Showing posts with label remote. Show all posts
Showing posts with label remote. Show all posts

Thursday, April 10, 2025

Microstory 2384: Earth, November 23, 2179

Generated by Google ImageFX text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 3
Dear Corinthia and Velia,

It’s been a long time since I’ve heard from either of you. I spoke with some friends that I made at the Mauna Kea observatories after our birthday parties, who told me that the Valkyrie short-cycle disruption has come into play. So there’s this dumb rogue meteoroid out there, blocking your communications, and preventing us from staying connected to each other. It seems to be lasting longer than it did the first time. I don’t know if that’s normal—if there’s significant variation—or what. I just know that I hate being so far from both of you, and unable to even speak. A two-week delay between your messages is bad enough. Corinthia, I received yours about how Velia and I are talking to each other. I understand that the distance is an issue, but I’m not going to hold back because of it. In fact, I’m going to be more bold, because you’ve got me thinking, and so have the Valkyries. If there’s only one thing that I’ve learned in my four decades of life, it’s that time is the only thing that matters. We don’t have enough of it, and when you add space into the mix, we end up with even less. Velia, if you lived a few decks down, we could see one another regularly. We could meet for coffee, and we could stroll along the perimeter of the dome. We could spend time getting to know each other. Frustratingly, we don’t have that luxury. So I’m just gonna say it. I’ve developed feelings for you. You’re gorgeous and sexy, but I don’t even care about the photos. It’s about the words that we’ve exchanged. We have so much in common despite our vastly different upbringings and environments. I don’t know how we could possibly have a real relationship given our restrictions, but I don’t think that’s reason enough not to try. I think the opposite is true. I think we owe it to each other, and ourselves, to give it a shot. If we’re not willing to do something crazy in the name of love, then we don’t even deserve it, do we? If this was just you being funny and flirty, that’s okay, it doesn’t have to be awkward. I will be able to move on. But if this was real for you in any meaningful sense, then write back when you can. And Corinthia, you’re just going to have to be okay with that, even if it’s a little weird for you, or if you continue to believe that it’s a mistake.

Thinking of you both in greatly different ways,

Condor

Friday, February 28, 2025

Microstory 2355: Earth, June 23, 2179

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

Yeah, it sounds like Nature Wars is pretty much out of the question. I don’t want to put you out of commission for that long, and I did a little more research. It doesn’t sound like something I would be very interested in, especially not all the way across 2,352 episodes! The premise of being in the pure air isn’t what bothers me, though, lol. I mean, I suppose if all they talk about is how clean the atmosphere is, it would get annoying, but I’m guessing that would have been true a hundred years ago when it was last on. I do think that I have a different idea, though, which could work depending on how familiar you are with the franchise. The best part about it is that it would feed two birds with one worm. If you’re lookin’ for a story about a regular person who has to beat the odds despite having no clue what he’s doing, then you’ll probably like The Winfield Files. It’s a series of twelve books, and there’s even a TV adaptation with twelve seasons. It’s about a guy who works in a small town grocery store with a girl who turns out to be part of a witness relocation program. One of her new friends posts a photo of her online against her wishes, which leads the bad guys to finding her location. He happens to be in the background of the photo, and gets embroiled in the intrigue and adventure. So I was thinking that maybe we could read each book, talk about it, then watch the season of the show that’s based on it, and talk about that too. Or we could read a chapter, or watch an episode, at a time, if you would rather break it up more. I’ve never read them myself, because I’m more into the classics, but it sounds like a great place to meet in the middle. Let me know what you think. It would be nice to have something to talk about that we’ve both actually experienced. The “joint” parties were great, but they were still separate parties. But people have remote book clubs all the time, and it seems to work out for them. The delay is still there—but it always will be, so we may as well work within its boundaries since that’s our only choice.

