterior motives. I hope she was telling the truth that she never made you sick, and was genuinely treating you for the regretful condition you were born with. It shows that she wasn’t a total monster. A true scientific observer wouldn’t allow themselves to interfere. To answer your question, Elek Katona is Velia’s father. She and I became friends because he was friends with my mother. He wasn’t even on my list of suspects, not because I didn’t think he would ever be that kind of person, but because he’s not a medical professional of any kind. He’s responsible for breeding and raising the insects that we brought with us as a protein source. I guess that’s just his cover? Sort of weird. I don’t know why an entomologist would be recruited for a human experiment, but maybe he has a secret educational background as well? I’ve not had the courage to confront him about it. I’ve not even told Velia, which I think I should do first. If it ruins my relationship with that family, I don’t want her to be blindsided. But obviously I’m very nervous. I don’t know how it’s gonna go, and he may not be the only one here. I’m already paranoid about who I’ve known all my life who might have been studying me and my behavior. Knowing about one of them has actually made it worse, because that sounds more like a conspiracy. You were able to move away from your nurse and neighbor. Whoever it turned out to be on my end, they were bound to still be here. But I’ll figure it out. I’ll build the willpower to pursue, and maybe get us a few more answers.

Thanks for lookin’ out,

Corinthia

PS: I support you and Velia, and whatever choices you make when it comes to your bond. I won’t stand in your way.

Microstory 2387: Earth, December 5, 2179

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Dear Velia,

I just wanted to touch base with you, and make sure that we really are on the same page. I don’t want to say the wrong thing and scare you off. I can be a little intense and focused sometimes, and it can get me into trouble. It’s not my fault, it’s the kind of life that I had to lead. While we were transporting people to the safe zones, I had to be single-minded, and ignore all distractions. That’s kind of where I feel most comfortable. Now that my job is kind of cushy and breezy, I rarely ever feel that rush of adrenaline anymore. Reading your letters gave me that intensity that I guess I’ve been missing in my life. I hope I’ve not gotten too carried away about it. So, you tell me. Do you think we’re somehow moving too fast? The way I see it, we can’t see each other face to face, so we kind of have to make up for it by being a little over the top. Maybe that’s the wrong way to look at it, though. Perhaps we should just be sending each other letters as friends. When you think about it, that’s about as far as things can go anyway. I suppose we could start being really graphic and suggestive, but would that even work? Argh, I’m in my head. This would go a lot smoother if you could reply to each question or comment as I said them. Dumping them all into one message sounds so strategic and calculating, like I have to get out all my thoughts. Which I pretty much do with the time lag. Some friends at Mauna Kea connected me with their colleagues who were working on faster-than-light communication. Or should I say, that’s what they say they’re doing. They’re pretty convinced that it’s an impossibility. There are no wormholes. There’s no warping space. There’s just the constant speed of the propagation of information, and we, the slaves to its tyranny. Okay, now I’m getting poetic. Just message me back when you can. I meant what I said, that you have the right to look for companionship closer to home. And to be clear, I’m not telling you that because I think you don’t know it yourself. I’m telling you so that you know that I know that.

So into you,

Condor

Extremus: Year 96

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People keep telling Tinaya their secrets, and including her in them. She knows about The Question, and the questionable course corrections. She knows about Thistle’s true nature, and their persistent connection to Verdemus, as well as a satellite Nexus. She’s aware of the war against the Exin Empire, a ton of what the Bridger Section is all about, the fact that her son is a time traveler, and even a few tidbits about what’s to come in the future. Now there’s this whole thing with her husband that she has had to add to the pile. Over the last year, the Chief Medical Officer and the Head Temporal Engineer have been working with him to understand his new powers. He is not, as they suspected, a retroverter, which are those who can de-age others, or themselves. What he does has nothing to do with health and vitality, in fact. He’s an old man, and no matter what he does to his outward appearance, he’s not gonna manage to generate extra years to his lifespan.

He’s a chameleon, which is a term that Dr. Cernak had to come up with himself, because this power is not anywhere in the database. There are some people who have time travel abilities so powerful and precise that they can actually transport individual photons of light from one point in time to another. Or maybe it’s more like they’re copying the photons. Tinaya doesn’t know all that much about it, but these are simply illusions. Behind the holograms, the true person still remains. This is not what Arqut is doing. He is modifying the substructure of his skin and skeletal system in order to make himself look different. He can look like himself at a different age, or someone else, at any age. With enough time and focus, he can modify only his face, or his whole body. This is decidedly not a time power, and the experts are at a complete loss as to where the power might come from.

There’s a lot out there that no one on the ship understands. Not even Omega and Valencia have all the answers. There is something of interest in this matter, however, and it involves a fundamental truth about the universe that the database only touches upon. Despite the fact that everyone here is descended from a population of ancestors who lived in a different universe, they actually don’t know much about how the multiverse works. There are more than two; this much is known, and not because Ansutah makes it impossible for there not to be, but because of vague and unrelated reports that various researchers have collected over the centuries. And there is a theory, based on this limited data, that the physics of these other universes might range from a little bit different to unrecognizably so. They may allow for the existence of a person who can shapeshift into others on a purely organic level, as opposed to a workaround via nanite technology, which the experts were able unequivocally to rule out as an explanation for Arqut.

