Extremus: Year 106

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

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

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

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

“I understand.”

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

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

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

Tinaya nods without speaking.

“Is this him?”

“Is him who?” Tinaya presses.

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

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

“You...didn’t answer the question.”

“I...don’t want to.”

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

“For the cover-up, or the suicide?”

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

“She was psychic.”

“So...”

“So, she knew disturbing things about people.”

“Namely, her son?”

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

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

“Modern psychology doesn’t use that term.”

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” Thistle replies.

“Why not?”

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

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

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

“Is it working?” Oceanus asks.

“Unknowable,” Thistle responds.

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

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

“But what?”

“But the timeline has definitely changed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You could have lied.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s better if you never do.”

“I don’t like secrets.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kaiora is confused. “You didn’t?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I agree,” Thistle responds.

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

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

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

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Extremus: Year 100

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After months of investigating and compiling data, Tinaya and Lataran had to put the inquiry on hold for a bit while the latter gave birth. She named her daughter Sable, and obviously started to focus on her while Tinaya continued. It was months more before she realized that she trusted the wrong people, and a few months after that before anyone agreed to sit down with her to explain the situation.

They’re in this meeting now, in the former mirror room, of all places. This operation is clearly completely off the books, but it goes pretty high up the food chain. Tinaya still doesn’t understand why. A representative from the Bridger Section is here. She hasn’t ever met him, and doesn’t know what his role is. Also present are Doctors Cernak and Gunnarsson, proving that she was right to conscript a third party physician from Verdemus. The current Consul, Head of Security, and some woman that Tinaya doesn’t know either are all sitting opposite her, but still separate from the others. They’re apparently waiting for someone else, and being very quiet while they do.

Finally, Captain Jennings walks in. “Oceanus,” Tinaya exclaims, standing up. “You’re in on this too.”

“Whatever this is,” Oceanus replies, “decidedly no. I’ve been told something has been happening under my nose, and it has to do with you and Lataran, but I do not yet know what it is. Explain, Darling.”

Consul Darling clears his throat. “It’s not my place. I was only recently made aware of the project when it became clear that Admiral Leithe was getting close to figuring it out on her own.”

“It’s not a project if no one knows about it,” Tinaya argues. “It would be an operation. But I just call it a conspiracy.”

No one responds.

“Who is in charge here?” Oceanus demands to know.

The Bridger stands. “Please have a seat, Captain.”

Still seething, Oceanus sits down next to Tinaya. They take each other’s hands. They’ve grown close over the course of the last year, having spoken nearly every day as he’s gotten better at seeking her counsel. She didn’t read him in on her side mission because she didn’t want him to be distracted from running the ship.

The Bridger makes one step away from his seat. “As you all know, Bridgers have access to future knowledge. We use this knowledge to guide Extremus on its mission, protecting its mandate at all costs.”

“No,” Tinaya interrupts.

“No...what?” the Bridger asks.

“No, your job is not to protect the mission at all costs, but to a reasonable and ethical degree. Your predecessors understood that. Why don’t you?”

“I misspoke,” the Bridger claims.

“I don’t believe you. You’ve been violating people’s bodies on a repeated basis. I don’t care what reason you think you had for this, it’s wrong.”

“You might not agree once you hear those reasons,” the Bridger claims.

“Well, get on with it, then,” Oceanus spits.

The Bridger sighs. He kind of looks like he wants to sit back down, but he has the floor. “As I was saying, we are aware of future events. Sometimes we can change them, sometimes we can’t, and sometimes we shouldn’t. This particular issue is hopefully the former, but we’re still not sure. It’s unclear how successful we’re being, if at all. We still don’t understand what the source of the problem is, but the problem itself is totally unambiguous. We have a population decline issue.”

“What?” Tinaya asks. “Population growth is a matter of public record. Our numbers have been rising.”

“You’re right, they have,” the Bridger agrees, “but not at a fast enough rate. One day soon, this number will plateau, and then it will start going back down. Trust me, I’ve already seen it play out.”

“So you rape women?” Tinaya questions. That’s a serious accusation.

Dr. Cernak shoots out of his chair like it’s on fire. “That is not what we’re doing! Don’t you ever frame it that way!”

“Doctor. Please,” the Bridger requests.

“Ah, so it’s a framing issue,” Tinaya sees. “You’re not denying breaking the Synthetic Age Oath of Ethical Medical Practice. You just don’t want me to talk about it. I get it.”

