Microstory 2644: Origin Stories

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The optic void scanners don’t exist within the simulation. They aren’t necessary as you supposedly can’t get into the dome without an ID, so there should be no concern. Mandica is safe from being caught as long as she stays here, but she does have to stay. There’s not much hope for anything changing in the future, unless she gets the sense that the administrative leaders won’t punish her for being unregistered. Truthfully, she doesn’t even know if they would be upset about it now or what the consequences might be. If she asks, then they’ll know, and there’s no going back from that. It must be some kind of problem, or Trilby and Yunil Tereth would not have worked so hard to help her avoid detection. She’s going to have to make a life here, as the most vulnerable person in the city. That’s frightening, and she has two options when it comes to that. She can stick with the heroes and player villains who can protect her from danger, or she can specifically avoid them so she doesn’t get wrapped up in their violent games. She doesn’t know which she is going to choose yet. Ravensgate refers to the city proper, but there are suburban neighborhoods beyond the city limits, still under the dome, and even a few rural towns on the furthest edges. They would be the place to go, but if Morgana has it out for her, nowhere is safe if she is alone, so she is leaning towards staying.

She’s been living in Blue Umbra and Wave Function’s lair for the last few weeks. Elysia and Jaidia didn’t have much room in their apartment, and Mandica’s heart skips a beat every time she sees Jaidia’s face. She’s been very sweet and understanding, and Mandica is comfortable believing that she had nothing to do with the attack. Still, this is what’s best for everyone. Wave Function, whose real name is Reagan Dorsey, has been particularly attentive. Blue Umbra has been going out on patrol alone a lot lately so he can stay with Mandica. Like half of the players here, he has a hero complex, so he feels obligated to protect the one person who genuinely needs it. He talks about time travel a lot. The reason Underbelly has the social credit to exist is because real life superheroes wouldn’t be any more powerful than the majority of the population. Their specific ability sets may not be common, but they’re obviously possible, which makes most of the world relatively safe. That’s why Mandica left Earth, because many wanted to protect her, and she didn’t feel she needed it until she entered this simulation. Reagan wants to go back in time to be a real superhero for a world that would value and appreciate it.

“I can walk, I can get my own ramen,” she argues.

“I just know you really like this stuff,” Reagan says.

“Yeah, I had never had it before. I mean, I’ve had noodles, but not like this.”

“There’s something very comforting about the mass produced packaged stuff. Of course, it’s not actually mass produced, but they use the exact same recipe as people did way back in the day. Here ya go.” He hands her the bowl.

“Thanks,” Mandica says to him. Before eating, she watches as he sits back down with a contented expression on his face. When she was a nomad, she learned to be forthright and efficient. She didn’t have time to develop relationships slowly. If she sparked with someone, they had to get on with it, or by the time they built any real trust, she would have to move on. “Do you have romantic feelings for me?”

He’s taken aback by this. “I...probably, but I’ve been trying not to pressure you into exploring anything,” he says nervously. “Why? Do you have feelings?”

“I don’t usually get attached to people,” Mandica begins to explain. “There’s not enough time for it. I never met another nomad who I wanted to connect with, and either way, it’s hard. You would think that any two nomads who click could travel together, but we all wanted to choose where we went, and we didn’t like having to get it approved by someone else. My parents were kind of outliers in this regard. I’m still not looking for a partner, but if we’re just talking about sex, I’m available, and currently have the time.”

“Hold on, there, Buckaroo Billy. That may be how Wave Function operates when he’s around the ladybots, but that’s not the real me. If I’m dealing with a sentient person, I need time to get to know them first.”

Mandica shrugs. “It sounds like we have incompatible social practices. I just thought I would ask in case you were only being nice—”

“Hold on, don’t finish that sentence,” Reagan interrupts. “I resent the suggestion that I can only be nice to people when I want something. I lived in a regular community before I came here, and my relationships—both platonic and romantic—were real and sincere. I don’t manipulate people.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend. That’s my poor social skills. I don’t get along with people, which is why I tend to gravitate towards superficial and brief interactions.”

He nods. “It’s okay. It’s just, the reason my character acts the way he does is very specifically because that’s not how I am at all. I’m only playing here. My other four personas had different personalities. I change it every time I come back in.”

Mandica nods too, then waits a beat. “Where did you live, before Castlebourne?”

Reagan’s face falls a little. He’s not offended again, but he’s not looking at her. “A little planet called Ex-926. We manufactured weapons. That’s why I don’t have much in the way of special powers. I know more about machines than the human body.”

“Ex-926,” she echoes. “I’ve never heard of that. Was that colony founded after I went relativistic in 2424? What star does it orbit?”

He sighs. “No. It’s been around for a while. We didn’t have a name for our sun.” He stays silent for a moment before finally looking over at her. “You’ve been honest with me about your origins, so I’ll return the favor. Please don’t tell anyone else, though. Not even Malika knows where I’m from. I talk about time travel so much, because for me, it’s not a theory. It’s very real, and more common than you think. A very evil man used it to go back thousands of years in the past. He brought human samples with him, and used them to found an empire 16,000 light years from here, which he has ruled this entire time. A small crew of heroes showed up several decades ago, and started rescuing refugees. I was one of them. Hrockas was kind enough to take us in. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I’m doing this. It’s not for fun. I’m training myself. It doesn’t bother me when I have to switch characters, because it gives me the chance to accumulate new skills. One day, I’m gonna go back to the Goldilocks Corridor. I’m gonna confront The Oaksent, kill every single back-up body he has, and free the rest of my people.”

Mandica stares at Reagan. Most of the players have come up with pretty elaborate backstories, and origins of their powers. But time travel? Oppressive empires thousands of light years beyond the range of space colonization. That is a little much, and he has always been better at turning off his superhero character when he comes home. Could he possibly be not lying? “You’re not serious, are you? That’s not real, is it?”