The reality is that they have exhausted all avenues of information gathering that they have at their disposal. If they want answers, they’re going to have to look for them somewhere else. And Tinaya doesn’t have the ability to do that with him. So now they have to make a choice, and it might lead to a premature end of their lifelong commitment to each other.

It’s the Nexus that can potentially and theoretically transport Arqut to another brane, as it’s called by the researchers. The technology apparently comes from one of these other branes, and while they’ve not been able to figure out how to return to that weird waterworld they were sent to as soon as the Nexa were activated, Valencia believes that she has discovered the term sequence to somewhere else that might be of help. She calls it The Nucleus. If anywhere in this universe has the ability to access the full network, it’s there. But if Arqut does go in search of answers, he’ll have to go alone, or at least Tinaya can’t go with him. She has to stay here to complete her duties as a captain, and later an admiral. More importantly, she has to stay for Silveon. He’s getting bigger, but he still needs a mother, if only for appearances. It would be hard to explain where both of his parents went, and why they left him behind. Even if they could claim that there’s some secret mission off the ship that would benefit the Extremus, why would they send both parents of a young child? No, they either have to separate, and possibly never see each other again, or scrap the whole thing. Arqut is leaning towards the latter.

“Don’t you wanna know?” Tinaya asks.

“Where my new powers come from?” he guesses. “Yeah, but...I don’t want to leave Silveon at all, even though you’ll still be here. I may never come back. I may die out there. It’s not worth the risk. It seemed like a decent idea when Valencia brought it up, but there are too many variables that we can’t account for. Yeah, I can feel myself talking myself out of it in real time. This is a dumb idea. Who cares? Salmon go their entire lives not knowing who’s pulling the strings with their patterns. The idea that I could die under a similar looming mystery isn’t as big of a deal as it sounds. I don’t think I need to know any more than I do now.”

Tinaya was secretly hoping that he would say that, but she can’t let on. “Are you sure? I mean...it has to be from somewhere else. Organic shapeshifting isn’t a thing.”

He shrugs. “What good is it? I’m too old to be a spy, and I don’t know that anyone should have this kind of power anyway. What I should do is die, and have my body cremated, so no one has the chance to reverse engineer it, or something. Going out there, I lose control over my own postmortem directives. You can protect me. You can keep this power out of the wrong hands.”

“That’s a good point,” Tinaya agrees, sincerely and gratefully. She’s about to elaborate on her thoughts, but her watch beeps. “Oh. I have to go meet the new captain. Wanna come?”

“Am I allowed?”

“It’s a partially public affair,” she explains. “We don’t want it to look like we’re making some backroom deal. It’s actually better if you’re there...if you’re up to it.”

“Yeah, sure.”

They walk over to the port side together. Niobe meets up with them in the corridor with little Silveon, who’s not so little anymore. He’s currently eight, going on eighty. He’s loosening up a little bit around others, creating a narrative that he’s so subdued and unexcitable because of his precociousness. He still has to remember to laugh at childish jokes, and not at jokes that should go over the head of someone his age. He’s considering adding a third friend for him and Waldemar, who is now about to turn sixteen. Their age gap is starting to get noticed, so the idea would be to split the difference, and find a twelve-year-old to bridge the gap. Zefbiri is evidently searching for the right candidate, which is a crazy way to make a friend, but this being an important mission to the future, it might be their only reasonable option.

Lataran was right that the new captain would be a boy. Oceanus Jennings is only 28, having graduated from the captain’s track a few years ago at the very top of his class. He’s bright, professional, approachable, and frankly, attractive. Most importantly, he’s young, which the people have been wanting to see in the chair again, even if they aren’t willing to say the quiet part out loud. He is the kind of candidate that should always have been the only ones considered for the job. Again, he’s the appropriate age, and there’s nothing political about the appointment. Well, that’s not true; it always involves at least some politics, but it wasn’t done as some kind of favor, or with a deep agenda in mind. He’s great on paper, and he’s great in person. He became a natural leader of his peers in his youth, and is expected to do quite well next year. He didn’t campaign, or step on people’s heads to advance his career. He simply put in the work, and now he’s receiving his just rewards.

“Captain-in-waiting,” Tinaya says to him, shaking his hand. There’s no official deadline for when a new captain must be appointed—as long as it’s before the previous captain’s promotion—so captain-in-waiting isn’t an official term, but it’s there if anyone needs it.

“Admiral-in-waiting,” Oceanus replies respectfully with a smile as wide as the breadth of the whole ship. That’s not a term at all, since she has a real rank, but it’s fine. “I look forward to your advisement in the coming years.”

“We’ll see how long I last,” she jokes, self-deprecatingly acknowledging her own advanced age.

He holds that professional smile. “I would like to introduce you to my First and Second Lieutenants, Marlowe and Altin Gibson.”

Boys club. Okay. “Brothers?” she guesses.

“That’s right, Captain,” Marlowe confirms, shaking her hand.

“I feel like I’ve heard that name before too; Gibson.”

“Our grandfather, Hardy was an engineer back in the day,” Altin explains. “He was a pretty big deal.”

Tinaya nods as if she recalls who he’s talking about, but that would have been a long time ago. “Yeah, he was great. I’m sure you’ll do well too.” A boys club, and brothers. Well, hopefully it works out. The ship won’t survive another scandal like Tamm. “Oh, there they are,” she says, one arm open to receive her husband as he’s walking up with Silveon. “May I introduce you to Superintendent Arqut Grieves, and our amazing son, Silveon. Say hi, Silveon.”

