Microstory 2481: Treasure Hunting Dome

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This is like a cross between a race and a treasure hunt, but multiplied by a thousand. Obviously, if there was only one hunt going on at once, it would immediately become impossible to complete, like a million or more players trying to golf on one course. The surface under this dome has plenty of room, so they take it up. Of course, there are different levels of difficulty, and different lengths. You can choose a hunt that only typically takes a couple of hours, or one that can last for days, or even weeks. Like a real treasure hunt—or one you might find in media—you solve clues, or solve puzzles to get more clues to solve. Like a challenge competition, some of the clues can be earned through otherwise unrelated tasks. You might have to complete a Rubik’s Cube in order to unlock a secret hidden inside, or you might have to figure out how to milk a genetically engineered cow that’s as big as a house before an android will hand you your clue. One of them necessarily leads to the reward, while the other is arbitrary, and could theoretically be anything. This isn’t a criticism, just a clarification that there’s a healthy mix of tasks to complete, and while some of them might seem silly, or make you feel embarrassed, they’re all meant to be fun. It gets even more complex, because you’re sometimes working alone, and sometimes with a team, and sometimes against others, and you don’t always get to choose your team. If multiple people arrive at the same challenge or puzzle, you may be required to work with them, or compete against them. It really just depends. And those other people may be on the same treasure hunt with you, or on an entirely different one, which just so happens to intersect at this same point. You can also select a hunt that involves being on a team already, and even that sometimes goes up in the air, because they may make you compete with each other for individual rewards. They always tell you what you’re meant to do, though, so don’t worry about getting overwhelmed by the rules. They obviously won’t tell you how to complete a given challenge, but they’ll make sure you understand it well enough to at least make an attempt. As I said, there are all sorts of different ways of going about this, and you have the power to choose your own destiny. I’ve run four hunts at this point, and I can recommend all four, but I can’t recommend any hunt that I’ve never been on. No one can. I doubt there’s even time for any given person to try every single variation, because I think they’re intending to retire some to make space for brand new ones. It changes all the time, just like life itself. One final note. There are some out there who believe that there is some sort of overarching plot here, and a secret hunt which will lead to genuine, valuable riches. I don’t know anything about that, but my advice would be to stick with what you’ve been given. You can’t get into this dome without choosing a particular hunt, and they’re gonna keep you on task. Even though you’re expected to figure things out on your own, it’s not a free-for-all, so don’t even try.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 25, 2507

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On the way to Atlantis, Mateo pulled up its prospectus, and took a look at what was in store for them. It was located at the bottom of the Aquilonian Deep ocean, so visitors would be fully immersed in the environment, just like they would be if they were in the Atlantis from the book series. The characters lived in a grand city, hidden from the eyes of the normal people on Earth at the time, who wouldn’t understand. Unlike most domes on Castlebourne—or whatever alternate copy of it this place was—Atlantis wasn’t under a geodesic dome. The prospectus called it a monolithic dome; just a transparent shell with no lattice structure. It was non-holographic too, to better simulate what it was like for the Atlantians from the story, which protected their city through telekinesis, rather than physical infrastructure. It’s also much wider than it is tall. Other domes are hemispheres, but the Atlantic ocean only goes a few kilometers down, so Atlantis is shaped more like a cap, like the Aquilonian Deep itself.

Something weird happened when the train stopped at the Atlantis station. The pod started to creak and shake a little. The doors wouldn’t open, and the virtual windows weren’t operating, so they couldn’t see what was happening outside. They received their answer soon enough, though. As Leona and Ramses were once more trying to fix the issue, water began to leak  through the cracks. They became a house divided. Most of them had pressed themselves back against the wall with the controls. Mateo and Octavia happened to be on the other end, and did the same over there.

“I thought that Atlantis was literally under water, but not actually in it,” Marie began, loud enough for all to hear. “I thought the inside of the dome was fully dry and livable.”

“Without maintenance, it must have buckled under the pressure at some point,” Leona figured. “This isn’t the real Castlebourne.”

“The domes are made of diamond!” Angela argued.

“Partially,” Leona corrected.

“How do we get out of here?” Romana asked. “Can you guys teleport?”

Olimpia shook her head. “I’ve been trying. It’s still suppressed.”

“Why would he send us here,” Ramses questioned, “knowing we’re gonna die?”

“Wait. This is part of the experience, isn’t it?” Mateo put forth. “I never read the books, but I think Atlantis does—”

He was unable to finish the sentence before all hell broke loose. The vactrain could hold back the deluge no more. Water came rushing in. They were fully submerged in seconds. For most of them, this wasn’t that big of a deal. Their nanites tightened themselves around their bodies, and sealed up. They could have survived without air for a period of time, and even the force of being violently tossed around the pod, but the suit was an important extra precaution. Unfortunately, not all of them had one of these. Octavia was totally unprotected and in grave danger. Mateo was already holding onto her, making sure she didn’t hit her now. He was now hoping to somehow breathe into her mouth, but his helmet was in the way. He tried to open it up temporarily, but the nanites did not recede. They had a job to do, and it would seem that they were not programmed with the knowledge of Mateo’s advanced substrate. He didn’t need the suit. Octavia did, and if he didn’t do something immediately, she was gonna die.

Mateo closed his eyes to concentrate, realizing that giving her a few rescue breaths wasn’t gonna do much good anyway, as they were likely still trapped under a fully submerged dome. These nanites. They were stored inside his body, and right on the surface when engaged as a vacuum suit, but this was not a requirement. They could be reconfigured to fit loosely around him like regular clothes. He actually wasn’t even wearing regular clothes. They were all nanites the whole time, clinging to each other in the form of a shirt and pants until the suit was needed. If they could hang loosely from him, then they should be able to adhere to something else...someone else. Despite their protests, he commanded them to let go, and swarm Octavia instead. Finally they did as they were told, releasing their grip on his skin, and swimming over to envelope Octavia instead. He maintained his mental control over them, so they would maintain their cohesion. Then he took Octavia’s hand, and began to swim away.

