Microstory 2407: Zombie Dome

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Zombies! Get your zombies here! We got fast zombies, slow zombies, zombies who are still a little bit intelligent, zombies who mindlessly continue on with the jobs that they supposedly had when they were still alive. You choose your environment, and you choose your level of difficulty, and then you just try to survive. They have some pretty crazy scenarios. I love zombies, so I’m biased, but I think you could have an entire planet just designated for this, and it would be great. Here’s what’s interesting about it, and the kind of unique thing about Castlebourne over all. They really lean into the fact that human bodies are completely expendable these days. They put a lot of work into building them for us. They have some fancy new technology that can grow a clone of you in a matter of minutes, I don’t understand it. Or you can choose your own creative avatar—like a bunny, or an iron giant—though that’s not really allowed in Zombie Dome. You’re supposed to be a human running from humanoid zombies. That’s the thing. But here’s a choice I never thought I would get to make. You can turn into a zombie in certain variations. When they bite you, if you don’t die, you continue as one of the undead. They’ll pump you full of drugs, and impair your brain processing. You’ll start walking around trying to bite other people. It’s a trip. I wanted to see what it was like, so I intentionally got bitten. Don’t worry, there are fail-safes in place. No matter how stunted your mind is, there’s always this part of you that is aware that none of this is real, and that you can break out of it if you need to. You can force your real consciousness back to the surface, and start being a normal person again. You’re dead, so you can’t keep playing like that, but you can make your way to an emergency exit, and quit playing. At that point, you can request a respawn into a normal body again, and start all over. I never felt unsafe in there even though that’s the point. It’s true, as I said, I love this stuff, so I kind of went into it really prepared. You might have a different level of preparation, but they’ll take care of you. They won’t let things go too far. Even when you’re still alive, you can put a stop to a zombie attack by uttering your safeword, which you will choose ahead of time. It can’t be too obvious, like, help, or no, stop! but I’ve seen it work. I had a bunch of buddies who were there specifically to test these systems. They chose different safewords at different times, and they always worked. We were there to test the boundaries, and make sure that the safeguards were sufficient, and never faltered. Highly recommended, but bear in mind this is not for everyone. It takes a certain kind of constitution, and most people should know whether it will be good for them or not, and again, if it’s not, you can just leave.

Microstory 2340: Vacuus, March 4, 2179

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Dear Condor,

It’s okay that Pascal won’t be able to write for a while. Honestly—and you don’t need to tell him this—it’s a little awkward. These are just letters, but I still felt like I was on a blind double date, which I know is a weird way to look at it. I suppose we could always speak through you if we really needed to. That’s great news about reaching your rendezvous point. How long will/did it take? By the time you read this letter, you may be well on your way back out into sea. Make sure you choose the right path, though. It sounds like the weather is pretty dangerous out there. I never thought about that, about how the toxins in the atmosphere could make things even more dangerous. We learned about climate breakdown in school. Things were already not as safe as they were a couple hundred years prior. Humans were evidently damaging Earth before they started to do it intentionally to harm each other! I just hope your leaders always exercise caution. Vacuus does have weather. It’s not nearly as bad as it is for you guys, it’s just different. We experience infrequent, and rather weak, dust storms. These can still damage our instrumentation, though, and our permanently outdoors equipment needs constant cleaning. Or rather, they don’t. We’ve incorporated state-of-the-art onboard self-cleaning technology into nearly everything. You have windshield wipers on your cars with wiper fluid? We do too, but for cameras and other sensors. Instead of going out to clean every day, our field maintenance workers go out periodically to refill the fluid, or maybe repair or replace a blade. It’s much easier, and the infrequency of the task lowers the risk of something happening to them while they’re exposed like that. They’re also at risk of running into electrical storms. These things happen all the time. Our habitats are riddled with lightning rods. They both protect us from the strikes, and help power our habitats. That’s something else we’ve developed out of necessity, ultracapacitors which capture the short, energetic burst of raw power, and store it safely for future use. I keep using words like we, but I obviously had no hand in any of this. As I’ve said, I’m not cut out for field work, and I have no interest in it. I didn’t choose where to break ground on our settlement either, which was not chosen at random. Other parts of the planet experience volcanic activity. Some of these are even cryovolcanoes, which release nasty chemicals like ammonia and methane. Thankfully, we’re really far from those things, but I have a friend who operates a drone array which studies the nearest spots. So yeah, it’s dangerous here, but not worse than Earth. At least no one did it on purpose.