Looking for two birds to feed,

Condor

Thursday, February 27, 2025

Microstory 2354: Vacuus, June 15, 2179

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

Well, Nature Wars started out in 2006. It was a fairly cheap show to produce with no writers, inherently minimal sets, and an adaptable format that saw the hosting duties change hands five times (though, one host only lasted three seasons before basically being forced to turn it back over to Leyton Parkins after his legal issues were positively resolved). They were usually able to shoot two entire seasons per year, resulting in 147 seasons over the course of 75 years (a few random production issues led to only one season in each of a few years). Let’s continue on with the math. I’m currently in the middle of the 83rd season. Every season, without fail, has had 16 hour-long (minus some ads) episodes total, but the finale is always twice as long. So that’s about...15.5 hours per season. Multiply that by 83, and you’re looking at 1,286 hours of television that you would have to watch just to catch up to where I am. Then we have about a thousand more hours left. That would take a lot of dedication on your part, and we don’t even know if you would like it. You might be annoyed to see those people taken to those beautiful remote locations where the air is pure, and clean enough even where they normally live. You may be annoyed at me just for talking about it right now. That all being said, I’m willing to wait if you think you have the time for it, but I don’t want to die without seeing the final season finale. I’ve been watching this stuff since I was a wee little girl on the interplanetary ship. Let’s try to think of some more options. I know you don’t watch a lot of stuff, but when you do, what kind of things do you like? Are they still making more movies and shows? Are there domes over studio lots that are dedicated to keeping the visual arts alive? Surely we can find something that we’ll both enjoy. We can do it with literature too. Perhaps you could recommend books to me, and we could also share in that. Once we get to know each other’s tastes, we could select a book to read at the same time, and then exchange thoughts, like a penpal book club. I tend to gravitate towards stories that involve regular people in extraordinary circumstances. They don’t have the experience or training, but they have to make it through to solve the problem, and the usually do, even if it kills them. Let me know what you think.

Living in that pure air (but for a different reason),

Corinthia

Friday, July 26, 2024

Microstory 2200: Much Collaboration

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2
I’m out of the hospital, and back home in recovery. I suffered from a bunch of cuts and bruises, and a concussion, but thankfully no broken bones. Throughout all of my many medical issues, I’ve yet to break a bone. I was even thrown off a cliff shortly before I came to this universe, and I was all right. I think I had a little taste of my immortality back for that, which was just enough to save my life from deadly injuries. No such luck this time, but it wasn’t too bad anyway. I’ve been staying in bed most of the time, but still working. I was ready for this situation, even though I didn’t specifically plan for it. I bought this workstation cart that’s so wide that a bed can fit underneath it. I sometimes bring my personal laptop in here to use it after my shower. Right now, I have my whole business setup on here, thanks to Jasmine. I’ve been chatting with my people, and participating in conference calls. I even have remote access to the security feeds so I can keep an eye on the main meeting room. It’s not because I don’t trust my staff, it just makes me feel like I’m still there. Sort of, it’s not great, but it’s not going to be forever. I just think that it’s important for a boss to remain actively engaged in the work environment when there’s this much collaboration happening, and in need of happening. I’m not a micromanager, though. I trust my team members to do what needs to be done, but I’m available to them if they need me. I’ll be spending the rest of the weekend taking it easy, and then returning to full operational functionality on Monday. Before you start getting any ideas, I don’t need any help with my bills, even less so than I did last time. I’m flush with cash right now. Do you have any idea how much money I make? You can easily find out. I told you in an earlier post. Go ahead, I’ll wait. That’s what I thought. Save it for something else.

Tuesday, July 2, 2024

Microstory 2182: Interview Completely Naked

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2, and by Pixlr AI image editor
I had a couple of interviews today, with people who already work for the company. I don’t mind admitting that they did not go so great. I’ve been on the other side of the proverbial desk before, but not as often as you might guess based on how many places I’ve worked. I became a lifeguard after the guy who trained me just signed the paperwork. No interview necessary. I don’t recall interviewing for the maintenance work I did either. I think they just needed warm bodies. Most of the time when I was looking for work, I couldn’t even get past the application step, which I guess says something about my skills as an interviewee. I didn’t get them all, but looking back on it, my success rate is pretty high, as long as you ignore all the times my app just got thrown in the trash. It tended to go okay once a hiring manager actually bothered to give me a chance. Anyway, my dad worked in human resources, so I picked up a thing or two from him, along with my own personal experience. For instance, I know not to ask people for their greatest weakness, or what kind of animal they would be. These are stupid and pointless questions that have no business in a serious job interview. Even so, I didn’t do the best job. I wasn’t as prepared as I thought I was. They weren’t the worst ever, and the candidates themselves did fine, so it will be okay, but I really need to work on it before the next round begins. One girl worked in the same department as I did before, so I had heard of her, but we had never met, because we weren’t on the same team. She picked up on my inexperience issue, so she only applied to give me the practice, and I’m grateful for that. She’s offered to keep helping me with practice interviews, and her boss has approved to loan her out to me for that for just a couple of days. She’s been really getting into it. She started a video chat while not wearing pants, and that’s something that I may have to learn to deal with Apparently that’s a common problem in the telepresence community. My instinct tells me to not care, because personally, I don’t. They could show up to an in-person interview completely naked, and it wouldn’t bother me in the least, whether they were attractive, or not. But there are all these policies and laws that we have to follow, so I have to pretend to be a normal person, and react like a normal person would in some of these less typical situations. I’m curious to see what she comes up with our next dry run. I’m sure she’ll be fully clothed, but she may be dressed as a clone, or insist that she already has the job, which is also a thing.