Now that the pod was fully filled with water, it was no longer so turbulent. He was able to see his friends, who were starting to exit through the giant hole in the doors that the pressure had made. Leona was swimming over to beckon the two of them forth. The entire station was also submerged, so there appeared to be no respite. Ramses seemed to be less concerned about it. He led them along the outside of the vacuum tube, to a maintenance hatch. Once he managed to open it, the water flooded into that compartment as well. They had to wait until it too was filled before swimming in. After they were all in, Ramses shut the hatch behind them. Then he worked the controls to open a much bigger hatch. The water flooded there too, but as the space was now twice as big as before, it was no longer completely engulfed. There was a pocket of air for them to breathe in without their helmets. More importantly, they could finally talk about what just happened.

“What just happened?” Olimpia asked.

“We survived,” Ramses answered. “Again.”

“Did you know I could do this?” Mateo asked, jerking his head towards Octavia. She was still in his suit, because she had no mental control over the nanites. And for some reason, neither did he.

Ramses waded through the water towards them. “I didn’t. Good thinking. Can you release her?”

“They’re being difficult,” Mateo replied. “It was hard enough getting them to switch over to her. Now they don’t want to come back.”

Leona waded over too. “It was probably your adrenaline, which allowed you to exercise more control over the nanites than they were programmed to be subjected to. They only exist in three states: dormant, emerging, and stabilized. They’re stable around her now, and aren’t listening to you, because...” She contemplated the issue. “You’re too far away.” She shrugged. “Give her a hug.”

Mateo hugged Octavia, placing himself closer to his nanites, and commanded them to recede into his implants and go dormant, which they did. So he was still naked, but he didn’t want to command them to do anything else. He was afraid of another glitch.

“I’ll tweak the programming, and maybe boost the signal,” Ramses decided. “Might be nice if we can do what Mateo did, but on purpose, and with less resistance.”

“I did it on purpose.”

“I meant, premeditatively.”

“Where are we?” Romana asked, looking away as if examining their surroundings, but she was really just uncomfortable with seeing her father like this.

“Service tube,” Ramses answered, wading back in her direction. “They put pods in here to repair and replace parts.”

“How do we get out?” Angela pressed.

Ramses kept going towards a computer terminal, which was thankfully, waterproof. He started looking through the data. “I may need time to come up with a solution.” He shook his head. “Seven people, six suits, and flooding appears to be quite comprehensive. We need a clear path out of this dome, and into the next one. We can’t just walk though, or even try to swim to the top.”

“Octavia’s gonna be stuck here alone, in the water, for an entire year,” Marie pointed out. “No food, no freshwater. No escape.”

They all looked sadly at Octavia.

She took a breath. “What else is new?”

While Ramses was trying to come up with an escape plan, Leona was at another terminal, trying to figure out how to drain the water out of here, so at least Octavia would have a dry place to stand. The Waltons, meanwhile, were working on extracting a dayfruit smoothie module and a water recycling module out of their respective pocket dimensions. Octavia needed these things more than they. The ladies solved their three problems in enough time for the jump to the future. The tube wasn’t designed to be drained of this much water, but it did have a drain, which could take care of it over time. Octavia would be alone, and in this terrible place, wet for a few days, but at least she would have food and water.

“I’ll stay with her,” Romana declared.

“What?” Mateo asked her. He was fully clothed now.

“It’s something I can do, and I should, Romana reasoned. “She shouldn’t be alone. She’s been so alone.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Octavia assured her. “It’ll be boring.”

“Actually,” Ramses said. “The terminal has some entertainment stored on it. I don’t know why, as they don’t really use human workers for this, but it’s there. Should last you. Lots of ancient reality TV, though.”

“Have you not found somewhere better where they can go instead?” Leona asked him.

“Afraid not,” Ramses responded. “Atlantis is totally flooded. Every nook, every cranny. The vactube was the only dry space, but it only stayed that way, because there wasn’t any activity. We altered the pressure differential by coming here.”

“It’s okay,” Romana decided. “We’ll make this work.” She smiled at Octavia. “Together.”

Their watches beeped.

“Last time to back out,” Mateo said.

“Not gonna happen.” Romana hugged her father. “I’ll see you in a year. You’ll see me in a minute.”

Midnight central hit. When they returned, Leona’s draining program was complete, and the service tunnel was totally dry. The weird part was, Romana was in a different spot, but Octavia wasn’t. The former was sitting on one chair, resting her feet on another, casually filing her fingernails. The latter was exactly where she was before, still wet, and very confused.

“What the hell happened?” Mateo asked. “Octavia, you’re on our pattern?”

“I don’t see how.”

“What’s that humming sound?” Olimpia asked.

Leona knelt down to the floor, and pulled her bag off to open it. She took out the crystal that Pacey had given them. The colors had abated after the initial lightshow, but they were back, presumably triggered by the time jump. “First thought. This put her on our pattern, hopefully for her sake, temporarily.”

“Oh, Romana. You’ve been alone this whole time,” Mateo whined apologetically.

“NBD,” Romana said, hopping off of her chairs. “I watched every episode of Survivor and The Amazing Race. I read those Witches of Atlantis books too. I know why it flooded.”

“Still,” Mateo said, embracing his daughter again. “I’m sorry that happened to you. I wish Pacey would have just been clear about what that crystal was. Talk about a solution without a problem.”

“It’s really okay. Now we know. And that’s not all we know.” She walked over to the hatch they had come in through, and opened it. No water came in. “As you said before, it’s all part of the experience.”

Even though they were confident that it was fine, the six of them cautiously passed Romana, and stepped out of the tunnel. The train station was completely dry. Everything was fine. Had they imagined it?

“You’re not imagining it,” Romana said. “It’s periodically flooded on purpose. I don’t know what the exact schedule is, so we shouldn’t stick around, but I have not been living in that service tube this whole time.”

“Why would the station be flooded too, through?” Leona questioned. She looked down at the pod, which was still warped and damaged. “That’s a major safety hazard.”

“That I believe was an accident,” Romana determined. “Pacey left a door open. Only the dome itself is meant to be inundated. I closed it.”

“I’m proud of you,” Mateo said.

She laughed and scoffed. “Dad. Anyway, I looked for Buddy, and he’s not here. He must have moved on to a different sector in Recursiverse, perhaps a different planet.” She used airquotes.

“How do we do that?” Ramses asked her. “The vactube is down, so do we take a spaceship?” He used airquotes too, because if there were indeed ships here, they were probably only simulations, meant to make it feel like visitors were traveling through the simplex dimensions, to worlds light years away, when they were probably only driving to the next dome over.