He stares back, then laughs...unconvincingly. “No, of course not. I’m joking.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 17, 2530

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Séarlas and Franka were not Mateo and Leona’s children, but Mateo and Leona were their once-parents, and no one knew how to feel about that. A version of the two of them had twins in another timeline, but neither of them had memories of that. This Leona lost her babies in a terrible tragedy on an interplanetary ship that was breaking apart. They didn’t talk about it anymore, and she never said it out loud, but those were her kids, and the only way for her to get through the sadness was to believe that. The living Séarlas and Franka were some of the first people they saw when they started traveling through time, and had anticipated their births for years, only to have that dream pulled away from them. Them being here right now wasn’t some way of getting it back. It was just confusing and uncomfortable. That was why Mateo never pushed for a relationship with Aura or Mario. Neither of them raised him, nor even conceived him. To them, it had never happened, and trying to force a connection was worse than pretending there was nothing there at all, and just trying to be decent friends. The question was, what did these two think? Did they see it the same way?

“We don’t expect hugs from you,” Franka went on after letting the shock of the development run its course for a few moments.

“Hold on.” Ramses materialized some kind of little tool in his hand. “Do you mind?” he asked vaguely, holding it between him and the twins.

“Do what you must,” Franka agreed, pulling up her sleeve, and nodding for her brother to do the same.

Ramses used the tool to extract small samples from them. “I already have your DNA on file,” he said to Mateo and Leona while they waited for about fifteen seconds. It beeped. “I’m seeing a 92% familial match. That would be low confidence for today’s technology, but substrate variance would account for the difference. You two still have the core DNA that you were born with, but I spliced in some extra code.”

“So, they are our genetic children,” Mateo asked to confirm.

“Their bodies are,” Ramses clarified. “I have no idea about their minds. I never did figure out how to build a simpatico detector, not that that’s exactly what we’re after.”

“I see that our tactics have bred distrust between us,” Franka acknowledged.

“Ya think?” Olimpia asked. If these two could be categorized as Mateo and Leona’s kids, she would be their stepmother.

“Why do you think we took so long to introduce ourselves to you?” Pacey—no, Séarlas prompted.

“I’m guessing that you tried to do it earlier in other timelines, but it always went poorly,” Leona figured.

Franka smirked. “Yeah, you definitely get your intelligence from her.”

Mateo looked at Franka. “And you? You got my stupidity?”

Séarlas shook his head disapprovingly. “Your instincts. She got your instincts and intuition. You may not be as educated, and you may not have much interest in improving that, but you are the one who steers the team; not as a leader, but as a compass. Not only can you see a threat a mile away, but you can gauge how much of a threat it will be, and can adjust accordingly. You treated me and Boyd differently than you did Zeferino and Erlendr. You saw goodness in Arcadia when no one else did. Mateo, after Horace Reaver captured you and Leona, and kept you separate, he finally explained why he hated you so much. Do you remember how you reacted?”

“That was so long ago,” Mateo replied.

“You’re being modest,” Séarlas judged, “of course you remember. He told you that an alternate version of you in another timeline made a mistake, which got his wife killed. You have no recollection of that, because you didn’t do it. Yet after his story was over, you apologized. Do you know how few people would respond like that? So no, father, she didn’t get your stupidity. She got your heart.”

“Yes, so much love,” Olimpia jumped in again. “This is a living Rockwell painting.”

“We know things that you don’t,” Franka volleyed. “We’ve seen things.”

“I’ve seen a lot too,” Olimpia defended.

“I mean, our abilities allow us to try out timelines, and choose the best one,” Franka began. “This is not regular time travel where we have to go back to the point of divergence and try again. Time is a crossroads, and we have binoculars.”

“You’re seers?” Angela questioned. Seers were fairly common in their world, but none of them had actually met one in person, or even heard a name. People will just show up unexpectedly and it will be because a seer told them to be there.

Séarlas shook his head again. “Seers typically see one possible future, and if they don’t like it, they find a better one. We can see them all at once, but only from wherever we are when we’re looking. It’s not perfect, before you ask why we’re not all living in a utopia. The metaphorical binoculars only show us so much before things get fuzzy. We can walk down a given road to see further in the future, but once we do, we can’t walk backwards and try a different road. We have to pick the best choice from our perspective, and hope things don’t get worse. Then we end up at a new crossroads, and it starts all over.”

They were all just staring at him. “It’s not a perfect metaphor either,” Franka contended. “None of them really is. Time is a road, time is a river. Time is just all the things that happen.”

“This is a great lesson on temporal mechanics,” Leona said sarcastically, “but I have more questions. When were you gonna introduce yourselves to us, and honestly so, instead of with aliases. Franka, why didn’t you show up pretending to be someone else?”

“It’s like my brother said,” Franka replied, “I’m not intelligent, I’m intuitive. In this day and age, when you meet someone new, you expect them to be smart, and have something to give you. He gave you the slingdrive. I have nothing like that to offer. My job was to tell him what to do, and truthfully, to cultivate our assets.”

“Octavia and Miracle,” Mateo said, nodding. “Anyone else? You got Bhulan in your back pocket? What about my third grade teacher? She on your payroll too?”

“Well...The Overseers,” Séarlas admitted. “That’s thanks to you. We didn’t know where either of them was before.”

“Yeah, we guessed that they were with you,” Marie said, “and the Arborist.”

“It’s not like how Arcadia did it, though,” Franka insisted. “We don’t force or trick people. We don’t...tell them everything either, but they make their own choices.”

“My little intelligence officers,” Leona snarked.

Séarlas tensed up, so Franka placed a hand on his shoulder, and spoke before he could say something that he regretted. “We knew there would be hostility. This is the tough part, and it was always going to be like that because of one mistake we made long ago. I told you about the crossroads. At a real crossroads, you could walk back, and take a different path, but for us, we can’t. We had one single good opportunity to show ourselves to you. It was after our alternate versions died, and some of the initial sting from that had worn off, but before you went off to...be king of Dardius.”

“I wasn’t king.”

Franka went on without responding to that, because it wasn’t the point. “We didn’t know that the babies were going to die. Space is more difficult to see into. It’s hard to explain, but it’s easier with an atmosphere. The point is, it was a tight window, and we missed it. We wanted to know when you were going to come back to the stellar neighborhood from Dardius, and unfortunately, by the time we saw that happen, we had passed our turn. From there, too much was going on, and showing up would have only made things worse. Gatewood, Varkas Reflex, Mateo dies, the rest of the team dies, you disappear into the past, you jump to the Fifth Division, and the Third Rail. I don’t know if you can believe us, but we kept looking for opportunities, and each one was worse than the last. Eventually, we decided that the only way we could have a relationship with our parents was to...”

