Microstory 2474: MOE Dome 42

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MOE stands for Molten Oxide Electrolysis. This is the method that they use here on Castlebourne to produce a breathable atmosphere. The thing about barren terrestrial planets is that there’s usually a ton of oxygen, it’s just trapped in the rocks. Earth has it floating around, along with other gases, like nitrogen and hydrogen. Separating that all out isn’t easy, but it’s possible, and absolutely necessary here. So you got your dome in place, and it’s all sealed up, but that doesn’t make the inside anymore livable than the outside. Whoever first colonized this planet could have carried it with them, theoretically, but that...that’s a lot. It’s called in situ resource utilization. Use what’s available where you are, even if it takes work to process. There are about fifty-six MOE domes right now. I chose to take a tour of this one, because I like the number, but they’re all the same. I’m kidding, this was the only MOE Dome open for tours. I won’t go over their entire process, since that should be a surprise if you come here, lol. I’m kidding, it’s boring and dry, and that’s not what a review is for. It’s my job to tell you what my experience was like, and speculate as to what your experience will be like if you choose to do it too. These big machines grind up rocks, melt them down, and extract the constituent molecules. It’s all very technical. I thought it was cool to see the process, but I’m kind of a dummy. If you already know all this, it may seem normal and prosaic. Like yeah, of course that’s how they do it. I’ve seen it a million times. Well, then you don’t have to come, do you? There was this one woman on my tour who kept asking questions, but you know, in that kind of way that makes it clear that she already knew the answers, and just wanted us to be so impressed with her. Well, she was wrong or not quite right a number of times, which the tour guide respectfully corrected. He was a human, so I thought that was a pretty cool touch too, given how automated this whole planet has to be to function. If you’re into this stuff, come take a look for a couple of hours. If you’re not, I won’t try to convince you to try. Just remember that this effects us all. Until every dome has an established ecology which recycles air as efficiently and unceasingly as Earth does in its natural state, MOE Domes are probably the most important ones we got. I hope you appreciate that, whether you think it’s boring to watch and learn about, or not.

Microstory 2439: Dome for Pioneers

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Ha! Dome for Pioneers. That’s so on the nose. That’s really what it is. You’re almost starting from scratch here. You don’t go all the way back to the beginning, like Paleodome, but you’re not provided with much. Like other lifestyle domes, you’re expected to stay here for an extended period of time, like years; not days, not even months. You’re here to get an idea of what life was like for people in 19th century New World. Everything you need is here, but you have to process it yourself. There’s wooded areas, arid desert, prairies, some small lakes (maybe ponds?) and rocks. They dress you in very simple clothes that look like they’re handmade, but I’m guessing they weren’t really. They give you a metal bucket, a few basic tools, and one wagon per ten or eleven people I think? I don’t remember what they said. If you have too few people, you don’t even get a wagon. There are some cows of some kind wandering around nearby, so if you do get one of the wagons, you have to put those two things together yourself. Good luck, dude, I actually think they’re real cows. While they’re not aggressive, they don’t want you tying ropes to them, and do you even know how to put a cow before a wagon? Didn’t think so. It’s the year 2500, we don’t have to do stuff like that anymore. That’s what’s so interesting about this place. If you wanted to know how the real pioneers survived with what little they had, and while enduring everything they had to, you had to have done your research ahead of time. There is no education here. I understand what they were going for, but that was probably a mistake. There should be a museum where they give you such education, not so you’re better equipped, but so you have a real appreciation for what you’ll experience in the simulation. What were their goals? What mistakes did they make? What kind of class divide was there, if any? I mean, you could turn your lot into a mountain man survivalist situation, and stay there for just as long, but that’s not what the pioneers were trying to do. They were digging in, founding towns, making a legacy for themselves. If people start using it right, given enough time, it’s possible that Dome for Pioneers might have to change its name to Dome for an Extremely Advanced Civilization. All the tools are there, it will just take time for us to relearn how to use them, just like our ancestors did. I think that it’s a really interesting social experiment. I just think it might not accomplish the right goals if management doesn’t guide the narrative in a proper direction. But don’t listen to me, I’m nobody.

The Fourth Quadrant: Rocked to the Core (Part III)

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It’s morning on this side of Castlebourne. While this planet does have an atmosphere, and there is technically a sky above them, it’s not all that pretty. It’s kind of hazy and depressing. Each geodesic dome comes with its own holographic projection on the inner shell to simulate whatever visual environment is desired. When not under the darkness of night, Dojodome is typically kept between dawn and sunrise, just because that’s what Darko happens to like, and this is his territory. There are tens of thousands of other domes here, which serve varying purposes, but the trainees have never left this one. They have never been allowed to so much as see anyone else who lives here. They are currently over a hundred years in the future from where they were living, so no one wants them to gain any insight into what’s to come. They don’t have any problem with this, as they have plenty of work to do here. They are expecting to receive details on their first mission soon, but Darko hasn’t been provided with a specific date. He hasn’t really been teaching them since the Sunshine Sticker Ceremony a few days ago. They have shed their bags of rocks, and have just been practicing their skills as they see fit. At the moment, the four of them are doing some tai chi together to greet the day.

They all stop and stand up straight when a magnolia tree appears on the other side of the room, and fades in and out of view before disappearing for good, leaving them with four strangers. “Greetings,” one of them begins, stepping forward. “My name is Goswin Montagne. I am here to acquaint you with the rest of your team, and give you your first assignment.”

“Where’s the tree?” Andrei questions. “Where’s Princess Honeypea?”

“She doesn’t appreciate what we’re doing here,” one of the other guys says. “She’s a lover, not a fighter. That’s why I love her.”

Goswin isn’t happy with his friend’s flourishes. “This is Briar de Vries. He is here to represent the interests of the Garden Dimension, and will only be serving in this capacity. He does not have authority over you.” He points to the other guy. “This is Atticus Morel, a.k.a. Gatekeeper. He is your leader, and does have authority over you. He has some experience dealing with powerful tyrants like the one we believe you are up against. Lastly, we have Catania Porter. She can take you anywhere you need to go, and get you anything you need. She’s not a fighter, don’t ask her to be.”

Catania doesn’t say anything. A handheld device beeps from her pocket, so she takes it out, and starts fiddling with it.

Goswin sees her do this. “She’s not ignoring you, she’s just really busy. She’s basically a real life Santa Claus, if you’ve ever heard of him, so she’ll be occupying herself with the needs of other clients during her downtime.”

Darko walks over, and stands right in front of Catania. She ignores him.