“The Atlantians didn’t use ships,” Romana explained as they were leading them down the corridor, still in the perimeter structure of the dome. She stepped into the driver’s seat of a shuttle cart, and drove off once everyone was on board. “If they wanted to leave Earth, they used something else.” She drove them a few kilometers until they reached what was clearly a Nexus building.

“Is this functional?” Leona asked, intrigued.

“I don’t think so,” Romana replied. “You tell me.”

“Hey, Venus Opsocor,” Leona said to the aether after walking in. “Are you there?”

No response.

“She may not wanna answer,” Leona explained, “but I’m guessing that it’s simply not a real Nexus.”

“Probably not.” Romana started to walk up the steps to the control room. “Shut the door.” She reached into the room without stepping in, and swung her arm once against the wall.

Marie smirked and looked up towards the ceiling with her eyes. “We’re moving.”

“Yeah,” Romana agreed. “Right now, we’re rotating into the next dome over, while that dome’s Nexus rotates into here. It takes about four minutes, and is meant to be imperceptible. If you’re paying too much attention, you can tell that it’s just a simulation, but visitors are expected to step into the cavity, and pretend that it’s real. We don’t have to do that. We’re just gonna wait for the rotation to be complete, open the door, and we’ll be in the new dome.” She pointed. “I think there’s a corridor over there, so we could have just walked across, but...”

They stood there and waited. Only Leona wandered into the cavity, mostly out of boredom. Technicolored lights rained down on her from the Nexus drum above, but that was all they were; lights. The rotation ended, and they left. Everything looked pretty much identical to where they were before, until they crossed the ring, and opened the inner doors. They were definitely not in Atlantis anymore.

Romana passed by them, and held her arms out as she was spinning around. “Welcome...to Ce—”

She never finished the word. An explosion knocked them all on their asses.

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Microstory 2445: Dune Buggy Paradise

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This is the largest habitable desert in the world. Now, you may be asking yourself, how could it be any bigger than any other? Every dome is the same size as all the others, isn’t it? True, but this one makes better use of that space, because it operates in three dimensions. We’re talking about multiple layers here. It’s quite ingenious, really. I don’t mean that you can wander about on the bottom layer, and then take an elevator to a higher ones. You have to walk or drive up ramps to get to other levels, and you don’t just multiply the area of one by the number of layers to get the total area. The upper layers are nowhere near as big. They’re like giant catwalks, criss-crossing each other in random configurations, looping around, and dipping down. It’s all very chaotic, and hard to track. Here’s the most mysterious—and I think, best—part of this whole place, there is a layer near the top of the dome which no one has been able to figure out how to reach. There doesn’t seem to be any path leading to it, but we can clearly see it. At the right angles—and with good enough vision—you can even make out a dune buggy parked on the edge. It’s gotta be some kind of prize, but as I said, no one has managed to reach it thus far. Even if you found some roundabout way, like with an extremely long grappling hook, how would you drive it down? It’s about a kilometer higher than the next highest layer. Maybe it’s a joke, or the creators are taunting us. Or it’s just straight up unfinished, who knows? Another special thing about the way this place is designed is what happens when sand from one layer falls over the edge. Well, it doesn’t. It can slip over, but then fly back up to where it belongs. You don’t have to worry about sand falling on your head all the time like rain thanks to people on the higher layers. It’s not just regular sand that they harvested from the surface of this planet. It’s smartdust. It’s all smartdust. I hear tales of people claiming that it has flown around in other instances, and formed ominous shapes, which they interpret as the dust trying to communicate with them. It could be true, though I’ve not seen it for myself, but even if it were, there’s a scientific explanation for it. Smartdust is fully capable of moving around, and forming larger shapes, like tiny artificial starlings. Overall, this is a pretty nifty place. It could be pretty boring, with its one niche being hardly distinct from other domes. There are other deserts, and at least one other racing dome, but combining them here is more than just the sum of its parts. I think it’s worth the trip. You don’t have to race if you don’t want to. You can just drive around, people are pretty respectful about boundaries.

Microstory 2417: Racetrack Dome

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I’m gonna say this real slow. This is a racetrack dome, which means there are...racetracks. That’s all it is. It’s hundreds of racetracks just all over tarnation. A racetrack here, a racetrack there. There’s even a track that runs the entire circumference of the dome, which is something like 260 kilometers. That sounds boring to me, but hey, you do you, right? I would much rather stay close to the inner tracks. They’re so much more interesting. The vehicles are electric, obviously, but they’re also electromagnetic. This allows them to do all sorts of crazy stuff, like drive up the wall, or even do loop-de-loops. There are jumps and shortcuts, and drops into rivers of lava. Yeah, this particular dome was chosen for its proximity to a volcano. The volcano isn’t inside the dome, and if there were ever an eruption, there are safeguards in place to seal off the lava flow, and protect the dome. But as long as everything’s copacetic, it’s there. Plus, they have clear emergency procedures in place. I mean, this hasn’t actually happened since I’ve been here, so there’s no way to know how effective their plans are, but they claim to be ready. Of course, the lava they do have is dangerous, as are all of the other tracks. Well, almost all of them. They have bumper cars, and some go-kart tracks too, for the kids, or people who want something a little lighter. If you do get hurt, and don’t want to just jump your consciousness to a new body, they have excellent medical teams on standby. I was never injured, but I did walk in once to find someone having just crashed on one of the traditional intermediate tri-ovals. I heard the collision from the corridor, and by the time I rounded the corner, they were already loading the driver into an ambulance. I asked after him later, and he’s fine; didn’t even have to switch to a new body. I can’t even begin to describe what other kinds of tracks they have here, but if you’ve ever played a racing video game, they’re pretty much all recreated here. They don’t have boats, planes, or spaceships, though. Man, people kept asking about that. I’ll say again, it’s a racetrack dome, not races in general. Look for that in another dome. I’m sure they’re somewhere. I see all these negative reviews from morons who are disappointed when the name alone tells you everything you need to know. Just think it through, and you’ll be pleased with what you find.

