Microstory 2480: Archidome

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I recently read a review on the prospectus for another dome. They were talking about how a lot of culture has faded from vonearthan society because of how standardized everything has become. And I must say that I agree. I understand why it happened. The basic design of the arcologies on Earth are perfect for what they’re intended to be. Each unit is a small and efficient living space, and they’re connected in such a way that allows modularization for shifting needs. You can open a door to grant a neighbor’s access to your units, or close them when you’re a teenager who needs to exert more independence. Everyone has a window, yet the structure is sound, because the spokes distribute the weight evenly, and over a sufficiently wide area. They’re nice, but they’re best for people who don’t care about what their homes look like, probably because they spend most of their time in simulations, or at least on the network. What your dwelling looked like, and how it was arranged, used to be profoundly important. I cannot stress to you enough how crucial it was for people to get to decide what their homes were like. That is what made it a home in the first place. There were multiple channels on linear television with dozens of programs about people finding, building, remodeling, or selling homes. And that’s before you include all the innumerable web content. It was a subculture of our society, and it went away due to a number of factors, which I’ve already touched upon. But the biggest moves happened in tandem with the shift to a post-scarcity economy. The government couldn’t put effort into building something to your specifications, or with any sort of flair or whimsy. Even before megastructures, they came up with a few models, and everyone got the same thing, because it was the most fair. Castlebourne gives us the opportunity to go back to the creativity of yesterday, in many respects, and in this respect, Archidome is the place for original architecture. It was empty at first—I really wish I had been here to see that. If you come here, you’re supposed to design your own building. It doesn’t have to be a single-family home. It can be an apartment complex, or a museum, or even a cathedral. The only restriction, really, is that you have to hold the rights to the intellectual property. I’ve heard a number of stories about visitors hoping to recreate some structure from their favorite movie, and that’s just not what this is for. Again, you get to decide what you build, and what it’s used for. It may never be used for its intended purpose, or anything at all. It’s up to you to promote it, and try to get visitors. I’m sure, over time, as the population of this planet in general increases, the chances that someone comes to see what you’ve created will go up. Until then, you might just have to be satisfied with the completion of the project itself. I’m proud of my columbarium, even though people don’t really die anymore. I’m proud of it because its mine, and it’s real. What will you create?

Microstory 2427: Great Depression Dome

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Not everything on this planet has to be fun. Some of it should be a somber reflection of real life, and in this case, the inspiration is depressing. I don’t use that as a pun, but it’s a really good word to describe the nature of the source for the dome’s theme. The Great Depression was a period of worldwide economic turmoil that began in October of 1929, and continued on into the 1940s for some regions. It is defined by a global high of unemployment, institutional financial failure, and trade conflicts, among other things. I’m not here to give you a history lesson, though; that’s the dome’s job. This is a recreation of the conditions that a lot of people lived in during this time. There’s a swath of land representing the dust bowl, there’s a seemingly endless unemployment line, situated not too far from the soup kitchen line. They make excellent use of the entire area of the dome, exhibiting the various negative impacts of life on Earth in this time period. I’m glad that they put this dome here, because it happened 550 years ago. So many people alive today don’t even know what you’re talking about. There is so much to learn in your education that things fall through the cracks, and one of the biggest sacrifices we make is history. Science and math is always changing, and while it might be interesting to know how things used to be, it’s not vital. It’s more important to understand the present day concepts. History, on the other hand, never stops coming. Students today have more background to draw from than the students of yesterday, and the students of tomorrow will have even more. That is why it is so important to keep building places like this. People need to see how things were like in the past, especially in times before they were born. No one still alive right now was around to witness the Great Depression. The oldest in our population wasn’t even born yet, and that’s really sad. I don’t even know how many people can’t even grasp the very concept of a monetary-based economy. That’s where you have to start. You have to know what money is before you can comprehend what it meant to not have any of it. To not have everything you need just to survive as a living organism. Water, food, shelter. These are fundamental rights that we take for granted, but for most of human history, none of these things was guaranteed. The people who lived during the Depression understood that. I won’t lie to you, if you come here, you’re not going to “enjoy” it, but unless you’ve been studying this stuff in particular already, you are going to learn something. They do a really great job of framing the curriculum through the present-day lens, recognizing the shortcomings of conventional contemporary education, which again, must prioritize more “relevant” topics. I implore you to give it a try. Even though it’s not an adventure, and it may not be your cup of tea, it will be good for you. It would be good for everyone.

Microstory 2256: Keep My Mouth Shut

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Last we spoke, I told you that pretty much the only way the authorities would swoop in to clear the crowd off our lawn would be if that crowd got to be too big. They were invasive and annoying, but they weren’t doing anything illegal, and they weren’t technically placing anyone in danger. I was venting to my readers, but some of you took it as a call to action. You flooded the neighborhood for the sole purpose of forcing the cops to shut the whole thing down. They didn’t just remove you from the premises, but everyone, because it otherwise would have been some form of discrimination. I didn’t know that you were going to do that. I didn’t tell you the “loophole” even thinking that that might be a possibility. And it’s not the first time that’s happened. I have to be really careful about what I say to people. They will do things for me without me explicitly asking for it, or having any clue how they’re interpreting my words. Sometimes I just say things about how I’m suffering, or lacking, and they’ll want to fix it. And I never see it coming. When I was fifteen, a few weeks from my birthday, my parents asked me to go on a road trip with them. My aunt was out of the country, but she needed a car when she got back, and she liked a particular make and model. This is something that I knew about her, so I wasn’t the least bit suspicious that something else was up. They asked me to help them make the drive up to, and back from, Minnesota, so I obliged without question. We spent one night in a hotel, and when we woke up, we drove out to a farm where the car was supposedly waiting for us. We saw dogs in big pens, screaming at us for attention. So a farmer was selling their car, and they had a bunch of dogs? Didn’t seem like that big of a deal. We got out, and I was watchings those hounds bark their heads off when the owner came out carrying a little puppy. My parents admired it, and asked me if I would like to hold her too. I loved dogs, so I jumped at the chance. I had that wee furbaby in my arms before they told me that she was mine. She was my early birthday gift. It didn’t occur to me that the trip had anything to do with me, nor that it was weird for there to be a car being sold at a farm that also had dogs.