“Be antagonists,” Leona finished for her.

“We don’t like that word,” Franka said, “but we appreciate your perspective on that. We prefer to see ourselves as tough-love mentors.”

“You’ve been trying to get us to murder someone!” Leona shouted.

“The Oaksent’s future is profoundly clear to us,” Séarlas maintained. “With him, we don’t have binoculars, we have a planet-sized telescope. He has..to die. That’s the only solution. If you’re worried about him becoming a martyr, don’t. His loyalists see him as a god-king. His death alone will shift allegiances for millions. Gods can’t die.”

“Neither can Bronach,” Ramses reasoned, “so what does that make him?”

“The man behind the curtain,” Franka suggested.

“Learning who you are has not changed our position one iota,” Mateo tried to tell his once-children. “If you find a team who is willing and able to do it, we won’t get in your way, but we won’t help either.”

“What if it’s Team Kadiar?” Franka put forth.

It was not a good idea to say that. The twins had hardly looked at Romana since she showed up. It was between them and the parents. She had to respond to this, though. “It won’t be. I don’t care what my mom and dad say, we will interfere if you approach my sisters.” She all but growled.

“Okay, okay,” Marie stepped in. She hadn’t talked much either, but she and her sister were the diplomats. “Romana is right. Team Kadiar is also off limits. They literally crew a diplomacy ship. I won’t have you corrupting them, or even trying to. This has been a tough day. One thing I’ve learned as a counselor is that the breaks are just as important as the talks. We would like a place to retire, and will reconvene in a year. I understand that the anticipation might be difficult for you, but we will only experience less than a day. That time apart will make things easier. I promise you. We have learned a lot—maybe too much already. The human brain, even one designed by Mister Abdulrashid here, needs time to consolidate new information. Does this sound okay to everyone?”

They all agreed to take a break. Mateo had to reframe his thoughts on all this. He hadn’t raised any of his other kids, and in fact, Kivi was born in an entirely different reality, so he didn’t really even conceive her. He still saw her as his child, though admittedly, in a different way than he saw Romana, or even Dubravka. Franka and Séarlas weren’t nothing to him. He didn’t know what they were, but he already knew that they weren’t going to be strangers who he didn’t care about. A good night’s sleep would hopefully help with this. Thank God Marie was here.

There was an Alaskan king bed for Mateo, Leona, and Olimpia to share. The others each had their own rooms with regular king beds. When they woke up the next day, the twins had reportedly skipped over the interim year as well. It could have been a lie to endear them to the team, but even if it was true, it wasn’t exceptionally impactful. It didn’t solve their problems. Probably only one thing could do that, and that was a common enemy. Annoyingly enough, he was right on time. The angry Fifth Divisioner, also known as A.F. had finally found the location of this secret base, having evidently been searching for it since he discovered that Séarlas-slash-Pacey-slash-his nameless engineer had betrayed him. He had a fleet at his fingertips now, and had the space station surrounded. He remotely managed to shut down all systems besides life support and artificial gravity. It was more than that, though, the team’s slingdrive array wasn’t working either. Mateo might have been able to get them out with his dark particles, but he still needed more time to recuperate.

Séarlas sighed. “Goddamn, I wish I hadn’t given that man quintessence technology.”

“Why did you?” Mateo asked.

“You asked us to move on to Plan B for the assassination of Bronach Oaksent? You are Plan B.” He scoffed and shook his head. “A.F. was Plan A.”

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Microstory 2544: Consort

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I have always wanted children. My problem has always been finding someone to have them with. I just didn’t click with anyone that I dated. Well, that’s too narrow of an explanation. There was always something wrong with the relationship. He didn’t want kids, or he said he did but it was a lie, or he cheated on me, or we grew apart, or he wasn’t responsible enough. I’m not saying anything special. I broke up with my past love interests for all the same reasons that other people do. I don’t have any family, and the job I had before this was very demanding. I could have cut back on the work, but only if I had a partner to help support the family. It wouldn’t have worked out if I had chosen to go it alone. The baby would have been cared for by babysitters, daycare workers, and/or nannies. Not that there’s anything wrong with those jobs, but I wanted to be part of the baby’s life. Truthfully—and this may make me sound like a jackass—I didn’t sign up to be with Landis, or to have a kid with superpowers. I signed up for a baby, and a home to raise it in. Now I don’t work at all, and I spend my whole day taking care of my little guy. There’s a roof over our heads, and three squares a day. That’s all we need. I’m not greedy. That’s kind of a barrier for entry into this program. Unless you have a job that you can do from home, you can’t really make any money from this. We’re not even given a stipend. If you want something, you request it from the Facilitators, and they purchase it for you, using their company accounts. Again, that’s totally fine with us. These restrictions are important, not only because of their inherent value in protecting the legacies, but because they don’t want millions of people signing up. If it were as easy as requesting that they ship potential mothers a sample of Landis’ seed, everyone would want to do it. Might as well. You have to be able to come here, you have to be willing to have sex with Landis, and you have to be all right with staying put, and just being a mother. It’s not for couples. And it’s not for moms who already have kids. It’s for people like me, who want to devote their lives to raising one amazing child. Superpowers or not, I love him and we’re happy.