Microstory 2059: What If I Invented Football

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I think I made a mistake, committing myself to writing a new blog post every week day. If this were any other world, it would have been fine. I could have had enough adventures to last a lifetime. But not here. There’s nothing to watch, nothing to read. The garden hasn’t called me back about a job, and I’m resisting the urge to call them about it. I know you’re allowed to do that at some point, but I can’t remember what my father taught me is a good waiting period. Even if I could recall, this is a different Earth. They have different conventions. I would ask my landlord, but she’s been at work for the last few days, and medical professions tend to function differently than other industries anyway, so she might not know the answer. They don’t do many sports here, if you even have a concept for what I’m talking about. You have competitions, usually in the racing variety, but nothing more than that. I absolutely hate sports, but I would make an exception just to break up the tedium. Besides, it speaks to how boring this place is. I’m going to have to occupy myself with things that you can do anywhere with an atmosphere, and enough space to move around. The geography must be the same, so hiking is number one priority right now. Even if no one else on the planet does it too, they can’t stop me from it, and it will be just as fulfilling as it would be anywhere. I used to do a lot of walking for exercise. Once I’ve stimulated my mind enough, maybe I can branch out into other things. What if I invented football? How would these people react to it? That’s not the issue, I don’t know how to make things like that. What shape is on the balls? Hexagons? Pentagons? Whatever, I’m goin’ out. Don’t wait up.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 21, 2398

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There is something that Andile didn’t even tell Alt!Leona. When the latter first came to this reality, they were surprised to see each other again. Two women out of time, there under different circumstances, and having already known each other. Upon hearing Andile’s new story, Alt!Leona realized how focused on herself she had been this whole time. She hadn’t asked Andile much about what she had gone through. She only knew the basics of the event; not the details. And she hadn’t made much effort to change that. But that doesn’t mean Andile didn’t lie. She could have volunteered the information, back then, or at any point over the course of the last year.

“How do you feel about this?” Leona asks her husband when they wake up the next day.

He’s had time to sleep on it. “It won’t be the first time. It’s not even the first time meeting this version.”

“You don’t know that it’s the same one from Dardius,” Leona says, not believing it herself.

“Let’s be real. He told Andile that he just came from what he called a Death Race. It’s the same guy.” Back in 2251, Mateo and a handful of his friends were living on Tribulation Island. There were once more people, but their then-enemy, Arcadia Preston was tormenting them with expiation challenges. Every three years, she would remove another person from the timestream. Only Mateo and Lincoln could remember that they even existed in the first place; the former quite intentionally, and the latter because knowing everything is his whole thing. One of these challenges involved Mateo street racing a different version of himself. This other Mateo lived in what was once known as Reality One, and has been commonly blamed for Leona Reaver’s death. Mateo’s niece, Dar’cy sacrificed herself by sending both her and Alt!Mateo back to Reality One, just before his death at the hands of Horace Reaver. Dar’cy had a hard time returning home, but once she did, she never mentioned that anything special had happened to Alt!Mateo, so everybody just assumed he died like he was meant to. Apparently, he survived.

Leona and Mateo left the safehouse after the news to let Andile and Alt!Leona discuss the secret in private, but now it’s time to get back to the matter. They have to find this other Mateo, and figure out what makes him so damn special. Marie wants them to hold off, and maybe get back to their other issues, but that sounds like a mistake. They’ve had so many missions since they’ve come here. Most of them were impromptu, and most of the rest were sidetracked…sometimes by one of the impromptu missions. They really need to stick to the plan for this one, and follow through. It’s important. The other stuff is important too, but there is no point in going to Easter Island if the other Mateo gives them all the answers they were looking for.

As the two of them are getting dressed, there is a knock at the door. Angela is already up, so she answers it. To everyone’s surprise, it’s Andile and Alt!Leona. They explain that they’ve decided to abandon the safehouse, mostly because a covert branch of the government set them up with it, which sort of pretty much negates the whole safe aspect of it. The condo isn’t safe either, but at least it’s more comfortable. There’s not exactly room for everyone there, but Ramses woke up hours ago, as he has been for the last few days, to continue working on their space issue.

“You know where he is?”

“I do,” Andile answers, not elaborating.

“Go ahead and tell them,” Alt!Leona urges.

Andile still hesitates.

“Where?” Mateo asks, not understanding the hold up. “Topeka? Croatia?”

“Utah.”

“A prison in Utah,” Alt!Leona adds.

“Lemme guess,” the other Leona begins, “this nice little place outside of Vernon.”

Andile pulls out her device, and checks her map. “Uh...yeah, that’s the closest town. You’ve been?”

“We’ve broken people out of there,” Mateo explains.

“Could you do it again?” Alt!Leona questions.

Leona shrugs. “Probably not. We had a certain time advantage back then, and access to detailed plans. I doubt we could get any of that here. Does the government know he’s in there?”

“No, he’s using a fake name,” Andile tells them. “The government knows one of his aliases, but not the one he was using when he was arrested.”

“What’s the alias that the government recognizes?” Leona asks her.

“Leon Delaney,” Andile replies.

They can’t help but laugh. This other version of Mateo knew the other version of Leona, of course but they weren’t together. She was with Horace. Perhaps this suggests that maybe he was in love with her even then, though?

“And the other one?” Mateo asks. “What’s the one that he’s using in jail?”

Andile smirks. “Andy Dufresne.”

Microstory 1728: Jim Crow

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Your Honor, my name is Jim Crow. My first name is not James or Jacob, or anything like that. It’s actually Jim. My parents were named Beckett Crowley, and Geraldine Devlin. When they got married, instead of my mother taking my father’s last name, they decided to shorten it to Crow. When they had me in 1984, they named me Jim. Believe me when I tell you that this was no accident, nor coincidence. My parents are two of the most racist people I know, and they knew exactly what they were doing. They believe in white supremacy, and they believe in segregation. They may even believe that all black people should be exterminated. They’ve hinted at such evil thoughts on more than one occasion. I literally witnessed them spitting on a young black girl just because her family wasn’t around, and no one could stop them. When I was a child, my mother told me a story she made up, about how the people of Africa so displeased the Lord that he glued dirt to their skin, and forced them to live in filth from then on. Their skin isn’t black, it’s that there is actual grime all over their bodies. I never bought into it, obviously. Had I grown up during the actual time of segregation, I might have seen no other choice, but I developed my sense of right and wrong during the 1980s. My relatively small city in Maryland was not at all without its racism, but I had something that some people in the past did not. I had Star Trek. I remember seeing Whoopi Goldberg on The Next Generation. Here was this black woman who had standing on the ship...who people trusted, listened to, and cared about. That very night, as young as I was, I thought long and hard about who my parents are, and what they were trying to teach me. I made a conscious decision to reject their hatred, and come to my own conclusions. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of informing my parents of my intentions.

