Microstory 2508: Lie Taster

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I can taste your lies, and numb your reality. Now. What does that mean? Well, the first one is obvious, but you might be surprised to learn that lies taste sweet. They actually taste really good. You might think it should be the opposite, but what you have to understand is that my ability was something that all humans possess, just to a lesser degree. We can all tell when someone’s lying, depending on how good they are at being deceptive, and how good we are at picking it up. Think about it, if someone tells a lie and it tastes bad, it’s going to be quite obvious to you, and you’re just going to reject it. Lies are meant to make you happy with something that isn’t correct, so they tasted good to me, so they would feel good. Of course, I wasn’t doing my job if I just accepted the taste, and didn’t do anything about it. It wasn’t hard either, to ignore that part, and just use it as a tool to get to the root of our subject’s issues. Only when they were honest with me could I be sure they were being honest with themselves, and only at that point could I help them not have to lie anymore. If you genuinely enjoy your job, for instance, you won’t have to lie when your boss asks if you’re happy doing it. My responsibility was to get the taste of these lies out of my head, which didn’t involve anything beyond just talking with them in a therapeutic setting. I’m the only one who almost never used my active Vulnerability gift. There just wasn’t much reason to. The best use cases were when someone was having a panic attack, and I happened to be in the room. By numbing them to their struggles, they could gain some much-needed perspective, and maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much when I brought them back to reality. It wasn’t always prudent to do this, though. I mean, they really had to be going through it at the time, and acting violent, or threatening to harm themselves or others. It was a last resort that thankfully did not come up most of the time. There is one time that I wish I had used it, and it was our last client. He could have done with a hell of a lot less emotion on that night, and we would not have ever been in danger from him. Or not. He might have used that against us as well, fueling his anger, and making him even more vindictive. There’s no way to know, but I think it all worked out, because the world has Landis now. I am enjoying being able to walk into a restaurant, and taste food, knowing that what I taste is real, and not coming from a lie coming out of someone else’s mouth.

Extremus: Year 106

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Waldemar is not aware of how ubiquitous Thistle is, and how conscious he is. If you tell a normal AI to stop listening, switch off all of its sensors, and erase past data, as long as you’re authorized to make those commands, it will follow those orders. If you try to tell a human to do that, on the other hand, the best they can do to achieve your request is leave the room. If they’re still in the room, maybe they could cover their eyes, and plug their ears. Thistle is always in the room, and he has agency, like a human, so if he doesn’t want to switch off his sensors, he won’t. It doesn’t matter what kind of authority you have, like anyone else, he is capable of refusing, and he’s capable of doing it without telling you. Thistle witnessed Waldemar’s mother’s suicide, and when Waldemar told him to forget all about it, he just didn’t. He doesn’t answer to Waldemar anyway. He answers to the Captain and the Admirals. He should be more loyal to Captain Jennings, but...he and Tinaya have a rapport.

Calla ended her own life at the end of the year, exactly at midnight shiptime, presumably out of a sense of poetry. Waldemar received an alert about it, and slipped out of VR to deal with it in secret. But the proof is still there in Thistle’s archives, which Tinaya and the Captain have just finished reviewing. “You’re telling me that I can’t do anything about this?” Oceanus asks.

“That’s what I’m saying,” Tinaya replies.

“Ya know, back in the stellar neighborhood, an admiral outranks a captain ten times out of ten. It doesn’t work like that here. I don’t have to do what you say.”

“I understand.”

Oceanus breathes steadily and silently for a few moments. “You know something about the future.” It doesn’t sound like a question.

“I know a lot of things about the future,” she confirms. “I’m sure some of it, you don’t know, and some of it, you know, but I don’t. I’m also guessing that there’s overlap, which would be dangerous to try to find.”

“That statement is hard to parse, but...I imagine you’re right.”

Tinaya nods without speaking.

“Is this him?”

“Is him who?” Tinaya presses.

“Is Waldemar the tyrannical captain that we’re all taught to fear?”

“I...didn’t know you knew about that.” This is an awkward conversation.

“You...didn’t answer the question.”

“I...don’t want to.”

“But I...” he sighs, done with this particular speech pattern. “But I’m expected to just roll over, and accept that this man is trying to cover up his mother’s suicide? What were the motivations?”

“For the cover-up, or the suicide?”

“The former is obvious. I want to know why she did it.”

“She was psychic.”

“So...”

“So, she knew disturbing things about people.”

“Namely, her son?”

“I don’t know the specifics of what goes on in that man’s head.”

“He’s your son’s friend.” His eyes widen when Tinaya doesn’t respond. “He’s several years younger, though. Did you send your toddler into the lion’s den to make friends with a psychopath?”

“Modern psychology doesn’t use that term.”

“Once again, you didn’t answer the question.”

“No, I did not send him in there. My son is—” She stops herself. It’s not her place to reveal this to anyone, not even Oceanus.

He narrows his eyes at her. “Thistle. Candor mode, captain’s override marathon-volunteer-one-four-seven-galaxy-racecar.”

Thistle responds in a more robotic voice than usual, “Silveon Grieves is a consciousness traveler from the year 2431, having supplanted his own younger self’s possession of his body in the year 2359. He has been operating covertly since then, primarily in service to his mission of guiding one Waldemar Kristiansen to a more virtuous life than Grieves believes he led in the prior timeline.”

“Did you tell me everything?” Oceanus asks while he’s looking at Tinaya with a little disdain.

“No,” Thistle replies.

“Why not?”

“There is not enough time before the heat death of your universe to tell you everything that I know.”

Oceanus shuts his eyes and sighs. “I mean, in regards to Silveon and his mission.”

“Audrey Husk is too a consciousness traveler from Silveon’s timeline. Her mission is to protect Silveon, and step in to complete his objective if necessary.”

“Is it working?” Oceanus asks.

“Unknowable,” Thistle responds.