“Please leave her alone,” Goswin requests.

“You first,” Darko spits back. He reaches up, and places a hand over Catania’s device. He gently pushes it down, and turtles his head into his own shoulders, trying to make eye contact with her. “You’re not gonna say anything?”

Catania sighs. “Hello, son.”

“How long has it been for you?”

“Three years.”

“About the same for me,” Darko agrees.

“This is your mother?” Goswin asks, shocked. He looks into the aether. “Magnolia, what the hell did you do?”

“It’s fine,” Darko says. “She goes where she’s needed, and...she’s needed here. But I’m not.” He takes a sad breath, and heads for the entrance to the other room. “Enjoy your mission. Thank you for being my students.”

“Thank you, teacher,” Selma, Andrei, and Ayata say in perfect sync.

He turns back around and slides the door closed with a slight bow.

Catania is studying the floor awkwardly before going back to what she was doing on her device.

“I’m sorry about that,” Goswin goes on. “I’ll speak with him after the briefing. Is there somewhere we can do that?”

“We can hold it in the chashitsu; or tea room,” Selma suggests. “Ayata, could you lead them there? I’ll make the tea.”

Most chashitsu are fairly small, only fit for a few people sitting on the floor. This being a giant complex filled with all sorts of Japanese architecture, some modifications have been made in certain places. The chashitsu that comes off the main dojo is large enough for a dozen people in chairs. There are larger places for larger gatherings, but they’re farther away, and shouldn’t be necessary for this purpose. Ayata seats everyone around the table, then goes over to help distribute the tea. Goswin lays out the plans for a mission in Fort Underhill. If The First Explorer is truly a threat to the entire universe, they need to understand the vulnerabilities in the interdimensional barriers. Team Gatekeeper, as Goswin is calling it, will be responsible for security while these inspections are going on. It may be nothing. They may have nothing to do but stand around and look menacing. But it also may be everything.

Goswin has holographic maps and diagrams to give them an idea of where they’ll be working. Something catches Selma’s eye. “What’s this?”

“That’s the barrier that separates Fort Underhill Proper from the Sixth Key,” he replies. Fort Underhill is the name of a universe that a woman named Hogarth Pudeyonavic created. She actually built a whole universe with her immense power and technological prowess. How exactly she accomplished this is not something that anyone here can comprehend, but that’s not the point. It was initially a single cosmic structure, but when the parallel realities in the original universe collapsed, all inhabitants of them were shunted into Fort Underill, in some sort of separate half of this. They don’t know how one would go about cutting a universe in half either, but that’s how it’s been explained to them. It’s like a cell that got stuck in the middle of cleaving into two new cells; separate, but forever connected to each other. That’s not really what the map looks like, though. From here, it just looks like a little tumor.

“We were told that the Sixth Key and Fort Underhill were basically two halves of the same universe,” Selma contends. “Why does this look like the former is only a tiny fraction of the size of the latter?”

“You’re thinking in three dimensions. It’s a hyperdimensional structure.”

“You’re the one who drew this. I mean, someone else did; not me. This is a three-dimensional representation of the universe. Why did they make my home smaller than its other half? Unless it’s not really half.”

Goswin exchanges a look with Atticus. “I can’t explain that.”

“Because you don’t know, or because we are not authorized to know?” Selma presses.

“Let’s go with the second one,” Goswin replies.

“That’s not good enough for me.” Selma is getting really worried now. If it’s as simple as the image before them not rendering correctly, why wouldn’t he just say that? The fact that he’s refusing to clarify makes it seem like something is seriously wrong. “This is all I can think about now, and my gut tells me that it’s immensely important. We can’t do our jobs if we don’t know what we’re dealing with. How can we protect the universe if we don’t know how big it is? What are you not telling us about it?”

Goswin sighs. “It’s not my place to say, and even if I try to say it, it won’t make sense. Demand your answers from the good people of the Sixth Key. They’re the only ones who can really explain it.”

Selma isn’t satisfied with that response, but still, she leans back in her chair, and drops the subject. They continue to go over the plan, describing the layout of the embassy that acts as the link between the two “halves” of Fort Underhill. They call it Connexion. After an hour of prep time, it’s time to go on and get on with it. Despite the fact that Goswin never managed to get the sentient tree to explain its reasoning for recruiting Catania Porter while knowing full well her complicated relationship with her son, when he requests transportation to the other universe, that request is granted.

All but Goswin himself find themselves inside of a gargantuan building. If money still existed, no expense would have been spared in the construction of this place. Greek columns tower above them, possibly all the way into infinity. A two story fountain sprays water in large arches, but never splashes out of the pool, and is somehow completely silent. Abstract statues are scattered throughout the room. A three-meter wide staircase leads somewhere mysteriously covered in fog, perhaps as a somewhat literal interpretation of the stairway to heaven? A third group of people is in the middle of a meeting at a bar in the corner. They notice the newcomers.

One of the women hops off of her stool, and walks over with an outstretched hand. “You must be Team Gatekeeper.”

“Is that what we’re called?” Andrei asks.

“I’m Hogarth Pudeyonavic.” Oh. The Creator. Maybe those stairs really do lead to heaven. “Come on over,” she urges her people. Ellie Underhill, Lowell Benton, Nerakali Preston, Gilbert Boyce, and of course, the love of my life, Hilde Unger.” She plants a kiss on her partner’s lips.

Ellie and Lowell, they know. The two of them were present during the Rock Meetings, though they didn’t say much. The magical tree obviously felt like it was only right that Fort Underhill Proper be represented, but they didn’t seem to have any dog in that fight. Selma still doesn’t quite know why the universe is named after Ellie if she’s not the creator. How did that come about?

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Atticus responds. He goes about introducing everyone in Team Gatekeeper. He then proceeds to single Selma out. “She had a question about transdimensional scale.”

“I did?” Selma asks, not because she didn’t have a question, but because she does not know what that term means. She’s not a genius scientist. “I had a question.”

“Ah,” Hogarth says. “Well. If you’re on this side of the membrane, I suppose you were bound to find out. Gilly, would you do the honors?”

Gilbert strides over to a set of double doors. He musters all of his strength to pull them open. On the other side is decidedly not another room. It’s outer space, showing a spiral galaxy floating around in the blackness, complete with a supermassive blackhole at its center, and a gas cloud halo around the edge and surfaces. That’s what it looks like anyway. It must be yet another hologram. He reaches up and runs his hand along the face of the threshold. The space ripples and flows like water, or maybe plasma. Even Catania stops looking for side gigs to admire the beauty.