They started to punish me. They withheld dessert, and when that didn’t work, they took away my dinner, and when that wasn’t enough, they stopped letting me have water. They eventually realized I was going to die if they didn’t do something, so they changed tactics. They developed their own Jim Crow laws. I was allowed to eat, but I had to make it myself, and I had to find somewhere else to do it. An old lady lived next door, so she let me use her kitchen. I did try to explain to her what was happening, but she was senile, so she barely understood, and never remembered. She introduced herself to me every day. She wasn’t abusive, but about as racist as my parents, so I didn’t want to spend much time over there. Still, she had a bathroom I could use too, which was nice, because I wasn’t allowed to use mine anymore. Basically what my parents did was show me what it was like to experience segregation. I can imagine the non-racist parents of a racist child doing the same thing to teach them a lesson, but my parents didn’t see it that way. They figured I would grow tired of the restrictions, and finally admit that it was both easier, and better, to be white. Of course, their methods only enforced my conviction that they were completely wrong about everything. When I was seventeen, they started to see that they were losing me, so they maneuvered the legal system, and had me declared unfit for independence. I was a ward of the state for the last twenty years under false pretenses, and it has taken me this long to get out. That, Your Honor, is why I’m only now getting around—as you put it—to changing my name. I haven’t been allowed to until now. I don’t think it’s unreasonable for you to grant me this.

Microstory 1690: Fade Away

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After the Eleven Guardians of Earth managed to help their foster species evolve to the point where they could leave the nest, and do the same for others, the original guardians didn’t know what to do anymore. Five wanted to follow the Sheltren into the bulk, and find a new race to protect. The other five wanted to repeat what they did before, and foster the evolution of life in this universe. Their leader was the deciding vote, but she wanted to do neither. They had been at this for a billion years, and she was ready to retire. The people they created and helped were now off on their own, and trying to do the same thing. Their numbers were great, and they were eager. What more could a measly eleven people hope to accomplish, now that they had to compare their abilities to those of their children? According to her, having raised the Sheltren so well was all they needed to do. Anything beyond that could just as easily result in terrible consequences. They could theoretically turn a race into the next Ochivari, or even something worse. Perhaps they got lucky with the Sheltren, and it would never go so well again. She voted that they find a random world to live out their eternity alone, no longer meddling in the lives of others. She was going to do this regardless, but she wasn’t going to force anyone else to follow her lead, or even work very hard to convince them to agree. She spoke her peace, and then took off. The others, meanwhile, decided to stay in their home universe, and do things exactly as they had before. They went off in search of a really good planet, and found a unicellular organism that had the potential to evolve into more complex life. They watched and protected them for the next few hundred million years, but then grew tired of it. They missed their leader, and this venture wasn’t as rewarding as it was before. So they left. They didn’t do anything to harm the new planet in any way, but they weren’t going to protect them any more. If life wanted to continue to evolve here, it was going to have to do it on its own. It did. They managed to survive, and develop intelligence, passing all of their Great Filters along the way. It was only a matter of time before they too felt compelled to travel the stars, but they did not have the same idea as the Sheltren, or their absentee Guardians. They didn’t even know that their predecessors had existed. As for those eleven, well they just stayed on their lonely paradise planet in the void, and faded away from history.

Microstory 1667: School of Thought

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When the Ochivari arrived in what would come to be known as Efilverse, they didn’t really have any specific intentions. They were explorers at that point. Sure, they hoped to gather resources, but they believed the multiverse to be infinite, so they weren’t too worried about whether this one would be useful to them. They could always figure out how to travel somewhere else. The Efilversals didn’t know what to think about these alien visitors either. They didn’t seem to be hostile, and it didn’t seem like they had technology, or other knowledge, that they would find useful. In the beginning it felt like an innocuous situation, and everybody could kind of take it or leave it. They did tell stories about their respective homeworlds, though, and learned from each other just the same. Both races were shocked to discover that they each had faced the same problem with destroying their own environments. Even with a sample size of only two, they were beginning to think that it was an inevitable development. If other races evolved on other worlds, they were destined to destroy it, just like the two of them had. Of course, we know that this is not true, but they didn’t understand that, and over time, the idea became so ingrained in their culture that there was no way to prove them wrong. They didn’t, and couldn’t, listen to reason. The Efilversals taught the Ochivari their ways in a general sense, not by directly telling them how they should do things, but through unintentional inspiration. The idea that any given ecosystem could be saved by taking action to preserve it faded from their hearts—if it was ever there in the first place—and was overwritten by the belief that the only way to save it is to kill anything that threatens it. One Efilversal in particular felt that some form of genocide was sometimes the only answer. The most famous quote of his would become the basis of the Ochivari’s entire belief system. “If a man begins to walk the path towards annihilation, the only way to stop him from reaching the end is to break his legs. There are no nexions from darkness to light.” In this case, a nexion is a small path that connects two paths somewhere after the original splitting fork. Apparently, you can’t even walk back in the opposite direction in this metaphor.

The Ochivari travelers saw no problem with the man’s claims, and took his words to heart, along with many more. He seemed to be the wisest of them all, and they hoped that he would help them make the multiverse a better place. They no longer wanted to be concerned with resources and expansion. They wanted to fix worlds. They wanted to prevent others from making the same mistakes. No, that’s not it. That they could do, if they interfered with any given culture’s timeline at the right moment. Instead, they just wanted to stop those who were already destined to fail their planets. They were going to proverbially break their legs. The wise man seemed to be the best person to teach them how to make their new dream a reality. He seemed willing to do as they asked, but his teachings would no longer be given for nothing. In exchange for his help, he wanted to be relocated to a universe that was free from all the drama and trauma. It would have to be normal and safe, and the Ochivari were not allowed to visit it again for any reason. These seemed like fair conditions. Again, they knew that the bulkverse was infinite, so if there was only one universe they could not save, even if it needed it, then that was a small price to pay. The teacher actually stood on a hill, and continued to disseminate his philosophy, but it eventually turned more into a group effort. The Ochivari came up with ideas that he had not thought of himself, and eventually, the radical antinatalistic school of thought was born. Once the planning stages were complete, the Ochivari stayed true to their word. Two volunteers agreed to transport him to a random universe. Unfortunately, the psychological disease he carried managed to follow him through the portal, and once he was on the other side, it began to infect everyone there as well.