The point is, Sophie was a total surprise to me. I stopped asking for a dog when I was young, but I would still talk about how much I loved them, and all animals. I never asked for a bunk bed, but I got one around fifth grade, because my parents knew that about me. Again, I have to be so careful about what I say, but being autistic, I don’t ever think that my random musings will have any real impact on the world. It’s caused other problems too. Since I don’t think that way, it makes me less of an attentive person. When someone else talks about how much they would like it if things were a certain way, I hear them, I listen, but I don’t think to help them. The way my brain works, if you want me to know something, then you should say it. You should say it clearly and unambiguously. I sort of have a different idea of rudeness. Well, it’s not different, it’s just not as broad. I don’t notice subtext, and I don’t accept innuendo. Be honest and straightforward. Or don’t. Just be the way that you are, and hope that I take the hint. I probably won’t, but you can hope just the same. And me? I’ll try to keep my mouth shut in case I say something that accidentally prompts a response. We’re just talkin’ here. It’s only a blog. I appreciate what you did for us with the lawn, but don’t worry too much about my needs. I’ll figure it out. And if I ever do need your help, I’ll just ask.

Microstory 2255: A Public Nuisance

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I’m still recovering, but I’m moving around the house just fine on my own. It hurts, but I’m used to pain, so it’s not the end of the world. This is Nick, by the way. It looks like full payment is going to be transferred into our joint bank account sooner rather than later. With that high of a sum, and the legal things that Kelly told you about before, there’s just some regulatory hurdles to jump through. It’s not like I’m depending on that money to get me through the week, so it’s fine. There are still a bunch of news people on our lawn. Some of them left, disappointed that they would never get an interview from any of us. Others have stuck around, either because they don’t believe us, and that we’ll reward their tenacity, or just to be annoying and disruptive. I’m told that there is nothing that we can do to get them to leave unless they place any of us in danger, or try to breach the walls of the house. Lawns are private property, but when it comes to public interest, camping out on them is some sort of gray area. Again, they can’t do whatever they want, but they can just sit or stand there, and they can keep coming back every day if they want. I suggested that we turn on the lawn sprinklers, but that’s apparently some form of assault and needless escalation. I guess there’s just nothing we can do, except wait them out. Fortunately, it’s nicer in here than out there. It’s only getting colder. There’s one silver lining to this. If the crowd gets to be too big, the police will step in, because then it officially becomes a public nuisance, and maybe even a safety hazard. If they were here to protest, or something, then that would be a lawful assembly, and protected under constitutional rights. But they’re not here together; they’re just here for the same reason—or rather, legally speaking, simply similar reasons. If things do escalate to that point, we may be entitled to some form of authoritative protection. It’s a security risk, not knowing if all those people have decent intentions. There could be a serial killer amongst them for all we know. Our security team is doing all they can, watching them at all times, and securing the perimeter. I’m just going to rest and relax, and hope that things don’t get worse. But just a reminder, the team is also taking note of everyone they see, matching identities, and placing everyone into a blacklist, so your only possible accomplishment could be to be intrusive. You’re not going to get the exclusive story, I can guarantee you that.

Microstory 2038: Maryland and D.C.

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It takes a long time to adopt a child, especially one that is in the situation that I was in. My parents put in their application right away, but it was almost three years before it finally went through! I lived in an orphanage while I was waiting, and the people in charge had to first find out if there was any way to get me back to where I was born. In the year 2016, and evil man started to run for president. He doesn’t like people who look like me, or who are from countries like my home country. He thinks that everyone who wasn’t born in this country is automatically bad. Even if they were born here, if their parents weren’t, he just doesn’t like them anyway. He believes in a lot of other bad things, and a bunch of people wanted to vote for him, because they felt the same way. My fathers are good people, who feel nothing but love for everyone. So while they were waiting for me to come into their lives, they drove down to Washington D.C. to protest against the presidential candidate. Washington D.C. isn’t a state, it’s a district, but it’s pretty much in Maryland, and my fathers’ hotel was really close to the border, so they spent a little time over on that side of it, and I think that it counts. They marched on the streets to let people know that they didn’t want this man to win the election, and guess what, he didn’t! He was never a president, and I say my fathers had something to do with it. They obviously weren’t the only ones who protested, but as my grandma will say, every voice counts. I think that’s probably true. If you feel a certain way, and you want people to know it, then you should say it. That’s what it means to be in a free country. Even the bad man had a right to say what he didn’t, even though it was all bad stuff.

Microstory 1930: Rights of the Accused

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Junior Special Investigator: Leonard Miazga?

Leonard: Yes, that’s me. Do you work at the Office of Special Investigations?

Jr. Investigator: That’s not for you to know. All you need to know is that you are under arrest under special extenuating circumstances. Under the Alsten Act, according to Provision 83 of Special Investigations Code One, I hereby detain you for the defense of national security. You are not entitled to representation, and must comply with all demands, and answer all questions. All crimes committed prior to this moment, including those seemingly unrelated to the current accusations, as well as any crimes committed following this moment, shall be taken under consideration when considering judgment, punishment, or any other outcome of your circumstances. Do you understand everything I’ve informed you of today?

Leonard: Not really.

Jr. Investigator: Sir.

Leonard: What’s the Alsten Act?

Jr. Investigator: Sir, please.

Leonard: Please tell me that you recited those words verbatim, and that you didn’t try to regurgitate it using your own words.

Jr. Investigator: We are required to recite your status and rights in the eyes of federal law in order to detain you properly, using the exact same words as they are written and approved by the Office of the National Commander.

Leonard: So when I say that the words were repetitive, nonsensical, and just overall ridiculous, you won’t take personal offense?

Jr. Investigator: No, sir.

Leonard: Are you required to address me as sir?

Jr. Investigator: No.

Leonard: Then just call me Leonard, or Leo.

Jr. Investigator: Sir...Leo, I require you to state in no uncertain terms that you understand your rights as I have listed them for you.

Leonard: You mean the rights that have been stripped from me? Yeah, I guess so.

Jr. Investigator: [...]

Leonard: I mean, yes, I unequivocally understand them perfectly, fully, and perfectly.

Jr. Investigator: I’m going to have to place these handcuffs on you, but you may retrieve a coat, and drape it over your arms to remain inconspicuous.