Microstory 2542: Massage Therapist

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I have been a massage therapist for thirty-eight years. I’ve always lived in Springfield, Kansas, and the surrounding areas, working most of my career for the SKS Massage Institute. I honestly don’t know why I was picked to be Landis Tipton’s exclusive masseuse. I think what happened is that the people who run the Foundation looked at our website, and chose me due to my somewhat advanced age. It might not have specifically been because I have so much experience, but because I’m not as spry as I used to be. Well, I should say that it used to be like that. I was having trouble keeping up, and not being able to make my hours. It was hard to afford rent because I just couldn’t work that much anymore. What with my arthritis, and general aches and pains, I don’t wanna say that my clients weren’t happy, but I did notice a few of them come back, but having chosen one of the younger therapists instead this time. After I met Landis, that all changed. So it’s a little ironic that now I’m only working for one client, because I could absolutely go back to work full-time, and feel just fine. What some people may not know is that Landis does not engage his ability. His breath is able to heal anyone who happens to be in the blast radius, so to speak. By working so close to him, that happens to me all the time. I know that he works closely with other team members, like his doctor, nurse, and his assistant, but as far as physical closeness, I’m probably the winner. It’s impossible to quantify, but he has probably healed me thousands of times at this point. He has a session every evening after dinner, which is after work. Unlike a lot of my past clients, he doesn’t need it for any particular problems. He’s a healer, and naturally a self-healer, so he isn’t suffering from anything. This is all about relaxation, and stress reduction. He’s being pampered, and rightly so, and I’m a core component of that. After I’m done with him, he moves onto his night job with the legacy department. He’s been honest with me that he doesn’t love it. I mean, he enjoys it, but it feels so clinical, and he doesn’t have any strong feelings for those women. It really is a job, and that is always how they have framed it. He didn’t really want to do it, but they talked him into it, because it’s one way he can change the world. With me, he wasn’t reluctant. Evidently, he used to get a lot of massages before all this, and appreciates being able to have one every day. I want to be clear about one thing, and then I won’t say anything more about it. I am a professional, and I have a professional relationship with my client, as I have throughout my entire career, with every single one of my clients. Even if I did ever do that sort of thing that’s running through your head, Landis wouldn’t need it, because of his second job. In fact, it would place that program in danger. Anyway, I count myself lucky that my job is so easy. I have lots of hobbies, and they mostly work great indoors. I like to knit and do other arts and crafts. They actually assigned me two separate suites, right next door to each other, almost all to myself. The second bedroom of my sleeping unit is a craft room, and the other room in my work unit is actually where the psychological therapist works with Landis, who is her one client too. It’s the Therapy Suite, as we call it. It makes sense to us to put them together like that. Saves time.

Microstory 2536: Executive Assistant

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They call Landis’ nurse his left-hand woman, and that’s because I’m his right-hand woman. That’s really only because I literally always stand on his right side. His left arm has better veins for drawing blood, so that’s his “medical side”. Though, they sometimes come over to my side of his body, because they need to test things like, is his blood different in his other arm? No, it’s not, by the way. As I was trying to explain, I was an assistant for three years before I landed this job. It was difficult and trying. My boss was great, but she was very demanding. She had high expectations of me, but she earned that right by building herself up from just about nothing. I figured that working for the Foundation would be a new challenge, but it’s really pretty cushy. He doesn’t exactly need me to do anything for him. His schedule is the same every day. He goes to bed by 21:30 so he can get up at 05:30 for breakfast before work at 06:00. He usually takes his half-hour lunch at 11:00. It’s his main meal, and it’s always pretty big. It’s prepared by a world-class chef whose only job is this. After his afternoon/evening healing shift is over at 18:30, he has a therapy session, which usually goes alongside his dinner. It’s much lighter than his lunch, which is important, because he then has an hour-long massage therapy session starting at 19:30. This wasn’t his idea by the way, it was prescribed to him by his doctor, who was afraid Landis would not be able to relax. He doesn’t enjoy any other relaxing hobbies, so it was kind of something they had to come up with to help. This next part is a little tricky, so let me try to keep it classy.

After the massage, Landis takes a quick shower, and then meets with a woman for about a half hour, including some light conversation. It’s a different woman every night, as coordinated by the Legacy department. This woman is virile, and of course healthy—but it’s important to note that she is typically naturally healthy. They arrange it differently sometimes for comparative experimentation, but for the most part, we’re talking about a young woman in her prime mothering years who has not undergone the healing breath treatment herself. That is what she is looking for. While the pharmaceutical company is researching paths to the panacea, an alternative program seeks to potentially expand production of the cures by simply spreading it throughout the population. Not every pregnancy takes, but all told, Landis has fathered, uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh......about 800 children. Woof, that’s kind of something that we don’t really talk about. Part of the funding that we receive goes into supporting these families for the rest of their lives. As of yet, no child has exhibited any special abilities, but the oldest one isn’t even five years old yet, so they’re not taking that as proof that it doesn’t work. The program continues. When I first met Landis, he was chill and funny. He liked to talk, and be around people. This experience has changed him, and while most seem to attribute his turtle-shelling to the burden of the healings, I believe the daily expectation of procreation has affected him more than anything. He likes women. He likes sex. And it’s all consensual. But it still heightens his anxiety. He still considers it part of his job. On the one hand, that makes it easier to detach himself, and simply perform. On the other hand, is that psycho-emotionally healthy? I don’t know. I really don’t. But I’m here for him every day, and if he were to ever express doubt in continuing either of his jobs, I would be the first to know. I won’t let him do anything he’s not comfortable with, even if it’s something that he’s done a thousand times before.

Microstory 2535: Private Nurse

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Because of the constant use of his healing ability, we believe that Landis Tipton is essentially not capable of getting sick. To put it another way, we believe that he is constantly healing himself by drawing the miracle breath through his body for twelve hours a day. I don’t know what the threshold would be, but I did have the privilege of meeting the original Voldisil who had the healing gift, and she said that she occasionally got the flu or the cold. And she could get papercuts, and headaches when she didn’t drink enough water. She wasn’t using her ability enough for it to work on herself. Still, there’s no reason to risk it, so I remain at Landis’ side while he’s working. I take more breaks than he does, and during those times, I’m relieved by the doctor, but then I get right back to my perch, making sure that we weren’t wrong about our hypothesis. After his normal operating hours, I no longer keep eyes on him, but I’m always close by; usually in the suite next door, or maybe the hallway. I’ve never had to treat him, but I do run frequent tests. I track his vitals, and ask him questions about how he’s feeling. That’s what causes the delays in the queue, and it’s something that I had to fight for. Technically, he could probably heal three or four times as many people per day than he does, but I will not allow it. I periodically hold things up to make sure that he’s okay because he won’t stop to tell me if there’s something wrong. It sucks. It sucks for the people waiting in line, and waiting for their appointment, and waiting for their applications to go through. But Landis’ health and well-being are important too. The breath does not cure stress. It’s a condition of state, and he’s just as susceptible to it as anyone would be in his position. He holds people’s very lives in his hands, and he has to slow down, or he could burn out psychologically and emotionally. Of course, he has his private therapist to take care of that side of things, but I certainly don’t want to undermine his potential issues by hanging back. I don’t overstep my bounds, because that too would stress him out, but we’ve been working together for years now, and have grown close. He knows that I have his best interests at heart, and that I’m doing this for the Foundation; not in spite of it. They want to keep the Foundation running, even when the panacea is discovered, but I’m not so sure. I know him pretty well, and I think he’ll be ready to be done, even if he can’t admit it to himself just yet.