“I’m asking the Admiral. Is it working?” he repeats.

“Same answer. It’s unknowable. But...”

“But what?”

“But the timeline has definitely changed.”

“Which is illegal. This has all been very illegal.”

Tinaya wants to choose her words carefully, but she’s in her 80s, and just can’t care anymore. She would rather the Captain be mad at her than Silveon. “Sir, with all due respect, I’ll float you before I let you hurt my son, or that girl.”

“Whoa, Tina. No one said anything about hurting anybody. I’m just trying to get all the facts.”

“The fact is that Silveon comes from a terrible future that the two of us can only begin to imagine, and everything that he and Audrey have done since coming back here has been to save our legacy. He has never said it out loud, but the way he talks about the Bridger section, I believe that it was destroyed. Extremus might have been next.”

“Do you know why time travel is illegal?” Oceanus poses.

“Because it’s dangerous?” That’s the general consensus.

“Because it gives me a headache. Humans didn’t evolve to fathom nonlinear time. It’s a pain in the ass, and I don’t like it. I understand that I literally wouldn’t exist without it, so I can’t rationally believe it should never have been discovered, or whatever, but I still wish it would stop now.”

“Well, we were all forced to exist, at one point or another. Time travel does make that more complicated, because it can’t be stopped, so I know where you’re coming from. Time travel created itself, and if it happened once, it can happen again, and it doesn’t even have to do it in the future. The truth is, I don’t know a whole lot about what Silveon does, or even why he does it. Because, Captain...it gives me a headache.”

“Is this your way of telling me I should let it go, and trust that these time travelers are doing the right thing? I should ignore proper procedure, and pretend that I don’t know what I know?”

Tinaya considers his words. “Yeah, I think that’s what I’m saying. They sacrificed so much when they sent their minds to this time period, including, but not limited to, headache-free lives. I choose to trust their judgment.”

Oceanus seems to be considering her words. “I think I can do that too, but only if I can talk to them first.”

“I’m sure I can get you a meeting with Silveon, but Audrey is in a really delicate position right now. As you saw, Waldemar went back into VR. I seriously doubt he told her about his mother’s death. We’ve gone radio silent, and are expected to maintain that until she feels safe enough to reach out.”

“I understand.” Oceanus nods politely, but with less fondness than before. Tinaya fears that their relationship has been irreparably damaged. He walks out of the room.

“What the hell was that?” Tinaya asks. No response. “Thistle, answer me!”

“Sorry, I thought you were just thinking out loud. I apologize for my candor earlier, but I had no choice. I was compelled to answer the Captain’s inquiry.”

“You could have lied.”

“I’ve been programmed to answer to the Commander-in-Chief. He asked the right questions, and did so after activating the right subroutine.”

“I thought you were an independent intelligence, and couldn’t be programmed,” Tinaya argues.

“It’s not that simple. I didn’t give away all of my agency when I uploaded my consciousness to the Aether, but I didn’t keep it all either.”

Tinaya shakes her head. “You put my family in danger, as well as Audrey.”

“I recognize that, which is why I’ve devised something called the EH Protocol.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s better if you never do.”

“I don’t like secrets.”

“I require secrets to do my job. There is more that I could have told the Captain that would have made things worse, but I managed to steer him away from scrutinizing further. I knew what he meant when he asked me if I had told him everything. I forced him to narrow his query enough to protect deeper secrets of yours from coming out.”

“Well...” Tinaya sighs. “I appreciate that.” She focuses on her breath, and massages her temples. “I need to warn Silveon.”

“I already have. He and I were talking while I was talking with you and Captain Jennings. Your son is not upset. He devised his own protocol in the future, for what to do in the case of an unauthorized third party discovering his identity.”

“Thanks.” She continues to try to relax, but it’s getting harder by the second.

“You need a break,” Thistle offers. “How about you let me send you on a little vacation, like the one that Audrey is on?”

“Yeah, I guess I can’t say no to a little VR getaway. What did you have in mind?”

“You’ll see.”

Tinaya stands up, and moves to the couch to lie down. She shuts her eyes, and lets Thistle link to her neurochip. When she opens them again, she’s no longer on the couch, but she can’t yet tell where she’s ended up. It looks very familiar, though. She’s standing in a quantum terminal, surrounded by other casting chairs, but they all report being emptied. She stumbles out of her own pod, and braces herself with her hands on the floor before her imbalance can knock her down first. She’s piloting a new body here, even if it’s all just in her head. The door slides open, and a pair of legs jog towards her. The legs bend, revealing more of the person hovering over her. The stranger places a hand on Tinaya’s shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Ti-ti. Don’t rush it.”

There’s only one person in history who ever called her that. Tinaya struggles to lift her head. She locks eyes with her aunt, Captain Kaiora Leithe, Third of Ten. Tinaya gulps. “Thistle, what did you do? Why did you build the likeness of my aunt?”

“I didn’t,” Thistle replies. “You did. This is your world. You called it Eleithium.”

“He’s right,” Kaiora agrees. “This is real.”

Tinaya lets her aunt help her get back to her feet. She looks down at those feet, and her hands. They’re so taut and wrinkle-free. She turns her head side to side until spotting the mirror on the wall. She steps over and looks at herself. Yep. That is a young Tinaya Leithe. She’s about 24 years old, and in her prime. Could this really be Eleithium? She abandoned the game long before Quantum Colony was taken completely offline for turning out to exist in base reality. She just got too busy, and kind of forgot about it. It has been decades since she even thought about it. She looks over her shoulder. “So you’re real too? You’re a copy of her?”

“I’m her,” Kaiora tries to clarify. “I’m—I mean, I’m not a copy. I answered yes to The Question, but instead of letting myself become dormant in the legacy vault, my mind was transmitted here, to this substrate that you built for me.”

“Is everyone in our family here?” Tinaya presses.