Leonard: I don’t have a coat. It was summer on my world when I came here, and it’s summer now. I don’t exactly have a credit card to recreate my wardrobe. Besides, I’ve seen that before as a bystander, and let me tell ya, the coat trick ain’t foolin’ no one.

Jr. Investigator: Very well, sir—Leonard. I’ll leave the cuffs rather loose, as long as you promise not to make any attempt at escape.

Leonard: I promise to not try to escape. I’ll get this all sorted out at OSI.

Jr. Investigator: Uh...one more thing.

Leonard: Yes?

Jr. Investigator: Once we get into the car, you’re gonna have to wear a hood.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 16, 2398

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Ramses quit his job, having come to the conclusion that the extra income was not worth keeping. He hated it, and truthfully, probably wouldn’t have been able to steal very much before getting caught, and then that would just paint a target on their backs anyway. Fortunately, it isn’t customary to give notice in this country in this reality. He just told his boss it was over, and hung up the phone. Looking back, it was a bit of a silly plan, and he’s glad to be free to do things like this. He’s taking Leona out to the site of The Constant. It took Heath days to make contact with the rest of the team, but now they’re all caught up. Leona is nervous, but she’s coming anyway, because she knows more about time travel, and has to inspect the scene herself. She’s fairly confident that Mateo is alive. No, Heath didn’t look all over the facility to find him, but he probably looked enough. Mateo has a habit of surviving, even if he has to die first. There’s no reason to believe that this time will be any different. Still, Leona’s husband just disappeared. She can’t not go, and just wait for him in Kansas City.

That’s what Angela and Marie are doing, as the second reason that they’re just staying in the area. The number one reason, though, is that they still have to go through with the plan to have the former be able to successfully pretend to be the latter. Even if it never comes up in regards to the abortion, it’s a handy secret weapon to keep in their arsenal for any future use, and the logical thing to do. Not many people would be able to get away with it; not in this time period, anyway.

“We’re here,” Ramses announces.

“This is where The Olimpia is hidden,” Leona complains. “I wanna go to the Constant.”

“Heath sent us a text message while you were asleep. He wants to meet here.”

“Why?”

“He didn’t say.” Ramses drives into the shallow ditch, and up into the treeline, where he parks behind the Olimpia.

Heath is waiting for them outside, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket.

“What’s wrong?” Leona asks him after getting out.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong,” Heath begins. “But first of all, I want to apologize for the part that I played in—”

“Get on with it, what’s wrong?” Leona interrupts.

“Okay, so...when the thing that happened happened, Mateo saved my life by pushing me out of the hole. I fell backwards, and hit a rock, suffering a latent concussion. I managed to get all the way down to—”

“I know all this,” Leona interrupts again. “Move on.”

“Okay, well, the concussion caught up to me, and I passed out. I woke up in the med bay.”

“How did you get to the med bay?” she asks.

“A nice family of four orphaned children found the hole before I had the chance to cover it up better, and treated me. That’s why it took me so long to contact you. I was out for quite awhile.”

“Four orphaned children,” she echoes. “Where are they now?”

“They’re still down there,” Heath explains. “They’ve sort of...laid claim to it. It’s not completely ridiculous, because they own the land. Well, they own the land over most of the facility. The entrance, they believe, is on public land, because it’s so close to the road.”

“Are they not letting us down there?” Leona presses.

“No, they’re happy to host us, but they’ve decided that they are the hosts, and we are the visitors. They’re hoping to sell tickets to rich people who fear World War VII.”

“That’s not an option,” Ramses decides.

“I told them as much. They’re...willing to negotiate.”

“I don’t have time to deal with this right now,” Leona says. “I need to be there, and not be here. Let’s go.”

“Okay, I just wanted to warn you that things are complicated. They’re not going public until we tell them it’s okay, though, so don’t worry about that. Or, they won’t go public at all, I guess. They’re not going to advertise—”

“Let’s go!” she repeats, walking past him, and heading for her destination.

When they get down the elevator, preliminary negotiations begin. Ramses tries to explain to the eldest sister that the bunker was built long before the land above it was in their family’s name. When the girl argues that it’s been in the family for centuries, he tries to clarify that it’s far older than that, but she has a hard time believing it, because the technology down here is even more advanced than the rest of the world nowadays. In the middle of the argument, he introduces himself, and she returns in kind.

Leona wasn’t paying any attention, but she perks up now. “Alyssa? McIver?” She didn’t even have to hear a last name to make the connection. She’s just used to meeting people from her future, so a first name is often enough to spark an associated memory.

“Yeah. Do you know me? He acted like he knew me too.”

“Yes, but I won’t explain it unless you sign over the rights to a small plot of your land, plus everything lower than three kilometers under all of your land.”

Alyssa crosses her arms. “Whatever, I’m not stupid. This is the only thing we own that’s worth any money. You think I’m gonna let you keep it?”

“We don’t want money for the bunker. We just have to keep it a secret,” Leona tells her. “You see what this place is like. It’s much, much older than my friend here has even told you. It’s so old, no one owned this land. No one was living anywhere near here. No human was alive at all.” She looks around at the walls. “Except for the ones who built it, but they were just there to supervise the robots. That’s a taste of the explanation; the tip of the iceberg. You want the whole story, you sell us the above land for at least double the fair price, and you don’t tell a soul about it. You don’t utter a single. Damn. Syllable.”

Alyssa’s interest has been right piqued, but she still isn’t sure.

Leona throws in a bonus. “You can live down here, if you want, and use whatever technology you find that we don’t take out for our own purposes, or to protect you. Again, you can’t tell anyone, but it’s yours. Have you found the swimming pools?”

“Pools?” one of the young boys asks, emphasizing the last letter of the word.

Alyssa wants to counter, but looks like she’s worried about losing everything if she doesn’t accept what’s been offered. “Okay, deal.”

The six of the presently able-bodied people begin to clean up the mess from the explosion. Not only does it have to be done regardless, but they want to be absolutely sure that Mateo’s body isn’t lying in there somewhere. Ramses breaks up the rock with a sledgehammer. Alyssa and the boys collect the pieces, and the youngest girl operates an automated vacuum for the rest. They get it done in a day.