Microstory 1666: Guardian Dolphins

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There was a pod of dolphins. They lived in the sea. They understood that the humans who came in their boats came to see them. So they would always put on a show. They breached the surface often, even when they didn’t need air, and they would occasionally perform flips. They could hear the cheers and applause that came from the boats, and they enjoyed it. One day, the tourists stopped coming with their boats. The seas calmed, and the quiet took over. There was no more cheering, no more applause. The dolphins just slept, and looked for food, and played amongst themselves. Two of the dolphins were curious and concerned. What had happened to the humans? Surely they would still want to see the creatures. They could not have all simply decided to stop all at once. The humans and the dolphins had long enjoyed a special relationship, with the latter always being around to lend a flipper when the former was in need. Something terrible could have happened to them, and if that was the case, they needed to know about it. The two friends went on a journey to find answers. They swam up the coast, trying to find humans who could explain their absence. The journey was proving to be longer than they thought, but they did not give up. They had to know if something was wrong. Perhaps they could help. Finally they found some people on the cliffs, but they seemed unable to communicate with them. Some humans can understand dolphin language, but most cannot. That would prove to be the most difficult challenge. They continued their pursuit of their truth, eventually coming across a lone fisherman in a small boat, who appeared to only catch enough for himself to eat. He could understand them, and he explained that a great disease was spreading through the world, killing some, and making the rest sick. The dolphins were saddened. They could not fix this problem. They did not have scientists of their own. Heck, while they could understand it conceptually, they couldn’t even make fire. Yet they still wanted to help in some way. They kept swimming around, meeting other people, and asking whether there was anything they could do, but there was nothing. They had always considered it there purpose to help the humans. After all, they were known as a guardian race. They had helped vessels find their way in the darkness, and even signalled to civilization when a traveler from a wreck was trapped on a remote island. This was something they were ill-equipped to handle, though. People started joking that they were out of their depth. They laughed quite a bit, actually, at the possibility that there was anything the water-dwellers could do. In the end, the humans had no choice but to deal with the issue themselves. Frustrated by this, the two dolphins switched missions, and began to commune with other dolphin pods, spreading the word that the humans no longer needed their help at all. It was then that the dolphins of all species began to discuss their future in the global collective. They ultimately decided to stop being a guardian race, so they could focus on their own prosperity. The humans, meanwhile, lost out on their opportunities to enjoy watching the dolphins play.

Microstory 1654: Wide Eyes

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After Wyatt Bradley retired as White Savior, the world went back to the way it was. Cops were murdering black people, and giving free passes to civilians who wanted to get in on the action. If someone was caught committing a crime on camera, there was a decent chance that they would pay for it, but unlike the way things were handled on other worlds, there was no guarantee. It wasn’t unusual for the judge to just decide that the photographic evidence was irrelevant, and he didn’t care one way, or the other. This was pissing a lot of people off. While Wyatt Bradley’s actions were largely considered counterproductive, both his appearance, and his disappearance, gave a lot of people some much needed perspective. Things actually did get moderately safer for black people while he was around, and the fact that racist crime went back up after he left proved that it was real. To put it another way, as a problem, it was a lot harder to ignore than it once was. He shined a light on the problem, and the afterglow would last forever. No one suited up and became a vigilante, but they did start fighting for change. They organized peace rallies, and protested police violence, and a major surveillance trend began. They called it the Wide Eye Movement, after the product developer that started it all. Cops were not obligated to wear body cams, though they did exist, and they sparked the idea for regular people to wear them. They sold them at an extremely low price, and it was not uncommon to wear multiple ones, to get different angles. Whereas before, everyone had a cellphone they could pull out, and document a horrendous crime, now they didn’t even have to do that. Accountability became this world’s resting state.

Recordings were sent to the Wide Eye servers, and kept for a period of time before being overwritten. Day-length storage space was free to all, and extra storage subscriptions came at an affordable price, though they weren’t usually necessary. Anything that needed to be kept could be downloaded to some other device. If someone believed that something unjust had happened to them, they could post their experience for all to see on the Wide Eye app. They could also technically save a clip of something fun or interesting that happened to them, but they would have to download it to their own device, and upload it somewhere else, if they so wanted. That was not what the app was for, and other users helped distinguish the important, from the less important, or the not important at all. The purpose of this was to make sure no one hurt anybody without being seen. Every customer was required to have at least one trusted buddy, who would receive their footage if they were to be killed, be it by murder, or anything else. The cameras were motion sensitive, so if a user stopped moving for a week—or the cameras were turned off without being suspended virtually using proper procedures—their buddy would end up with proof of whatever had happened to them. If the police weren’t going to police themselves, then the people were going to have to do it for them, and if the courts did not accept such evidence as legitimate, then the offending party was at risk of being crucified by the court of public opinion. The problem wasn’t fixed overnight, but it made it a hell of a lot harder for racism to go unnoticed. Even snide remarks were uploaded to the Wide Eye site. They weren’t labeled as urgent, but people still saw them, and this forced many to be more careful with their words and actions. Of course, this was not without its consequences. Even embarrassing moments could be uploaded to other places, and Wide Eye Services had a hard time regulating this. They tried to exclude such behavior in their Terms of Service, but it was nearly impossible to enforce. As a result, people were afraid to be themselves around others, for fear of being ridiculed for walking around with a stain on their shirt, or tripping on the steps. Fortunately, the age of Wide Eye was limited. Offenders were weeded out of the system, and replaced by decent human beings, with good training in things like sensitivity, and open-mindedness. Policies were changed, and the right people were voted into the right public offices. Twenty years later, Wide Eye Services deliberately shutdown, and ended support for their products. Bad things still happened after that, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it was in the olden days.