“No, you don’t get it,” Cernak insists. “We don’t even take the full SAOEMP in its original form. We have to take a modified version of it since we don’t accept certain forms of lifesaving procedures, like healing nanites or consciousness transference.”

“Don’t you?” Tinaya questions. She leaves it at that, because Consul Darling may not know about The Question, and the Head of Security almost certainly doesn’t.

Dr. Cernak huffs. “We didn’t impregnate anyone. We simply gave them the option to procreate by hastening the degradation of the silencing enzyme.”

“Without our consent, nor our knowledge!” Tinaya shouts.

“Admiral Leithe,” Consul Darling scolds.

“No, I’m not going to calm down. You think what you did is okay because of some future problem that almost no one knows about? I don’t care which ethical oath you took, it’s either not enough, or you broke it! This is unacceptable. It is a violation of our rights to identity and self-determination. That’s why we switched from the Hippocratic Oath in the first place, because it was woefully insufficient for the needs of a population in a world where death is more of a question than an inevitability. Yeah, Cernak, I actually do understand that you take a variant of the standard ethical oath, but that involves more restrictions on care, not less. Consent is everything, and you should have known that. I swear to God, you two, despite my lack of power as an admiral, I will see to it that you are both dismissed, delicensed, and sent to hock.”

“You don’t have that power,” Consul Darling states the obvious. “Not even the Captain can do that much.”

“I can.” It’s the mysterious woman who has been sitting quietly until now. Everyone seems scared of her, even the Bridger. She stands and stares at him to strongly suggest that he sit back down. “My name is Tiere Victorian, and I serve as the Superintendent of the Bridger Section. My power lies in personnel decisions, rather than policy, just like Superintendent Grieves. I am the sole voice who decides when and if it is necessary to replace an executive crewmember of the Extremus with a Bridger alternate. So I was not made aware of this operation before, because it was not required to do my job. But I have the authority to dismiss or discipline anyone on either ship for any reason with impunity for myself. I could fire you, Dr. Cernak, because I don’t like which side your hair is parted on. I suggest you start being less defensive, and more contrite.”

He shrinks.

Tiere goes on, “I have reviewed the data that my colleagues have made available to me regarding the population crisis, and again, I do not have the power to end the program, but I can make one vital change that will most likely end it anyway.”

They’re on the edge of their seats.

“I can place Admiral Leithe in charge of it,” she finishes. Yeah, that’ll do it.

Tinaya can’t help but smirk. She’s going to shut this down, effective immediately, and come clean—if not to the whole ship, then at least to all aggrieved parties. “I’m going to need everything on this. I wanna know who came up with it, who else was involved, and who was aware of it. I need to know who on this ship was impacted by it, either directly or indirectly. I need names and details, as well as any ancillary records, messages, and notes.”

Dr. Cernak stands now. “I’m not giving you jack or shit unless I’m guaranteed to hold my position as Chief Medical Officer until such time that I retire.”

There’s a quick silence. “I’ll get you what you need,” the Bridger says to Tinaya. She still doesn’t know his name. That’s probably by design.

“You don’t have the medical files,” Cernak reminds him. “Those are confidential.”

“Doctor,” Tinaya begins, “when one crewmember leaves their post, and that job is backfilled by another, what happens to the data that they collected during their shift? Do you think they take it to the grave?” It’s a rhetorical question, but she pauses a moment anyway. “When you’re officially let go, you’ll lose all access, and your replacement will gain it. We don’t need you anymore.” She looks over at the Head of Security. “What did you know of this program?”

“Dasher Bruin, sir. Head of Security, Year Ninety-Six to Year One-Oh-Three, sir. I was read into the situation on day one of my shift, sir, and was told to not ask questions, sir. I did my job, protecting the interests of the ship at the behest of my superiors, sir.”

“I am your superior,” Tinaya tells him.

“Yes, sir,” he agrees.

“Escort Misters Cernak and Gunnarsson to a holding cell in hock, please.”

What little light was left in these former doctors’ eyes now fades. She does not have the power to strip them of their medical licenses, but she’ll make sure it happens. However long that takes, they’ve each seen their last patient.