Microstory 1878: Devoted to Self

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I dedicated my life to the attainment of absolute goodness and purity. I believe in evil. I believe in the Devil. And of course, I believe in God. I was born into a family of hedonistic atheists, who cared for nothing but earthly pursuits. They did not study the bible, and they had no faith. For the ones who died before me, I know that they are now in hell. They have to be, for they did not heed the word of our Lord and Savior. I heed it, and it’s all thanks to an amazing little girl I met on the school bus. She went real dark for our first discussion, talking about God’s wrath, and the punishment man has faced due to his sins. I was so scared, I went straight to church immediately after school, and had to walk all the way back home afterwards. My parents were so upset and worried, but they should have been worried for themselves. For I had just begun the long walk on a road of righteousness, and they were filled to the brim with sin. It was not easy, learning everything I needed to be a good Christian, but I never gave up, and I never compromised. Here’s what I believe. I believe that a woman has the right to choose what to do with her own body...unless that choice affects the life of another. I can’t understand how it could be any other way. Yes, you have personal autonomy, but so does the child. You cannot take that away from it. I mean, it’s not okay to kill people after they’re born, is it? I mean, I guess you have to if you’re in a war. And I suppose some criminals need to be dealt with to a level of irreversibility. This world must be cleansed from sin, and sometimes death is the only way to achieve that goal. But that baby is not evil, is it? I mean, I guess it is, because of original sin. But still, leave it alone!

The point is that there is only one path to Heaven, and I’ve finally reached the end of it, so my reward is near. All those people, dedicating their time to worthless endeavors, like the accumulation of wealth. I earned my money the right way, by raising and slaughtering cattle to nourish the world by my man’s side. I do not value material possessions. I constructed a large house to shelter my family, because God says to be fruitful and multiply. I own a nice car, so I don’t have to buy a new one every year. I make it last at least five years, or it gets too old, it’s not worth it anymore. I shop at boutique shops, because they always have the best stuff. And of course, I eat gourmet food, because that is the healthiest kind. But other than that, my entire self is devoted to God, and his teachings. Everything I do is to serve him, and his will. I haven’t even counted the number of people that I’ve converted to the side of light using The Good Word. Though I’m sure they number in the thousands; maybe even tens of thousands. But you don’t hear me bragging about that, because pride is a deadly sin. I am a sinful woman, just like anyone, but I make up for it, unlike all those other people who insist on spitting in the face of truth. I can’t wait to see what the eternal paradise looks like. Oh, it will be so grand. Every need will be provided for me, and I shall sit under the throne of our Creator. This is it; it’s everything that I’ve been working for. All those backbreaking hours at the charity galas and church bake sales will finally be worth it. I hope they serve rosé. Oh, tee-hee-hee, I’m just kidding, but really, I’m not. Because I deserve it. I’m a good person. No, I’m a great person. Nay, I’m the best. Feel free to take me now, Jesus. I’m ready.

Extremus: Year 15

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They were right. By checking serial numbers, Halan was able to confirm that a dozen cryopens were taken from the lab. Now that this one has been returned, Oaksent has ended up with eleven. But that’s not all he took. He managed to steal dozens of unfertilized eggs as well, giving him as much as he would need to sustain an isolated population on a habitable planet indefinitely. There are still a lot of unanswered questions, like where is this planet? How did Oaksent know that it would be habitable? What did Old Man have to do with anything? What happened to Rita and Airlock Karen? Hopefully Omega and Valencia would be able to find the truth during the time travel excursion. It could take them a very long time to pick up the trail, but they should be able to return to the moment they left. According to the Bridger doctor, Dr. Merlo, it was unsafe to return the cryopen to its place in inventory. They’re designed to be tamper proof in that once they’re sealed, any attempt to open them should result in the loss of all samples, but it’s just too risky. If they’re ever needed, they wouldn’t want one kid growing up with five arms, or something. Dr. Merlo took it to dispose of properly. Another potential life lost.

Exactly a year later, it was time to deliver the bad news. Halan gave Omega and Valencia this much time to figure out how to design a temporal illusory cloak that fools not only the naked eye, but sensitive detection equipment. Former ship temporal engineer Raddle desperately wanted to make it work, but Omega was right all along. It just wasn’t possible. It was relatively easy to cut and paste the background into the foreground in order to prevent someone from seeing what you don’t want them to see, even in real time. But the object you’re trying to hide is still there, and still making an impact on the environment. They could turn the ship into a darklurker, sure, which would shield them from such detection, but it would also turn them blind as well. Either no one can see you, including yourself, or everyone can. The illusion is a loophole, but it’s not perfect.

By now, Valencia has resigned herself to the fact that it’s not going to happen. They’re just going to have to be extra careful. She has to agree that it’s probably for the best in the long run, and in a more general sense. Such technology would have a myriad of ways to be abused. They intend to use it with the best of intentions, and they can do all they want to protect it from getting out, but as the old time traveler’s saying goes, “if something ever exists, then it has always existed.”

“Too true,” Omega confirms.

“So this means you two are ready to go?” Halan asks.

“Yes, sir,” Valencia admits.

Something about the way she said that gives him pause. “I want to make it clear that this is a decision we made together. This is not an order. If you want to back out, I’m not going to argue with you about it. I want to find out the truth more than anyone, but not at the expense of two of the most valuable members of my crew.”

“I’m not on the crew anymore,” Valencia points out.

“Retirement is not the same thing as a discharge,” Halan contends. “I still consider you part of the team. You just have a different role, like the one I’ll have when I become an admiral.”

Omega decides to jump in before the pre-argument can continue. “We don’t consider this an order, we want to do this, and we’re ready to go.”

“Okay,” Halan says with a quick nod. “Run a full final dia—”

“We did before you came in.”

“Well, did you—?”

“Yes.”

“What about the—”

“Three times, sir.”

“Very well. Launch when you’re ready,” Halan suggests, but doesn’t order.

“Just so you know,” Omega begins, “when it comes to temporal manipulation, technology is never as accurate as a human with innate ability. We can program the time shuttle to take us back to our destination, but relativistic speeds, and other factors, can potentially throw us off the mark.”

“We were able to send the mining drones accurately,” Halan notes.

“Well...most of them,” Valencia reminds him. “Plus, since they were unmanned, we were okay with a little bit—shall we call it—temporal turbulence.”