Microstory 1604: White Savior

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This next one is a very sensitive topic, the answers to which I do not claim to know. I hesitated to tell this story, but have determined it’s better to let the truth be out there, than to pretend that it didn’t happen. Like I’ve explained, I am a voldisisil, which makes me a spirit type of human subspecies. I was born this way, due to the existence of a third parent that participated in my conception unbeknownst to my biological parents. But there are other spirits, in other universes, with different reasons for being. Some would be considered good, while others are pretty clearly bad, but most end up in a gray area. Unlike mutants and witches, spirits sometimes don’t take sides. They let their soul guide them, and don’t necessarily try to rationalize against their impulses. This doesn’t mean that they’re evil, but they don’t always think things through, and they actively repulse any attempt at criticism. There’s one man in particular that I believe we should discuss. His given name was Wyatt Bradley, but once he discovered what he could do, he started going by the moniker White Savior. Different versions of Earth have different historical experiences with race and nationality. Some are undeniably worse than others. Wyatt Bradley was born to one of these. Racism was prevalent, insidious, institutional, systemic, and seemingly insurmountable. He saw it all over the place. Everyone saw it, and anyone who didn’t see it was lying. Do not think that Wyatt discovered his abilities, immediately threw on a white suit, and started running around. He wrestled with the idea, and ultimately succumbed to his urges, which is what I was talking about. He surrendered to his soul, and did not heed the lessons that the wise people around him taught him as he was growing up. There is a reason that humans are a trinity of mind, body, and soul. All three are required to make a person. A mind alone is a computer, a body alone is a pile of viscera, and a soul alone is a ghost. None of them is meant to be without the other two.

Wyatt wanted to do something about the racism in his country, and perhaps the world, and it felt to him like his soul powers were the best way for him to accomplish his goals. He was an aidsman, meaning that he was called to action against injustice, but in a literal sense. He possessed a general psychic connection to the human collective, and could let himself be drawn to pockets of extreme civil unrest. On the surface, he simply appeared to be a teleporter, but he couldn’t just go wherever he wanted. He could only go to these places of turmoil, or back home. Like I was saying, he put on a white suit, and wore a steel mask. Basically, he wore a fencing uniform. But he was not a fencer. The weapons he carried were all blunt instruments, and tasers. He used these to attack people who were attacking minorities, and this regularly meant attacking the police. Wyatt’s public identity was extremely controversial, but he paid no attention to his critics, even members of the black community who saw it as wildly offensive, and altogether unhelpful. He didn’t think that he could conquer racism with his methods, but he believed he could deter some of the more violent components. “If the white cop is worried about getting a dose of his own medicine, he’ll stop giving it to his victims. If he does it anyway, he answers to me,” White Savior was once recorded saying in a rare case of him saying anything to anyone. He was predominantly quiet, though not mute, instead allowing his baton to do the talking for him. They eventually got the message. Whether or not any given individual respected this message was another story, but Wyatt’s actions were not without a little progress. Instances of police brutality against minorities dropped within months of White Savior’s arrival. It would seem that law enforcement was taking notice, and changing tactics. Unfortunately, this meant that they learned to be more subtle with their racism, because he was only drawn to the violence, not general mistreatment or abuse, and definitely not systemic oppression. After a few years, his activity took a toll on his body, and his sanity. I’m not sure if he ever admitted to himself that he wasn’t really helping, but he retired just the same, and withdrew from society completely. Within the year, everything was back to normal.

Microstory 1561: One Last Ride Along

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Prompt

I wanted to grow up to become a law enforcement officer right up until I watched a video of a cop literally murdering an innocent black man on the street, and ultimately getting away with it...

Botner

...after abusing the trust of his office, the public, and the justice system. And you can’t unsee something like that. I have an impulse to get back to my kind of gun culture (I have no interest in owning an assault rifle) because I don’t like the mindset that is starting to take hold where guns are the problem when they’re not. We need to get our heads on straight about where this is all going. Please don’t take my desire for peace away because of my prejudices. I have friends who belong to different groups than me and they’re great. But when we lump all those groups into the same population, I don’t want to be part of it. It makes me want to question my own bias a little bit because how can I be anti-gun when I grew up with them? I have a friend who is a responsible gun owner. He owns his own gun, is a hunter, and is an NRA member. We’ve been friends for years and I’ve known him long enough to know his background. He wasn’t raised in a religious environment (he’s raised his children as Jews) but he became religious later in life. He’s still able to function as a Jewish man and raise his children in that environment. He’s a pretty decent guy who hasn’t been in...

Conclusion

...a lot of debates about responsible gun ownership. He avoids them. Like me. I can’t avoid them anymore, though. Not with a new travesty seemingly popping up in the news every day. We need to hold people accountable for their actions, and cops should not be immune to this expectation. Today is going to be awkward. I’m scheduled for another ride along. I live in a large metropolitan area, which means I have a lot of different police stations at my disposal, and I’ve been going to each one of them, to see what a day in the life of an officer is like. They’re more different than you might think, because they each have their own area to cover, and different officers handle the same kind of situation differently. I’ve always loved it, and the more experience I can get before the academy, the better. I don’t know if I can continue to pursue this career, though. I’ve wanted this my whole life, but everything changed when I watched that video. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t change my mind immediately; it’s been the outcome of a long period of self-reflection, discussing it with my parents, and getting input from a black retired police officer who lives three blocks down from us. I thought about cancelling this last ride along—and it really will be the last, as I have seen every other outfit within reasonable distance—but I chose not to. It’s located in a dense urban area, not unlike the one shown in that horrific video. I’ve decided to take this opportunity to ask the hard questions, even if it makes me uncomfortable; even if it makes them uncomfortable. There is still a slight chance that I’ll change my mind back to the uniform, and I’ll be using this as my deciding factor. How this one cop responds to my unapologetically unfiltered questions could sway me one way, or the other. We’ll see...

Microstory 1379: No Remorse (Part 3)

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Ex-Cop: I don’t even wanna be here.

Prison Counselor: I understand that, but if you want to stay in protective custody, this is how its done.

Ex-Cop: I’m a cop, I should be in protective custody no matter what, and since I’m a cop, I know that this is not how it works. I shouldn’t need a psychological assessment to see if I’m fit to not be murdered by some big black man.

Prison Counselor: This isn’t a psychological assessment. This is regular counseling that’s required for you to maintain your right to protective custody. It doesn’t matter what you stay here, as long as you agree to these sessions, the warden will let you stay.

Ex-Cop: So, I can say whatever I want?