Monday, July 1, 2024

Microstory 2181: Occupy the Same Space

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2, and by Pixlr AI image editor
I’m pretty much caught up on everything. All of the job postings have gone out to the career boards, and I can’t start in on any of them until human resources filters through them first. I didn’t even go into the office. I just stayed home, and remoted in using my personal computer. I think the warden doesn’t really want me doing that; believing that personal devices should only be used for personal business. So my boss is currently requisitioning a work laptop for home use, which they’ll ship to me this week. It will just serve as a portal, connecting me to my employer’s and clients’ respective servers. I’ve rearranged my apartment a bit, which I should have done before. For tax reasons, it’s important that I designate a particular area as my home office. That doesn’t mean I can’t use it for other things, but it needs to primarily be for this purpose. My new assistant, Jasmine helped me move furniture around, and we went out to buy an extra desk, so she can work across from me. Yeah, she could work in her own apartment, since she would just be right down the hall, but we both feel like it makes sense to occupy the same space. We did the same for my private office in the jail administrative section. I think that’s pretty much all I have to tell you today. I now give you permission to return to your regular lives, but be back here tomorrow morning at 8:15 sharp for my social post.

Wednesday, April 17, 2024

Microstory 2128: Carve Out Some Real Time

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2
My therapist session went pretty well, though there’s really nothing interesting for me to tell you about. I told her that I was from another universe, but we didn’t get into it yet. We didn’t even get into my arrest. We basically pretended like I was a perfectly normal thirtysomething man who had a relatable childhood, and was starting a new job. We discussed my upbringing, my educational background, and my past work experience. She just wanted to get to know me before trying to give me any advice, or help me through my issues. We obviously didn’t have time to go over my entire life story, especially not since I first had to spend some time filling out paperwork, and setting up a payment arrangement, so I’m sure the next session will basically be the same thing. So nothing juicy to report yet, you’ll just have to wait. In the meantime, let me tell you about my new apartment, which I finalized today. It’s on the edge of the city, on the Kansas side, which makes it fairly close to the intermittent jail facility, as well as the parole offices. Sometimes Leonard will be visiting me at home, sometimes I’ll have to go to his office, and sometimes we’ll meet somewhere in the middle. This is a really great location, and I’m satisfied with my choice. The building has a ton of amenities, which I never used before, but which I’m sure I’ll start now. There’s a gym, and now that I’m no longer immortal, I’ll probably have to start worrying about my health a little more. It includes a lap pool, and that’s all it’s for. While it’s okay for children to live here, this place advertises mostly to busy working adults; single people, and childless couples. There’s a playroom that can cater to various ages, though there’s no dedicated supervisor on site, so parents can’t just drop off their young ones, and go out. The complex also has a communal area for eating, which is connected to a few popular restaurants, though these restaurants are not technically part of the complex; they just built them within its walls. They’re open to the public. My company doesn’t foresee me needing to meet clients in person, and even if I do, I’ll probably have to go to them, but if one of them happens to be in the area, the second floor also has offices that can be rented by the hour, so that’s pretty handy.