“It was a rough ride, sir,” Omega clarified. “Sending people is riskier.”

“So, we’re not doing it,” Halan sort of questions, sort of figures.

“No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no,” Valencia assures him. “We’re just going to use a different tactic. The mining ships needed to leave on a very specific course, so they would have enough time to complete their missions, and return at a specified time. They were better off being unmanned for a number of reasons, the turbulence being one of them, but also because they weren’t capable of improvisation. If they were off target by a given degree, they wouldn’t be able to compensate for it. For us, the timing doesn’t have to be so precise, because we can always try again. What we’re worried about is running into the ship. Or rather, having the ship run into us. It’s much safer for us to jump to the future, to a point when you’re long gone, and only then make our way to the past after we’re safely clear of your flight path.”

“It also means that we won’t necessarily return a second after we leave,” Omega adds. “One might think accuracy is paramount, but for us, it can be dangerous. It’s easier to just get close enough, and teleport the rest of the way.”

“Teleportation is far easier to control,” Valencia finishes.

The Captain nods again. “As long as you both are comfortable with the math, I’m confident in your abilities.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Thank you.”

Halan’s watch beeps. “Mercer needs me in the mess.”

“You don’t have to see us off, sir. It’s okay.”

“No. It can wait. Take your time.”

Omega and Valencia give each other a look. “There’s nothing left to do. Just a few buttons, and we’re gone.”

Captain Yenant proceeds to the observation room while the two travelers close the hatch, and prepare for launch. Not a minute later, the time shuttle, which they have chosen to call The Suárez, disappears. As warned, it does not return a second later. He waits five minutes to make sure they’re not just a little late, then teleports to a corridor near the mess hall to make up the time he would have spent walking there. He made a point of making himself out to be the kind of person who prefers to use his legs, even though he has full teleportation privileges. He uses this fib to delay making his way to the next crisis, but only when it’s taking him away from the current crisis. He likes to keep people’s expectations low, so he doesn’t set the precedent that he’s a wizard who can make any problem go away with the snap of his fingers.

He walks into the mess hall to find security flanking a passenger, whose hands have been bound behind his back. Others still have food before them, but aren’t eating. “Report.”

Mercer steps forward. “Sir, he won’t leave. He’s been...uncooperative.”

“I have a right to be here!” Yavo Gusorisi is an unremarkable shoemaker who Halan put on a list of staunch supporters of Ovan Teleres for Passenger Chair. While Ovan did win the election, most of his voters are not quite this radical. Yavo is loud and angry, for pretty much no reason at all, and has not been able to make his presence known to the rest of the ship. He’s not as famous as he wishes to be. Halan only knows this much about him because of the list, but had Ovan never existed, Yavo’s passenger file would have made for a quick and uninteresting read. “Segregation is a sin!”

That word. Halan knows what this is. The first of the blind loyalists have started to clang the pots of pans of their unwarranted feelings of disenfranchisement. The Chair has emboldened them to finally take noticeable action against the Teleres administration’s perceived enemies. Once all the crazy ones have shown themselves, Ovan will treat them as misunderstood, and not as radical as the cucks and snowflakes make them out to be. Still, people will remember that they are indeed radicals, and won’t want to become like them. Soon after that, some of these moderates, who believe themselves to be more rational, and immune to radicalization, will begin to institute small protests of their own. They won’t feel as inhibited about it as they were before, because they can see that they’re not as bad as people like Yavo. This is all part of the plan. Ovan’s plan.

The man is an evil genius, and Halan isn’t sure he’ll be able to beat him. How he handles this situation will determine the nature of all political battles in the foreseeable future. As long as Halan is captain, Ovan will be able to paint the crew as the enemy. More than three centuries ago, a country on Earth known as the United States of America was divided. Some people wanted equality, and some didn’t, and during the 1950s, the second side was the clear dominant force. A young woman by the name of Claudette Colvin refused to leave her seat on a public transportation vehicle because of her skin color. Her act of defiance against the establishment was one of many precipitated by those who believed in freedom and justice. They had a right to fight for their rights. Their rights were being violated. They called it segregation, and it was created in order to continue too oppress an entire peoples after centuries of abduction, slavery, abuse, rape, murder, and other forms of much more obvious mistreatment.

Though Halan has been focusing primarily on the True Extremist movement, he has not let the Ovan problem go without maintaining a line of intelligence on the matter. Though not, strictly speaking, legal, Halan managed to get his hands on the manifesto that Ovan has been writing. He cites Claudette Colvin, Rosa Parks, Malcolm X, and many others, essentially claiming that he is presently in the middle of the same war against tyranny. While the situation could not be more different, this was obviously designed to be Yavo’s Claudette Colvin moment. This is meant to illustrate just how unfair and elitist the crew is, and why the civil administration should be making all decisions on The Extremus. This is the mess hall, rather than one of several passenger-run restaurants in the passenger section. It’s meant for the crew to separate themselves from their responsibilities, and relax. No passenger is meant to be here. More is at stake than that, however. There are other places that the crew can go to blow off steam, and complain about their clients. The only way to win the war is to concede this battle before it begins. The separation of passenger and crew sections is not the same thing as segregation, but if that’s the game Ovan wants to play, then he’s going to play it by Halan’s rules.

The Captain looks over at security. He lifts his hand, and cuts the air with his index and middle fingers. A security guard takes out her knife, and snips off Yavo’s zip cuffs. Yavo rubs his wrists as if he had just been detained for the last twenty years. Halan places a hand on the curve that connects Yavo’s shoulder with his neck. He sports his most genuine-looking fake smile. “Come. Let’s get you something to eat. How do you feel about paninis?”