Silveon has his whole body pressed up against his dad’s hip, like he’s nervous. He’s not saying anything, but staring at the new Captain and his posse. Hopefully, he’s only playing the part, and doesn’t actually have an issue with Oceanus. Tinaya doesn’t know what she could do with a warning about his future.

“He’s just a little shy,” Tinaya lies.

“Aww.” Oceanus bends forward to get closer to Silveon’s eye level. “Wadya think? Are you gonna follow in your mother’s footsteps, and become a captain too one day? “Silveon Grieves, Eighth of Eleven; how does that sound?”

Silveon just looks away, still shyly.

They go through the motions with this meet and greet, then leave as soon as it’s socially appropriate to do so. “What was that?” Tinaya asks once the door to their stateroom is closed. She’s grown accustomed to speaking to her little one as an adult. It no longer feels quite as weird and disturbing. “What does Oceanus end up doing?”

“He’s not the captain where I’m from,” Silveon answers. “I’ve never even heard of the man. That’s kind of what scares me.”

“Is that why you were acting so childish?” Arqut asks him, not at all meaning that as an insult. He literally has to act childish all the time.

“I don’t know how to be around him. I was thrown off since you didn’t tell me who was succeeding you, mom. I’ve been so focused on Waldemar, and now I’m realizing that we truly are in a new timeline, which I can’t predict anymore. That’s all I was thinking about. What if Waldemar just never becomes captain either? I wasn’t trying to stop him, only change him, but who knows what other changes I’ve made without realizing it? Things could end up worse.”

“I believe that Waldemar will still take the seat after Jennings,” Tinaya contends. “You’re not the only one with future knowledge. The Bridger section was quite convinced that there was nothing they could do to stop it. Of course, they never gave me a name, or even a shift, but based on what little you’ve divulged, I’m confident that you and they were talking about the same man.”

“All you can do is stay on mission, son,” Arqut tries to advise.

“That’s not necessarily true,” Silveon argues. “I knew the man who was supposed to serve between mother and Waldemar. I knew how to control his future too. I don’t know Jennings. I don’t trust him; not because I don’t think he deserves it, but genuinely because I don’t know. I hate the uncertainty. No one told me how much I would hate that from being a time traveler.”

“Well, I’ll be an Admiral, at least for a good few years. Lataran is younger than me, so she can keep Jennings in line after that. We’ll make it work. You’re not alone in this. I think you forget that since you weren’t planning on having so much support.”

“That’s true,” Silveon agrees. “And mom?” He steps over, and takes one of her hands in both of his. “You’re gonna last the whole next shift. You’re healthier than you were in the other timeline, and she made it through.”

“Thanks,” she responds. “Probably shouldn’t say any more.” Tinaya takes a breath, and turns away to walk towards the viewscreen, which is faking an image of outer space.

“What are you thinking about?” Arqut asks.

She turns back and smiles at him, and then down at Silvy. “How lucky I am, to be here, with the two of you.” She stares at the screen again, for a pretty long time. “Maybe I shouldn’t tell you this, but I feel like you have a right to know. And even though, Sil, you said I was going to live for another two dozen years, you can’t promise that. So let me give you time to prepare yourselves.” She spins around. “When I die, and they ask me The Question...I’m going to answer no.”

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Microstory 2269: Until Tomorrow

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It’s Kelly, filling in for Nick just for today. He’s fine, but the DPA had to spirit him away. They won’t tell us anything about it for obvious reasons, but they promise that they’ll have him back tonight. Once he returns, he won’t be able to say anything about it—they were clear about that. My guess is that they want him to answer questions in preparation for his meeting with the President next week. We’re worried, but his primary bodyguard went with him. I feel much more comfortable knowing that he’s not alone. Since he doesn’t have a background on this planet, I suppose this is the best way to assess his intentions. Or maybe they do this sort of thing for everyone. I really couldn’t say. Until tomorrow!

Microstory 2268: Change is My Status Quo

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Welp, yesterday, while you thought all I was thinking about was my meeting with the President, I was actually out doing volunteer work. I was once again rolling up my sleeves, and building houses with Homes for Humankind. I didn’t tell anyone that I was going to do that, because I didn’t want there to be yet another media frenzy, and I’m happy to report that it worked. I put in the work with everyone else, and for hours, didn’t have to worry about all these threats to my life. My security team was there, but instead of standing around in suits and sunglasses, they wore regular clothes, and volunteered too. All of the other volunteers knew who I was, and who my friends were, but they didn’t give me any crap about it. They didn’t give me preferential treatment, or ask me a bunch of questions. Everyone has a story, and it was nice to listen to other people’s, instead of thinking about my own. Some of them really understand a desire for anonymity, so no one leaked information. Still. I feel lucky that we never got caught. Wow, saying that, it makes it sound like I was doing something wrong. This is stressing me out, seeing threats at every turn. I don’t know that I’ll be able to pull it off again. Is that part of my life just over? Will I never be able to just go out and contribute to my community without it ending up on the news, or having to avoid that by going in disguise? Kelly says that I should accept that my life is different than it used to be, and pointed out that change is my status quo. She’s probably right. I’ve complained about rich people only helping others by donating money, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe that’s all I really can do without simultaneously shifting focus to me instead of the cause.