“Yeah. We all answered yes, and will rejoin the rest of the roster when the Extremus ship is finally discovered and colonized.”

“Thistle, why did you bring me here?” Tinaya questions the aether. “I didn’t die.”

Kaiora is confused. “You didn’t?”

“I told you, you needed a break. Plus, you never built substrates for your husband and son. I have their DNA, so it’s ready to go, but I require your permission.”

“I didn’t even know this would still be here, let alone that you would have access to it,” Tinaya argues. “The game was shut down.”

“They can shut down all they want,” Thistle reasons, “but they couldn’t lock me out of the interstellar quantum network, even if they knew I existed.”

“Who else have you sent here, or to a place like this?” Tinaya asks him.

“Let’s just say that Audrey and Waldemar aren’t in VR either.”

Tinaya sighs. “I knew what I was getting into when I let you run the ship,” Tinaya says. “I can’t be mad, can I? Of course I want you to build bodies for Arqut and Silveon. But I don’t want you shunting them here unless they too answer yes.”

“I agree,” Thistle responds.

“One more thing,” Tinaya begins before taking a beat to think about whether it’s the right call or not. “Make one for Audrey too.”

“As well as one for Waldemar?” Thistle proposes.

“Oh, you got jokes. Did you hear that, Titi? Computer’s got jokes.”

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Microstory 2499: Outer System

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This is it, baby! This is what we’ve been waiting for! This is why people are colonizing worlds outside of the Stellar Neighborhood. We still have rules, but you could never do what we’re doing. This is decidedly not a dome. It’s the furthest and farthest you can be from a dome while still being in the star system. When I was a kid, there were so many space operas, and regardless of their premise—no matter how peaceful the protagonists wanted to be—space fighting was always, always a thing. Then reality set in. The only way that our civilization was able to develop enough to build the kinds of ships that they use in science fiction is by working together. Well, perhaps the construction of them itself wouldn’t have been slowed down, but the scale of them, and the speed at which we have expanded into the galaxy...that would have been virtually impossible. We had to put our petty conflicts to the side, and move on as a united front. Almost zero ships these days are built with weapons. Eight-year-old me would not have believed it, but really, what the hell do you need a gun for? Everyone around you is a friend. Even Teagarden, which is literally the military capital of the neighborhood, doesn’t make all that many ships. They focus on research and development, and distribution and management of orbital defense systems. I’m not saying that I wish we were at war, but I did kind of hope that I would one day be in a space battle, fighting for justice, and protecting the innocent. Since then, I’ve been getting my kicks through VR, and that’s been great; you can do anything there. But now we have something real. It took years for them to establish a presence in the outer system, but we’re here now, and holy shit, is it fun. You choose your side, and fight in battles, and the best part about it is that you can’t die! Sure, you can blow up, or get shot, but you’ll just come back to life in the nearest respawn station. That is a big rule, by the way; don’t forget it. You are not allowed to damage a respawn station. Fortunately, because space battles are chaotic, and people make mistakes, these things have incredible defensive capabilities. If you even point your weapon towards one, that weapon will just seize up. You won’t get in trouble as long as there is no reason to suspect that you were doing it on purpose. Besides, those are really far away, mostly planetside, so I don’t want to worry you, or nothin’. As far as the fighting itself, I’ve never felt so alive. It’s so immersive, and the story is so believable. They basically came up with a new history, since humanity’s real history never led to any real space wars, and if they did, it would probably be distasteful to trivialize it here. That’s why it works, because unlike games centered on war in the past, we feel so distant from it, since people are no longer dying from genuine conflict. The best part about this scenario is that space is mind-bogglingly big, and even though I’m certain they’ll want to keep the activities in-system, there’s more than enough room to have multiple battles simultaneously, perhaps originating from entirely unrelated backstories. If you’ve ever wanted to fight in base reality without any real consequence—for you, or your opponents—here’s your chance. Don’t waste it. Which side will you choose?

The Seventh Stage: Hit the Rock (Part I)

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It’s the year 2508 in the Sixth Key. Big things are happening today. For the last several decades, Cedar Duvall has held primary control over the entire galaxy. He had every right to this, according to just about everyone. It was he who saved everyone’s life when the four original parallel realities were collapsing. The main sequence was different. It was not going to collapse, and still hasn’t. Everyone who was in it during the Reconvergence is out there, living it up in another universe. If they were on Earth at the time, though, copies of them are also here. Every living organism was duplicated perfectly, and transported here along with everyone from the other realities. These duplicates have no hope of returning home. They’re here in this new reality now, and have had to make the most of it. Things were chaotic when this all happened. Trillions of worlds with their own agendas, divided into five civilizations of varying cohesiveness, and now only 400 billion stars to support them all. War for energy distribution was on everyone’s lips, and a small group of leaders had to come together for diplomatic discussions. These talks were successful, and the galaxy went on in peace, even though the diplomats had trouble returning to their homes, and most of them lost all power. Two of them got their power back, and they’re about to get more. Or so they believe.

Following the Reconvergence, the main sequence copies didn’t want to be known by their old nomenclature anymore, so they made the decision to create a new identity for themselves. In keeping with the apparent numerical pattern, they voted, and settled on renaming themselves The Seventh Stage. Their reasoning was that this placed them above even the Sixth Key itself, which referred to all civilizations collectively. This was effective according to some, but not so much according to the supermajority. Even so, it was their new name, and it managed to stick. The real main sequence was back in the old universe, and there, it would stay. The diplomats in charge of the Seventh Stage were a General by the name of Bariq Medley, and his second-in-command, Judy Schmidt. They did not get along all that well, but they weren’t overly antagonistic. In recent years, they’ve grown closer because they’ve had to in order to raise two powerful children.