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Microstory 1733: The ESS Dorado

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When the first of the asteroid miners went up into space, they were looking to make some money. There were tons of resources up there that they hoped would make them rich. It was probably about to, but it wasn’t long before the economy shifted, and no more value was placed in things that once meant everything. Yes, the metals and minerals they mined and processed from the asteroids were still incredibly important for the future of the human race, but everything they could exchange them for was now readily available, and distributed freely. That material was now only useful for making spaceships, and other vacuum structures. Trying to take it all the way down into Earth’s gravity well was a waste of time and energy. Still, their lives weren’t purposeless. Someone would have to build those ships, so it might as well be them. They still weren’t making any money, because it didn’t exist anymore, but people were grateful for their efforts, and the species was quickly becoming a multiplanetary culture. They kept working, kept looking for more, and were surprised about how much gold there was up there. Back in the ancient days, gold was the standard for monetary value. Everything was based upon its worth according to scarcity, measure of work needed to refine the raw material, and an arbitrary love of all that was shiny. Even after gold stopped being the official standard, people placed value on it simply because of how pretty it looked. To this day, it’s used in a number of technological instruments, but in relatively small amounts. As it turns out, the solar system is chock full of the stuff. Scarcity was a component of man’s inability to reach beyond the atmosphere at the time, and that is no longer the case. Still, what are they going to do with all this gold? Sure, some of it can go to those devices, but there will be a lot left over. This gave one of them a crazy idea.

They decided to build a ship. This ship would be composed almost entirely of gold. Propulsion, of course, and wiring systems, required specific materials in order to function, but the basic idea was that if it could exist in gold form, it was to be manufactured out of pure gold. It was the dumbest thing that anyone on Earth had ever heard of, but they too realized they had plenty of gold to satisfy their needs, and they recognized that the asteroid miners earned rightful control over everything they found that wasn’t claimed by someone else. It took them years to gather all the gold they would need, and refine it, but they were essentially immortal now, and most of the business was automated, so what did they care? It wasn’t until they were just about finished when they noticed that no one had thought about what they were going to actually do with the darn thing. Even with their indefinite lifespans, it wasn’t a good way to get to other planets in the solar system, or to other stars. It was more a piece of art; a think piece, a proof of concept...a proof of strength. They didn’t know if there were any aliens flying around out there, but they figured that their big gold ship would be a pretty good message to send anyone looking to see if the Earthans were weak enough to attack. If humans were advanced enough—and bored enough—to construct a literal golden ship, they were probably nothing anyone should want to trifle with. So they placed it in a permanent stable orbit around Earth, and named it The ESS Dorado. People came to visit occasionally, but it was mostly there to be marveled and appreciated from a distance. Aliens never came, and eventually they let it burn up in the atmosphere.

Microstory 1732: Delphinus

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I am not against science, though my detractors would certainly hope you believe that about me. I believe in medicine, vaccinations, surgical intervention. I even believe in a woman’s right to choose. But I’m not going to let researchers move forward with whatever technologies they dream up without any consideration of the ethical ramifications. A few years ago, a new startup was formed in the valley with one goal. They wanted to create an artificial womb system capable of not only supporting a transplanted fetus, but of fostering life from the very beginning. This would remove the need for a mother and a father. There are some great things about this. Same-sex couples would be able to have their own children, which I’m also not against—I’m not a conservative nutjob who doesn’t believe in the future. I’m an ethicist who focuses on precaution, and isn’t interested in developing everything scientifically possible in the name of supposed progress. It seemed pretty simple to me at first. God, evolution; whatever you wanna call it, decided that we would produce offspring a certain way. A biological male and female come together to conceive the child, and then that child gestates in an organic womb, inside of a human being, who is charged with protecting this new life. I’m all right with surrogate pregnancies. I’m even fine with the concept of an artificial womb. But I can also see how dangerous the technology is, and how many problems it can cause down the road. I have been fighting hard to prevent it from becoming legal, and letting Delphinus Obstetric Advancements win, but a friend recently pointed out an undeniable implication. Even though I am pro-choice, I don’t want anyone to have an abortion. Before focusing on this issue, I regularly went out and informed women about their options. Abortion is not the only way, and we should be working on ways to make it unnecessary. The artificial womb seems to accomplish that.

The problem with abortion is that it’s the destruction of life. However you define when a developing...entity transforms from a group of cells to an actual person is irrelevant. Abortion means death, that’s what it is. If a pregnant person does not want to have their child, that child can be transplanted from the carrier, to an artificial gestation pod. It can then develop in there, and be born in the lab. Of course, this comes with its own ethical problems. What happens to the baby when it’s finally born? Who takes care of it, raises it, teaches it? Who is responsible for finding that person, or those people? The lab? The egg provider? The state? More to the point, who has the right to make such decisions? Furthermore, this complicates the matter of the egg provider’s rights in the first place. Being unable, or unwilling, to raise a child, or even unwilling to birth a child, are not the only reasons to have an abortion. If a state can supersede one’s choice by simply saying “fine, if you don’t want it, we’ll take it, and we’ll do it right now,” then is that really fair to the original carrier? They weren’t necessarily choosing to simply have nothing to do with their offspring. They chose to have an abortion, and an artificial womb is not inherently synonymous with that choice. Ethics is a complicated subject, and I don’t have an answer to any of these questions. But it’s causing me to question my convictions, and stop thinking that I can understand the issues clearly. All I know is that we can’t let the government, or the corporations, take our rights. We must retain our humanity, or all the technology imaginable can’t save us.

Microstory 1658: Exceptions to the Rules

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The excelschians in Excelschiaverse are all pretty much the same. They’re like AI assistants, except that they can only be seen by the person to which they are assigned. The form spontaneously, to about half the population of Earth, and there appears to be no common link amongst the people who are chosen. No evidence has suggested that some kind of higher being is responsible for this in any way. Some see it as proof of a God, but it’s all just circumstantial. Those who study them have not come to any definitive conclusions. All they have found is that if someone were to hypothetically exchange their excelschian with someone else’s, nothing would change. It would still be able to transform itself into whatever shape the human wanted, it would still look human, and it would still not be able to interact with the real world. There are a couple exceptions to the rules. In one case, an excelschian appeared to develop some kind of personality, and personal agency. It started considering itself to be an independent being, and believed that it had the same rights as any corporeal individual would have. Unfortunately for it, and its physical human, there was no way to prove this either way. Only the human could see his excelschian, and while he made every attempt to fight for her rights, it was impossible. The human could have been lying, and no one would know. And even if the right authorities agreed to grant the excelschian her natural rights, what would that mean? How would that play out? She still wouldn’t be able to communicate with other people, and she couldn’t get a job, or contribute to society. All she could do was ask her human to let her make her own choices, which he did happily, and that’s as good as it ever got for the both of them. They even later fell in love.