Microstory 2262: Rather Be Blissfully Ignorant

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All of you apparently expected to hear me give you an answer for whether I was going to do an interview for one of my local news television programs. In short, yes. In a tiny bit longer, it’s complicated. I will be doing something in some way at some point, but the network is making certain accommodations for it that I’m not privy to. I’ll give you all more information, not when I know it, but when I’m allowed to tell you. Don’t stress out about it, though, because it may be a long time before the gears start turning. In the meantime, my publicist is setting me up with one of the firm’s interview specialists to help me learn how to speak in public. I’ve done it before—in various ways, and to varying degrees of success—but I’ve never actually been interviewed, per se. I think we’ll be practicing a lot, which I’m sure I’ll have a lot of fun with...he said sarcastically. I don’t really care to talk about myself in person, and I don’t like trying to figure out how to censor my responses. The only thing worse than getting a question that I wasn’t ready for would be being prepared for all questions, and feeling anxious for them the whole time until it’s finally over. You would think that the worry that comes from not knowing what’s going to happen is what kills me, and that’s true in most situations, but when it comes to interacting with other people, I think I would rather be blissfully ignorant so I don’t spend too much time thinking about it. I’m just weird like that I guess. So to protect myself, that’s all I’ll say for now.

Microstory 2186: Don’t Listen to Me

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Don’t listen to me, I went in to work. Yes, I was having some trouble, and yes, I had to call my therapist, and yes, it woke her up, but she’s okay, and so am I. Together, we decided that it wasn’t prudent for me to keep cancelling my appointments. I’ve not been telling you about that, but it’s strictly been for logistical reasons, because I’ve been so busy with my new job. That’s not all we had to discuss. I tried to recount the nightmare I had that woke me up, but I couldn’t remember very much of it. I just know that it freaked me out, and I was having some kind of panic attack. I had to postpone an interview that we had set up, but the candidate was cool with it. He even said that this would free him up to do something too. That could have been a lie to relieve me of guilt, but it’s a much appreciated one. I was able to make the rest of the scheduled interviews just fine. There weren’t very many, because I also had to go to a meeting with the city council. They’re all lovely people, but my God, was it boring. I didn’t think it would be a nonstop action-packed thriller, but I was fall. Ing. A. Sleep. It was no one’s fault. It was a mere formality when something this big changes about how the local government operates. They had a few questions for me, but they were mostly just working through a list of things that we were legally required to hear. It was like if someone forced you to read the terms and conditions of a purchase. Thank the heavens, it’s over.

Microstory 2164: Whiny Babies

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A while back, a company reached out to me for a business opportunity. They wanted me to promote their products in my videos, which I do not make, but we still thought there was something there, so we kept talking. An agreement was made, and a deal was quite nearly finalized with a steak dinner. I’m a vegetarian, so I lamented how that affected my mental health. The company didn’t like that, so they pulled out of the deal, and I thought that was the end of it. It’s come back to haunt me today. Now they’ve taken it a step further, and sent me a cease and desist letter. They’re threatening to take legal action unless I remove the posts that mention the issue, and release a public apology. Honestly—and I recognize that saying this might only make things worse—but they’re total morons. I have yet to tell you which company this is, and I will continue to keep that a secret unless they leave me no choice. If I apologize publicly, you will necessarily find out who they are. Now, you might end up on their side because of that, but something tells me that you’re going to continue to side with the lone blogger who was only exercising his freedom of speech over a corporation with an amount of money that I can’t even ballpark, because it would narrow down your list of suspects, which I don’t want you to be able to do. But obviously we’re not talking about some local family run shop with only one location. People tend to not like corporate executives for being the biggest whiny babies in a world that gives them everything they need and want. I don’t think that this will end well for them, which is why I’m doing everything I can to help them move past it. I’m trying to keep things civil, private and confidential, and productive, but I think they’ve just seen how popular I’ve grown to be, and they want in on that action. I guess they think that I’m a millionaire by now, or something. I assure you, I’m not there yet. I may never be, as I’m a blogger, not a movie star. I’m not too worried about where this little legal issue is going to go. They’ll back down when they realize that even if they win, they lose. Their reputation is so much more important than mine is. I can fall into obscurity if I have to. I could live naked in the middle of the woods with nothing, and still survive. A company can’t do that. So come at me, bro.