Again, stay safe,

Corinthia

Microstory 2339: Earth, February 24, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

Here’s a little bit of bad news. We’ve reached our destination to begin welcoming the new immigrants from their overcrowded dome. They’re not here quite yet, because we couldn’t have them waiting for us in limbo until we hit the shore, but they’re on their way as I’m writing this. That’s not the bad news, though. A consequence of this situation is that my dad won’t be able to send or receive any letters for a while. It’s a security thing, since he knows so much information about our new allies. Obviously, I know that he would never abuse his power, or put the population at risk, and no one seriously thinks that he would, but the moratorium is a necessary precaution just the same. I’m still okay. Even though I work in the office, I’m not privy to enough of the data, and am not considered a threat to security. I don’t know if you were hoping to hear from him again. I’m sure he’ll reach out once more when he’s allowed to, but we don’t know how long it will take. Such is the life of a diplomat. The good news is, of course, that we’re finally here in beautiful Australia. It took us a lot longer than we wanted, but as you’ve suspected, the platform doesn’t move all that fast. Plus, there were some tropical storms that we had to detour around. That reminds me, we have not talked about the strange weather we have here thanks to our toxic air that didn’t exist when we were young. The toxic cocktail in our atmosphere makes these events really dangerous. We end up with some bizarre localized particle densities and temperature fluctuations, which make the weather—not entirely unpredictable—but less so than it was just a couple decades ago. As you would imagine, they’re really bad for your health too, even after they’ve dissipated, more so than the air in the area is when it’s just at its regular level of toxicity. Fortunately, we knew what we were up against while we were on our way here, but the environment can change on a dime these days, and we may not be so lucky on our way back out into the open water. We typically stick to very specific regions and routes when we don’t have anywhere particular to be, like we are right now. I know that your atmosphere isn’t breathable, but with a celestial body as large as Vacuus is, you must experience weather of some kind. Could you tell me about that? Do you have emergency protocols, like lockdowns, or escapes into a basement? I guess I don’t even know where your habitat was built, if it’s in a lava tube, or a crater, or what.

Hoping you stay in range forever,

Condor

Microstory 2338: Vacuus, February 17, 2179

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Dear Condor,

I’m writing to you to let you know that I’m back online, and also that your father did finally send me a letter. I responded to it yesterday, so you probably already know everything by the time you receive this anyway. I don’t really think that I should say anything more; about what he said, or about what I said. I kind of want you two to have your own conversation without me being involved. That’s why I think I’m gonna cut this short. There’s nothing for me to report on this end. The stray Valkyrie blocked our signal for a week, then flew away. The rest of the Valkyries are still orbiting on their usual path. I suppose I shouldn’t say usual as changing course is sort of their whole thing. But we’re safe from them...for now. There’s a slight chance that they will veer off of the predicted orbit, and come at us all at once with a vengeance, but the astronomers are hopeful that this will not happen. I just wanted to warn you that it’s not impossible that any message could be our last. I’ll continue to respond with the non-automated read receipts, and only won’t if it becomes impossible.

Bored again,

Corinthia

Microstory 2273: Skipping Out of the Building

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Against all odds, the organ donor network was able to find two matches for Nick. One person gave him a lobe of their liver, and another one of their kidneys. I couldn’t tell you anything about them, even if I knew myself. They’re not necessarily anonymous, but the information hasn’t been released yet. Some of their respective families may not even know what they did. There was apparently a really short, but really intensive, vetting processing. Normally, a person would have weeks, or even months, to prove that they understand what they’re doing, and what they’re giving up. But in this case, it was an emergency. I wasn’t part of any of that, so I don’t know how it went down, but I’m grateful to them just the same. All three surgeries are now finished, and they’re in recovery. Nick still hasn’t woken up yet. Well, he has, but he hasn’t been at all lucid. During what little time he was somewhat awake, he didn’t seem to really know where he was, or what was going on. It will just take time, but I’m choosing to be optimistic. We’re still not out of the woods, so I’m not going to break out the celebratory balloons just yet, but he has a chance now. We will know more when he wakes up, and he can tell us how he feels. That’s a very important metric that doctors can only guess. They’ll continue to keep him here for quite a while. They still couldn’t do anything about his spleen or gallbladder, so I imagine his hospital time will be on the upper end of the typical estimate. Once he is healthy enough to be discharged, he won’t be skipping out of the building, though. For the next few months, he’ll be in a state of recovery, gradually getting better and stronger. Dutch and I will be with him the whole time. Even though the surgery is over, he’s still opening doors, hoping to speed up the process, but a part of me is worried about that working. If he becomes immortal again, the donors’ sacrifice might seem to mean a little less. I dunno. I guess in that scenario, they still bought him time, and it was still a profound thing to do. I shouldn’t be thinking about any of this. I just need to go back to making sure he wakes up feeling safe and comfortable.