There was another exceptional case, where the excelschian did not have trouble with people seeing him. Quite the opposite. Overtime, people around the human to which he was assigned started being able to see him, but only those who did not have their own excelschians. He didn’t develop his own personality, but he did end up with the compulsion to help everyone who was able to see him. He wasn’t exposed to just anyone who happened to pass by, but it was still a lot of people. So he began to serve as a sort of community excelschian, but this started causing problems. Who deserved him the most? Who decided what questions he answered, and when. It became so confusing that the original human had to run off to the other side of the country, and never come out of her apartment. The last major exception involves a human who found herself capable of seeing any and every excelschian. The world became a crowded place as she watched others ask their questions, and heard the answers. They didn’t answer her questions, which she tried as an experiment, but that was fine. The real problem was that it was difficult for her to move around in the world, because though she still couldn’t touch the excelschians, she never lost her instinct to give them space, and walk around, as she would do for anybody. She too had to run away from civilization, though not quite to the same degree. She just had to make sure she wasn’t around too many people who had excelschians. She actually tried to join a community of non-excelschianed humans on the edge of town, but those were pretty exclusive, and always at least a little racist, so they rejected her applications. These exceptions were not heralds of the future, or changes to the status quo. They were just different, and the chances of them happening were never zero.

Microstory 1462: Sic Semper Honestus

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Marley Allen was next in line out of the small and secret group of friends who were interested in making the world more like it was before the misogynistic Republic took over. People were not happy with the progressive decisions that Remanoir Aljabari made during his relatively short time as the main leader of the planet. It wasn’t enough to get him kicked out of office, but it was certainly too much to let him be reëlected. That was not only okay, but completely part of the plan. Aljabari never intended to campaign again, but would step aside so that Allen could take over for him. It was his responsibility to give the people a taste of what the world could be like if they let go of their prejudices, and returned to a system of equality. Now it was time for the next step. When Marley Allen replaced him, he believed he would have to lay low for a while, to backpedal on a few of his predecessor’s policies, and make himself out to be the loyal Republican everyone thought he was. It seemed he didn’t have to do that, however, and it was all thanks to Aljabari’s wife, Ceri. Ceri Aljabari was a mage remnant, who had the ability to manipulate other people’s emotions. Very few people were aware of her power, however, as they thought it was Eskandar Aljabari himself who possessed such talent. They didn’t believe that a woman could be so powerful, which gave them leverage, and even plausible deniability. During Eskandar’s administration, he urged congress to agree with the changes he wanted to make, and they didn’t push back as much as one would think. Ceri altered their state of mind, so they would be more open to new ideas. She simultaneously worked on the city residents as a whole, though to a far lower degree, because her ability was only so strong, and it wasn’t like she could create a planet of obedient zombies. By the time Remanoir Allen took his seat at the top, most citizens of Aljabara were willing to consider the possibility that women were perhaps not quite as wholly devious and dishonest as the Republicans had made them out to be for the last six decades.

Unfortunately, most does not ever account for all, and there were more than enough people who never wanted to see the system be replaced. Even if an individual didn’t personally feel any animosity towards women, the phallocratic government was beneficial to them. Women’s rights weren’t just limited, but men’s rights were raised. It was good to be a man on Durus during the first half of the 22nd century, and some weren’t willing to give that up, even if it was better for the planet as a whole. A few of these people got together, and they started plotting. They decided there was something fishy going on with their elections. Summerfield, Aljabari, Allen. Three out of the last four leaders were progressive, even though they claimed not to be. They had lied about themselves the entire time, and there was no reason to believe another election wouldn’t make the same thing happen again. When Summerfield was recalled, Poppet Drumpf took over, but when Drumpf stepped down himself, his entire administration was drained from the proverbial swamp. So what could these people do to fix this? They didn’t want Allen’s second-in-command to take over, because that caused problems before, but a special election was also a travesty in their eyes. They kind of had to pick the lesser of two evils, and hope that Allen’s second, the Prime Minister wouldn’t turn out to be quite as bad as Drumpf. Unlike with Summerfield, however, they did not have the people’s support. If they wanted to get rid of Remanoir Marley Allen, they would have to take care of it themselves. They would have to assassinate him. Fortunately for them, they were radicals, so they didn’t have any problem with killing. The mission was successful, and the Prime Minister took over primary leadership duties, but he would turn out to be just as progressive as his secret friends.

Microstory 1457: Extremist in Command

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Sekundas Poppet Drumpf was, in no uncertain terms, an extremist. A lot of people were happy with their little misogynistic society, because they didn’t know of a better way, but he was into it. He was super into it. He hated women, and thought that they were only good for making babies. There were many tasks that men didn’t want to have to do, like laundry, and keeping the household clean, but Poppet wasn’t like that. Men did everything better, and he was willing to do the dirty work if it meant a woman wasn’t involved. If he had it his way, every woman would be locked in a little room with the bare minimum: a bed, sink, shower, and toilet. They would gestate the babies, birth them, and then go back to their bed to start the whole process over again. There weren’t a whole lot of people on Durus who agreed with him to this degree. Sure, women couldn’t be trusted, but they shouldn’t be locked up, and not because that was inhumane, but because at the very least, they were useful as slaves. Still, he was popular, because just like President Summerfield’s lies, he was loud and unrelenting, and people absolutely loved that in a leader. The only reason Summerfield allowed him to run for the second-in-command position was because the insanity would hopefully distract from Summerfield’s attempts at pushing the world towards progress. When he was removed from office, his whole plan backfired, for once Poppet found himself in the number one spot, there was no stopping him. He decided to not take the position of President. Earth had a lot of presidents, and they also had a lot of women in power. He didn’t want any part of that, so he decided to keep his old title, even though it obviously indicated he was meant to be second, and not first. He then proceeded to win the election four years later, and became the only two-term primary leader the Republic had ever seen. He wouldn’t stop there, but that is a story for another day. Until then, he wanted to make some changes in Aljabara, whether the people wanted him to or not.