I pretty much had to get this process fast-tracked, because I needed to move in today. I’m spending all day tomorrow going through some pre-onboarding procedures for my new job, including a formal background check, even though I don’t have much of a verifiable background. I really wanted to finish this all up by the end of the week, so I can let the FBI off the hook for my expenses. I also didn’t want to schedule anything for Friday. That’s the day that I go back into jail, and even though I don’t report until the evening, I really don’t want to start making any commitments that could potentially turn into conflicts. I may feel more comfortable in the future, or I may just always leave that day available for safety. The beauty of my new job is that I can set my own hours, which means Mondays could be their own buffer too, if need be. Fortunately, in terms of the apartment, I don’t have any belongings, so once they handed me the key, I just walked right in. The FBI is continuing to let me use their laptop for now, but depending on how long the pre-onboarding takes tomorrow, I may go shopping at some point. If I have to do that on Friday instead, that will probably be okay, because I could always leave the store early if I lose track of time. It probably won’t be until Tuesday until I can carve out some real time to go shopping, for lamps, and groceries, and whatnot. I spent my whole life waiting for the weekend to do extra things like all this. It’s going to take some time before I’m used to reversing that, and not forgetting absent-mindedly that my weekends are no longer free, and won’t be for several months.

Tuesday, April 16, 2024

Microstory 2127: Too Tired to Relax

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2
I accepted one of the jobs, and respectfully declined the others. I’ll be working from home, which is something that I always wanted to do before all this time travel and universe-hopping. It saves on gas, and other transportation, and it allows me to work for anyone in the world. I thought I was going to be able to tell you what I’ll be doing, but my employer doesn’t want me to divulge such information. They may allow me to say certain, carefully crafted things at a later date, but for now, I should just treat it as privileged information. They didn’t make me sign an NDA, but I’m obviously going to respect their decision. All I can say is that I’m allowed to work whenever I want unless I’m scheduled for a meeting or a call, and it’s by the week, rather than the day. So if I get all of my work done at the beginning of the week, I can take a couple of days off, and still get paid the same, because I covered my hours, and was sufficiently productive. We’ll see how it goes. Before I left my original universe, people were pushing for a four-day workweek, but I’ve always believed that it would be better to work shorter hours across more days than to get entire days off. I would rather take minimal breaks in between than work my butt off non-stop until I crash on the weekend. I’m too tired to relax at that point, ya know? I know that sounds dumb, but if you’ve ever been there, you understand what I mean. Anyway, most of my last several posts have been on the longer side, so I think I’ll just do a little of that relaxing that I was talking about. I’ll have more to say tomorrow, because my new job isn’t the only thing I have going on. I’m this close to selecting an apartment. I found a nice complex with fully furnished units, but new, so I don’t have to worry about others having gotten their grubby little hands on the furniture—or worse—smoking around it. I’ll still clean everything. I’ll also need to tell you what my therapy was like, because I’m writing this prior to my evening session. I think I’ve already told you that, as a patient, I’m none too worried about the confidentiality of psychological and medical treatment. I expect my provider to respect my privacy, but I’ll say whatever I want about myself, so you’ll be hearing about my progress in the next coming months.