Microstory 2258: Loyal and Protective

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So the reporters are gone, but that doesn’t mean people have stopped coming to our house. We’re still getting harassers, but not because they want to know our story. What they want is money. Kelly, despite being so young, has known a lot of people throughout her life. She took a wide array of classes in high school, and participated in a ton of extracurricular activities. She’s easy to get along with, and is well-liked by her peers. But she only had a small group of real friends. They know who they are, and they’ve supported her during this crazy ordeal. Others just want a payday, and they’re contriving deeper relationships with her in their respective headcanons in order to leverage them for personal gain. I’m rich now, and so are Dutch and Kelly. Many of the latter’s former contacts have been showing up, suddenly showing interest in her life, and they could not be more transparent. Their motives are obvious, to me, to Kelly, and most importantly, to our security team. These people aren’t camping out on the lawn, fortunately, but they do keep ringing that bell. They wouldn’t be able to do that, of course, without the reporters having doxxed us, but I don’t want to get into another rant about that. I just need to clear the air. The money that we now have is not for fun. It’s not so we can buy a private jet, and a megayacht. It’s not so we can start adding caviar to every meal. We have a job to do, and this capital allows us to do it. Our house is as big as it is because there are three of us, we’re not romantically linked, and we need room for live-in security, as well as some home office space. We see it as an investment in our well-being and responsibilities, not as a status symbol. We’re giving money away to charities, and social programs, not to just random individuals, no matter how big of a crush they purportedly had on one of us in ninth grade history class. I hope that all makes sense, because I’m loyal and protective, and if you start making one of my people feel uncomfortable and unsafe, then you’ll find yourself feeling the same things. Understood? Okay, then I don’t think we need to talk about it again.

Microstory 2240: Filth

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Not much has changed yet. Yes, the dude who wants my bone marrow and index and I had a discussion, and we came to an initial agreement. We’ve not signed any papers, but as a sign of good faith, he gave me a down payment, which I will be using to hire a personal security detail for myself, and my two friends. Kelly and Dutch had the option to leave me behind, and enter a form of witness protection. They could have blended in well enough wherever they were sent, but they chose to stick by me, so I have to do right by them. I won’t tell you how much money I have at the moment, but it’s enough to afford security for the three of us for at least a few weeks after the FBI lets us go. So when I said that not much has changed, that wasn’t totally honest. The government isn’t entirely keen on letting me donate samples of my body to science. I don’t know if they think that they should have it for themselves, or what. Who knows what’s going on in their bureaucratic heads when it comes to me? I don’t mean to sound mean, or to be overly critical of them. They’ve helped me immensely multiple times when I really needed it. But it may be time for our relationship to end. I need to reassert my independence, and I assume that they would benefit from diverting resources to other things. Of course, none of this should be a thing that I’m worried about. I wouldn’t need any of it if the world were safer. The violent, disturbing, and stalkery messages haven’t stopped coming. I hired a publicist, who has taken over the responsibility of sorting though the filth. They’ll handle getting the word out on that. Apparently, they have a database of dangerous individuals, so if you chose to write something to me, just know that you may end up on a list. If I understand their reach, it could affect your credit score. Just be nice, safe, and happy, okay? We’ve been over this. I am not your monkey.

Microstory 2234: Apologies for the Interruption

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[Apologies for the interruption. This is Halya Perugia, current Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. We are developing protocols which will allow Mister Fisherman and Miss Serna to continue contributing to their social media presence. This is an unprecedented situation here, but we feel that it is necessary for the public good that their website remains active. This is in no way an endorsement of their words or actions by the United States government, or the FBI. Their message is not our concern. It is our responsibility to keep them safe, and part of that mandate is allowing them to reassure the public that they are exactly where they need to be. Mister Fisherman and Miss Serna will make occasional—and highly secure—public appearances to reinforce the cooperative nature of our new professional partnership. We will not be simply hiding them away. The US government and this agency will take every threat to their safety, and the national security of this country, seriously, and will take any action necessary to ensure the domestic tranquility of this nation. We appreciate your patience while we work through our new protocols to allow the frequently visiting, and ever-growing, audience of Mister Fisherman’s website to continue to be part of a centuries-long global conversation that ensures governmental transparency, social justice, and public advancement. Thank you for your time.]

Microstory 2233: Some Semblance of a Normal Life

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People are crazed, and neither Nick nor Dutch is safe anymore. The word has gotten out about the miracle of Nick’s healing. While a ton of people around the world don’t think it’s real, that still leaves a ton who do, and they all want a piece of him. Some people believe that he can cure them of their own conditions, which is an honest mistake, I suppose. Others just want to be close to him, to varying degrees. There are even those who want to kill him, for every warped reason that you could imagine. Both of them have been taken into protective custody by the FBI. I obviously can’t tell you where they are. Since I was intimately involved in the whole situation, Nick has requested that I join them, which I will be doing soon. I truthfully didn’t think that I qualified, but the government would rather be safe than sorry. I can’t tell you if this website is going to survive all this. He’s more than any regular public figure now. Hopefully, the insanity dies down eventually, and he can have some semblance of a normal life, but we recognize that our lives will no longer be the same. I’m hoping that we can still stay connected with our mentally stable readers through some kind of technological firewall, or whatever, so no one can actually find us. We will just have to wait and see.