Microstory 2163: Your Greatest Weakness Is

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Leonard and I had another meeting with the jail warden. He’s not mad, but I think I needed some time to collect my thoughts about what he proposed in the first place. That’s why I’m a writer, and not an improv comedian. We discussed options further, and there’s actually a chance that I could stop having to go to jail altogether. There is precedent for this sort of thing. A few cops who were convicted of various crimes throughout history have gone back into the field during emergencies, and earned their freedom by proving themselves redeemed. In one case, a really dangerous convict broke out of prison, forcing his not-so-bad cellmate to tag along. The latter ended up not only bringing his cellmate down, but also stopped his associates from committing a horrendous crime while he was still on the other side of the walls. So he was set free too. If I went the same route, it would be nothing as glamorous or intense as that. I would just start working for the jail, trying to help them better sort and schedule the guests. I would love the chance to have my sentence commuted, but I’m still not confident that I’m up for the job. I suppose I always thought of myself as someone who wasn’t necessarily talented at anything, but maybe good at finding talented people elsewhere? I could probably come up with a list of desirable positions, and then figure out how to seek out professionals who sufficiently fit the criteria. My dad was in human resources, so while he didn’t exactly ever sit me down, and teach me the ropes, I did pick up a few skills from him. I’ve also had tons of my own job interviews, so I know which questions are too dumb to be asked, like what kind of animal you would be, or what your greatest weakness is. Ugh, that’s such a terrible one. Nobody has a good answer to that, and even if they do, what qualifies you to analyze it to determine some sort of insight into that person’s fitness for the job? I’m getting off track, but none of this is probably going to happen anyway. Remember that business partnership I was working on that went up in spectacular flames? I don’t see things going that sour for this situation, but I doubt the jail that keeps me locked up every weekend is going to turn around and hire me before I’ve completed my sentence. I can’t imagine they would do it even if I had served my time in its entirety. I will admit, though, it’s kind of nice that they’re even entertaining the possibility. I had never, ever, ever been recruited before until I came to this planet, and now it might happen twice? That’s insane. A con can dream, can’t he?

Microstory 2151: But Not Covertly

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Nothing has officially changed since we last spoke. I spoke with my boss, and my boss’ boss, and my boss’ boss’s boss. I may be limiting my hours in the future, but only if I end up doing other things with my website. If I don’t, then there would be little reason to leave. I’m not struggling to keep up with my site schedule right now. I’m kind of embarrassed, but as we talked it out, we realized that the only reason my blog has been at all successful is because I do other things with my life besides writing the blog. If that’s all I do, then I’ll have nothing to write about. Sure, I’m still intermittently going to jail, but that will end eventually, and I already have to be careful with my details. Speaking of which, that business opportunity I’ve been teasing is moving forward. We have a meeting later this week. Normally, a new partner would come to them, but I can’t leave the area, so they’re flying in to my location. I told you about those offices in this apartment complex, so I think I’ll be able to actually make use of that amenity. It won’t be until Thursday, though, so everything else is going to be about normal until then. Jail was normal too. People are getting used to me, so I’m no longer the center of attention, which is nice. I was worried that that would never happen. People are still asking questions, and sometimes making snide remarks—often literally behind my back, but not covertly—but everyone experiences some of that. It’s hard to lay low in a place like that, because it’s ironically easy to notice anyone trying. Boy, this installment wasn’t very interesting, was it? I sure hope I don’t lose readers for this. I’m sure I will. That’s okay, I’m not one of those content creators who is going to beg you to “like and subscribe”. Do what you want, I’ll just be here.

Microstory 2072: Turtles

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Yesterday was a long one, wasn’t it? I usually find it harder to talk about myself than to write about fictional characters. I can always keep making things up about them, but it’s not so simple with my real life. But Nick, you claim that your stories are real, and you’re just relating them on your website. Yes, I did say that, didn’t I? It’s sort of a chicken or the egg situation. Except that there’s an obvious answer for that conundrum. A chicken can’t exist unless it was born from an egg, and an egg can’t exist unless it was laid by a chicken, right? That’s the whole thing, which of course ignores how evolution works. So all things being equal, the answer is that the chicken came first since a chicken can survive on its own, but an egg needs to be protected. That’s its advantage for the best answer. I came up with this when I was a little kid, and I’ve yet to hear anyone else make the same argument. Now, you may be wondering why the title of this post is Turtles when it appears to be more about chickens and eggs. That’s because I didn’t want to come up with a title for it, and I always use Turtle as a placeholder until I think of something else. You see, I write these in a word processor, so I can organize them how I like, and then copy each one over to my blog when it’s ready. I have to do a lot of formatting to make it look right, which takes nearly as much time as the writing itself. I tell you, it’s exhausting. Oh, why, do you ask, is Turtle the placeholder? It kind of sounds like the word title. Don’t overthink it. I’m not that complex. For the body of the story, until I’m ready to write it, I use Something.

Microstory 2070: Godlings All The Way Down

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I’m sorry about bummin’ you all out yesterday. I’ve just been thinking a lot about my past, and my life. Why don’t I tell you a little bit about it? ‘Kay? You can read it or not. Like Superman, I grew up in Kansas. And like Superman, I had superpowers. But unlike Superman, these powers weren’t useful for flying around, rescuing people. They gave me glimpses into other worlds, which allowed me to write their stories down, and pass them off as fiction. I eventually realized that some of these stories were taking place in a universe that was located inside of my very soul. You see, that’s what all inhabited universes are; the complex development of a person’s soul, who you might call a god. We are all gods with godlings, and all godlings are gods. It’s godlings all the way down. No one knows where it ends, and no one knows where it begins. Some may want to answer such profound philosophical questions, but I am not one of them, because it would not change the way I live my life, which has always been a little less than the best I can. I’m not what you would call responsible or productive. I’ve not written any stories for a long time, because that’s not me anymore. I no longer have access to those worlds. If I did, I would be able to find Cricket and Claire. My alternate self could. He probably knows exactly where they are, and I bet he’s telling their continued story without me. He used to be able to send me messages, which we called updates, but your boring planet locks all those out. My own story is still getting out to him, but I’m lost. Alone. With all of you.