Prison Counselor: I understand that it is your instinct to rail against minorities, and all the other people that you believe are responsible for you losing your job. But we won’t get anywhere until you admit that what you did was murder, and wrong. First step towards that, I believe, is admitting that you’re no longer a law enforcement officer.

Ex-Cop: Once a cop, always a cop.

Prison Counselor: I can see how you would feel that way symbolically, metaphorically. But literally, you are not. I’ve read the court transcripts. You expressed no remorse for your actions. Has anything changed in that regard?

Ex-Cop: Yes, absolutely.

Prison Counselor: Oh, good.

Ex-Cop: I regret that I didn’t notice that bitch holding her cellphone camera at me sooner, and that I didn’t rip it out of her hands as soon as I finally did see it.

Prison Counselor: You’re referring to Innocent Victim’s boyfriend, who identifies as a man. Acceptance of non-heterosexuality is another thing we’ll need to work on.

Ex-Cop: Where do you get off telling me what we need to work on? I’m fine. I just need to stay away from all these black people who keep trying to kill me in here.

Prison Counselor: You are protected now. This is a safe space. You can be honest. I want you to be able and willing to change, though. That’s what life is, a constant progression towards an improved state.

Ex-Cop: If I’m not willing to change, you’re gonna kick me back to gen pop?

Prison Counselor: That’s right.

Ex-Cop: Is that even legal?

Prison Counselor: No one behind these gates is guaranteed protection. Do you think you can do this? Do you think you can entertain the possibility that you’re wrong, and that you need to become a better person? Or are you convinced you’re an infallible god?

Ex-Cop: I never said I was a god.

Prison Counselor: ...

Ex-Cop: Yes, I can do that. I suppose it’s possible that I’m just a little bit racist, and that there’s a slight chance I haven’t been my best self.

Prison Counselor: Great. Now, let’s start from the beginning. What do you remember your parents teaching you about race, ethnicity, and skin color when you were a child?

Microstory 1378: No Remorse (Part 2)

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Crime Reporter: Take me through the event, from start to finish. When did you first notice Innocent Victim, and what was going through your head in that very moment?

Ex-Cop: I was doing my job, protecting the protestors from themselves—which I was glad to do, by the way, even though they were mostly black, so that proves I’m not racist.

Crime Reporter: I don’t think it proves that.

Ex-Cop: Are you going to let me tell my side of the story, or what?

Crime Reporter: Well, you see, the problem is—never mind. Go on, tell your side.

Ex-Cop: Thank you. So, I’m doing my job, protecting this city, when a car comes out of nowhere. I didn’t have my radar gun, because I wasn’t planning on doing any traffic stops, but I think they were speeding. Then they suddenly almost come to a complete stop. Now, why would they do that? It’s suspicious, right?

Crime Reporter: Well, according to the video, they weren’t aware that there were going to be protestors on that street. Evidently, the road wasn’t blocked off properly?

Ex-Cop: Well, that’s not my job. I was in charge of the people, but not the streets themselves.

Crime Reporter: Fair enough, but I think that’s the answer to your question of why Innocent Victim slew down. The video doesn’t support the speed of the vehicle, one way or another, so I’ll give you the possibility that you thought they might be speeding.

Ex-Cop: The point is, it made me nervous, so I flagged Mr. Victim down. He stopped immediately, I will give him that. He made the right call, but I could just see in his eyes that he would have bolted if he thought he could get away with it. But his little girlfriend was filming, so he would have been in possession of proof of the hit and run.

Crime Reporter: I’m sorry, I’m gonna have to pause you there. The person filming the incident was his boyfriend, not his girlfriend. You know that same-sex couples exist, so don’t add fuel to the fire. Also, they could have just deleted the video, so I’m not sure that argument holds up. I also don’t believe your supposition that he wanted to run would hold up either, since we don’t prosecute people for the actions they take in alternate realities.

Ex-Cop: Whatever. So, I usher him out of the car, and proceed to try to start a conversation. I just ask him routine questions about who he is, where he’s going, and who that is in the car with him. Well, that’s when I see his friend’s camera, and now I’m real suspicious. It’s becoming abundantly clear to me that these people are driving around town, looking for cops to antagonize, so they can film it, and get us in trouble. I ask the friend to shut off the camera, and he doesn’t even get the chance to comply, because then Innocent Victim attacks me. You can see it in the video.

Crime Reporter: I think what I saw in the video was him raising his hands demonstratively, as many people do when they talk.

Ex-Cop: Yes, demonstratively. That’s the word I would use. It felt very much like he was a dangerous demon.

Crime Reporter: That...oh my God.

Ex-Cop: What?

Crime Reporter: Forget it, let’s fast forward. Why did you beat him to death? Assuming you had legitimate reason to arrest him, why did you continue to pound your fist into his head, and his head against the asphalt, even after he stopped moving?

Ex-Cop: You don’t understand what it’s like to be out there. When you’re a cop, every corner carries a threat, every person is an enemy. I risk my life every day, and I can’t worry about whether I’m up against an innocent person, or not. It’s not worth the possibility that he could kill me, or someone truly innocent. I would rather knock out an innocent person I thought was a criminal than let my guard down in front of a criminal.

Crime Reporter: What you don’t understand is that I was a cop, and I do know what it’s like out there. I spent more time on the force than you have—or, sorry, more than you did, because you were fired, and you will never spend another day on the job. None of our training involves beating suspects. A fight should only break out between a civilian and a law enforcement officer when the civilian instigates it, and refuses to relent. I don’t mean resisting, I mean actually fighting. They have to throw a punch or kick first. We only use potentially lethal force when there’s reason to believe the civilian possesses a weapon.

Ex-Cop: Well, let’s say I thought he might have a weapon.

Crime Reporter: That isn’t in the report.

Ex-Cop: Well, of course hindsight is—

Crime Reporter: No, I mean you didn’t put it in the report that you feared a weapon. This is the first you’ve ever brought it up.

Ex-Cop: Aren’t you supposed to be unbiased?

Crime Reporter: I am, yes. But I’m also friends with the man holding the camera to me right now, so I can just edit this out. You’re here because you weren’t, and you couldn’t. So, let’s talk about that. What do you have to say about the fact that you didn’t just turn off your bodycam, but that you weren’t even wearing it?