Microstory 2217: He Only Watched

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We’re at the hospital today for a check-up. There’s a lot that I can do for him. I can take care of his basic needs, help with physical therapy homework, and draw blood or run an IV drip. There are still things that a nurse or doctor needs to perform, though. He’ll probably be at the hospital about once a week from now on. While I was on their website to make sure we would park in the right lot, I found out that the hospital was putting on a little talent show. It wasn’t this grand, expensive affair, but the staff like to keep their patients active and in high spirits, so they do things like this sometimes. No one was being judged or ridiculed. Some of the talents were unimpressive by most people’s standards, like one elderly woman who just sort of slowly twirled around while she was looking up at the ceiling, waving her arms around occasionally. One of the radio techs beatboxed. It was a safe environment for people to be themselves, and maybe forget about why they were there. I don’t think that it worked for Nick, but it was worth a shot. He only watched, of course. There was no way I was convincing him to get up on that stage. He says that he wouldn’t have done anything like that on his best day. He’s not much of a performer, and has hated having to do things like that in the past, like for school. Lots of teachers told him that he would get used to it the more he tried it, but that never happened. Evidently, in his world, the culture assumes that everyone can do anything if they work hard enough at it, and obviously, that’s not true. This site was his way of reaching out to the world, and when I pointed that out to him, it actually seemed to resonate, so I’m hoping that means he’ll soon decide to inject his own thoughts back into it, even if that means he dictates what he needs me to type for him. One can hope.

Microstory 2156: Whoopdee-Friggin-Do For You

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The power is out. It’s out all over the metro. It was that way in jail, which made things pretty miserable in there for several hours, but it’s no picnic out here either. First, I lost a day of jail time, which I will have to make up for at some point. They had to release us, because of the air conditioning problem. It’s particularly hot these days, so leaving us in there would have constituted cruel and unusual punishment. This post will be really short, because I had to go so far to find phone service. It’s pretty bad, hopefully it will be fixed later today. I flirted with just letting it go, and waiting until later, because that would have been easier. It’s taking a lot, just to get this out. Still, I didn’t want to leave you totally hanging, especially since I have a schedule to keep, so I drove clear to the other side of Kansas City to post this one little thing. Don’t worry, I’m not breaking the law. My parole officer, Leonard is with me. He had some of his own work to conduct, so it wasn’t a complete waste. We can’t spend much time out here, though, because he has to get back to check in with his other parolees, and I have to figure out what I’m gonna do for dinner tonight. Everything in my fridge is spoiling as we speak, because I had to open it for one bottle of water, and that let a whole bunch of warm air in, which won’t ever be cooled until the power comes back on. If you’re in the area, stay safe, and try to find a shelter nearby. They set them up in such events, and they are powered by generators. They’re not only for the unhoused. If you don’t live in the area, and your life is a-okay right now, then whoopdee-friggin-do for you!

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: January 29, 2399

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They’re on the moon now. It isn’t their first time, and it won’t likely be the last. Now they can finally rest, and maybe rest easy. Or perhaps not. All this time, no one has even attempted to communicate with them, but suddenly they are. It should be difficult—if not impossible—to deliver a signal here. They’re on the far side of the moon, which always faces away from Earth. In order to send a message, you need some kind of relay point. They’ve not been able to detect one, but it must be around here somewhere.

“Mangrove Zero, this is Mangrove One actual, please respond.”

“M-1, this is Zero actual. Go ahead.”

“Could I please speak with Mateo...alone?”

“Not possible, M-1,” Leona replies. “You can speak with me. I’m the captain now.”

“I’m not speaking as M-1 actual. I’m here as a person. I need to speak with Mateo. It’s urgent, and it’s personal.”

Mateo could hear the transmission from the hallway. He steps onto the bridge. “Make this happen. We need to talk privately, not just because she asked for it, but because it’s necessary. All will be explained, but for now, there are things that you just can’t know at this point in the timeline.”

Leona considers her options. “Go to auxiliary control. I’ll transfer the call.”

“I mean it. You can’t listen in.”

“I understand. I’ll respect your privacy,” Leona promises. She goes back to the microphone. “Aldona, give us two minutes to transfer. I will no longer be listening. Captain Matic out.”

Hopefully she’s being honest, and won’t make an executive decision to eavesdrop. Mateo heads downstairs. It is not a small rocket, but there are few rooms. The body is mostly taken up by the cargo and weapons bays. The bridge is big enough for five people. The aux room was apparently designed for two, but it’s a tight fit for Mateo alone. He squeezes in. Aldona is already trying to reach out again. He can hear her from the headphones hanging on the magnet. Mateo grabs them, and puts them on. “Uh, yeah. I’m here now, but if you said anything before, I missed it.”

“I didn’t say anything. Are you alone?”

“Yes.”

“Are you lying?”

“What is it going to take for you to believe that we’re honest people, and that your nephew is safe? I didn’t tell anyone about him, and I won’t.”

“What you can do is not have stolen my ship.”

“You should have agreed to help us find Alyssa.”

“That’s what your wife said.”

“You have literally a thousand ships. No one said we had to use this one.”

“There are other reasons to not authorize you scanning the entire planet.”

“We’re not going to invade people’s privacy. This is only to find other people who have experienced time weird. We purge all other data. We don’t care about that stuff. There are three of us now. It’s not some giant conspiracy to control everyone’s mind.”

“I’m not going to debate this with you. You three will do whatever it is you want to do, and clearly no one can stop you. I learned that about you on Lorania. It’s just been so long, I thought maybe you had grown up.”