Microstory 1985: New Direction

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Henley: O.

Ophelia: Yeah, is everything okay?

Henley: No, the others are getting antsy.

Ophelia: All we can do is wait. No one knows we’re here. I mean, of course the others do, but no one we need to be worried about.

Henley: They’re not worried about being discovered. But we all know that we can’t stay here forever. You have a family to get back to, don’t you?

Ophelia: Yes. And the only way I can keep them safe right now is to stay away from them. I hope you’re not thinking of contacting your family.

Henley: Of course not, but what’s going to happen afterwards? Parsons and the others are trying to fix this, but what if it can’t be fixed?

Ophelia: I don’t know. No one knows. That’s how life works.

Henley: Can you talk to them?

Ophelia: Are they all in that big room we’ve been eating out of?

Henley: Yeah, I think they’re expecting you.

Ophelia: Very well. *walks down to the room* Hello, everyone.

*they start to inundate her with questions and complaints*

Henley: All right, settle down. You can’t talk all at once.

Ophelia: Thank you. I have something to say. I know that we’re all sort of freaking out right now, but that’s not going to help. We have each been through worse. That’s how we ended up here. We’re doing something that has never been done before. We’re preparing for an alien invasion, and no matter what happens after the dust settles, that will always be true. When these damn locusts show up en masse, the world will see what we’ve seen, and they will know that you saw them first. They will learn how you fought against them, despite having no legal or moral obligation to. You could have gone home, and hidden in your bathtubs. You could have just completely ignored the risk. But you stood at the frontlines, and I commend you for that. One day, the history books will too. Now, by raising your hands, does anyone have any specific questions about what we should do, or what we can do about our situation? Yes, Yanna.

Yanna: When will we receive any news? Have you planned a call with Agent Parsons, or something? I think what’s causing the anxiety is not having any sort of timetable.

Ophelia: We have each other’s burner phone numbers. He’ll contact us when there’s an update worthy of our attention. It will come soon. We came up with a few code words in case he finds himself in mixed company. It’s best if you don’t know any more than that.

Reese: *steps in from the hallway* None of that will be necessary anyway.

Henley: Agent Parsons. Or should I call you Subdirector Parsons?

Reese: Neither. *pauses for dramatic effect* I’ve just been in meeting after meeting after meeting. It was all very boring, but your jobs are waiting for you when you’re ready to come back. I’m not the subdirector, but a full director. The Department of Exogenic Affairs is being spun out into its own full department. We’re no longer working under Special Investigations, but the executive branch of government. I answer directly to the National Commander. You can all relax. Everything’s gonna be okay.

Microstory 1984: Pancakes Come First

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Myka: Are we sure about this?

Reese: No, but everyone else is safe at the third location, and this is the best chance we have to getting our jobs back. I want to work with Director Washington, but we have to make sure that we can trust her.

Myka: Anaïs doesn’t think she’s a mole.

Reese: Even if she isn’t, she may lock us all up just because we ran. This is the best test I can come up with. Well...Anaïs came up with it, but I approved it, so the responsibility falls upon my shoulders. Of course, she could pass with flying colors, and then screw us over later, so maybe none of this matters.

Leonard: Today cannot be understood before tomorrow becomes yesterday.

Myka: Did you come up with that?

Leonard: It’s from a poet from my world.

Myka: *sighing after a pause* Why didn’t we give the Director the third location, and keep everyone safe here. Isn’t Micro upset about this place possibly being burned.

Micro: *walking up* This is a great lair. She’ll believe it’s where we’ve been hiding, because we have. I don’t mind it being burned. I have more copies of this in other universes. Don’t you worry your pretty little self about me.

Reese: You don’t have to be here, though. You can hide with the others.

Micro: Like she’d believe you could do any of this without me. *starts to step away*

Reese: Hey, wait. How are your sensors? Are you detecting any strike team?

Micro: A-okay, boss. We’re clear. Balls to the wall. Once more, unto the breach. That’s poetry from my world. [...] She’s here, doe.

*after a few moments, the door opens, and Director Washington comes in alone*

Reese: *clearing his throat* Madam Director, you found it.

Director Washington: It wasn’t that hard. I didn’t start out in an office, you know.

Reese: Of course, sir. Thank you for coming. Juice? Tea? Pastries?

Washington: Is this Sunday brunch, or did you wanna discuss business?

Reese: I want us to come back together.

Washington: That’s what I want too, Subdirector Parsons. You’re the ones who left. *looking around* Where is everyone else anyway?

Reese: Valentine Duval is working security. Everyone else is presently...out.

Washington: *thinking about it* This was a test. You only gave me your location to see what I would do with this information? You thought I might attack?

Micro: *coming back into the main area* Yeah, you came alone. What’s with that? Don’t you have your own bodyguards?

Washington: Like I was just saying, I was not always an administrator. I can look after myself. Now. Subdirector Parsons—

Reese: Am I still a subdirector? Am I anything to the government but a fugitive?

Washington: Yes, Subdirector Parsons. I know that we are in the midst of corruption issues, and I know that you are not one of these corrupted people. I would be glad to discuss reintegration, but first...you must tell me where the others are.

Micro: No, first...pancakes.

Microstory 1983: The Choice of Risk

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Reese: How are things going at headquarters?

Anaïs: They’re fine.