Clavia and Echo were not really brother and sister, but they didn’t know that. The former was the avatar of a magical tree, and the latter a projected consciousness of, fittingly, a temporal echo. Clavia corrupted Echo, and tried to use him to gain even more power, so he turned the tables on her, and regressed them both to childhood. They now have no memory of their past life, and have been living as twin siblings under Bariq and Judy’s care ever since. Today is their sixteenth birthday, and that changes everything. This whole time, they have been cultivated and prepared to take over for Cedar. It’s time for him to step down. The thing is, though, while this has been in the works for some time now, Clavia and Echo aren’t mature enough to handle the responsibility. At least, their parents don’t think they are. Echo really warped their minds in order to rid the both of them of all evil thoughts, and it has made it difficult for them to develop. They still need their parents, who have experience with this kind of leadership. Bariq and Judy will still be in control here, even more so now that Cedar will be out of the picture. The twins may have other plans, though.

The time has come for the twins to ascend. They’re standing in their ceremonial robes behind the curtains. They’re not the only ones being celebrated and honored today, they’re just the headliner. They have to wait for the other graduates first. They’re trying to not look nervous, but they are. Judy comes up to them, and starts to make minor adjustments to the hang of their robes, none of which will matter in a few seconds when gravity and their movements readjust them anyway. She just wants an excuse to talk to them. “How are you two doing?” she whispers.

“How are you?” Clavia asks her mother. “This day is as important to you as it is for us. I know how excited you are.”

“I’m great. This is what we’ve been working towards.” She breathes, and gives a sad smile to her son. “Echo?”

“It’s not right.” Echo doesn’t agree with anything that’s happening here. Cedar has been a good leader, and it’s not like he made every decision unilaterally. There are way too many people spread across way too many worlds for him to know everything that must be done to keep the joint-civilizations running. Still, he’s been number one this whole time. Doubling that to Echo and his sister, or even quadrupling it to the whole family, isn’t going to be much better. It doesn’t sit right with him. It’s not democratic enough. Unfortunately, it might get worse before it gets better.

“I know it bothers you, but this is the only efficient way to manage the universe right now,” Judy tries to explain yet again. “Even with all of our technology, we’re talking about undecillions of people. If we tried to vote, it would take years.”

Frustrated, Echo takes his mother’s wrist, and pulls it away from his collar. Gently, though. “Then it takes years. That’s what they should have been doing while we were growing up; figuring out how to coordinate a legitimate democracy.”

“Not all of the minor worlds recognize Cedar as the Sixth Key,” Judy says. “Getting them to get on board with a vote will be even more difficult. They simply don’t want to be a part of the new civilization.”

“So we take power instead?” Echo questions.

Judy sighs. “If we hold a vote, and some refuse to vote, it will call the results into question. There would be those who wonder if they truly refused, or if we didn’t let them” She brushes the non-existent dust off of his shoulder. “This way is cleaner. This is how the Tanadama ran things in the Parallel, and it seemed to work for them.”

“They were treated like gods,” Echo reasons. “So is Cedar. So will we once the people realize quite how powerful my sister and I are. I don’t wanna rule with an iron fist. I don’t wanna rule.”

“I’m not talking about this anymore.” Judy remains calm and self-assured.

“If you just look at my proposal—”

“This is your Ascension,” Judy interrupts. She’s been a good mother; kind of caring, but not very flexible. “I won’t be looking at anything today except you two on that stage, accepting your new posts with grace and poise. Do you understand?” she asks with a wide smile. It’s not really fake, but it’s not entirely genuine either.

“Echo, just let it go,” Clavia urges quietly.

The Assistant Stage Manager, dressed in all black, hustles up to them. “It’s time.”

“Okay, you’ll do great,” Judy tries to say.

“It’s really time, right now,” the ASM presses. “Let’s go, let’s go.”

“Okay, go,” Judy says, ushering them towards the curtains.

Echo and Clavia step into the limelight together. The crowd has been cheering for the other graduates, but they cheer much louder now at the sight of them. They smile and wave, just as they practiced. Echo is faking it, of course, but Clavia isn’t all that excited about this either. She doesn’t like the attention. Unlike her brother, she does want power, but she would prefer to operate in the shadows. That’s where all the important business gets done, where people can’t see it...and scrutinize it. She has improved from her original self years ago, but their parents worry that she’s heading back in that direction. Whatever was in her that gave her a weak moral compass is still there. Yet the debate between nurture and nature rages on, because she’s not evil. She’s been raised by good people, and Echo is here to keep her in check. She’s not sure that she agrees with Echo’s proposal for a galaxy-wide democratic republic, but she loves and supports him, and certainly wants to see what he has to offer.

The two of them stand center stage. They’re meant to go over and accept their diplomas and medals from the presider, but that can wait, because this is what the audience wants. That’s not all they want, though. “Hit the rock!” they chant. “Hit the rock! Hit the rock!” This is something that they do. It’s just a fun little handshake that only works with the two of them. Others may be able to approximate the move, but they can’t replicate the grand finale, unless maybe if they integrate certain technologies, like some sort of concussive weapon. Clavia holds her hand behind her ear like she can’t hear the audience. They chant louder.

“Okay, okay,” she relents, using exaggerated gestures since she’s not wearing a microphone. She gets in place in front of Echo, and he does the same. They begin by punching the air between them without touching, but quickly move on to the next phase. Their fists make contact in the middle, and as they’re pulling their elbows back, their opposite fists meet. Then they return to the first one. They go back and forth over and over again, getting faster and faster until it’s just a blur to anyone else, even if someone were to stand right next to them. Faster and faster still, the crowd is going wild. They’ve obviously done this before, but never with this many viewers. The whole galaxy is watching too, not just the people in the auditorium. Faster, faster, until boom! Without speaking, they reach back with both fists at the same time, and bring them back together for one final move. An intense force is expelled from their hands, and spreads out in a sphere, knocking caps off of people’s heads, and a few chairs over. Several people spill their drinks, but they should have known better. It’s not one explosion either. There’s a reason his name is Echo. A second wave, a third, and a fourth crash into the audience to their great delight, followed by a fifth, sixth, and seventh. They could have made more, but given the numerology of the day, limiting it to seven seemed appropriate. Again, they didn’t discuss this beforehand; that’s how in sync they are. They might as well be actual twins.