“I don’t know how many enemies you have had, but we have fought against entire intergalactic civilizations. We don’t ask permission anymore. W’eve learned that no one has the right to grant it. No one is responsible for anything.”

“Sounds like chaos. Anarchy.”

“I’m sure you know more about the parallels, what with this mysterious future war between realities that everyone’s worried about. I don’t really understand why we’re talking about anything happening in the future, though. If it’s between realities, why aren’t there battles happening right now, or even in the past?”

“Just because they’re called the Reality Wars doesn’t mean they’re being fought between realities,” Aldona says cryptically. “You’ll see in a few months.”

“A few months?”

“How is Cedar?” she asks.

“You mean you haven’t spoken to him since we came aboard?”

“I can’t, or you would have detected the transmission. Well, Leona or Ramses would have anyway.”

“The best way I knew how to protect him was to stay away from the safe room completely. We haven’t talked either. I assumed that you built in some secret special radio transmitter, or whatever.”

“I did not.”

He waits to say anything. “Can we build one now?”

“You would do that for me?”

“For the last time, yes! Tell me what to do, I’ll do it. If I need help from Leona or Ramses, I’ll keep Cedar out of it, and just say that it’s something that I need for myself.”

It turned out, Mateo didn’t need anyone’s help at all. She was able to upload a subroutine to a portable drive, which Mateo took to the safe room, and plugged into the communications port there. Did Aldona secretly upload a virus that will force the rocket back to Earth, or encase the safe room in a protective barrier, and blow the rest of them to smithereens? Yeah, maybe, but hopefully not. And if he wants to show Aldona that he can be trusted, he has to trust her first.

Cedar was grateful for the company. He’s sick of being alone, but being able to talk to his aunt from here should help. At some point, this will no longer be necessary. Everyone will have everything they need. They are not enemies, and they do not have to be at odds with each other. Be it the war, Constance!Five, or some new threat; something will make all these people realize that the safest place to be is on Team Matic.

Mateo returns to the bridge when it’s all done. “How’s it going?”

“We should ask you that,” Ramses says.

“I can’t talk about it,” Mateo replies.

“Does it have something to do with that secret room in reclamation?” Leona asks.

Mateo frowns, but doesn’t know what to say.

Leona looks at him knowingly. She reaches over to the touch screen, and swipes her hand across it. “All footage deleted. I didn’t see anything. Did you, Ramses?”

“I only saw two things: jack and shit.”

Mateo still doesn’t know what to say. Any word could be the one that ruins everything. So he just leaves it at that, and starts to leave.

“Were I you,” Leona begins, “I would trust me.”

“Were I you,” Mateo begins to echo, “I would trust me.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: January 26, 2399

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“Why would I be here to kill you?” Mateo asks, taking a step back to look as nonthreatening as possible. “Is someone trying to kill you?”

“That’s what Aunt Aldona told me,” he replies. “She said I have to stay up here, because it’s not safe down on the planet.”

“When you say Aunt Aldona...?”

“She’s a family friend; not a real relative.”

“I see.” So the connection is nebulous, and may not help them understand exactly where Aldona came from. She was in the afterlife simulation, but how—and why—was she resurrected, and where did she go from there? How did she meet this kid, and his family? “Well, I’m not going to hurt you. I didn’t even know you were here. My name is Mateo. Mateo Matic. What’s yours?”

“Cedar. Cedar Duvall.”

Mateo perks up. “Your parents are Curtis and Cheyenne.”

“Yes, do you know them?”

“Yes, I know them pretty well. I’m going to go out on a limb here, and assume that you’ve heard of time travel? I mean, real time travel; not just as a concept?”

“Of course,” Cedar says.

“Mateo, what’s the hold up?” Ramses asks through the radio.

The son of Curtis and Cheyenne Duvall is living—possibly totally alone—on a spaceship orbiting Earth. He was brought here by a dead and resurrected woman from another reality. It’s bad enough that Mateo now knows about it. He trusts Ramses, but Aldona doesn’t, and Cedar doesn’t even know him. Their team is having trouble with Aldona, and her choices, but she’s not evil, and he has no reason to believe that she’s not genuinely trying to help. The only way to protect this kid is to tighten the circle as much as possible, which means not so much as telling his wife about it. It’s the only respectful thing to do. The problem is, Mateo is a teleporter. What’s a good reason to not have returned to the hangar to retrieve Ramses in a matter of seconds? “Uhh. I’m, uhh...trapped under this octagon thing. I was just rearranging the equipment a little to make it more organized.”

“Well, I...can’t help you,” Ramses returns.

“No, it’s okay, I’m getting it off. I’m just doing it a centimeter at a time. Give me a minute or two.”

“Why are you lying?” Cedar asks.

“Your aunt is trying to keep you safe. I’m not going to interfere with that, but we have work to do up here, so is there any place that you think would be a good hiding spot? Just so you know, Ramses will need to access this cargo bay, the bridge, engineering, and maybe a common area for food and rest.”

“There’s a safe room behind reclamation. I could survive there for a week or two.”