Reese: Do you need us to pull you out? Just say the word. Don’t feel obligated.

Anaïs: I’m not just being a big brave girl, Agent. I really am fine. I still feel safe there.

Reese: Okay. So what’s the update?

Anaïs: Washington is finished with her interrogations. She spoke with everyone, and determined that there aren’t any other moles in the department.

Reese: Well...who interrogated Director Washington?

Anaïs: I know that that’s what we’ve been worried about, but I think she cleared her own name in the process. She could have found a mole, and thrown them under the bus, which would have thrown suspicion off of herself. It wouldn’t even have to be real.

Reese: So the fact that she isn’t outwardly doing anything to try to cover her tracks is telling you that she doesn’t have any tracks to cover? I’m sorry, that’s a weak argument. She may just feel comfortable enough in her position.

Anaïs: True, but I’m not the only one working on the problem, am I? Tell me, what has Micro uncovered during her external investigation.

Reese: *nods* Washington does seem clean. We’ve found no indication that she’s making more money than she earns at the office. She’s not making any unusual phone calls. Evidently she visited the original training facility, and picked Sergeant Sachs out after watching him spar, and reading his file. They didn’t know each other before.

Anaïs: Parsons, we don’t have much reason not to trust her. I think she was duped just as much as we were. She really wants to figure this out, and she’s working really hard to do that. I really think she’s all right. She did have a sour word to say about any of you.

Reese: Are you saying that we should try to come back in?

Anaïs: *stepping away to pace a little* It may not be yet time for that, but I do have another test we could try.

Reese: What would that be?

Anaïs: *spins back around* You’re not going to like it.

Reese: Is it dangerous?

Anaïs: No, I wouldn’t say that. In fact, you might be okay with it. If it goes poorly, at least we’ll know that I’m wrong, and she’s a traitor, but if it goes well...

Reese: Yeah...?

Anaïs: If it goes well, Washington might be the one who ends up not too happy.

Reese: All right. Spit it out.

Anaïs: I can go back to her, say that I’ve been looking for you—

Reese: No, that is dangerous.

Anaïs: I’m not even done explaining it.

Reese: It doesn’t matter. If you trust her, then either you and I should stop talking, and you’ll go back there fulltime, or we’ll pull you out and protect you, but you’re not going to put yourself at such risk. The nail that sticks out gets hammered down.

Anaïs: And that would be my choice. It’s a good plan, and I’m at less risk than you think. Why don’t you just wait until you hear the rest of it, okay?

Microstory 1982: Accusations

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Flynn: The Director has pulled up. What do you think she wants to talk to us about?

Celandine: She’s looking for the mole. She’ll be interrogating us for information.

Anaïs: Unless she’s a mole too, in which case the whole thing will be a charade. She may even be intending to frame one of us for it, so she stays in the shadows.

Flynn: You don’t really think she’s a traitor, do you?

Anaïs: Sachs is, and she chose him to join our tack team.

Celandine: That’s proof of nothing. Careful where you throw your accusations.

Anaïs: Why, because they’ll come flying back at me?

Celandine: Maybe.

Flynn: Easy, ladies. We’re all on the same side. Now, I don’t know if the Director is dirty, just like I don’t know if I can trust all these new agents around us. I felt so much more comfortable around the freepersons than I ever thought I would. But the one thing I do know is that I’ve been working with you two for months, and you’re definitely clean. Can we all at least just agree on that, and stick together?

Anaïs: I can.

Celandine: I can too. You’re right, Flynn. *sighs* She’s here. Get ready.

Director Washington: *walking up* Agent Robles, please gather the troops. I would like to address the group as a whole. I do not like repeating myself.

Celandine: Apologies, sir, I’m not in charge here.

*Washington looks over at Investigator Blass*

Blass: It’s true, sir. Herzog made a declaration after the others...after the exodus.

Washington: Investigator Blass, always with the politically safe verbiage. Very well. Go find him, and relay the order. In the meantime, Agent Robles, do you have tea?

*later, in the bullpen, with everyone in the department*

Washington: Last week, we unmasked a traitor in our ranks. Sergeant Sachs was a dedicated soldier, a patriot, and a good man. How he lost his way is something that I have assigned a team to figure out. This small group behind me is here to do the same with the rest of you. I’m going to be honest with you, we don’t know if he was working alone. He could have been a lone zealot, or there are others in your ranks. Or there are others, but they’ve been assigned to other departments. We truly do not know. If you are a mole, this may make you feel safe, comfortable. But I assure you that I will use every tool in my box to root out the cancer in the government, be it one of you, or even the National Commander himself. The aliens are here, and the last thing we need is to be fighting amongst ourselves when they make their next moves. We have to be ready, and this department was originally formed to do that. I’m saddened that it has disintegrated so epically quickly. In the next coming days, you will be questioned. Your backgrounds will be rechecked, and rechecked, and then re-rechecked. Your associates will be investigated, and your history will be traced. In the meantime, you will continue your training here, under the leadership of Agent Robles here. Who is Agent Herzog?

Herzog: Right here, sir. I took the initiative when the defectors...defected.

Washington: I heard. You’re fired, and you’ll be the first in the hot seat. No one does anything without my orders. Does everyone else at least understand that?

Microstory 1980: Cover

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Reese: How are we lookin’?