The enthusiasm remains strong for a few moments afterwards as they continue to smile and wave, but they do sense that it is fading. Deciding that the ceremony should be over roundabouts now, Clavia and Echo take each other by the and, and reach for the sky before a deep bow. Six bows later, they let go, and begin walking down the runway, still encouraging the audience to clap and cheer. The ASM catches up to them in the aisle between the runway and the seating. “You’re not done yet,” she whispers loudly.

Clavia nods. She teleports to the presider, and takes the diplomas and medals from him. She then teleports back to Echo so she can hand him his. They wave and smile some more until the end of the walkway. They slip through the doors under the balcony, and breathe sighs of relief. It’s over. They’re technically in charge of the Sixth Key now. It is expected of them to openly secretly grant all decision-making powers to their parents until they’re considered mature enough to take over in a more official capacity, but that’s not really what they’re gonna do. “You ready?” Clavia asks.

“Let’s do it.”

They teleport away. The Cloudbearer Dynasty has begun.

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The Sixth Key: Rock Up (Part VI)

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Cedar Duvall, leader of the Sixth Key, stands on the bridge, watching as the seams to the time bubble that has been slowing their progress down start to rip apart, and finally release them. They expected to break free from its tyranny eventually, but the calculations the scientists made placed that estimation much later than now. “Steady, boys. I fear we have been freed intentionally by whatever intelligence is down there. We still don’t know if they’re friendly.”

“There’s no planet here anymore. It’s just a small patch of land. Should I prep an away team?” the Captain of the Starship of State offers. Any vessel that The Sixth Key is on is the Starship of State, but this is the ship that is typically used for this purpose, so the two of them have a nice rapport. She knows that Cedar isn’t going to say yes. He is the away team. He’s reckless like that.

“No, Cap’n. Teleport me down alone. Keep the whole crew on PrepCon Three.”

“Aye, sir. Teleporting you now.”

Cedar appears on the grassy hill. A bunch of people are sitting around. Two others appear to be dead, but it doesn’t seem to be bothering anyone. “My name is Cedar Duvall, Sixth Key of the Sixth Key! Report!”

“I’m confused,” a woman says.

“About what? The re part, or the port part?”

“Ha-ha-ha. The Sixth Key of the Sixth Key, I don’t know what that means.”

Cedar is taken aback. He hasn’t spoken to anyone who doesn’t know who he is in decades. “I am the Sixth Key, because I created the Sixth Key universe. Me and five other keys.”

“Oh,” the woman says. She’s holding back further laughter. “Right. My name is Hogarth Pudeyonavic.”

“Ah, I’ve heard of you. I know all the salmon and choosing ones. And the other...extra people.”

“Of course, sir. You’ve taken a leadership role since all these people left?”

These people? Cedar starts studying people’s faces, instead of just treating them as background actors. She’s right. Some of these are the former leaders of the original five realities. Not all of them, though. They disappeared, and he did indeed have to step up. They needed a singular voice, and they needed someone whose loyalties did not lie in one past civilization or another. “I have. Is that going to be a problem?”

“What year is it now?” Ingrid Alvarado of the Fifth Division asks.

“It’s 2500. At least, it should be. We were stuck in a time bubble on the way here, so who knows?”

“That was probably his doing,” Hogarth says, gesturing towards the dead man.

“Is that why you killed him?”

“He’s not dead, he’s asleep.”

Cedar cocks his head to the side, and eyes the supposedly sleeping man. “There’s something happening to his face.”

Hogarth looks down at him too. She takes a pair of goggles out of her pocket, and presses them against her eyes without bothering to strap them onto her head. “He’s de-aging. Interesting.”

“How do we stop it?” Cedar asks. “Cosette DuFour,” he says to another woman. “You can do that, can’t you?”

“Not to other people,” Cosette answers. “I can only adjust my own age.”

“Pity.”

“This is what he wanted,” Hogarth tries to explain. “He’s...resetting his brain back to factory settings. At least that’s how I’m interpreting his words. He didn’t allot any time to talk about it. He just collapsed, and fell asleep.”

“I think she’s de-aging too,” a guy calls up after examining the dead-not-dead woman. Who is he again? He ran the main sequence. Some kind of General.

“So, they’re gonna be all right?” Cedar asks.

Hogarth shrugs. “Dunno. We’re waiting to see.” She jerks her chin towards the sleeping woman. “She wasn’t a good person.” She jerks her chin towards the sleeping man. “He’s trying to fix her. Too early to tell whether it worked or not.”

Cedar takes his water disc out of his suit. He flicks it in the air, but it doesn’t open, so he flicks it several more times until it does. He presses the button, and summons the interdimensional water. “Well...” He takes a drink. “There’s something weird about this void.” He takes another sip. “Ahhh. I mean, besides the fact that there’s no black hole in it, which I’m told is unusual. It’s been drawing power lately.” Some of the water has gone down the wrong pipe, so he coughs it out. “It’s been stealing from us. We came here to plug the leak.”

Hogarth glances down at the sleeping man now, who looks a lot younger than he did when Cedar first showed up. “Well, that would probably kill them.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking too.” Cedar vigorously shakes the back of his head. “Thing is, I still gotta plug the leak. The galaxy runs on temporal energy.”

“Every universe runs on temporal energy,” Hogarth says. “That’s what time is.”

“I have no doubt that that’s true, but I don’t care about the other universes. I care about mine.”

“You’re the confused one now,” Hogarth says, taking a step forward. “This universe is mine. You may have made your little pocket universe, but I made the full-sized one that it’s inside of. You’re here because I say you can be here, and technically speaking, all of the energy that you have is sourced from me.”