“That’s perfect, he won’t need that. Go there, and don’t come out unless you hear two knocks, a pause, and then three more knocks. Does this all make sense?”

Cedar starts to leave, but stops. “Why are you helping me?”

“It’s what we do.” Mateo lifts the heavy satellite part that he mentioned to Ramses. He finds the business end of an uncovered screw, and drags it along his leg to draw some blood. “Now go.”

“Thanks.” Cedar runs off.

Mateo gives it another minute, to make sure he can no longer hear footsteps from here. Then he sets the part down carefully, and returns to the surface.

“Are you okay?” Ramses asks.

“I’m fine,” Mateo says. “I’ll heal.”

“Next time, just wait for me. I know how all this stuff goes.”

“Good point. My bad, sorry.”

“It’ll be fine. Now let’s go.”

“Wait! You’re not going anywhere!” Aldona is running towards them with a gun, looking like some kind of federal agent.

“You’re gonna shoot us?” Ramses questions. “Really!”

“It’s a teleporter gun,” Aldona explains. “It’s programmed to send you to hock in the bottom level of the base.”

“You think you can shoot us faster than I can teleport out of here?” Mateo poses.

“I only need to shoot one of you,” Aldona reasons. “You’re standing far enough apart. He can’t teleport without you, and you don’t have anywhere to go without him.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Mateo volleys. He jumps to right behind her. “Behind ya.”

Aldona spins around, and fires the gun, but that was just a distraction. Mateo immediately jumps to Ramses, and takes him up to the ship. She can be forgiven for not thinking this through. She’s desperate to protect her nephew. She doesn’t know that she doesn’t have anything to worry about.

After getting Ramses to where he needs to be, Mateo jumps right back to the hangar again. Her arms are hanging down, and she’s about to hyperventilate. “Cedar seems like a good kid,” he says to her.

“So it’s too late,” she laments.

“Too late to keep him a complete secret, but not too late to keep him safe,” Mateo says. “I didn’t tell anyone else about him. I didn’t even tell Ramses.”

“He didn’t see him yet?”

“No, and he won’t. I told Cedar to hide in the safe room. I don’t think Ramses will need more than a week up there. Once the satellite is deployed, he should be able to work it remotely, like any other satellite.”

For a second, she looks hopeful, but it fades. “No, it doesn’t matter. It’s just a matter of time before someone else finds out about him.”

“I don’t know what about your past—or future—interactions with us have made you think that we can’t be trusted, but I assure you that Cedar is safe. We would never hurt him, and we would never let anyone else hurt him either. People from all over the multiverse know that that shit doesn’t fly with us.”

She shakes her head. “You don’t understand what he’s up against.”

“You’re right, I don’t, and I don’t need to. Because anyone who’s after him doesn’t know what they’re up against. We don’t lose. Besides, I can guess why he’s at risk. No one will tell us what the Sixth Key really is, but one thing we have figured out is that Cheyenne is very special. The Officiant jumped at the chance to take a favor from her. If Cedar is half as important, it’s no wonder you’re working so hard to keep him a secret.”

She shakes her head again, but not lamentably this time. “If you have learned and surmised all that, you’re already too much of a danger to him. I’m sorry, I can’t let you go up there again, or bring Ramses back.” She shoots him in the chest.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: October 30, 2398

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Vearden pulls up to the house, and turtles his head to look through the windshield. Arcadia fell asleep, even on this short drive. The internet says that it’s not necessarily a symptom of pregnancy, especially not this early. She’s probably just stressed, which is a symptom of pregnancy. “We’re here,” he whispers.

Arcadia opens her eyes. “Did I miss it?”

“No,” he laughs. “I think the agent is just pulling up behind us.”

As the SUV is parking behind them, Vearden gets out, and opens the door for his...his whatever—they’ve not come up with a word for it yet. “Hello, you must be Radha.” He offers his hand.

Radha shakes it. “And you’re...Varden?”

“Vearden,” he corrects.

“Nice to meet you. And you...Leona Matic?”

“I’m not Leona,” Arcadia says. “I’m her twin sister, Arcadia.”

“Forgive me,” Radha says politely.

“I need a new body,” Arcadia says to Vearden out of the corner of her mouth as they’re heading for the doorway.”

“I don’t see how the baby would transfer,” Vearden replies in the same way.

Radha unlocks the door. “Four bedrooms, two and a half baths. The master suite has a jacuzzi, and a walk-in closet, plus this cute little reading nook that I think you’re going to adore. The kitchen has recently been remodeled, as the previous owners were both professional caterers. They’re moving because their business got too big for it, but it should be perfect for a growing family. I assume you’re not far along.”

“Do I already have a bump?” Arcadia questions.

“Oh, heavens, no,” Radha says apologetically. “Your husband asked me to look for a good school district.”

“Oh, we’re not married.”

“Forgive me,” she repeats. “I was under the impression that you were Kalialists.” That must be a religion that doesn’t allow extramarital sex, or maybe just not pregnancy.