“What’s this?” Andrei asks, drawn to it as a moth is to a flame.

“That...is the Sixth Key,” Hogarth answers.

“I don’t understand,” he says.

Hogarth sighs to prepare herself. “There are decillions of people in the galaxy you see before you. They were all saved from annihilation when the parallel realities were destroyed. As you might imagine, that was not an easy task, and I am not at liberty to discuss details, but what I can tell you is that one way of saving energy to perform this miracle was to shunt everyone into another spatial dimension first.”

“What are you saying?” Selma demands to know.

Hogarth jerks her head towards the open doors. “They shrunk you, to put it quite reductively. In there is an entire galaxy, along with some void space around it. Many light years separate one end from the other, but only from the perspective of those inside of it. From our frame of reference, it is but a few meters across.”

Ayata falls to her knees, and retches on the floor. Lowell instinctively reaches down, and holds her hair back for her. Andrei lurches in that direction, but the gravity of what they’re seeing holds him back. Their whole galaxy is the size of a bedroom? Everything they’ve been fighting for is just right there in front of them. It seems so petty and silly now, even though intellectually, they’re aware that it’s still populated by real people with real problems. They’re only tiny from here. Down there, they mean everything. How could they not know? They have all been living here for the last half century, and they never even felt like something was different? Now they need to question everything about their whole lives. Is anything in the universe what they thought it was?

“I know, it’s a tough pill to swallow,” Hogarth goes on. “But nothing has changed. Everything and everyone you care about is still in there. It’s still just as profoundly crucial and indispensable as it ever was. Just think of this as a mountain...which it is. We’re on the crest of Mount Hilde. Down below, the people look like ants, but that’s just because we’re really far away. When you get closer, they look bigger.”

“I think we all know it’s not that simple,” Selma argues.

Hogarth nods. “Yes, we do. I get it, you need time to digest. This is a hotel, and accommodations have been prepared for you. When you’re ready, we’ll get to work. Someone is spying on us from a frame of reference even greater than ours. We wanna know who the hell it is, and what they want.”

Nerakali has since gone over to Ayata with a bucket, in case she needs to let more out. Selma gives her a bottle of water too. She spits some into the bucket, swallows some, and spits again to continue the cycle. A robot has come out of the wall to clean the floor, and everyone starts mindlessly watching it work amidst the silence.

After a few minutes, Selma breaks out of her trance. “Someone escort her to her room so she can freshen up. Get her medical attention if she needs it.” She walks over, and closes the doors to their galaxy for now. “The rest of my team will secure the perimeter. While they’re doing that, I need full blueprints to this facility, as well as its specifications. Also, get me a comprehensive list of everyone with access to this building, and to the magic door.”

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The Fourth Quadrant: Bag of Rocks (Part II)

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Selma and Andrei volunteer to become Pryce Tree’s human agents, as does Andrei’s love interest, Ayata. The two of them have not yet defined their relationship, but they are definitely some sort of couple. Ayata’s boss, Cosette doesn’t want her to go, but the tree needs a team of three people for safety reasons, and no one else is stepping up. It’s not like the others won’t be doing anything. If they’re going to live in the Garden Dimension, then they’re expected to contribute. Princess Honeypea will have them working with the plants, making sure they’re healthy and happy. She’s excited to have this many people around all at once. It’s a rare sight. These organisms aren’t for show, only for their own preservation. Selma thinks that it’s a bit weird, but the people who run this place seem to think that protecting the otherwise extinct strains is inherently valuable, whether anyone is around to enjoy them or not.

The three agents are asked to wade through the water, halfway across the conflux of the rivers, and onto the dry land on the other side. They expected it to be quite cold, but it’s the perfect temperature, and actually quite relaxing, even as they’re moving through it at a fairly quick pace. They continue to walk in the same direction over the prairie until they come to a door on the side of a hill. They ring the doorbell, as instructed, but instead of receiving a vocal response, the door opens on its own. They follow the steps down into what looks like a bunker. It’s a bit eerie, but only because they don’t exactly know what’s going on; not because anything feels nefarious.

A woman in a lab coat is sitting on a stool behind a counter with her back to them. She’s working on something that they can’t see. She spins around, and pushes her steampunk goggles up to her forehead. “Can I help you?”

“We were told to come here. Are we in the right place?” Andrei asks.

“I dunno. Who told you?”

“The...tr—tree.”

“Ah, yes. If that’s what it said, that’s what it meant.” The scientist removes her goggles altogether, and pulls off her gloves. She grabs an earpiece from the table between them, and sticks it in her ear, but has to hold it in place. “I have three people here?” She listens to a response. “Full tack?” She waits again. “Well, what is their objective?” More waiting. “I could give them the nanosuit implants that Ramses Abdulrashid invented in the main sequence. That would be superior.” Only a few seconds this time. “Okay, then. I’m on it.” She sets the earpiece back down.

“What is a nanosuit?” Ayata asks, intrigued.

“She also said implants. I’m not up for that,” Selma contends.

“You’re not authorized for them anyway,” the scientist lady says. She reaches out. “My name is Weaver. I don’t work for the Garden Dimension, per se, but they let me work out of here, and in exchange, I use some of my technology to protect this world from external threats. I’m told that you’re to receive tactical gear for recon—and possibly offensive—missions. I can tell you how the gear works, and how to use it, but I’m guessing that you’ll be meeting with Captain Montagne for the rundown of your responsibilities. I’m also assuming that Eight Point Seven will be your pilot.”

“Is that someone’s name?” Andrei questions. “Eight Point Seven?”

“It is. Please don’t interrupt me.” She steps around the table, and heads towards an open doorway. “Right this way.” She leads them down the dim hallway, which automatically lights up before them, then dims again behind. A door opens up for her, and they walk into a locker room. She points. “Lav through there, booths for privacy if you need them. You can put your old clothes in one of these bags, and take them with you, or just find an empty locker. Follow the instructions to designate an access code, and leave them here. These big lockers here will have everything you need. It will be obvious how to put the clothing on. You don’t have to look in the packs right now. I’ll train you on them once you’re ready, which we’ll do in the briefing room across the hall.” She goes back through the door to leave them to it. “Whenever you’re ready.”

They’re all friends here, so they don’t use the privacy booths. Once they’re finished getting dressed, they look like bona fide soldiers, and Selma is worried about stolen valor. They aren’t wearing any sort of rank indicators, or whatever, but it still feels disrespectful. She is a civil servant and a leader, not a fighter. What the hell has she gotten herself into? They grab their packs from the bottom of their lockers, and walk over to the briefing room. Weaver has all the contents that are in their own bags laid out on the demonstration table. It’s like a spy movie. She goes over every item, no matter how obvious or mundane, including the extra socks, and firestarter.