Sunday, April 14, 2024

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 22, 2443

Generated by Google Gemini text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2
With their advanced substrates, the team was capable of surviving any number of harsh environments, but that wasn’t something that they were going to seek out on purpose. It was really only something they should use when they had no other choice, and this wasn’t such a case; it was a test. The reframe engine was ready, but there was still a chance that it would vaporize the whole ship upon initiation of reframe speeds. So they didn’t want to be anywhere near it when they first turned it on. Ramses created an interfacing computer, which would allow him to operate the Vellani Ambassador from Ex-382, where it was safer. It wasn’t safe, per se, because the world itself was dangerous in its own special way, but it was manageable for a period of time since they were staying within the self-contained atmosphere of their pocket dimension, and because they had vacuum suits for excursions.
The entire surface of Ex-382 was a toxic wasteland. No one lived here, and hopefully they never did. They at least didn’t detect any signs of civilization here, except for the piles and piles of garbage. It was all over the place, randomly strewn about. The smell was unbearable, even here at the South Pole, where there wasn’t as much as there was elsewhere. This wasn’t just a planet-wide landfill. They dumped truly dangerous materials here, namely radioactive waste. By the time the ship Extremus was built, fusion power was ubiquitous and unremarkable, which meant that Bronach Oaksent would have been able to utilize it as soon as he went back in time, and began to build his empire in the Goldilocks Corridor. There should be no real reason for him to make any plans that included nuclear fission power plants. It was a perfectly fine alternative for Earth during its developmental years, but when one was starting from scratch, it just didn’t make much sense.
One of the hardest obstacles to overcome when pursuing fusion and antimatter solutions to energy needs was manufacturing the stuff. It didn’t exactly grow on trees. That was why it took so long for these both to be adopted, even when power generation techniques were perfected. Mining fissile elements was not easy, but it was relatively straightforward. Hydrogen was the lightest element in the universe, which was why it literally floated away, making it difficult to capture, and even to store. Still, Oaksent was an immortal who came from the future, and had untold time to formulate his new civilization. Using resources to maintain the infrastructure for nuclear fission production was probably only done as yet another form of control over his people. He didn’t have to use it, but making people labor away in the mines, in the plants, and on the ships that brought all the waste here, was keeping everyone reliant on him, and not letting them be too happy. He didn’t like happy people. That much was clear from whatever psychological profile they could cook up in their collective headcanons. He wasn’t dumping the waste on the planets where people lived at least. That should also be in his profile, that he didn’t want his people to die; not prematurely anyway.
“Ugh, I can still smell it,” Marie noted.
“Switch off your olfactory receptors,” Ramses instructed. He was tweaking the interface system, making sure that he was linked to every single system on board the Ambassador, no matter how small or seemingly inconsequential.
“That...what? That’s something we can do?” she questioned.
“Did no one read the manual?” Ramses asked with a sigh.
“Be careful,” Leona warned Marie, and the rest of the team currently present. Smell is highly linked to breathing, and also serves the evolutionary purpose of alerting you to smells that could lead to death. Don’t keep it off all the time. You may still get sick, and just not know it.”
“So...” Marie pressed.
“You can shut it off right now because of the smell,” Leona allowed. “I would lock up our suits, but we have to keep them close and accessible in case of emergency. Just remember to turn it back on once we live. I’ll remember to clean and disinfect the suits thoroughly later.”
“I’ll do that,” Mateo volunteered. “You have more important concerns to worry over, Captain.”
“Did you guys know that Earth is 70% water? I’ve never seen that much water in my life.” Korali was still reading about Earth from the central archives, and had come to the conclusion that all of these simple facts were not likely to be lies that the team made up in order to brainwash her, but that it was the other way around. They were trying to show her what the galaxy was really like, and even though she had by no means switched sides already, she was starting to accept that some of the things that she was brought up to believe were not entirely—or maybe not at all—accurate.
“Hmm. You’re right,” Mateo realized. “The worlds that we’ve gone to have been mostly barren, with fairly little water. The resort world had the most, but they were nowhere near the levels of Earth from the orbital images that I’m remembering.”
“More control,” Leona guessed. She was spraying an air purifier on their suits to mask some of the terrible smell until they could be fully detailed.
“I’m ready,” Ramses announced. “What about the backup?” Leona asked him.
“It’s been coded, and will only take a year to manufacture,” he answered.”
“The pod is fueled?”
Ramses laughed. “It’s fine. It’ll get us into space. I wouldn’t let us go into this half-prepared.” The dimensional generator was attached to one of the personal pods. These were capable of traveling through a star system in a matter of months, and landing on an orbital, maybe to refuel hydrogen levels, or to manufacture other structures, or just to wait for rescue. They weren’t really designed to launch from the surface of a massive terrestrial planet, but they were technically capable of it. It would use nearly its entire reserve of isotopes to make it happen, but it was better than staying here if the Vellani Ambassador was destroyed during the test. Ramses planned to install teleporters on them, but that would also require temporal batteries or something, because they didn’t use any less fusion power than the rocket equation demanded for a regular launch, so it wasn’t like that solved the problem. Hopefully, the test of the reframe engine would go perfectly, and none of this would matter.
“I appreciate all of your hard work,” Leona told him. “It does not go unnoticed. Go ahead and start the countdown.”
Ramses switched on all of the camera feeds, including the satellite that they had dropped out to watch the event from the outside. He started counting down from eleven, hovering his hand over the button. Everyone held their breath, including Korali, who managed to peel herself away from her studies long enough to bear witness. “Three, two, one, max.”
The ship disappeared in a flash of light. They all looked at the other views now, which were coming in from the interior. The bridge looked perfectly normal, and was completely intact. The corridors and rooms were all still fine. The camera from the engine room was a problem at first, which prevented everyone from exhaling. It was showing them snow for the first several seconds until the spatio-temporal distortion resettled, and the image returned to normal. The engine was holding as it was meant to. It was vibrating at an incredibly high frequency; so high, in fact, that it was imperceptible to human vision, even with these advanced eyes that they had. If the ship was going to vaporize, it should have done it by now due to the immense stress that these intense oscillations were causing the machine to experience. Still, they wanted to be sure that the nanosealant was permanent, and not merely holding temporarily.
For the next three hours, the Ambassador flew away from them, managing to make it out about 15,000 astronomical units. The engine then shut off for an hour while an army of microbots spread all over the engine to check for nanofractures. Leona knew exactly where the original ruptures were. If the bots found these to have returned, the smart ones here would know that the sealant hadn’t fully worked. If they found new ruptures, that would tell them that there was some kind of systemic issue that might not be repairable by what they had, or by any efforts at all. By this time, most of the group had begun to breathe again. Mateo and Marie occupied their time teaching Korali how to play RPS 101 Plus. Ramses worked on other projects while he kept an eye on the quantum data coming through from the diagnostics. Leona proverbially held her breath the whole time as she focused on nothing but the data. It was her only concern. If this wasn’t successful, they could build a new ship, but their plan to free the people of the Corridor from its despot would have to be placed on hold indefinitely until they regathered resources.
“How’s it lookin’?” Marie asked after their game was over, and Mateo’s sponge was finally too bigged by her wall.
“I think we’ll be safe. We’ll know in another four hours,” Leona answered. The ship would make the three-hour trip back here, and then go through the whole diagnostic process all over again. Only then could they leave for their next stop.
“Good,” Mateo decided, still bitter about losing the game. “I’m ready to go.”
“Did y’all know that something called a cow has four stomachs?” Korali asked.