Arcadia has already looked into this. “We are Berarians.” As far as she can tell, it’s the least involved religion of them all. It’s not atheism, but they don’t really care about the nature of the almighty, or what the meaning of life is. It respects the rule of law more than some faiths. It recommends its members try not to bother others.

“I see. Well, here’s the open concept living room, breakfast dining area, and the kitchen that I was telling you about. That door in the corner by the bookcases leads to what I believe the original owners intended to use as a panic room. But then they moved, and the caterers came in, who never had it finished either. You can use it as a storage space, I suppose.”

Or they could use it as a panic room. “Oh, I would like to see that,” Vearden says.

Radha continues to show them through the house. It’s a nice place. On the outside, it doesn’t really look like something they would want, but that panic room almost sounds like fate. They’re trying to stay out of trouble, but it seems to find them, and that would be a nice thing to fall back on since Arcadia doesn’t have any powers, and because of the baby. They’ll consider making an offer.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 30, 2398

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Winona opens the door, and lets them in. This is a much nicer place than her forging den. Either being the daughter of a U.S. senator has its perks, or she’s just rich. It would make sense. Poor people don’t outnumber the rich ones in politics, no matter which reality we’re talking about. “Welcome. Would you like something to drink?”

“We’re not here for that,” Marie answers.

Winona nods, and starts making herself something.

Mateo is waiting patiently, but Marie has known Winona for a lot longer, so she doesn’t have to be polite. “Do you have it?”

“Well, yeah, but we need to talk about returning the favor.”

“Are you looking for someone too?” Mateo asks.

“As a matter of fact, yes, but not all favors are returned in kind. It just so happens to be the case this time.”

“Is this another Amir Hussain?”

She chuckles. “Don’t worry about him. Only Senator Morton cared about finding him, so wherever you left him, he’ll be safe...at least from us. I promise you that.”

“Her promises are solid,” Marie tells Mateo when he asks her with his eyes.

“Who are you looking for then?” Mateo asks, getting back to business. When she hands him the envelope, he opens it to find a picture of himself. “There’s another one?”

Winona shuts her eyes, slightly aggravated. “No, that’s your packet. He was last spotted in Howell, New Jersey. I’m giving you that in good faith that you’ll help me with my problem, even without incentive.”

“Don’t fall for it,” Marie warns him. “If we don’t follow through, she’ll use it against us later. Our incentive to pay her back now is to not have to pay her back later.”

“I understand,” Mateo says. “Go ahead and give us the second packet.”

Winona hands it to him. There’s a picture in this one too, but neither Mateo nor Marie recognize the woman in it. “We were friends as kids,” she explains. “Morton and my father worked closely together at one point. Then the former turned radically conservative, and dad had to cut ties with him. But then they both got elected to the senate, and suddenly had to start working together again. To be honest, we always thought it was just a way to get his daughter back in his life, but it didn’t work. They’ve been estranged for about eleven years now, I think.”

“Wait,” Mateo says. “The Honeycutts and Mortons were family friends. Then everybody had a falling out with Senator Morton, including his own daughter?”

“He wasn’t a senator yet, but yes.”

“Now she’s missing?” Marie asks.

“No, she’s not missing,” Winona clarifies. “We know exactly where she is, but you’re the only one who can bring her back into the fold.”

“The only one, who?” Mateo asks. “Which of us is the only one?”

“Her.” She points at Marie.

“What are you talking about?” Marie questions. “I never met the girl.”

“We have strong reason to believe that Bridgette has been keeping an eye on her father’s covert operations. That’s what happened between me and my father. He didn’t deliberately read me into all of this. I had to find my own way to the truth. The point is, we think she knows who you are.”

Marie sighs deeply. “You want us to approach her, and get her to come in to brief you on whatever it is she knows that you may not already know about your rival’s secret endeavors.”

“Bingpot,” Winona says.

“So, you want us to lie, or something?” Mateo guesses.

“No lying. Be honest. Tell her what you think of me, that’s okay. Just tell her that I wanna talk. We don’t want to trick her, but if I send my own people, she’ll run and go underground. You’ll be just enough of a curiosity to get her to pause, and listen for a second. There’s no huge rush, though. You can go find your doppelgänger first.”

Marie sighs again. “We can’t go try to bring him in, and then have to leave to do something else. When we do go, we’ll need to be able to give him our undivided attention. We’ll go talk to this Bridgette Morton for you. That’s all the favor is, though. We can’t guarantee it’ll work.”

“No one ever can,” Winona says. “Pleasure doing business.”

They leave Winona’s apartment, and head for Bridgette’s, which looks strikingly similar, as if they used the same architect and designer. Or perhaps it’s some common political aesthetic called senatorial modern. She’s surprised and excited to see them. “It’s you. You’re one of the people from my father’s menagerie. Please, do come in.”

“Is that what he called it?” Marie asks.

“No, that’s what I’ve called it. He had this thing about transparent prisons. He thought that part of a convict’s punishment should be losing all sense of privacy. The darkness surrounding your glass box was his form of a panopticon. Are you thirsty?”

“We’re fine. You knew what he was doing this whole time?” Mateo asks her.