Microstory 2531: Accountant

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There’s not much I can say about my job. We all know what accounting is, and we all know it’s boring. Even accountants find it boring. We do it, because we’re good with money and numbers, and the job usually helps you make a lot of money. The starting wage is higher than a lot of people only start making near the end of their careers. That’s not me bragging, it’s me following in my mother’s footsteps, because I was a child of divorce, and lived in two homes growing up. My parents separated when I was five years old, which is when kids really start to pick up on how the people they see live their lives. That is, it’s when you start noticing the difference between your rich friends and your poor friends. It’s when you catch the news out of the corner of your eye, and realize that there’s a lot of pain in the world. It’s basically when you wake up to the harsh realities of life. My mom was an accountant, and my dad was a temp. She lived in a house. He lived in an apartment. He was a good guy, and they maintained a decent relationship. He found a place as close to her as possible, so I was eventually able to walk between them at the end of every week. But like I said, I saw the difference, and it moulded me into the person I am today. They say that becoming an accountant is safe, and for the most part, that’s true, but there’s a caveat. If you’re no good at math, walk away. Walk away now. No career accountant failed a math class in high school, or college. It just doesn’t happen. And that’s okay, there are plenty of great paths for you. I walked down this one, because I knew what was on the other side. That’s always been very important to me, because I was lacking that during the divorce, when I didn’t understand what was going to happen to me. Things have ended up okay, but I hated that uncertainty. Numbers are not uncertain. There is an answer to every equation, even if you don’t know what it is. I take comfort in knowing that if there’s an error in the bookkeeping, it’s possible to find it. It’s not abstract or hidden. You just have to know where to look, and that’s what I do. I make sure there are no errors. I make sure that the right amount of money is coming in, and the right amount is going out. It’s not easy, but it’s not ambiguous.

Extremus: Year 112

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It’s January 2381. Early development for the in-house interactive simulation experience has been going on for months, with a five-year roadmap. They could ask a superintelligence—like Thistle—to make it for them in a fraction of the time, but they decided against it. They want this to be a human endeavor. The main reason they’re doing this is to bolster morale for the middlers, so it should be something that’s made for Extremusians by Extremusians. The wait will be worth it. Tinaya is on the Creative Board for The Search for Extremus, but she’s not holding the reins. It was her and Spalden’s idea, so she’s entitled to provide her input, but she doesn’t wield much control. She considered respectfully declining the offer, but Arqut convinced her that she ought to be a part of it in some capacity to make sure the project doesn’t devolve into a clone of anything that’s already been done. This is a model for what they expect to be like in Year 216. If they just wanted to play any old star exploration narrative, they could pull from countless options in the virtual stacks.

People are already really excited about it, so it’s already doing its job. It’s not enough, however, so the board is meeting today to discuss how they can maintain the hype while everyone waits for the finished product. They’ve not opened the floor up to anyone on the ship, but certain people have been invited to pitch their ideas for interim projects. The person they will be hearing from today is none other than Waldemar Kristiansen. If this goes well, it will doubtless help him in his dream to become captain one day. So. That’s a thing. It seems that everything they do is pushing them towards the ship’s dark fate, even when they think their actions have nothing to do with any of their worst fears. “People of the Creative Board...the Simulation Engineers...the Graphics Department, thank you for allowing me to speak with you today. My name is Waldemar Kristiansen, and I have an idea for you, which will help build anticipation for your game, while not withholding community engagement in the meantime.

“Based on your five-year projections, The Search for Extremus will be released in 2385 ECE, A.K.A. Year 116. It’s great how those years match up mathematically. Players will have 100 years before they catch up to their true destiny. I propose that we lean into this, and release incremental updates in advance of the release date. Introducing...” He swipes on the presentation screen, and reveals the first slide. “...Year 212. In the years leading up to the launch of the many, many, many scout ships, our descendants will be solidifying their plans to reach their final destination. They will need to chart the stars, and name them. They will be designing their logos, and their habitats. They will produce and prepare the equipment necessary for environmental engineering. That’s right. People don’t like to talk about it, but we’re not going to find a planet out there with a Terrestrial Habitability Similarity Index of one-point-oh. There will be work to be done to make it habitable and comfortable for humans. It’s just a matter of how much.

“Each year, we release a new update, which draws us closer to the big payoff. Year 213, Year 214, and Year 215. This is a simulation, right? Well, there is more than one type of simulation, and you don’t have to have an entirely completed, fully interactive, game to be engaged. Year 214 will be the big one, though, where players begin to design their own manned scout ship. If they’re gonna be living there for the first few months of the game, it should be comfortable, right? We don’t just want to provide them with some standardized design. I don’t know if our descendants will do it like that, but we can certainly make that part of our experience. In my plan, Year 215 will involve players getting to choose which vector they travel along, based on the mapping data that—”

“That’s Year 216,” Spalden corrects.

“Finch, he doesn’t need to know that,” Tinaya argues in a whisper.

“What? It’s fine,” Spalden counters. He looks back up at Waldemar. “The first part of the game is getting to choose your vector. We won’t be able to map the celestial firmament until we get within a few hundred light years of our anchor point.” After the Extremus ship hits that Year 216 mark, it will come to a stop and land on some nearby celestial object, or just drift aimlessly wherever that ends up being. They don’t know what’s out there yet, so those plans are still up in the air, but whatever it’s like, it’s the anchor point. It will wait for news from the scouts here. Some hope and believe that the ship will sort of spiritually or magically happen to drop out of reframe speed right next to the perfect candidate, but pragmatists understand how statistically unlikely that is. When it comes time to actually do this in base reality, they probably won’t send out as many scouts as the game will allow, however, so maybe the rules don’t really apply here anyway. There is a near-perfect planet in the game that doesn’t exist in real life, and the ability to find it is based on the player’s ability to interpret less complete data than their descendants will have in real life.