The biggest changes he made were to the education system. He decided that women weren’t the issue, but the way they were raised as girls. They weren’t taught to be independent, but they weren’t taught to be submissive either. He deemed this too problematic. He knew no one would go for his crazy locked half-room idea, but education was the easiest avenue towards getting close to his goals. People cared deeply about education, but they also easily conceded to the fact that they didn’t know what the hell to do with it. If someone in power told them schools should be run a certain way, well, then they just sort of trusted that, as long as that person said other things that they liked. So he knew he would be able to get away with preventing girls from being educated the right way. He didn’t stop them from learning at all, but he only let them learn the things he felt weren’t important, or useful. Language was an acceptable subject, because it was irrelevant to their everyday lives. Understanding grammar wasn’t going to help them rise up, and demand equality. Maybe they could conduct impactful speeches, but without any understanding of politics, their words would be empty, and people would recognize that. Likewise, they could make all the art and music they wanted, but it wasn’t going to make them any less inferior to men. Education wasn’t the only thing that Drumpf went after in his first few years, but it was the most significant. He did all these terrible things, and he still got reëlected. He was unstoppable.

Microstory 1456: Eleventh and Final

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The forming of the Thicket rebellion did a lot more for the women’s rights movements than the government realized. It started further back then that, though, when Ladytown was first conceived. These developments inspired a lot of people in Aljabara, and made them question the roles they played in the world. If these women were strong enough to fight for their rights, were they strong enough to fight for everyone’s? That’s what one candidate to be the eleventh, and ultimately final, president had in mind. They were a republic, and there was nothing inherent about that which prevented them from being completely equal. He didn’t even have to look at Earthan history to understand that women should be treated fairly. The world had become ridiculous, and he felt that it was his duty to correct it; to make things better for the whole world, including members of the Thicket. He knew he needed to be smart about it, though. Moderates had been running for president since the beginning, and not one of them had ever won. The louder and more absurd the candidate’s platform, the more votes they received. Even in the early days, people were crying for change. It didn’t matter to them whether the promised change was good for them or not; things just had to be different than they were before. That was why no president had lasted more than a single term so far. Presidential candidate Summerfield knew that he wasn’t going to get a second term, because of the plans he had for his tenure, but he assumed it would at least last for the whole five years. Unfortunately, he came on too strong. During his campaign, he was louder than his opponent by far, and often didn’t even let him speak during debates. People liked that about him, that he wasn’t willing to even listen to the other side of an argument. Even those who were in favor of the things that his opponent claimed liked to hear Summerfield blather on. He was interesting, and exciting, and most importantly, he was new. So that won him the seat, but he wasn’t able to hold on to it, because the people quickly learned that he had been lying the whole time.

He began to pass executive order after executive order, changing the way people lived their lives. At first, this was okay. He was overruling everything that the representative congress was trying to do, and people still appreciated this behavior. Once people were used to his tactics, he started trying to slip in other things under the radar. He gave permission for a wife to travel to the store alone, as long as she made it quick, and her husband would be waiting for her when she returned. He increased the maximum age a young woman was allowed to be before her father had to hand her off to a husband. He even tried to let mothers raise their own children without constant male supervision, but people were not happy with this. This was the last straw, and they recalled him for it. He was the shortest-lasting president in history, having only been in office for a few months. He went down in history as the planet’s first and only execution. Though an awful place, they at least had a law against capital punishment, which they only waived for this one exception. People weren’t happy about this either, but there was nothing they could do about it. Sekundas Poppet Drumpf was President Summerfield’s second-in-command, and instead of pushing for a new election, or a promotion, he just declared himself the new leader. Sekundas was now simply the highest ranking official in the government. That was when the world turned to shit.

Microstory 1238: Madoc Raptis

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While the tyrant, Smith always recognized the potential in the first newborn children of Durus, no one truly understood their power until they were much older. While in womb, they seemed to possess deflective capabilities when it came to the monsters, but this hardly extended beyond protecting their mothers from attack, and that was presumed to be mostly about protecting themselves. Once they were old enough, the people of what was formerly Springfield, Kansas discovered that the children had the ability to give other people time powers. Later, these gifts would be decided according to a formal competition known as the mage games, but the precursor to this tradition came in the form of smaller challenges, and the occasional personal favor. Shortly after Madoc Raptis first accidentally gave his cousin the ability to distort other people’s perception of the flow of time, the source mages found out that they could give each other powers as well. There was a limit to what powers they could possess, and the more they accumulated, the less effective they were at each one of them, but it still increased their social power in the new world. The source mages could exchange their powers for new ones at will, but they each had to work to see which power, or powers, they were best at using, and concentrate the most energy on nurturing those. None was luckier than Madoc, whose level of skill for any given power seemed almost irrelevant when it came to what he did with them. The kids liked to go against each other, not just to tailor their strengths, but to see who among them was the very best. Madoc won these contests frequently; a little too frequently, actually. It didn’t matter who he was competing against, or what time power they were using, he just kept winning.

His favorite game was called Air Gap; a variation of capture the flag, where there was only one flag in the center of the field. The object was to try to reach the target first, while simultaneously superimposing more and more space between one’s opponent, and the center. It was his favorite, because he never lost even once. Everyone else called it luck. Madoc also called it luck. He recognized that he wasn’t actually better than them, and if they ever wanted to win the war with the time monsters, he wouldn’t be able to do it alone. Mad Dog Raptis is what they called him, though he wasn’t mad, and he didn’t possess any canine qualities. It was really just a play on his name. But he couldn’t care less about his nickname. He just liked to wield his power, and test his limits. He didn’t care for the mage games either, though they were his twin sister, Yeong’s creation. He was pretty vocal with his opposition to the very concept, believing it unfair to require others to prove their worth when the source mages themselves hadn’t done anything to earn them. They were just conceived at the right time, in the right city, and he knew this could have happened to anybody. This argument was the biggest thing he ever lost, and he didn’t quite accept the outcome. Every year, whether the mage games were held or not, Madoc reserved the right to source an individual from anywhere in the world. They didn’t have to fight for the honor, or plead their case. They just had to exist, be of sufficient age, and of course, consent. These special selections sometimes went on to protect their respective towns, but others joined a special army of Madoc’s devising, which served as balance against the source mages’ power. Madoc placed no expectations on his personal selections, and though he ultimately sourced fewer people over the course of the Mage Protectorate than any of his peers, many came to be known as some of the most honorable, respected, contributive, fearless...and lucky mages in history.