Wednesday, April 10, 2024

Microstory 2123: Still Weighing My Options

Generated by Google Gemini text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2
All of my interviews today went pretty well. Most of the interviewers went into it under the assumption that everything on my blog is true, and I am indeed from another universe, allowing me to answer questions about my past experiences in the workforce that didn’t take place in this particular force. They even let me bring up things that I know about my alternate self, who has gone on to have new experiences since we diverged from each other. A few of them were clearly not a good fit for me. I don’t have the skills or education relevant to do the work effectively. I’ll say this, even though it’s a little mean, one of them was obviously confused about what the word “remote” means. No, I can’t go into the office twice a week. That is called a hybrid schedule, and it’s only for local workers. They’re in Utah. I’m not flying down to Utah just so I can remind you that my body extends beyond the lower portion of my chest. I don’t want to go to Utah for any reason. He couldn’t really explain why he ever wanted me to be there in person. They never can—not even just in terms of these interviews, but in general. Companies are losing money on office space by letting people work from home, so to get a better return on their investment, they artificially limit the practice, but they can’t admit that it’s because of that, so they sort of waffle, and come up with bogus reasons about it being better for productivity. Unless you’re in sales (or maybe even if you are) being at work in person for a job that’s performed exclusively on the computer is simply not necessary. Most of the interviewers seemed to understand that, and are eager to draw from a pool of talent outside of a reasonable driving distance. I can’t tell you any specifics about who I spoke with, or who I’m leaning towards. I never will.

All but one of the people I talked to who were still interested after we got past some of these other miscommunications understood that I’m never going to stop blogging. If I end up taking their job, they’ll let me say whatever I want as long as I don’t name names, or place any of their customers or clients in any sort of risk. They’ve all seen that I’ve never done that before. Honest hour? As honest as I am on this thing, I sometimes adjust details to protect the innocent, or even the guilty. I’ve been known to spend hours coming up with a fictional company that I mention only once in a story just to avoid using a brand name. That policy has extended into writing about myself. I’m not making any commitments yet, I’m still weighing my options. Two interviewers had to schedule for tomorrow, and another one had to reschedule for tomorrow, so I still have three more companies to consider, and who still need to consider me. Once those are done, I’ll use my pros and cons charts to organize my choices from most preferred to least interested, and go from there. There’s a chance that the search could go into next week, but I hope to have at least one good offer by then. They were all pretty certain that they would be ready to get started quickly, so I’m figuring only a couple of weeks before I clock in for the first time. One last thing, I’m scheduled to meet my parole officer on Friday. He or she will escort me to the jail for the first time since orientation, not because they don’t trust me, but because it’s procedure for them to personally inspect the facility for the safety of those in their care. They’re either still deciding who will be assigned my case, or they’re just not ready to tell me yet. I’ll let you know how that all goes too.