“But you don’t know where we’re going, or what we’re gonna be doing?” Selma presses.

“I have no clue,” Weaver admits. “I found out where you’ll be conducting your training, and it won’t be here, but other than that, they’ve told me nothing.”

The faint image of the magnolia tree appears on the other side of the room. Pryce Tree steps out of it as if it were a door, and lets it fade away behind him. “Are you all ready to go?”

“We’re doing training?” Andrei asks him to confirm.

“You didn’t think we were just gonna throw you out there with nothing, did you?” Pryce Tree laughs. “We’re not monsters. You never answered my question.”

This is all very overwhelming, but no one says anything out loud. They just exchange looks, and it’s clear that none of them was prepared for what they were getting themselves into. They should have asked for more information before raising their hands. It doesn’t matter, though, because it’s done. They’re certainly not going to back out now, and saddle someone else with this responsibility. They each nod, and let the magical tree spirit them away.

They’re standing in front of a man in a dojo. He’s wearing robes, and no shoes or socks. He’s cycling through a deck of note cards, presumably trying to learn or memorize something. “I’ll be with you in a second.” He keeps pulling the top card out, and slipping it back into the back. He does a few more before he comes to a stopping point. He checks his watch. “My name is Darko—”

“Heh,” a woman sitting in the corner interrupts him.

Darko rolls his eyes. “For the sake of consistency, I have been asked to change my designation. In the spirit of cooperation with my gracious hosts, you may call me Prince Darko. That’s not my real name. It’s a holdover from an old reality where I was a little less...conscientious. That over there is my apprentice, Jesimula Utkin. Don’t worry about what she thinks.”

“Uh, he’s teaching me taekwondo,” Jesimula corrects. “I know how to fight, I’m just expanding my repertoire.”

“Don’t you have an away mission to prepare for?” Darko asks her.

“It’s a wellness check on New Welrios,” Jesimula explains. “They don’t want me there.”

“I understand the sentiment.”

Jesimula sticks her tongue out like a child, but then leaves.

“Sorry about that. We’re still learning to get along, but we don’t hate each other. As I was saying, I’m Prince Darko Matic—”

“Are you related to Mateo or Leona?” Andrei asks him.

“He’s my half-brother,” Prince Darko answers. “You didn’t get any background info before you came here, did you?”

“We have no idea where we are, or what we’ll be doing,” Selma says.

“What are your names?” Darko asks.

“I’m Andrei Orlov. This is Selma Eriksen, and the lovely and beguiling, Ayata Seegers.”

Darko narrows his eyes at them, but specifically at Ayata. “Seegers.” He starts cycling through his note cards again until he finds what he’s looking for. Hartwin Seegers.”

Ayata is very surprised to hear this. “That’s my grandfather.”

Darko nods. “He served as a tactician in a covert outfit known as SD-6 in the Third Rail. Were you aware of that?”

“We were aware that...he did something,” Ayata acknowledges. “He died a few years ago, before he ever got into specifics.”

“One of his teammates lives here, Kivi Bristol. Would you like to meet here?” It looks like Darko is about to make a call through his watch.

“That’s okay,” Ayata answers quickly.

“Very well.” Darko nods again. “Moving on, I was asked to teach you basic well-rounded combat skills, as well as introductory use of firearms, and common weapons. I was told that this is time-sensitive, which is a little strange since you’re apparently from the past. But I’m not gonna argue with a sentient tree, so I’ll be taking you through my intensive program.” He reaches down to the bench behind him, and lifts the seat to retrieve three mesh bags. He drops one at each of their feet. “These are your bags of rocks. You’ll notice that there’s only one rock in there right now. This represents your lack of skill. Go ahead and pick up your bags,” he directs as if they should have known to do that unprompted. “You will keep your bag with you at all times. You’ll sleep with it, and you’ll shower with it, and when I ask you to run five kilometers, you’ll lug it around the track with you. When you screw up, you get a new rock. When you fail to meet time, you get a new rock. When you talk back to me... That’s right, new rock. Luckily, I’m a merciful teacher. When you do something well, I’ll take a rock back. At the end of your training, the person with the lightest bag wins. I’ll tell you precisely what you win when we cross that bridge. Any questions so far?”

Andrei holds up a hand, but doesn’t wait to be called upon. “Are they weighted? Are major screw-ups awarded by a heavier rock?”

Darko salutes facetiously. “Major Screw-up. Yes, a heavier rock means you failed miserably. A pebble would just be a tiny little mistake.” He pulls a smallish rock out of his robe pocket, steps forward, and slips it into Andrei’s bag.

“What’s this for? Did I already mess up?”

“I just kinda don’t like your voice.” Darko drops another small rock into his bag.

Without a hint of anger, Andrei fiddles with his watch, and then lifts it up to his lips. “How’s this?” he asks, using technology to replicate Darko’s voice instead.

Darko drops a third rock in his bag for a total of four. “I don’t like people mimicking my voice either.” He went back to his place before them. “This was your first lesson. I am the Keeper of the Rocks. I decide what constitutes an addition or subtraction, and there will be no arguing with me about it. I literally asked for questions, so he didn’t technically do anything wrong, but I’m the boss, and I reserve the right to change or reinterpret the rules without even telling you. Any other questions?”

Silence.

“Good, that means you’re learning.” Darko takes two rocks out his pocket, dropping one in Selma’s bag, and the other in Ayata’s. “These are just because it’s Tuesday. All right. Clip those around your waists, and let’s get to it.” He claps his hands, and walks over to slide open a door to another room, which seems to be a boxing gym.

They’re afraid to ask, but come to learn after a few days that this intensive program is set to last three weeks. They run the gamut for basic training. They do weightlifting, cardio exercise, self-defense, boxing, martial arts, weapons safety, marksmanship, and mindfulness. None of them is an elite superspy when they’re done, but they feel stronger and more prepared than they were when this all began. It is Selma who ends up the winner with zero rocks left in her bag. She doesn’t question it when Darko reaches over, and plants a sticker of a smiling sun on her chest. That’s it, that’s the grand prize. And it’s more than enough. For now. She decides that she doesn’t really want to go on any missions. She wants to keep learning.