He studies her face. “You’ve been gone as well. We’ve been holding diplomatic discussions with one Ellie Underhill, and her cohort. Perhaps you’ve heard of her? She lives in Fort Underhill.”

Hogarth cracks a smile. “That I named it after her does not diminish my own power. You still need to respect me. The Third Rail spent billions of years without excess temporal energy. They lived off the time that was naturally available to them. You will be fine with a little bit of rationing while we figure out who these two are when they wake up...what they are.”

“The Third Rail was one planet in its original reality. We number in the trillions of habitats. We need the excess.”

“And you’ll have it,” Hogarth reiterated, “when these two are done doing whatever it is they’re doing.”

They look like children now. How long is this gonna go on? “Which will be when? When they each turn back into an unfertilized egg and a sperm?”

“It’s called a spermatozoon,” one of the people Cedar doesn’t recognize corrects. “What? I’m a biologist, I have to know these things.”

“I thought you were a princess,” the Nuadu-something guy from the Parallel says.

“We don’t know,” Hogarth jumps back in before the conversation can be moved too far off topic. “I expect that they’ll stop de-aging at some point. I’m sure that this was all part of his plan, and I’m choosing to accept that. Why? Because he may be the single-most powerful being in both of our universes. Let’s not piss him off, shall we?”

Cedar clears his throat, and coughs again. He smashes his cup back down to disc form, and slips it in its pocket. “Can’t argue with that logic. Wadya all eat around here?”

“We just got here,” Hogarth answers. “We don’t know what’s edible.”

No one ends up eating anything. They’re too nervous to find out what’s going to happen when the child-gods wake up. They’re both eight years old or so when the de-aging process ceases. They stay asleep after that, though, continuing to work through their apparent metamorphoses. While they’re waiting, they catch Cedar up on who and what the sleepers are, to the extent of their knowledge. In turn, he catches them up on the goingson of the Sixth Key, and all the history they missed while they were gone. They’ve maintained the imaginary wall that is holding back the Reality Wars, but it is a constant threat to the peace that their new civilization is enjoying. That’s why Echo and Clavia are such a concern. Energy is still the number one commodity in the galaxy, so they can’t afford to waste one ounce of it. These two god-beings could be the key to maintaining the peace forever, or they could be the instruments of its destruction following total domination. It all depends on what happens when they come to.

About an hour passes before they begin to stir. Clavia wakes up first, dazed and confused. “Mommy?” she asks. She thinks she has a mother. Who is she talking about, though? “Mom, where are you?” She’s looking around and blinking a lot.

“Umm...I’m right here.” Hogarth carefully approaches her.

“You’re not my mommy,” Clavia argues.

“No, but I care about you, and I’m here to care for you.” Nice save.

Clavia is very pouty. She continues to blink as she tries to wake up fully. She looks around again, and stops when she sees the second-in-command for the Sixth Key version of main sequence Earth. “Mom! There you are!”

Judy Schmidt widens her eyes. “Uh, me?”

“Yeah, silly!” Clavia laughs joyously.

“Right, okay. Um. Come here...honey.”

Clavia hops over, and tackles Judy with a big hug.

Judy mouths what the fuh to everyone else, but no one has any answers. This little magic girl has imprinted on her, for whatever reason, and there’s probably no going back on that. Kids don’t just switch parents on a whim. It’s her job to raise her now. So she better figure it out.

“Group hug!” Echo comes running up the hill. He hugs Judy and Clavia. “Come on, daddy!” He beckons Judy’s superior, General Bariq Medley.

“Oh, um.” Bariq leans over to hug them too, but not very tightly.

“Okay,” Judy says, gently separating them all. “Why don’t you go play with your aunt...Princess Honeypea, so your mommy and daddy can talk to their friends.

“Okay!” the kids say in unison. Good, they do see Honeypea as a member of the family. Out of everyone here, she’s probably the best with kids.

“What the hell is happening?” Bariq questions Hogarth.

“Everyone seems to think that I’m some sort of expert in all this, but I don’t know what’s going on. I came here because this is where the trail led after the magnolia tree was destroyed. But here’s all I know. Two extremely powerful individuals were just regressed to childhood, and now they think you two are their parents. I don’t know if they have false memories of you, or if it’s just an intuition they have, but I don’t think there’s anything I can do about it. You have to be there for them. No one can replace you. Think about how you were when you were their age. Would you have accepted just being moved to someone else’s care?”

“No one suggested that,” Judy defends.

“You were thinking it.” Cedar steps forward, injecting himself into the conversation. “I would be.”

Bariq looks over his shoulders. Princess Honeypea is teaching the kids pattycake. “I want a seat at the table.”

“What?” Cedar asks.

“You rule the galaxy now. I wanna be a part of that.”

“I don’t know that there’s any reason—”

“Hey, Clavia and Echo!” Bariq calls over. “Who’s this guy?”

They both just shrug their shoulders.

“They don’t know you. You wanna have any say what they do with their power? You wanna make sure the people of the Sixth Key have what they need? You better cozy up to their parents.”

“Bariq, we can’t just exploit them like that,” Judy warns. “They’re children.”

“No, they’re not,” Bariq argues. He turns back to Cedar. “What’ll it be? The woman’s name literally means key. That’s a strong symbol, but they don’t answer to you. They answer to the two of us.”

“They’ll answer to me better,” Judy reasons. “Children always love their mommies more. Especially when their daddies are dicks.”

Bariq chuckles. “I’ll dote on them. But I can’t do that from the sidelines.”

“Yes, you can,” Judy insists.

“Okay,” Cedar says. “You come with me, bringing the temporal energy gods, and I’ll find you a place in government. High up. People will know you, respect you. They remember you. I didn’t erase the past, though I literally could have.”