Tuesday, April 9, 2024

Microstory 2122: Sounds So Familiar

Generated by Google Gemini text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2
Two months ago to the day, I wrote a tiny little baby post for babies about the beginning of my search for an apartment. I wasn’t ready to put any money down, and by the time I was sturdier on my feet, I was getting sick, and then running away from all of my many, many problems. So none of that came to fruition. Back then, I was hoping to find a place that was close to where I worked, but that’s not liable to be an issue this time around. Organizations are approaching me from all over the country, and one of them is international. Well, it’s Toronto, which we practically share with Canada. It might not matter where I live if I end up being offered a position at one of these places. They’re fully aware of where I’m located, and also that I can’t leave. That’s the best part. I used to be so nervous about having to be truthful during the application and interview process, not that I was always in as bad of a position as I am now, but it’s a relief to have my ugliness out in the open. I don’t have to worry about them asking me if I’m good with people, because I think we all know that I’m not. I don’t have to wonder if they’re going to pick up on my autism, or if I should say something ahead of time, so they don’t interpret my behavior as just being an aloof jerk. They can read all about it and more on my website, so if they let me get to the point where I’m answering questions directly, and they miss something about me, it’s kind of their fault, right? They all know that I’m in intermittent jail right now, and are still offering me to start the process.

Anyway, I’m talking too much about my job prospects. This is meant to be about my hunt for a place to live. While I’m not in jail, I’m still staying in the hotel, but the FBI’s patience is wearing thin on that. Or at least, I assume that it is. No one has said that I’ve overstayed my welcome, but you don’t want it to get to that point, do you? That’s something you fix before it becomes an issue. So I want to get out of here, and start making my own way. God, this all sounds so familiar from earlier this year. Once again, I have a benefactor who I can’t tell enough how appreciative of them I am. I’m looking for a job, and a place to live, and I almost feel like I’m coming down with something. My former employer even says that they’ll loan me last month’s and first month’s rent at a new place once the FBI stops covering, as long as I have a job offer in my inbox. I don’t even have to take the job, though I’ll probably accept one of these soon. I can’t imagine that the interviews are as important as they usually are, because as I said, everything about me is out there for anyone to read at will. That’s why they’re reaching out to me in the first place, because they already know what I’ve been going through. They really shouldn’t be surprised by anything I say at this point. Today is all about finding somewhere to dig in, while tomorrow is filled with virtual interview after virtual interview. No one is making me go in to their offices in person, which will make the process a whole lot smoother. Unlike some people, I’ll be wearing pants throughout. I know that it’s, like, a thing, to make conference calls in only your underwear, but that’s not me. I just wanna put that out there. I don’t find being half comfortable any more comfortable than being totally uncomfortable. That didn’t make any sense, but you know what I mean.