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: November 21, 2398

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In the main sequence, the concept of international waters was determined by a bunch of people a long time ago who talked about it for a long time, and used math to make clear and mostly unequivocal calculations. In The Third Rail, things went a little bit differently. For much of human history, if one could see land using a normal handheld spyglass, they were floating within territorial waters, and subject to that state’s laws and customs. When two or more states could be viewed from the same point, those states had to come to some kind of agreement, not subject to any outsider’s opinion or authority on the matter. World War I in the 1850s predominantly concerned how boundaries were divided, and who was entitled to what land resources. Each dispute inspired two more fronts to pop up elsewhere, and settle their own grievances. Pretty soon, the whole planet was on fire. The end of The Terrible War—as it was known colloquially, especially at the time—was when all of the major disagreements had been resolved. It was also when a new definition of transboundary waters was established. Basically, if you could defend it with a naval or coastal force, you could have it.

Since then, smaller wars have been fought over further discord, but they were mostly not tied together, and World War II didn’t begin for another 140 years, which finalized a lot of the lingering border ambiguity through treaties and trade agreements. Much of World War III in the 2040s involved starting the argument over again, but this time regarding airspace, as that was the innovation at the time. These laws have not technically changed over the centuries, but the boundaries have naturally become standardized for the majority of nations. It is strikingly similar to the figure used in the main sequence. There, it’s 370 kilometers. Here, it’s 350 kilometers. Unless you’re talking about Panama, where it’s closer to 900 kilometers.

Jamaica, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, Colombia, and Ecuador do not have international waters to speak of. They only have a small sliver of internal waters, which essentially come down to how far out a small fishing boat can go for a day of work, and still make it back to shore by nightfall. The wars, the peace negotiations, and the trade policies that led to this interesting situation are impossible to explain on a single page, but the details are irrelevant. Marie, Leona, and their SD6 team need to get into Panama, but none of those other countries listed is willing to host them. The closest they can get is a small island chain straddling the equator called Xeros. Overlaying the correspondence map that Leona created onto this reality’s map makes it obvious that in the main sequence, they’re called the Galápagos Islands. There, they were named for the tortoises that call it home. Here, they’re named for the fact that nothing lives here. The fauna, and much of the flora, was decimated so long ago that the history books don’t remember who was responsible, but they did such a good job of it that these are mostly just made of rocks, sand, and a few shrubs here and there. Tourism does not exist. At all. So at least they have some privacy while the diplo team gets their diplomacy on.

“Hey. Hey look.” Doric has been playing games on his tablet in between scanner updates. “I was right. The dot is definitely in the water now, and closer than last time.”

Marie takes it from him. She looks out over the water, even though the dot is still hundreds of kilometers away. “This looks like an escape pattern. Our target is trying to get out of Panama. Piss and gear up. We’re going in.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 13, 2398

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Rescue is a strong word. The two people who Alyssa brought through the barrier between Kansas City and the rest of the Fourth Quadrant didn’t need to be rescued. There is nothing inherently problematic about living in the bubble. They did want to take that bubble down, though, so they sent two scientists to start tackling the issue from another angle. They had been studying the dimensional barrier for centuries, but always from within, so this was an opportunity to gain some insight that they couldn’t pass up. They might never get another. They will live on the ambassadorial ship that Great Britain sent there for communication, and stay until the job is complete, if that should ever happen. The team, meanwhile, has teleported to Stonehenge in the hope of finding a way back to their friends in the Third Rail.

Erlendr Preston has remained quiet. He hasn’t caused trouble, or tried to get in their heads. He’s just watching and waiting. The opportunity to free himself from their grasp is coming, and he has to be patient. He doesn’t even smirk as he watches these little ants struggle to figure out what’s going on here, and how they can get back to where they want.

“These four portals are the ones that didn’t work,” Mateo says, pointing them out. “My hypothesis is that they would lead to the other realities, if they were unlocked. How we might go about unlocking the, I wouldn’t know. If the Traversa bracelet doesn’t work, then I really don’t know. Maybe they need more power?”

“Go ahead and try,” Leona says to Alyssa.

“Not alone,” Alyssa replies. “You come with me. I don’t want to be over there alone if it works, but I can’t find a way back, and I don’t want you to be the one left alone with Erlendr.”

“That’s fair.” Leona takes Alyssa’s hand, and they attempt to walk through. They just end up on the other side of the rocks. They step back and forth a few times, but don’t get anywhere. Either these are just rocks or they don’t have the secret ingredient. They do the same for the other three mystery openings, but those don’t work either. “Mateo, are you getting the sense that they should work? Like with your hands?”

Mateo looks over at their audience. Of course, a team of scientists, military officers, and other experts have been stationed at this location since its power was first discovered, and have been trying to unlock its secrets the whole time. It hasn’t worked for anybody but Mateo with his unreliable temporal energy reserves. “I’m not getting the sense that they work, no. The other seven, on the other hand, are in perfect working condition. So is that.” He points up to the sky. In the Third Rail, the once-portal on Easter Island has solidified. Down here, it looks like there’s nothing special there. It appears to have disappeared, except it hasn’t. Mateo’s hands feel a draw towards it.

Leona narrows her eyes, and steps through the portal to Muskoka. Just before she disappears, they see her tilt her head funny. When she returns, she’s holding her hand several centimeters from her ear. “Yeah, that’s Huntsville, Ontario all right.”

“What’s wrong?”

“My earpiece,” Leona says. “It was squealing from feedback. Did yours do that?”

“Yeah, when we came through the barrier,” Alyssa confirms. “You didn’t expect that to happen?”

“I suppose it makes some sense. You were making a call from somewhere, and then you were suddenly at a different, distant somewhere. That’s bound to mess with the signal.” Leona keeps the earpiece at a safe distance as she tries to step through one of the mystery openings. She shakes her head. “Nothing. No feedback.”

Alyssa tries the same with another as she’s still the one wearing the bracelet, but doesn’t hear any squealing either, though she does when she steps through to El-Sheikh Zayed on her own.

Leona thinks on it a moment. “I watched a movie once where a man was running with a case of vials containing a deadly plague. The detective shot him dead, only to discover there to be seven vials in eight slots. What ensued was a pursuit of any lead that the investigators could find to figure out where the eighth vial was, and do you know where they found it?”

“Umm...in his stomach at the morgue, like a drug mule,” Mateo guesses.

She laughs. “No. Nowhere. The vial didn’t exist. There were seven total, but the case came with eight slots. They couldn’t find a case with seven. We’ve been assuming that all the openings should be portals. Maybe they’re not. Maybe they never were.”