Waldemar looks at his presentation. “Okay. The rest of the plan is good, right?”

Tinaya has to admit that this all makes a lot of sense. It’s going to take a long time to build the simulation to the calibre that people expect. These piecemeal teasers should help as long as they release them strategically along the way. It’s a framework for a more robust and detailed plan that might need some extra hands on deck. This is a good thing as the development of this game is just as important as the final product. “Thank you,” she says before anyone has the chance to make some more definitive remark. “We’ll discuss it amongst ourselves, and let you know. We still have more people to hear from, so it might be a couple of weeks.” She’s not lying, but it’s also not an exclusive deal. If multiple people come up with great ideas, and they don’t contradict each other, they could end up doing some of them, or even all of them.

“Thank you,” Waldemar responds. “The full prospectus is on your tabs.” He exits.

“Admiral Leithe,” one of the board members begins, “we understand that you don’t want it to appear that you’re playing favorites, but this is a good idea. Even if we have more presentations, we should go with this one regardless.”

“Huh?” Oh, right. She forgets sometimes how it looks from the outside. Waldemar and Silveon are friends, and Tinaya’s family is close with Waldemar’s wife. She only thinks of him as the enemy, but most people aren’t supposed to know that. She has to cover. “That’s not the issue. You never say yes on the spot. Back on Earth, they might take their idea to a competitor, so the decision would be time-sensitive, but we don’t even have to worry about that. If you wanna go with Waldemar’s plan without discussing it further, that’s fine, but he needed to leave the room first either way.”

They do end up voting pretty much right away. Since Waldemar is the one who came up with the plan, even if they tweak it from here, he’ll be asked to come on board, and see it through. He’ll probably do that since it would boost his reputation on the ship. Which is great, just great. Against her advice to delay giving him the good news, they call him back right away. A few of them want to go out and celebrate, which is a good chance for Tinaya to do something that she’s been meaning to do, because now she knows where he’ll be for the next few hours. More importantly, she knows where he won’t be.

Audrey opens the door manually, and starts to tear up. It’s been a long time since they’ve been able to see each other, just the two of them. They’ve had dinners and get-togethers over the years, but Waldemar is always there...looming. For this one rare opportunity, Audrey can speak freely. Well, not here, though. She doesn’t think the cabin is bugged, but better safe than sorry. After a good, long hug, they go for a walk.

The Attic Forest is on the topmost deck of the Extremus, but the ground is not the highest point that you can stand on. There’s a catwalk above the canopy of the trees. It’s technically designed for maintenance, but the gate isn’t locked, and anyway, anyone can simply teleport up there if they wish. It’s regularly used by people who want to walk or sit in the forest from that vantage point. What’s great about it in this situation is that it’s easier to detect eavesdroppers. If you walk all the way out to a section overlooking an open area, no one can hear you whisper to each other. Plus, it’s in winter mode, so no leaves to hide behind either. They’re sitting on a bench. It’s not particularly comfortable, because it’s only there in case a maintenance worker wants to have their lunch close by, but it’s good enough.

“Any abuse to report?” Tinaya asks.

“Just the usual treating me like I don’t matter. It doesn’t count as abuse since I’m faking the relationship, but it would be a problem if I were oblivious.”

Tinaya nods. It’s saddening that Audrey answered that question in the affirmative at all, but this is the mission. They chose this path together. Audreys knows the limits. She knows the difference between unsettling, and actionable, and she would speak up if there was something worth reporting. “Not pressuring you to have any more kids?”

“No,” Audrey says, shaking her head. “Neither of us wants that, and both of us know that. He doesn’t know my reasoning, and he doesn’t know that I know his.”

“I’m sure he told you about his pitch.”

“He’s been practicing on me.”

“Well, he won.”

“I’m not surprised. It was my idea.”

“What?”

Audrey is confused about why Tinaya’s confused. “He’s intelligent, but he’s not creative. He doesn’t understand why people care about things that aren’t absolutely vital, like entertainment. Morale as a concept is completely beyond his grasp. He just shrugs and trusts me when I tell him that people need it.”

“So, this was all you. You came up with everything,” Tinaya says, just to confirm.

“Just about.” She sighs. “He chose the fonts. Well, he chose one of them.”

“Jesus,” Tinaya says. Why are they spending so much effort helping this guy? Why can’t they just kill him now? Seriously. Why?

Audrey chuckles. “It’s fine. Part of my training before becoming a time traveler was valuing invisibility over recognition. I would rather not get credit, because my brain tells me it’s a dangerous position to be in.”

“I get that. It still isn’t fair.”

“Thank you for agreeing to it at any rate. When he gets a project to focus on, it gets him out of the house.”

“You should use your extra freedom to reach out to Silveon, he misses you.”

“Maybe I will,” Audrey says quietly.

“And Aud?”

“Yeah?”

“I need you to get me consciousness travel tech. You must have either engineered something, or know where it is in this time period. We might actually use it.”