“Yes, sir.” Dasher lifts his watch to his mouth, and whispers, likely for a security team to come assistant him in his task. He takes two packs of dynamic EM tethers out of his pocket, and tries to fit Cernak and Gunnarsson with them. They can hold their wrists between fifteen and twenty-five centimeters apart, but if they try to pull them beyond that range, the attractive magnets will activate, and if the try to push them too close, they will switch to a repulsive force. They come in specific pairs, but Dasher accidentally mixes them up, which leaves the prisoners tethered to each other. They look like lovers, their four hands hanging together like that. “Oh my God, sorry.”

“Officer Bruin, are you nervous?” Tinaya asks.

“I just don’t know if...if this is it for me. Should I put a couple of these on myself too?” Dasher asks.

Tinaya considers it. She makes a decision quickly. “You’ll be turned over to a new Head when one can be found and appointed. You’ll face no criminal charges, though. You can tell people that you wanted to spend time with your family, or start a family. I can’t say the same for everyone else.” She looks around at the people in the room.

Dasher is clearly relieved. He deftly swaps the cuffs out so they’re back in their right pairs, and starts to leave. The cuffs also have a feature where the detainee can’t stray more than four meters from their escort, or can’t get closer than two meters. So they start being dragged behind him. “I think I’ll see if I can’t start a family,” Dasher says as he’s exiting. “If the ship needs more kids, I’ll give it more kids.”

Dasher is not alone in his line of thinking. As it turns out, honesty is the best policy. Tinaya’s new temporary job as Head of Population Sustainability not only involves ending the unethical program, but finding a suitable replacement. She’s still an admiral, but she has all these other responsibilities too. Shutting down the program isn’t as easy as flipping a switch. Thousands of aging women were injected with the intentionally defective silencing enzymes, and all of them need medical appointments to correct that. But before that can happen, new professionals need to be hired to actually perform these procedures, and that’s complicated, because Cernak and Gunnarsson were certainly not the only ones on the medical team who were a part of the conspiracy. To fill the ranks, a few doctors and nurses are recruited straight out of medical school for positions that were just a tad bit above their qualifications. As a precautionary measure, they will always have oversight, and their teachers expressed confidence in their abilities to perform admirably, and more importantly than ever, ethically.

As the proverbial swamp is drained, and replacements are selected, murmurs of what’s going on begin to echo throughout the ship. Some learn the truth outright, at least from the mouths of those who had to be told something ahead of the shipwide announcement. Others just notice that the crew shift changes are out of sync with the schedule, and very fishy. There’s a lot of confusion, though, and things need to be cleared up. Once all the prep work is done, Tinaya stands on stage, and makes her broadcast speech. She reveals the truth to everyone, in disgusting and uncomfortable detail. She explains that she herself was the victim of this morally bankrupt operation, as was Admiral Keen. The reaction is angry and visceral, and not at all unexpected. People are pissed about being lied to, and about the deep breach of ethics that these people committed.

There’s no violence, though, and once the fury subsides, the outcome starts to emerge. Dasher fathers three children with three different women within one year, with plans to conceive even more in the future, though he will hopefully slow down as there is a limit to how many younglings that a parent can responsibly raise at the same time. Others end up feeling the same sentiment, and begin to conceive more children than they were apparently planning. It’s not this big, advertised movement. People are just independently inspired to aid the cause. Tinaya doesn’t have insight into any changes they might be having on the future. Tiere is executing her own disciplinary action in house, and isn’t being any more transparent than the Bridgers have ever been. But it seems to be working. They have to hire more medical staff than ever to care for the baby boomers. For a hot minute, everything seems okay. Then they encounter at least one unfavorable consequence. Twenty-year-old Waldemar is just as inspired to support the population growth efforts as so many others. He ends up getting a now fifteen-year-old Audrey pregnant, and it is not immediately evident if it was consensual or not.

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 21, 2399

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Alyssa left for a few hours, claiming that she was going to ask Dalton to agree to a meeting with Team Matic. When she came back, she apologized for not being able to make it happen. He was apparently still upset with her for losing the Dilara Cane, and only maintains any sort of relationship with her because he still needs her to be in charge of the Omega Gyroscope. The good news is that Alyssa has so far been able to keep to her word. She didn’t leave the Superscraper ship after relaying the news, and spent the night here. She had a lot of work to do before, but most of that is over now. Things should be working on their own without requiring constant attention.

“Thank you for trying,” Mateo says to her during breakfast. “I’m not sure I said that to you yesterday.”