“That’s fair,” Mateo decides. “What can we do then? How do we get back?”

“Well, you’re feeling something up there, aren’t ya?”

“I’m feeling like I don’t have wings,” Mateo returns.

Leona puts on her diplomacy face, and walks over to the research team. She spends a lot of time with them, no doubt negotiating for an aircraft of some kind, or maybe a crane capable of reaching that sky portal. Finally, she waves them over. Mateo takes Erlendr by the arm, and ushers him to the helicopter that he predicted. Knowing what these people are going to do next is almost too easy. He sits patiently in the craft as the pilot begins the preflight check, and teaches Leona what she needs to know to navigate it up and down. The Brits are probably never gonna get it back. At least the Matics are smart enough to recognize this. If Erlendr were in need of it, though, he wouldn’t have told the military that. He would have let the pilot take him home, and then just let her be trapped on the other side. He wouldn’t care about her. He doesn’t.

Erlendr turns out to be right, as per usual. Simply by having the Traversa Bracelet on her wrist, Alysa gets them through that sky portal, and over to Easter Island on Third Rail. What she doesn’t notice right away is that the bracelet falls apart, and off of her wrist. This is no surprise to him. Leona and Mateo talk a lot when they think that no one can hear them. They were particularly chatty while they were waiting for Alyssa to say goodbye to her sister. They were concerned that she wouldn’t be able to cross back over. Apparently, they didn’t come to this concern on their own. A friend of theirs from space did. Kestral thought that using the bracelet to transport their entire ship could destroy it, and she was probably right since this is just a regular helicopter. Ramses may be able to fix or reverse engineer it, though, so he gathers every hair he can find. He can use them as leverage. Again, he just needs to find the right opportunity.

When Leona lands to regroup, that’s when they discover the bracelet to be missing. There is no known way to return to the Fourth Quadrant, which from Erlendr’s perspective, is either a good thing, or a whatever thing. Having planned for this, everyone gets out to prepare to teleport. This bird can’t make it all the way to the mainland, so they’re just going to donate it to the Rapa Nui people. Erlendr would have instead crashed it in the ocean just for fun, but he’s not the one in charge...not yet.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 23, 2398

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Neither Winona nor Tarboda have any clue what the United Kingdom is, or the North Atlantic Isles, or anything else that it might be called. If they ever called it something else, they don’t know that either, because it doesn’t even seem familiar when he tries to talk about a big land mass above France on the map. To them, there’s pretty much only ocean there. That’s when Mateo remembers that at least one little bit of England remained where it was meant to be, as its own tiny island. “Follow me.”

“Follow you where?” Tarboda questions, but he and Winona follow anyway.

“We’re gonna see if Bristol is here, or not. We’ll need to find some wheels, though, if they’re even a thing here.” They’re on a path, and that looks like a road in the middle distance, so vehicles existed here at some point. “We have yet to see a soul.”

“What are we expecting?” Winona asks.

“We’re expecting it to be missing,” Mateo answers. “We’re expecting nothing but water. That’s assuming I’m taking us in the right direction.”

They start walking northwest, which is about as accurate as Mateo can get with the orientation. They see the occasional farm building, and more roads, but no other signs of life. If the isles were sucked into a portal, the process may have been detrimental to complex life. If it happened a long enough time ago, maybe the plantlife came back on its own, Mateo doesn’t know how it works. Or maybe they’re just in a rural area, and nobody happens to be around. Finally, after a solid five-k, they find a small town, just waking up for the day.

“Morning!” a local calls out to them from across the street. He jogs over to them. “Are you nomads? I’ve already eaten, but my nanny will be making breakfast for my children soon. You’re welcome to join, and then stay with us for a night.”

“We’re not nomads,” Winona explains. “We’re just travelers. We’re looking for a town called Bristol.”

The stranger frowns, but not in a sad way. “Hmm. Never heard of it.” That’s a good sign. “The county cartographer would be able to help you. She’s heard of every street, every building, in the whole world.”

“Oh, wow. Tell me,” Mateo says, “how big is the world?”

He smiles. “Why, I’m not sure. She would know that too. If you’re asking how much land there is, though, I think it’s about 150 leagues wide, and 200 leagues long.”

“And there’s nothing beyond it?” Tarboda asks him.

“Beyond the ocean?” He laughs. “Not that I know of. Explorers used to search, but I think they gave up on it.” He narrows his eyes at them playfully. “Wait a second, you wouldn’t happen to be from beyond the ocean, would you?”

“What would happen to us if we were?” Winona asks.

“Well, we would celebrate, of course! New friends? We only ever get new friends when babies are born! They’re great, but they don’t say too much, and they’re always complaining.” He’s either talking in the more general sense of an isolated population, or there aren’t millions of people here, like there ought to be. “Anyway, I must get to work in Winterbourne Stoke in about an hour. The cartographer lives over there! Good luck!” He just heads down the street, not getting into a car, which suggests that he’s going to walk, and if he has to be there in an hour, it’s probably pretty far away. Hopefully they do have cars here somewhere. They would ask, but he’s busy, and he’s been so nice.

The cartographer’s house is across the street from a park, so that’s where they sit until a more appropriate hour. By the time they feel like it’s late enough, guessing by the sun, a fairly old woman comes out of the house. They approach her cautiously, but when she sees them, she smiles as joyfully as the man did. People are real friendly ‘round these here parts. She speaks before they can even explain why they’re there. “Nomads, no doubt! Please, accompany me to work. I would love to hear stories of your travels.”

Mateo decides to take a risk. “We’re from the world beyond the ocean.”

She frowns in a disbelieving way, and looks around for eavesdroppers. “Tell me where, and if you try to lie, I’ll know. I’m aware of all the islands.”

“We’re not from an island, we’re from Kansas City,” Mateo says.

She perks up. “Funny you don’t consider it an island. We’ve always suspected that the residents could not see outside the bubble. Tell me, how did you escape?”

“The bubble?” Mateo asks. While she’s not responding, he looks away to think. “You’ve seen this bubble? From the outside?”

“Not personally. I’ve seen video footage, taken from the scouting plane. How did you escape?” she repeats.

Mateo keeps thinking. “What other places have you seen? Easter Island, maybe?”

“Yes. That, plus Kure, Muskoka District, El-Sheikh Zayed, Panama, and Machu Picchu.”

“Have you heard of those places?” Mateo asks Winona.

“I’ve heard of Panama and Machu Picchu, of course, but that’s it,” she answers.

“Kure is in Japan,” Tarboda adds. “I flew missions there during World War VI.”