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Microstory 2509: Former Girlfriend

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Landis wasn’t always the great and noble guy you’ve heard of. I’m not surprised that he became what he is today, but I do wish that it was happening while we were dating. He wasn’t a bad guy, but he really struggled with motivation. He didn’t want to work very hard at anything. He didn’t want things handed to him, but he didn’t want to have to think too hard either, and figure the solutions out for himself. He wanted to know how to do something, and understand why he should be doing it. He didn’t have a great job, bu he was content with it, because he gave an unremarkable interview, yet they gave it to him. He didn’t care about being promoted, or even making more money. His budget was always based on the bare minimum, and he didn’t care about anything else. He didn’t want to improve, or have a better life. This sounds really selfish of me, but it might have been nice had he treated me to dinner every once in a while. I felt like I was the only one making an effort in the relationship. I had to leave him, because it was so one-sided, and when I finally did, he didn’t seem to care. This goes to show how dispassionate he was. I wanted him to want something, even if it wasn’t me. I couldn’t tell you how he got his powers, because I wasn’t around for that, but I’m happy for him. I am not bitter, and I’ve not tried to get back together. He’s doing his thing, and I’m doing mine. I feel lucky that the path we walked took us to where we are. Even if I were miserable, at least he’s a superhero now, and that’s a beautiful thing. People ask if I regret not sticking by him but if I had, the Foundation might not exist. It’s all so mysterious, so we don’t know how he ended up with the abilities, but he has told us that we received them. He wasn’t born with them, so he would not have randomly developed them in an alternate reality. He was reportedly simply at the right place at the right time. If we had still been living together, he would have been in a completely different place at that particular time. We would have gone on with our lives none the wiser, still not happy, and none of you would be cured. I guess I should say...you’re welcome.

Microstory 2503: Sibling of the Savior

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My brother, the hero. Yeah, it’s petty, but I can’t help but be annoyed by this. Obviously I love my brother, and obviously he’s doing good work, and obviously I shouldn’t be jealous. It’s hard, ya know, to live in the guy’s shadow. I’m older than him, and I’ve always been good at what I do. It’s not that I’m immediately great at everything I try. Well, it is, but not how you think. I’m good at everything I try, because I only try things that I know I’m gonna be good at. That’s my real skill, knowing myself so well. I can picture it in my mind, and if I imagine how it’s going to turn out, and if it’s no good, I simply won’t go down that road. I didn’t love growing up being more successful than my brother. I wanted him to succeed. I just didn’t know what it would look like once he finally did. People—total strangers—stop me on the street now. They all ask the same questions, about how I must be so proud, and also whether I have any magical powers too. No. No, I don’t. It’s not hereditary. He received them as gifts from other people. I’m not downplaying how important he’s become, but come on, I had nothing to do with it. Whoever these people were, they didn’t come to me. Why not? Well, we don’t have the whole story, but they didn’t seek Landis out either. He happened to be in the right place at the right time. It easily could have been anyone else who lived or worked in that area. I’m complaining a lot, I get it, it’s just annoying because I feel like I’ve addressed this in interviews, yet instead of actually doing their own research—which would take all of five minutes—they ask me again and again. And the jokes, oh the jokes. I’ve heard them all, and everyone thinks they’re so clever, like they’re the first to come up with them. Give me a break. I had a chance to live at the hotel with Landis. He wants me to. Our parents have their own suite. I just don’t want to be involved in all that. I’m sure they could use someone with my technical skills, but I’m happy where I’m working. They need me there. In fact, we still don’t know what this fabled panacea is going to do to the global economy yet. People like me need to stay where they are to keep the lights on once we conquer death, and people stop spending their money. Do you have any idea how much we spend on health? It drives the whole world, because the death rate has been at a steady 100% throughout all of human history. If the day comes that that changes, no one at that hotel is gonna be able to save you, or will even want to try. You’re gonna need people like me out here. Who will be your hero then? No, I shouldn’t end this on such a negative note. The truth is, that we have a decent relationship. I was always in his corner, and he in mine. We loved playing together as children, back when there was no pressure on either of us. It’s only when we grew up that things really started to get hard. I started feeling the need to be the best of the best, and he started getting discouraged when one little thing didn’t work out. I don’t regret anything, though, because we’re both happy now.

Extremus: Year 103

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Silvia and one of the Audreys are gone. Thistle is the only one who may know whether the original, or the clone, is the one who ended up heading off to the planet. He reportedly deleted his own memories of the event, but it really doesn’t matter. For all practical purposes, it’s the same consciousness, just with a different body. He restored her to perfect health to further conceal the truth, but a deep enough medical examination could produce an answer, if anyone were so inclined to try. Extremus!Audrey is choosing to be positive about the situation, taking comfort in knowing that she is raising her baby, even though she will never have any memories of it, or be able to make any decisions on the child’s behalf. There was a ton of philosophical debate about this during the time when consciousness manipulation technology was being developed. In the end, most can agree that you are unique, and even a copy is not really you. They’re just someone who looks like you, and thinks they are you. That’s why programs like Project Theseus and neurosponging were created. They maintain continuity of thought during the digitization and transfer process. There is no copy; it’s you over here, and then over there. Audrey is ignoring that, because it’s not the point. Silvia is being cared for by her mother, and that’s as good as it’s going to get until the Waldemar problem is solved, or at least comes to some kind of conclusion.

Tinaya’s duties to the population have subsided. There doesn’t really seem to be a need for anyone to be directly in charge of promoting growth. They don’t really want there to be someone doing that job permanently. It’s too close to totalitarianism. If you want kids, have kids. If you don’t, don’t. If you can’t care for them, please don’t try. In the end, it’s the public’s responsibility, and if they want the human race on this side of the galaxy to eventually die out, then so be it. Philosophically, it’s not a real problem. A problem is something which has a negative impact on those involved. If no one is alive anymore, there’s no one to feel the negative effects. No one gets hurt. The human race is not inherently entitled to persisting. The fact that they exist does not, on its own, provide any transcendent benefit to the universe. This is a hard lesson to learn, and few have learned it. In an ideal world, they shouldn’t have to. If they do want to live, they should be able to. The only real boundary separates what one person wants from what another does. Everyone deserves the right to decide what they want, even if what they want is to not exist at all.

Oceanus had started to rely less on Tinaya, and more on Lataran, and that hasn’t stopped even as Tinaya’s time begins to open up. So she’s kind of gone back to not having that much to do. At this point, it doesn’t bother her as much. Her son claims that he doesn’t need parenting, because he’s so old, but that’s all changed. The thing with Audrey and Waldemar has really messed him up. It’s affecting his work negatively. The whole point of coming back in time was to help Waldemar, not hurt him. That’s why Silveon didn’t just straight up murder him the first chance he got. He’s having a hard time rectifying this mission with the monster he knows Waldemar to be inside. Audrey put herself in a position to get pregnant, but Waldemar took that opportunity. A decent guy would not have done that. How can Silveon continue trying to make this future tyrant a better person when nothing seems to be working?