“I’m sorry for how I behaved. That’s not me.”

“It literally wasn’t. Don’t worry about it. We’ve all done stuff like that. Ramses sacrificed himself out of his guilt for what he had done. Don’t let that happen to you. We’re a team, and we can get through anything. Together,” he adds.

She smiles. “Where’s Leona.”

“She’s getting ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“For our response to Dalton.”

“Hmm. What response would that be?”

Leona walks into the kitchen in her Shabatica best. She’s wearing a pretty floral dress that shows off her figure, but isn’t revealing or distracting. Her hair’s been done up all nice, and she’s wearing a modest amount of concealer makeup. “You told me to not wear blackface, so I’m not.”

Mateo shakes her head. “I still think it’s going to work. They just need to see what you can do.”

“Who needs to see what she can do?” Alyssa questions nervously.

“The Meeting House,” Leona replies. “I’m going to reveal myself as an illusionist.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“You’re right. I hadn’t given it any thought. I’m just doing this on a whim.”

“I thought we were friends again now,” Alyssa says.

“That’s how I talk to my friends sometimes. You’ll learn.”

“She’s anxious about it,” Mateo tries to explain. “It’s kind of a big deal.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Leona says dismissively. “People already saw this building appear out of nowhere magically. They just need some details.”

“She’s too anxious to be honest with herself about it,” Mateo adds.

“That may be, but do you think your remarks are helping?” Leona asks him.

“What exactly is the purpose of this?” Alyssa asks.

“Do you think that Dalton would change his mind if you asked about us again?”

“No.”

“That’s why.” His initial reaction was totally predictable. She didn’t think that he would go for it. If Dalton wanted to talk to them, he would have shown up anytime in the last year. This was just a wave hello. It was pleasant. It was nice. He’s going to wish he had answered it. The next move might hurt a bit. He’s the god here, and if someone makes an appearance, claiming to be just as powerful, that would cause quite a stir.

“I don’t understand,” Alyssa admits.

“We want his attention,” Mateo elaborates. “We’ll get it.”

“Are we not worried about the repercussions?” Alyssa presses. “The side effects?”

“It’s like the man said,” Leona begins, “they’ve already seen the building. If a house had appeared out of nowhere, we could have chalked it up to a magic trick. But a gigantic spaceship that’s taller than any building in the world by a hundred meters? In the middle of downtown New York City? Try explaining that away. The secret is out, and even if it wasn’t, it soon will be. The world is about to be destroyed, and everyone here is going to need to be moved to an entirely new universe. We have a term for that in the main sequence. It’s called The Edge, and it marks the year when everything changes. I think it was off by a few months, because this is happening, and it’s happening soon.”

“Okay,” Alyssa decides. “You do you. Can I come, though?”

“Absolutely,” answers a voice in the doorway.

“Imani Pettis, meet our good friend, Alyssa McIver. Alyssa, Imani.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Imani says, stepping into the room, followed by Heath.

“Likewise,” Alyssa returns.

“Do I look okay?” Leona straightens her dress at the hips.

“You look perfectly acceptable,” Imani says, but she doesn’t sound happy.

“Oh, no. What’s wrong?” Mateo asks.

“I’ve been praying on it, and I don’t think this is a good idea anymore.”

“To be quite frank,” Leona begins, which is never the best way for her to start a comment to someone of which she is asking a favor. “Assuming Dalton is a real god who can hear your prayers, he’s the one we are trying to summon. If he doesn’t want to be summoned, of course he’s going to tell you that we shouldn’t do it.”

“First of all,” Imani replies, “Dalton is not a god. He’s a leader, and his power is undeniable. Secondly, what Dalton would want is paramount. If he doesn’t want to come, that is his prerogative, and nothing we do can alter it. Especially not you, since you are an unbeliever. That is why I’m allowing you to do this, because if he appears, our prayers will have been answered in that regard. If he turns out to be a fraud, then we will welcome this revelation, because it will be the truth, and the entire purpose of our religion is to seek the truth. That brings me back to my final point, which is that I’m not canceling your appearance. I’m merely postponing it. I was worried about it before, because it was such short notice. I realized that it will be better for us to do it on Friday. That will give us time to spread the news, and for people to make arrangements.”

“Oh,” Leona says. “Thank you.”