“And I’ve heard of Muskoka,” Mateo says. “It’s in Canada. Have you ever heard of Canada?” he asks the cartographer.

“Nope, are people nice there?” she asks.

“Very,” he replies. “Are all the others in bubbles?”

“None of the others is,” she says. “Only Kansas City, and we only called it that because we saw signs for Kansas City, Kansas, and Kansas City, Missouri. We figured Kansas and Missouri were the subdivisions, and their conventions reverse the order.”

Mateo gets back into his own head. He had always wondered why they called The Fourth Quadrant its own reality when it just seemed to be a pocket dimension. Based on his interactions with the people living there, they believe that their universe is as small as the metropolitan area. He wonders how they explained the sun, because it’s only now that he knows that the sun he’s looking up at right now is the same one. There’s a whole world out there, and the key to reaching the farthest corners of it lies in that circle of stones to the southeast. He’s sure of it. “We have to go back.”

“We have to go back where?” Winona questions.

“Stonehenge. Those stone archways aren’t just well-placed rocks. They’re doorways. They’re portals.”

“I don’t understand,” the cartographer admits.

“That’s okay,” Mateo says. “I don’t understand it either. We just have to go back where we came from. I really appreciate the information, and thank you to your people for being so pleasant and accommodating.”

“Wait,” she says. “Information should go both ways.”

“I’ll do you one better,” Mateo begins. “If I’m right, there’s a way back to your world of origin, so you’re about to meet billions of new friends.”

Microstory 1879: Mow Problems

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I was so excited when I first heard about Landis Tipton, and his miraculous healing abilities. It would spell the end of death for all of humanity. I know, I know, people think that humans can’t live forever, or we’ll have an overpopulation problem, but I doubt it would ever come to that. Yes, futurists were expecting life extension technology to develop in tandem with other advancements, which might alleviate such issues, but I still wasn’t worried. I knew that we wouldn’t all be saved overnight, but I’m young and healthy, so I was eternally optimistic about it, especially when it came to myself. As a friend pointed out to me, though, Landis has been predominantly concerned with curing terminal illnesses, and for good reason; those are the ones that aren’t normally fixed. Lots of people have died from terrible injuries, but many have survived them too. Of course you want to help the ones least likely to survive without you. Even so, it would have been nice to have some kind of solution to my problem when Death came knocking at my door. Or rather when it came banging on it. Because it was loud, unsubtle, and is taking much longer than I would have guessed. Though, to be fair, the magic panacea that researchers promise will one day come out of studying Landis’ abilities probably wouldn’t have helped me anyway. It happened too fast. I remember, I said that it was too long, but I was talking about the process. The incident was instant, and irreversible, and once it happened, I was incapacitated. I should say that I am incapacitated, because it’s still going on as I muse on my final thoughts. I can’t call for help—for reasons that will become clear once I explain—I can’t even move. The ironic thing is I was just looking up freak accidents on the internet, and one eerily similar situation scared me so much that I locked my dog in the house, instead of letting her supervise my work, like I usually do. She loves it, and she grew used to it, and she’s been stressed out because I took her job away. But I’m glad I did, because I don’t want her to see me like this.

It was a mowing accident, though probably not as bloody and disgusting as you’re imagining. It had nothing to do with the blades. Well, I guess it did, but they didn’t cut me. There’s no blood. I hate mowing, but the thing I hate the most about it is picking up the yard before starting to mow. Those sticks and rocks, ugh. I would rather just roll over them, damage my blades a little, and then get them sharpened in the winter. I’m lazy like that, and a huge procrastinator, which is what got my into this mess, because the tall grass is what hid the murder weapon from my view in the first place. It was a rock, and I can only speculate here, since like I said, it was so quick, but I think it shot out of the side, ricocheted off of my chain link fence at just the right angle, and headed right for me. But you said there’s no blood, you remind me. There’s not, because the rock didn’t just hit me in the head. It flew into my mouth, and lodged itself in my throat. I fell down, and began to squirm, because that’s all I can do. I understand I should try to stand back up, and slam my chest against the deck railings or even the mower—wouldn’t that be funny; the thing that tried to kill me could save my life—but I’m unable to even sit up. Maybe there is blood, because I’m choking on something wet. I don’t know if this is punishment for being so irresponsible, and letting the lawn get this bad, but at this point, I just want the pain to end. My second-to-last thoughts are of the people I love, and of my dog, but my very last thought is when did I last clear my browser history?

Microstory 1777: Cosmic Sextant

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The Cosmic Sextant, like many other special temporal objects in the universe, was not made, but born. It’s possible to create a piece of technology that exhibits reality-bending properties. You can engineer a spaceship that is capable of traveling faster than light. You can make a pair of binoculars that shows you what the area you’re in will look like at some given point in the future. Many of these technologies were created by a particular person, and her alternates. Her name is Holly Blue, but in some realities, she goes by the nickname The Weaver. Her time power is to make objects with their own time powers. It’s easier for her to do if she’s seen the power in action, and even easier if she has long-term access to the subject for study, but she’s been known to intuit her inventions on occasion. She’s not the only temporal engineer in the timeline, but she’s perhaps most famous for it, at least across multiple circles. Holly Blue did not invent the Cosmic Sextant, nor did anyone else. It didn’t happen for no reason at all, but it wasn’t done by anyone’s intentions either. These special special objects are rare, and demand a particular set of circumstances to coincide. It’s not always obvious which is which, but there is a way to make a good guess. Typically, the simpler an object, the more likely it is that it was imbued with its power, and not an invention. You don’t design a stone that can send people back to the moment they first experienced time travel. Such a form would be too capricious. Instead, what most likely occurred was that a person with the ability to return others to the beginning of their respective temporal journeys was holding a rock while they were in the middle of working, and enough temporal energy flowed into it, and stuck. Home stones are very old, so no one knows who this person could be, but it’s probable that a time travel event erased them from the future, but left the stones they once created intact. Again, no one knows.