Micro: Fully secure...virtually. I can’t attest to the physical component. So if they find us, it won’t be because someone traces my signals. We’re ghosts. I’ll get the ceramics.

Reese: *phone rings* So if I answer this call, I’ll be fine?

Micro: Without a doubt.

Reese: *answers the phone* Go for Parsons.

SI Eliot: *through the phone* Agent Parsons, where are you?

Reese: I’m afraid I can’t tell you that, sir.

*SI Eliot will continue to communicate via phone call for this conversation*

SI Eliot: Don’t make me laugh, calling me sir while you’re actively betraying the government. Come back in, and I’ll protect you.

Reese: That’s not going to happen. We can’t trust anyone.

SI Eliot: How do you know that you can trust each other?

Reese: I trust the freemen and women. I trust Leonard. I don’t trust anyone with current, or former, ties to the government. You’ll notice that Agents Altimari, Robles, and Flynn are not with us. They could be plants too, as could Dreyer.

SI Eliot: Washington agreed to conscript the freepersons for their low probability of being corrupt. And Robles, Flynn, and Altimari are my people. I trust them implicitly.

Reese: But we can’t trust you either, or Director Washington. She’s the one who assigned Sachs to us. It was always suspicious, and now we know why. We asked him about his loyalties. He said two things. First, he admitted to attempting to kill Vogel to protect his own identity, and second, he claimed to be a continuing patriot. That usually means he still answers to someone in the government. Until that person is found, along with all of their cohorts, we have no choice but to operate independently.

SI Eliot: It’s not me, and it’s not Washington.

Reese: Sure.

SI Eliot: Reese, if you do this, I can’t help you. You and your team will be considered enemies of the state. They’ll be branded as traitors, and hunted down with the full force of the law. Your old partner will probably ask to arrest you himself.

Reese: They’re not traitors, and neither am I. Think through this logically. The country is in trouble. Trust is in short supply, which leads to mistakes and general inefficacy.

Micro: *saluting* General Inefficacy.

Reese: *holding the mouthpiece* Shh. *to SI Eliot* More aliens are coming. I can feel it. The best thing we can do to stop them is to compartmentalize our forces. We need to learn to attack from all angles, because I can guarantee you that that’s what the Ochivari are gonna do. They’ve been found in Kansas and Wyoming. How long before it’s Indonesia? How long before Russia? What if they’re already working with the Chinese?

SI Eliot: What are you going to do for money?

Reese: *looks at Micro* We have that covered.

SI Eliot: *sighs* I’ve been asked to rein you in nonviolently. I can’t stop them from sending in the troops. How could you possibly hope to defend yourselves?

Reese: *looks at Anaïs* We have that covered too. Goodbye, Hisham. *hangs up*

Microstory 1979: From the Shadows

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Leonard: No, she’s still not here. Ophelia? Ophelia? Can you hear me?

Micro: *walking up from the shadows* I’m blocking all signals.

Leonard: Report.

Micro: *smiling* Report. You’re learning, young padawan. First off, are you okay? You, Ophelia, and the prisoner? How did you get back here?

Leonard: We used one of Anaïs’ contacts to get across the borders, and then a bus.

Micro: *nodding* I’m glad you’re okay. I wanted to help, but we couldn’t tip Sachs off. Not that it mattered. Parsons escalated things at the safehouse, and we were forced to reveal the truth in front of Sasho. We still don’t know if we can trust him. That’s why I asked you to come here. This was our only way to keep Vogel safe and alive until we can figure out how many moles there are left in the government. He is alive, isn’t he?

Leonard: He’s fine. He’s in a safehouse that I set up for myself while I was free, but before DExA began. *looking around* I assume this is yours?

Micro: All I could do was hope that your parolee told you where the Salmon Civic Center would be if we were in Salmonverse.

Leonard: We had lunch in this area once in my home universe. He pointed it out. Seemed innocuous and meaningless at the time.

Micro: I’m glad that he did.

Leonard: I’m taking Vogel to Parsons. Enough of this cloak and dagger crap. We are not equipped to hold onto the suspect on our own, and every day we spend in the cold gets us closer to being burned.

Reese: I’m pleased to hear you say that. *walks up from the shadows*

Leonard: This was all just a test?

Micro: Have you heard of Lima Syndrome where you’re from?

Leonard: No.

Reese: We don’t have it either. Apparently it’s when you start to sympathize with someone you have in captivity. I had to be sure you weren’t compromised. Or Ophelia.

Leonard: Oh, the Grapley Effect. Yeah, we have that.

Reese: *hands Leonard a folder* This is what we have on Sachs. I had a friend from my military days look into it independently to verify it. He’s been playing us the whole time.

Leonard: I assume he took a shot at Vogel to shut him up?

Micro: That’s our assumption as well. We need to find out what—and who—he knows.

Leonard: *looking over the documents* This begs the question...

Reese: Director Washington? She’s the one who assigned Sachs to our department. Yeah, I’m worried about her loyalties too. That’s not our job, though. The Internal Compliance Commission will investigate on their own.

Leonard: In the meantime, what happens to us?

Reese: We’ve been shut down. But there’s hope for us yet.

Leonard: In what way?

Myka: *coming out of the shadows with a bunch of others* We’re working out of here now. Congratulations, Miazga, you’ve just joined a rogue operation.

Leonard: Not my first.