“Plus,” Imani continues, “we only broadcast services for the occasional very special event, usually to turn unbelievers such as yourself towards the light. We need time to test the system before we do that, because it has been some time.”

Leona lowers her head. “This was very thoughtful of you,” she says contritely. “I apologize for my outburst.”

“It’s quite all right. I would ask you, however, if you could...maybe...?”

“Show you again?” Leona guesses.

“If it’s not asking too much,” Imani says, uncharacteristically shyly.

“I’ve been practicing.” Leona winks at Alyssa. A beam of light shoots out of her chest, followed by another, and many more. She’s a humanoid beacon of light, and then she’s just the light. When it recedes, she’s made herself look like a growing oak tree.

Microstory 1071: Mamie

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Viola and I were friends when we were kids, but we haven’t been very close since then. Morbidly, we used to hang out by Masters Creek. Obviously, I had no idea it would become the site of her death, but I’m pretty sure she did. Back then, she was sort of trying out this thing where she led a normal life, and socialized with others. She was practically born knowing what she was, and that she needed to dedicate her life to helping others, but she didn’t think she could do that if she didn’t first learn about humans. J-K, she was technically human, but not entirely. Anyway, as it turns out, she had the right idea, because once she got older, she started investigating her purpose, and finding what she could on others like her. All of them were born like her; knowing that they walked amongst us, but were not one of us, and they allowed themselves to be drawn into that superiority complex. They helped people too, for sure, but they did so coldly, clinically. They didn’t actually care about anyone, which prevented them from helping people in more creative ways. The reason most of her classmates have at least one specific story about her is because we were the ones she saw everyday, and impacted her the most. At some point in those early days, she realized that spending too much time with me was starting to give her diminishing returns. She knew everything about what it would take to help me, but not enough about humanity in general. I was saddened by this revelation, but I understood. It would have been wrong of me to try to keep her all to myself, so I let her go out into the world. So, when you go through these later interviews, and hear people talk about being friends with her, don’t forget that she actually did not have any real friends. She was too busy for that. A relationship is a two-way street, but she could fly. That’s all I’ll say on the matter. If you really wanna know who Viola Woods was, you should talk to her directly.

Microstory 1025: Frederick

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Hi, everybody. This is Alma again. When I started this project, I had no idea how honest people would be with their stories. This town is full of secrets, but it’s like the school newspaper has this magical power to get everyone to reveal things they wouldn’t say in any other setting. I cannot explain it, unless there’s something in the water. The urban legend is that all water in Blast City contains trace amounts of gold, which in drinking, supposedly helped the mining company’s founder divine where to dig. Ralph seems to think that I’m the one with the power to get people to talk, but that never happened to me before I moved here. Anyway, some of these secrets are a little bit harder to hear than others, and they’re even harder to transcribe. People have nasty, horrible thoughts about their peers, which is why humans came up with civilized society. I’m taking a break from the piece to warn you that this document contains the whole truth about Viola’s death, and everything that led up to it. The authorities were wrong, as was just about everyone else in town. I don’t have the evidence to prove it, but there is something going on that’s far more nefarious than a catfight gone wrong. I’m taking my opportunity to speak on this now, because of what I said about how honest people can be. I’ve chosen to retain the confessions that you can read once we reach those particular points in this series, but I’ve chosen to exclude Frederick’s perspective. He’s a despicable approximation of a man, who has backwards ideas about what purpose women have in the world. He has a better reputation at this institution than he should, and if you would like to hear what he said about Viola, you can request it from me privately. I’m still waiting to hear from my lawyer before I’m confident I can safely release the tape of his interview, because of how revolting it was, so be patient. I did not endeavor to tell the personal stories of the senior class at Blast City Senior High. I intended only to gain a full picture of how Viola impacted the people who knew her best. One thing I intuited before I even started was that her family did not really know her at all. One thing I learned through all this, however, is that no one else did either. Combined, the stories appear contradictory, and though there are zero lies within the text, there are conflicting viewpoints, and a lot of rejections of reality. No one lied to me, but they do lie to themselves. This series will continue next week, and go on from there, uninterrupted by my commentary.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 3, 2088

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The real centennial was more than a month ago, but people were still celebrating. Any chance to have fun was a good one. Mateo never really understood what exactly had happened a hundred years ago, but Kansas City was apparently the center of it. Several hours later, it was 2088.