Wednesday, September 28, 2022

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 26, 2398

The process of freeing the unconscious prisoners is not easy. It wasn’t legal for them to be kept there like that in the first place, but that doesn’t mean it’s legal to just let them out, and drive away. Certain people should be notified about all of this so a proper investigation can take place. The Matics didn’t have time for this, and they didn’t want all that heat on them anyway, so their only choice was to sneak them out themselves. Most people working at the facility didn’t know about the secret prisoners, but enough of them did to avoid having to actually break out, like Mateo and Leona have had to do so many times in the past. Still, they had to wait for the cover of night, and the few guards who could help them had to dress differently. The prisoners would have been spooked to see a guard’s uniform. It had to look like a legit covert mission by a third party, which it essentially was. They loaded them into a school bus, and drove off without a hitch. Winona had to go back to finish one last thing first, which Leona assumed was code for killing the doctor who kept them locked up there, but she can’t prove that.
It’s morning now, on a Sunday. They can’t take the strangers to the secret McIver cabin, because there must be a reason they were in the prison in the first place. The question is what was that reason, or those reasons? It wouldn’t be any of their business what they allegedly did to get themselves into a special isolated section of the prison under normal circumstances, but since the team broke them out, it doesn’t seem crazy to ask. But are they entitled to an answer? Maybe, but food and shelter first, and Winona claims to have a little place to take them just outside of Las Vegas. Leona tried to call it a safehouse, but Winona was hesitant to agree with that guess. Both she and Mateo slept most of the way, the Energy water they injected themselves with having worn off, and caused them to crash
“Where are we?” a groggy Mateo asks Winona, who is sitting behind him.
“A few miles past Santa Fe,” Winona answers.
“Santa Fe...New Mexico?” he questions.
“Yes.”
“Isn’t that the wrong direction? I thought we were going to Las Vegas.”
“Yes,” Winona confirmed. “There’s also a Las Vegas in N-M.”
Mateo relaxes his neck. “Yeah, that’s right. I’ve been there.”
“You have?” Leona asks. It’s funny that she should forget such a thing. How many other memories managed to escape her steel trap?
“Yeah, my parents and I were stranded there once, back in, uh...” That was 378 years ago, in an old timeline.
“Right, I remember now. I was in school at the time.”
“Do you have something against the town?” Winona asks, worried about pissing them off.
“As long as it helps these people, it’s fine,” Leona brushes off.
“Anyway, we’re not technically going to be in Vegas. We’ll pass it in a half hour or so, and end up closer to a one-horse town called Arriba.”
Leona nods, unperturbed. She doesn’t know about Marie yet. Mateo doesn’t know how to tell her, or any of them, for that matter. He should talk to her first, to get her side of the story. She’s obviously not evil, but the Honeycutts have caused them all a lot of problems since they came here, and that’s not something they should have to just forgive and forget without an explanation.
The bus exits onto Highway 104, and heads away from civilization. Before too long, it turns again, and takes them to a place in the middle of nowhere called Jimenez Cemetery. “Ominous,” one of the prisoners muses. “You are saving us, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely,” Winona replies believably.
The driver stops, and opens the door. Everyone begins to climb out, looking for any sign that this is the right place to be. It might be a poetic location, fit to kill a bunch of ne’er-do-wells that society doesn’t want to deal with anymore. She’s probably going to force them to dig their own graves.
There’s a little shack on the other side of the graves. A man comes out of it in response to their arrival, polishing something in his hands. As he approaches, Mateo starts to think that he must recognize him. Even Leona seems to be having trouble matching a name to the face. “Mr. Halifax,” Winona greets him respectfully.
How could they not spot him immediately? It’s The Gravedigger. Though, to be fair, it’s been a pretty long time since they’ve seen him, and he looks a few years older. If anyone can get them back home, it’s this guy. He lives in another universe, and is on a first name basis with the powers that be. Or maybe they should be referred to as the powers that were. Nah, they’re still in control of other people’s lives.
“Is this all of them?” Halifax asks.
“Yes,” Winona says. “Can you take them all at once?”
Halifax narrows his eyes at the crowd, particularly at Mateo and Leona. “That depends. Do any of them not want to come with me?”
Leona crosses her arms. “That depends. Where are you taking them?”
“That depends...on where they belong,” Halifax says cryptically.
“Where might they belong?” Mateo asks him.
“Various places,” Halifax begins. “Kind of like how I belong elsewhere.”
“They’re bulk travelers,” Leona realizes.
“What does that mean?” Winona asks.
“It’s above your paygrade,” Halfiax says to her.
Winona looks over at Mateo. “This is why I need to debrief you, despite what you think I’ve already been told.”
“You’ve been told enough for us to want to debrief you.
“How did they end up here?” Leona asks Halifax, ignoring the short exchange between her husband and Winona.
“Westfall,” Halifax answers, surprisingly forthcoming.
“So, they don’t even know,” Leona notes.
“Unclear,” Halifax says. Westfall is a section of The Crossover which instigates travel between universes while preventing travelers from even realizing that anything happened. Instead, they believe that everything they see is just a part of their own world.
“We’ll go with you,” Leona begins “as long as our friends can come with us, and as long as we get certain biochemical characteristics back.”
“I can’t give you either,” Halifax says apologetically. “I wish I could.”
“Come on, Honeycutt,” Leona says as she turns away. “It was nice to see you!” she yells back to Halifax.
“Likewise,” he returns.