Maqsud Al-Amin is a choosing one with the ability to transport himself, and others, across the largest distance ever covered by a teleporter. He can make the trip to the nearest galaxies in a matter of seconds. Anyone with access to Shimmer, which is channeled by The Great Pyramid of Giza, can do the same, but not as quickly, and not as far. Maqsud is an explorer, who enjoys going to other worlds, and learning about new cultures. When he was first starting out, he did so before a telescope with sufficient range was invented, so it was actually better for him to use a sextant, and measure his destination manually. He happened to do this in what would come to be known as Bryce Canyon, in what would come to be known as Utah. The temporal energy from him passed through the sextant, and flew off to collide with one of the hoodoos, where it bounced off, and collided with another. This energy just kept bouncing all around the geological formation, until it all landed back into the sextant, where it remained for future use. Maqsud was long gone by then, having dropped the sextant in the initial energy release, and ending up in the wrong star system, where he would have to make his way back on his own. He didn’t find out what the sextant could do until later, and felt no ownership over it, so it began to trade hands from there. For whatever reason, travelers can’t take it with them when they use it, so they always have to find some other means of departing from the destination planet, if they so wish. This has necessarily limited its use. It’s powerful, but risky, because it was not made on purpose.

Microstory 1742: Sea Serpent

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I don’t move at first. I have no idea whether you’re supposed to run away from a serpent, or stand still. Maybe she can’t see me if I stand still? I try to reach for my phone, but that seems to freak her out. She darts her head towards my hand, so I pull back. She relaxes a bit. I try to take one slow step backwards, but she doesn’t like that either. She seems to feel most comfortable with me where I am, and her where she is. I don’t get the impression that she plans on hurting me, but she considers any movement to be a sign of aggression. I notice something a little funny about her, since all I can do now is watch, and pray I don’t become the prey. I’m no serpent expert, obviously, but I’ve never seen one with such a flat tail. I can’t imagine that she can slither very well with that thing. Perhaps it’s meant to brush leaves and grass out of the way? No, that doesn’t make any sense. She’s already passed over any obstacle by then. Maybe it’s there to hide her tracks from predators. This sounds like a decent evolutionary advantage, though I would hardly call her worthy of being anyone’s meal. She perked up when I had to clear my throat. I doubt anything could sneak up on her, whether they were following tracks or not. I look around, careful to move my head as little as possible, and sniff the air. You know what, I think we’re pretty close to Danaid Inlet. Oh, that must be what that flat tail is for. She’s not a land serpent, but a sea serpent. That’s also probably why she’s so on edge, because she’s not close enough to water. I couldn’t say how long she can stay on land, so it could be indefinite. Or she’ll eventually die, and I’ll be able to walk away. No, I don’t want that. She’s not doing anything wrong. I want to save her.

I look up to get my bearings. I’m a little lost, but I know the direction of the ocean. The inlet is to the Northwest of here. Hoping the serpent doesn’t decide to just attack me on the spot, I move a little towards the water. She moves to match me. She doesn’t get closer, or farther away. I move more, she mirrors me again. I keep going, always keeping my eye on her as she follows. The trek is rough. I’m sure the trail will eventually get us there, but who knows how long that would take? I just want to get to the water as fast as possible so this girl can get back to her life. I’ll find my way home after that, once I’m finally safe. She continues to slither next to me as I’m trudging through the brush, and over the rocks. I would be embarrassed, but the serpent seems just as awkward on land as I am. Also, she’s an animal, so I don’t think she has the capacity to judge others. But what do I know? She appears to be following me to the inlet, like she knows she can trust me to lead her there. After a few hours, we’re on the beach. I did it. I can’t believe I actually did it. Now she can go off to where she belongs. She doesn’t move, though. She just sits there, staring at the water like she’s enjoying the beautiful view as much as I am. I step closer, she matches, just like she has been. I take a few more steps. She slithers again. I’m starting to think she thinks I’m her mother, and we’re supposed to go in together. All right, fine. I’m already cold and tired; how is getting wet gonna make things worse? I wade in, and she gleefully slithers in next to me. Only then does she seem to realize she knows how to take it from here. After a splash—which my headcanon has decided to categorize as a sea serpent’s way of saying thank you—she swims away. I step out of the water, and sit on the sand to watch the sunset. I fall asleep there, dreaming of serpentine friends. I awaken with a little unexpected new perspective.

Microstory 1736: River

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For years, Po believed himself to be the only one of his kind in the entire world. He didn’t so much believe as it didn’t occur to him to question why that might be. He wandered the lands, enjoying the wilderness around him, and living in harmony with the other animals. He especially liked to live next to a particularly beautiful river. One day, he came across two tiny ground creatures. They were crouched next to each other, munching on the seeds all over the ground. This wasn’t the first time he had encountered these animals, or even the first time he saw two of them at once. For whatever reason, this time gave him pause. He knew that there was more than one tiny ground creature, and that there was more than one other kind of tiny ground creature. There were different flying creatures, and swimming creatures. Many of them looked alike. There seemed to only be one Po. How could that be? Why did everyone else have at least one other companion, but he had only himself? This was the first time he felt sadness, and loneliness. He didn’t care for it. He kept moving, and came across a pack of the large brownish ground creatures. No, not those large brownish ground creatures, but the other ones. There must have been a better way to distinguish them. Po had a name, why did none of the others? They probably did, but he didn’t know how to communicate with them, so there was no way to know who they really were. These...antelope, he thought he would call them, were about the same size as him. They weren’t exactly the same, but they were certainly closer than the medium-sized tree creatures, right? He wasn’t an antelope, but maybe he could start pretending that he was. He got down on all fours, and started trying to live with them. Never before had a creature been afraid of Po, but they showed fear now. They ran away. Or maybe they were just irritated by him, because they could easily tell that he was a faker.

Po continued on, hoping to find a pack of his own. He communed with the big gray floppy-eared creatures. He stood with the pink water-loving sky creatures. He always failed. Some of the animals moved away from him when he approached, while others just ignored him, but they all knew he didn’t belong. His sadness not only stayed with him, but grew larger in his heart. He eventually realized that he had to give up the pursuit. There were no other Pos, or whatever he was meant to be called. It was a name he made up for himself. His first memory was of a creature flying overhead, whose call sounded like that. He never did meet the flyer again, so it seemed fitting that he should steal it. Seeing now that his entire life was meaningless, including his name, Po returned to his favorite spot in the whole world. He stood at the bank of the river, watching the glimmering water race past him. He knelt down to it, hoping to catch one more glimpse of the gorgeous orange swimmer with the big mouth. He saw other pretty swimmers, but not that one. Burdened by his terrible despair, Po stuck his face in the water. He loved feeling it brush up against his cheek. He liked to press his nose against the rocks on the bottom. He normally removed his head when his chest began to hurt, but this time he chose not to. He stayed there, and let the tightness claim his body. With the last bit of his strength, he opened his mouth, letting all of the water in. If there could only be one Po, there might as well be no Pos at all. The river took him away. A moment later, Eridana came by, looking to find a pack of Eridanas like her, but she found no one.