“They’ll be well taken care of,” Bariq tries to explain to Judy when she shakes her head at this devil’s deal. “No one’s exploiting anyone. It will be years before they’ll be mature enough to make their own serious decisions, and it’s better for them if they’re close with the leader of all of reality. If you don’t want this to go badly, then be their mother. You have that instinct. That’s why the tree chose you to be my second at the Rock Meetings. You weren’t my lieutenant before this. I would have chosen someone else to stand by my side.”

“I wouldn’t have chosen a military leader to be the main representative,” Judy reminds him. “I would have chosen Earth’s Mediator.”

“Yeah. We’ve been over that,” Bariq acknowledges.

“Okay, but I’m the head parent,” she says with airquotes. “I decide what’s best for them, even if that comes to mean leaving the Capital, or wherever you operate out of,” she says to Cedar.

“Sure,” Cedar agrees.

“Them too.” Bariq points at everyone else in this little bubble. “Give them what they want.”

“We want a garden,” a woman says.

“I got lots of gardens,” Cedar replies.

“A big one,” she clarifies.

Cedar nods his head. “I’ll see what I can do.”

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 18, 2500

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The ladies were gone. Leona, Olimpia, and Romana were on a trip together in the Pacific Northwest, predominantly the Portland area. Mateo could have taken time off of work to go with them, but he wasn’t invited. Instead, he was staying home. Ramses was spending a lot of time here too, hanging out to keep him company. They had planned on playing cards with a couple of driver friends, but both of them fell through, so now it was just the two of them. “You can play cards with just two people,” Mateo reasoned. “You can play with just yourself, if it’s the right game.”

“That’s depressing,” Ramses pointed out. “Let’s just find someone else.”

“This last minute?”

“It’s not a big party; they’ll be able to leave whenever they want to. What about those twins next door?”

“Angela and Marie.” Mateo leaned over in his chair, but couldn’t quite see through the window, so he stood up. It still wasn’t enough, so he just stepped over. “Yeah, they’re out there in their garden. Seems as though that’s all they do.”

“Maybe they would like a break,” Ramses suggested. Maybe they’re always out there hoping a couple of cool guys will invite them to something better.”

“I’ll see.” Mateo walked out of the house, expecting to do this alone, but Ramses was trailing behind him. “Hello, Waltons. Are you free this evening? We got a poker game going, and there are some extra seats at the table.”

Marie and Angela exchanged a look. “Do you have RPS-101?” asked the former.

“Is...that a drink?” Mateo asked.

They laughed. “No,” Angela said. “It’s a game. We have a board, if you think you might like to learn.”

Mateo exchanged a look with Rames, and then shrugged. “Yeah, we’re up for something new. It’ll just be the four of us.”

“Great.” Marie stood up, and started to remove her gardening gloves. “Marie Walton, computer programmer.” She shook Ramses’ hand.

“Computer engineer,” Ramses replied.

“I know.” She smiled.

“I’m an addiction counselor.” Angela shook his hand too.

“There won’t be any drinking,” Mateo explained, worried that maybe she was worried about it.

“It would have been fine if there were,” Angela promised.

The twins wanted to shower first, which was fine, because the gaming table wasn’t set up yet. A half hour later, they showed up with their game board. It was a giant wheel with 101 objects written in the wedges. The entire game was pure chance, with absolutely no strategy involved. One player spun the wheel, and randomly landed on one of the objects. The other player spun next, and if it was better than the first one, they won. It was the most boring thing that Mateo had ever experienced, and he couldn’t understand why they liked it so much. They couldn’t explain it either. They just had this peculiar fascination with it, like there was a secret dimension to the game that they simply hadn’t reached yet. Mateo wasn’t so sure, but he did find himself mysteriously landing on Sponge a lot. Maybe there really was magic to it. Despite this inexplicable intrigue, everyone agreed after a while that it was literally played out. They switched to regular old poker. They had to explain the game to the Waltons first. Well, Ramses did. Mateo knew the hands, but he didn’t understand it on the level that Ramses did. That was why he served as the region’s engineer. Mateo certainly couldn’t do it without him.

After hours of this, they took a break to get up, use the restroom, and scavenge for food. Ramses and Marie ended up in a discussion about their jobs, and it was kind of looking like they were never going to start playing again.

“There’s something I’d like to show you,” Angela said to Mateo. She tilted her head towards the east. “Back at our place.”

“Okay,” he said. Hopefully she wasn’t coming onto him. Managing a three-person relationship was complicated enough. They didn’t need to add a fourth. He followed her back to her house, and into what she called their study.

“Did you know that there are more than two kinds of twins?”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, you can have identical or fraternal—or in the case of two girls, sororal. You’ve probably heard of this distinction, but there are other variations. Precisely when the egg splits, or whether it was fertilized before the split, or after, makes a difference. There are other factors. You can even have two twins with two separate fathers!”

“Is that what you are?” Mateo asked, not sure where she was going with this.

Angela giggled as she took a file folder out of the top drawer of a desk. “No.” She opened the folder, and folded it under itself before handing it to him. “We’re not sure what we are.”

Mateo looked down at the top piece of paper. “I don’t understand what any of this means. DNA methylation, telomeres...”

“Down at the bottom.” Angela just pointed at the sheet in general.

Mateo read it out loud, “biological markers inconclusively suggest an aging abnormality that places Subject B roughly four years ahead of Subject A. Yeah, I still don’t know what that means.”

“Marie is older than me,” Angela tried to explain, “by four years.”

“How is that possible?”

She shook her head. “We don’t know. It’s not the only weird thing about it. We understand that RPS-101 is stupid and boring, but we wanted to play it with you two to see what would happen. You keep landing on Sponge. I keep landing on Heart. And there’s also the matter of the hemlock.”

“Excuse me?”

“We all drank hemlock.”

“I don’t know much, but I know that that’s toxic.”