While Silveon is questioning his commitment to the cause, Audrey herself has picked up the slack. She’s still with Waldemar because she has to be, and Waldemar is still with her because it helps his reputation. Everyone sees him as the hero who stuck by the mother of his child even though that child didn’t survive. This wasn’t just about population growth, or because she’s hot and young. It’s true love, and they’re in a real relationship. At least that’s how the public sees it. Only a few people know what’s really going on, though even such people are each looking at it from different angles.

Silveon bursts into Tinaya and Arqut’s room. He’s huffy, pacing around in a tight circle. “I need you two to stop me.”

“Stop you from what, honey?” Arqut asks. The two of them are in bed, but just reading.

“Waldemar. He’s still raping her,” Silveon replies. “I wanna hurt him.”

“Careful with that word,” Tinaya warns. “I’ve spoken with Audrey. It’s consensual.”

“We all know it’s more complicated than that,” Silveon argues.

“Yes,” Tinaya agrees. “What we know is that her birthday was two weeks ago, which makes her an adult in the eyes of the law, and even if she weren’t a time traveler, she would be considered capable of making her own decisions about who she shares her body and time with. What we know that the public doesn’t is that she’s far older than that, so even if you subscribe to the idea that humans are not sufficiently mature until their mid-twenties, she’s well past that. So if anyone has the advantage in this relationship, it’s her. So who are you angry with?”

“Well, not her.”

“Then it shouldn’t be with anyone,” Arqut determines.

Silveon scoffs. “Oh, believe me. I have plenty reason to be angry with Double-U.” He’s been having a hard time saying Waldemar’s name lately, like it’s cursed. “It’s not just about this.”

“Yeah, you’ve told us all the stories,” Tinaya reminds him. “We don’t need to rehash his fate, or lack thereof.”

“I haven’t told you everything.” Silveon shakes his head.

“Silvy, why don’t you have a seat on the ottoman?” Tinaya offers.

To their surprise, he does it. It doesn’t alleviate his stress right away, but it’s harder for him to be so tense when his own weight is distributed a little more comfortably.

His parents slide down the bed to join him on either side. “I’m only going to ask you this one more time, and then never again. I will believe you this time.” Tinaya pauses a moment. “I’m not downplaying your fundamental disapproval of their...unconventional relationship. But I think it’s important to establish once and for all if even a small part of you is so upset because you have feelings for Audrey?”

Silveon shoots right back up to his feet, and spins around to face them. “Are you kidding me? Of course I have feelings for her! Have you seen her? She looks no less beautiful as an old woman than she does now. I still see her like that, though; the wrinkles in her face. The way her skin sags. The...experience and heartache in her eyes. I’ve always been in love with her.” He steps over to sit in the armchair. “But I set that all aside, because I thought I would never see that Audrey again. Not the real her. When I came back to the past, she was just this little girl. She would always be far too young for me. Mom, dad, everyone is too young for me. Except, as it turns out, her. I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but I’ve not slept with anyone myself, and I will never be able to. Unless...”

“Unless something changes between her and Waldemar,” Arqut acknowledges. “She’s your only peer. She’s your only hope for love. Even if you met an old person who was closer to your real age, they would see you as a child.”

Silveon takes a deep breath. “Yeah.” They sit in silence for a few moments before Silveon continues, “don’t take me for a fool, though. I wasn’t surprised by that fact. I obviously knew what I was getting into. She’s the variable that I wasn’t expecting. Understanding that I would be alone in this new timeline was one thing, but having one possibility just out of reach? No one prepared me for that. They knew she was coming back with me. She knew too. They could have told me, and maybe I would have handled everything differently. Maybe we could have brainstormed ways to give Waldemar the bump in the polls he would need without a prop family.”

Tinaya has been patiently waiting for her son to get to a point where she could interject, and this is the right place. “There’s a very old song I love from Earth, which was written centuries ago. It goes, when I was a young boy // My mama said to me // ‘There's only one girl in the world for you // And she probably lives in Tahiti. For reference, the singer did not live very close to Tahiti, and might never venture there. The song is about him going all around the world to look for this one girl, because maybe it’s not really Tahiti. That was just one example. She could have been anywhere, and the lyrics never reach a resolution, because the singer missed the point that I am interpreting his mother to be making, which is that you’ll never find the perfect one for you. She doesn’t live in Tahiti, Silveon. She doesn’t live anywhere, because she doesn’t exist. Maybe Audrey would have been great for you in the other timeline, but as you said, she’s out of reach. If you pursue her, Waldemar will never accept it. I can almost guarantee you that he will be worse than what you experienced under his reign before. You may see her as your one shot, but I see her as the only person you can’t be with.

“I probably shouldn’t recommend this, but maybe you’re looking at this all wrong. Don’t think of yourself as an old man in a young man’s body. Think of yourself as a young man with special knowledge. Only the four of us know where you’re from. Find a partner. Recognize your age difference initially, but then ignore it. Put it in a lockbox, and never open it up again. They don’t ever have to find out about it, and neither does anyone else. You’re not a time traveler, Silveon. You’re a seer. There are tons of seers on Earth, and no one thinks of them as older than they look. Just pretend to be a seer.”

“You want me to start a relationship with some innocent girl with a lie?”

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret,” Tinaya goes on, “which I’m surprised you never grew up to learn yourself. All relationships start out on a foundation of lies. People are disgusting, and we never let others see our true selves. It wouldn’t be any different for you than for anyone else. Convince yourself that you are a seer. Forget your past life. Treat it as the gift of foresight. Find a way to be happy, and forgive yourself.”

“Or,” Arqut jumps in, “alternatively, accept your role in this life, and avoid all romantic entanglements. You wouldn’t be the first. Hell, you wouldn’t even be the first time traveler to face this choice. How do you think Lincoln Rutherford and Dalton Hawk got through it?”

“That’s a good point,” Silveon realizes. “I should ask those two how they dealt with their consciousness travel shenanigans.”

“How would you do that?” Tinaya asks. “They live or lived on Earth.”

“You need to get me into the Bridger Section,” Silveon decides. “They have a secret time mirror there.”

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