Makarion was kind enough to set him up in a safehouse so that he wouldn’t have to sleep on a park bench again. Come morning, Mateo woke up with a little perspective. Things were starting to feel normal. Wake up, watch a movie, go to bed, wake up, run for your life, go to bed. Rinse, repeat. He didn’t have a purpose. Having never had control over how he traveled through time, he had originally assumed that it was either random, or for a very good reason. Other salmon seemed to have some kind of job to fulfill. Aunt Daria teleported around saving people. His father jumps in and out, doing something of importance each time. Even Horace Reaver was originally commissioned to put right what once went wrong day by day. Mateo and Leona were once called The Rovers by The Delegator, but that nickname seems to have been lost to time, and never really had any meaning. These are the kinds of things Mateo had questioned about himself, but no more. It didn’t matter. If The Cleanser wanted to toy around with him, then so be it. Things could be worse. He didn’t know about this time period, but where he was from, many people were much worse off than this.

This new insight came with a few side effects. He realized how old Makarion had gotten. They had been sent through time against both of their respective patterns, so it was hard to tell quite how old he was, but Makarion was looking sixty-something. Saviors are said to not live long. When his aunt first told him that, he had taken it more figuratively, that their lives were just filled with hardship, but now it was looking like accelerated aging was part of the deal.

“It looks like you might not have long,” he said while they were sitting in the backyard, watching the wind blow.

Makarion laughed a little at what sounded like hidden irony. “I’ve been around a lot longer than you think.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m not gonna get into it.”

“You said you would never lie to me again.”

“The hell I said that.”

“Damn...” Mateo said with an aw shucks face. “I was hoping senility would set in and you would just believe me.”

“No, saviors age fast, but not magically so, and it doesn’t affect our brain function. It’s just a physical downside to how we move around. We’re fundamentally different than other salmon. Other teleporters do just fine, but our particular method is taxing on the body. I’m only better off than your aunt was at this stage in her life because I don’t ever have to teleport. Hers went through a lot more than this body has.”

That was a clue. “You just referred to your body.”

“What?”

“You speak of your body as if it’s not really yours. I’ve always suspected something strange going on. The fact that you’re the only salmon I’ve heard of who’s broken out of his own pattern, how much you know about the future, there’s something else going on. What did you do to your own body?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Makarion replied, even knowing it was pointless.

“No, I want to know what your deal is. Who are you? Where did you come from? Why are you different? Do you have temporal powers I don’t know about?”

“I’m not having this conversation.” He tried to walk away.

“You think by breaking your pattern, you became more like the choosers, but you didn’t. You’re more like the humans.”

This seemed to intrigue him. “What?”

“A salmon only has a one-track mind. We’re forced into this life, and we do our best to survive. That’s all we think about, because that’s all we’re allowed to think about. The choosing ones are insane because when they discover what they can do, they suddenly have all these options that they didn’t even know were possible.”

“How would you know what it’s like to find out you’re a chooser?”

“I’m guessing a little here, and having faith in my own intuition.”

“I thought Catholics only have faith in their God.”

“Shows how much you know about Catholics.”

He started sizing Mateo up, but still wanted to know where he was going with this. “Please...continue.”

“Choosers have all this power, even the ones with restrictions, like that guy who can only teleport by line-of-sight. I’m sure some of you are good, but there’s a reason why Kayetan feels like these mysterious powers that be treat you all as criminals.”

“Why?”

“Because you are. You can do things most people can’t, and it corrupts you. From what I gather, no one is born knowing this about themselves, I mean not in the way that babies learn on their own that they have hands and feet. You spend your early years knowing what it’s like living in the filth with the rest of us. Then someone reaches down and lifts you up to show you how beautiful the world can be. And all you can do is destroy it, because living in filth is all you know, but no one good was around teach you to not take your newfound perspective for granted.”

“I think I follow,” he said. “I think.”

“The fact is that time travel is always dangerous. Every benevolent action you take necessarily comes paired with an equal or greater amount of harm. I killed Hitler and saved the world from hundreds, possibly thousands, of more deaths just from the war going on for a few more months. But in doing so, I killed Leona’s father. I erased myself from time. Hell, I even made Theo be born a girl this time. These were consequences that could not be prevented, even with these chooser powers, and I really believe that. What other things did I change? How many people died that should have lived? How many were never even born, just like me?” Then Mateo lowered his eyelids to illustrate seriousness. “And how many of these changes to the timeline are you people making on a regular basis?”