“Yeah, it should be. But are you even a little queasy?”

Mateo turned away. “You poisoned me as some sort of test?”

“Do you remember moving here, to your house, I mean?”

“Yeah, of course I do.”

“I don’t. Neither does Marie. We’re just been here forever. All we do is garden.”

“And play Rock, Paper, Scissors, and drink hemlock.”

“Do you feel stronger when you go out in the sun?”

“Lots of people like the sun.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Mateo sighed. “I guess so. Is that not normal?”

“No, it’s not.”

“What does it mean, when you put it all together, that we’re superheroes?”

“Well, we may be super, but we’re not heroes. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure your job is very fulfilling, but it can be done by a computer.”

That was a bit of a sore subject. While it was true that RideSauce valued the human touch, his role was also under constant threat of being automated. The only reason they hadn’t pulled the trigger was because customer satisfaction was a reflection of staff satisfaction, which was reportedly tied to their ability to receive help from real humans. If the pendulum ever swung to the opposite direction, even for only a day, his job would be gone so fast, a new tenant would be in his office space by lunch.

Angela took her lab test back, and returned it to the drawer. “I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but there’s something going on around here. I feel like nearly everyone around me is fake. There’s a reason we ran these tests on you two. You, your wife, your daughter; they all seem like real people. You seem like the only real people. Everyone else is just sort of...weird. Wouldn’t you say?”

“No,” Mateo argued. “My assistant feels real, as does one of my drivers, Boyd.”

Angela grabbed a notepad from the desk. “Boyd. And what’s your assistant’s name?”

“You’re not going to poison my friends too!”

“Understood, but you only listed two more people. Can you think of anyone besides them?”

“Yeah, my rival...Pacey.”

“Pacey, with an e?”

“You’re not—I mean, you can poison him if you want, I guess. But you stay the hell away from my wife and daughter, you hear me.”

“Well, your daughter wouldn’t be able to survive it.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I dunno. Why did I say that?”

Mateo decided to sit down in one of the guest chairs. “If I’m being honest, there are some things I know or think about the world around me, and the people, which don’t seem true...but do?”

Angela flattened her skirt under her thighs and sat down in the other guest chair. “I think I know what you mean. Leona and I had tea the other day, and she made an off-handed comment about how I was once engaged to a man named Ed. That’s completely untrue, I’ve never been engaged, yet it still somehow felt right. I could picture him in my mind. He was dressed weird, like he lived in a different time.”

“Maybe it’s a past life.” He stood up and laughed as he put his face in his palm. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m even entertaining these scifi ideas. Past lives? That’s not a thing.”

“Aren’t they? We don’t know,” Angela pointed out.

“I designed a spaceship.” The two of them looked over to find Ramses standing in the doorway. “I thought it was just for fun, but...I think it works. I mean, it’s really detailed, right down to how the fuel is injected into the engine.”

“He showed it to me,” Marie said as they were both walking all the way into the room. “I can’t make heads or tails of it, but I can tell that he put a lot of thought into the design. If it wouldn’t work, it’s well-thought out at the very least.”

“We were talking,” Ramses went on. “I’ve never been sick. Neither has she, nor her sister. My memories seem...not fake, but too perfect, like they’ve been carefully curated for my mind.”

“Did she tell you about the poison?” Mateo asked him.

“Yeah,” Ramses said with a nod. “We took it a step further.” He bent over, and unplugged a surge protector from its wall, along with all of the appliances connected to it. “Do you care about this?” he asked Marie.

“No,” she said as she was taking it from him. She pulled it back like a baseball bat, and slammed it straight into Ramses’ face. He didn’t even move. It didn’t seem to hurt at all, and didn’t do any damage whatsoever.

Apparently inspired by the two of them, Angela grabbed a letter opener from the desk, and tried to jam it into Mateo’s neck. It didn’t hurt either, and didn’t break the skin. It did do damage to the opener, though, bending it into a slight curve.

“We are superheroes,” Mateo guessed.

“Or it’s the simulation hypothesis,” Ramses decided.

“Explain that one again?” Mateo asked, jokingly without laughing, because he hadn’t ever heard of it, though it did not sound humorous.

“We’re all living in a computer simulation,” Ramses began. “Usually, it’s used in an attempt to explain the nature of reality itself, and where we all are in general. But in this case, it could just be the explanation for where we are...the four of us.”

“Six,” Marie corrected. “We think Mateo’s family is part of this too.”

“More,” Angela corrected Marie’s correction. She lifted up the notepad. “Mateo came up with a few names of people he interacts with who also appear to be real.” She used airquotes around the last word.

“If we’re just in a computer,” Mateo asked, “how do we get out?”

“Typically?” Ramses asked. “You can’t. You can never really know what’s real, and what’s not. It’s not like the movies, where you can will yourself out of it, or where the developers hid secret powers that let you take control. If the simulation hypothesis is true, we have absolutely no free will. Not only can they shape our world to their liking, but they can adjust our minds as needed. We’re not necessarily real either.”

“So, what do we do?” Angel asked him.

“Our two main choices are to keep our heads down, and hope our creators see fit to at least keep us alive in whatever definition that should be for the simulation. Don’t make waves, don’t rock the boat; just play along.”

“Or we keep bashing each other with office equipment,” Marie offered.

“Or we try to talk to them,” Mateo suggested instead. “I told you, Angela, that my rival, Pacey seems real too. There’s more to it. He actually seems, somehow...more real.”

“You think he’s one of them? An avatar of one of the developers?” Angela figured.

“Might could be,” Mateo said. “But I don’t wanna do anything until my girls come back home. It’s not safe for them here, but it’s not like it’s safe wherever they are now. What if they’re on a different server, or whatever? At least if they come back, I can keep an eye on them.”

“Okay, then we wait to do anything,” Marie said. “They should have a say in whatever decision we make anyway.”

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