“So,” Makarion started to ask, “what’s the takeaway from all this?”

“Good or bad, time travel is bad. If I had chooser powers, I would use them once. I would go back to whenever it was invented, and kill its creator with Hitler’s gun.”

Makarion revealed a knowing smile. “Time travel wasn’t invented, my son. It was only contained.”

“Who are you?” Mateo pressed once more.

He sighed like he was finally giving up. “I’m The Rogue.”

“No, I know what your nickname is. Though, to be honest, I met the first Rogue, and you’re nothing like him. He was nasty and vicious. You’re better than that, I know you are.”

“This is not true,” Makarion said. “I’m not just like him. I am him.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You wanted the truth, and your little thesis on the ethics of temporal manipulation proved to me that you’re ready for it. Well...part of it, anyway.”

“Now I don’t follow.”

“I am the original Rogue you met a month ago. I have been the entire time.”

“I killed him.”

“You killed that body,” Makarion confirmed. “I transferred to another one. That’s my real chooser power. I can possess others, and utilize their powers as long as I’m there. When I leave, I lose those specialties, and am limited by whatever I have access to with the new body.”

It made some sense, but was also a disappointing revelation. That Rogue was not a good person. He showed no sign of remorse for his actions, but Makarion always appeared to be a decent person who had simply lost his way. “So Makarion didn’t break out of his pattern. You’re just not Makarion.”

“No, I’m limited to his ability to teleport, but the powers that be have no control over me no matter which body I’m in, so I use these powers freely.”

“Well, if you can move to other bodies, why don’t you just move to someone more powerful?” He went over a few scenarios. “Shit, why don’t you take over The Cleanser’s body and stop all these tribulations?”

“If I had known how bad things would get, I would have done that before the Gulliver’s Travels tribulation. Unfortunately, you stripped me of that power. I’m not only limited by Makarion’s specialty, but by the substrate itself. I can’t leave. I’m stuck here.”

“So in killing you in the castle, I doomed myself. You could have helped me if you weren’t like this.”

Makarion, or The Rogue, or whatever, shook his head adamantly. “No, Mateo, you saved me. I’m only like this because of what you did. You were right that power corrupts. I spent a lot of years as a human before finding my power, and when I did, I abused it. It’s like a drug, and you basically rehabilitated me from it. I’m actually pretty sure possession comes with a level of absorption of traits from the original inhabitant. That is, I’m better than I was when I was in the other body, because Makarion was better than him. I was never really against you, that much was true. The Cleanser really did recruit me decades ago. He even procured for me the only other Rogue body you knew as me. Don’t feel bad for him, he was corrupt as well. But I did steal his body, and that was wrong. If I thought there was a way to kill myself and return Makarion to consciousness, I would. And again, that’s because of what you did. You showed me the man I used to be. When I was at my worst, you showed me kindness. You didn’t give up on me, and I bet you didn’t even realize what you were doing. That’s because you’re a good person, Mateo. You don’t think about doing the right thing, the choices you make just are good. I will be forever grateful for what you’ve taught me.”

Mateo didn’t know what to say. Those were some of the nicest words anyone had ever said to him, and they were coming from the mouth of an enemy. Or rather through the mouth of a stranger, from the mind of a new friend. “Well, we’re not done yet. I think it’s time we fight back.”

The Rogue put on his game face. “I’m ready.” But then he lurched.

“What? What is it?”

Makarion’s mouth moved around like he was speaking, but no sound was coming out. A reddish light started emanating from his throat, though. It grew so bright that it started coming out of his eyes, and even his ears. A powering up sound started to rise in tone amidst the distinct sound of a cry of pain. The light formed cracks in Makarion’s face, and then all over his body. The scream intensified and increased in volume. Having reached critical mass, the Makarion body exploded into thousands of shards that flew away from ground zero and blinked out of existence like sparks.

Where the Rogue, Makarion had been standing was now only The Cleanser. “Enough of the lovey-dovey shit. I knew I would have to kill him once he started showing feelings for his prey, I just didn’t think it would happen this soon.” He pretended to brush bits of Makarion’s body from his shoulders, but there were no remains. He was gone. “No matter. I’ll just handle this myself. But no more movies. Let’s try to be a little more original from now on.”

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