“Yes, but I have limited data, and almost no resources,” Bridgette explains. “I’m the one who leaked your location to Winona, because I couldn’t get you out myself.”

“I believe she’s aware of that,” Marie says, “and she would like to meet with you.”

“To what end? Does she want to join forces? Look, I helped you out of the box, because it didn’t look like you deserved to be there, and as far as I can tell, the Honeycutts aren’t as bad as my father was, but they’re not exactly saints either.”

“I think she just wants to talk,” Mateo says sincerely. “For now,” he adds.

Bridgette scoffs. “That’s not all she wants from me.”

“What do you mean?” Marie asks.

Bridgette hesitates to go on, but seems to decide to when she notices Mateo and Marie not applying any pressure to her. “My father took notes about you. I don’t know exactly what he meant, but he said he couldn’t trust people like you. Generally speaking, any enemy of his is a friend to nearly everyone else. But still, I’m risking more than you could know by showing you this.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t feel comfortable,” Marie assures her.

This only deepens Bridgette’s belief that the two of them can be trusted. She goes back into a room, where they hear the distinct sound of her turning a permutation lock. She returns with an object that’s covered by a golden cloth. She hesitates once more, or maybe she’s just pausing for effect, and then she reveals what’s underneath. It’s a green glass telegraph insulator. “I’m not ready to tell you what this does, and I don’t know how it works anyway, but I can tell you that it’s immensely valuable.”

Mateo nods. “Ah yes, that is called the Insulator of Life. So tell me, who is it keeping alive?”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 28, 2398

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Most everybody is somewhere other than the third floor lofts. Leona and Ramses are in the lab. Alt!Leona and Andile are helping Angela with her new business on the first floor. Heath is giving the McIvers a guided tour of Kansas City. Kivi is off doing something on her own, and Leona Reaver is holed up in her apartment. Marie is alone in her and Heath’s unit, so Mateo takes this opportunity to knock on the door. “When did you last speak with your handler?”

Marie frowns, uncomfortable at having to have this conversation, but not angry at him for starting it. “I’ve been informed of the development. You’ve not told Leona?”

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“I wanted to hear what you had to say about it.”

“You want me to justify my actions?” she figures.

“Some of them.”

Marie sighs. “I had nothing when I first came here. Heath makes it sound like this romantic story where he believed in me the whole time, and we fell in love at first sight. It wasn’t that easy, and it took much longer than that. I was homeless for a bit, sleeping in an empty lot before I ever felt safe telling him anything. I needed money, and I needed an identity. Winona had already set up her forgery operation by then, so that’s who I ended up with. Can you imagine how different my life would have been if I had just found a different forger? I can. I think about it all the time. She asked me a lot more questions than she did you, Mateo, and I didn’t have any good answers. She gave me what I asked for, free of charge, and I should have known right then that it wasn’t just pity, but I was on the hook. She started asking me to do things to pay her back. Little things at first, then more dangerous, and she came to realize that I was far more educated and skilled than any normal person could achieve within a single lifetime.

“I honestly don’t remember how we broached the subject, but I remember I gave her as little information about where I come from as possible. I didn’t just spill the beans about everything all at once. She’s been squeezing more and more out of me ever since. One day, she noticed a few extra people stepping into my condo, and she questioned me about you. It was her idea to have her forge your papers too. She had shut down by then, as it was an only temporary assignment years ago. She finished re-setting up her den just hours before we arrived for help, and you were her only recent clients. That’s what put her on the radar of legitimate law enforcement, because they noticed unusual activity in the system. She’s the daughter of a U.S. senator, but she’s not invisible. She decided she needed help, so she concocted this plan to get into bed with you by upgrading your credentials to SD6. To protect you, I...manipulated the situation to put a greater target on Leona, since she has actual training in the field.”

“This all checks out so far, but it doesn’t explain everything that’s happened to us.” He’s not judging her for what she did to get by. They’ve all done things. He’s only questioning her choice to keep it from them. The government has been weird with them from the start, which doesn’t make sense, given her position. Why wasn’t she honest? “They keep following us around the globe. Why is that?”

She’s seething just a bit. “They don’t trust me to report back on you, which they’re right not to. I’m trying to keep you out of it as much as possible. They’re following us because they hope you will eventually be more forthcoming about our origins and abilities.”

“What do they know about us already?”

“They know that we’re time travelers, and that we don’t have control over it. I’ve told them that you’re cognizant of certain special locations around the world that can give us temporary control. We are now looking for this special water in the hopes that it can somehow get us back home.”

“These claims are rather accurate,” Mateo points out.

“Yes, it’s very easy to omit information, but it’s not easy to lie to them outright. If I make a claim, it better be true, to some degree.”

Mateo nods. Now for the real question. “Why lie to us?”

Marie is reluctant to answer, or maybe she’s unsteady in her self-awareness. “This life; this...secret agent shit, it teaches you not to trust people. You get really comfortable hiding things from others, even when you love them. Heath knows absolutely nothing. I sold my intellectual property, that’s true, which mostly explains why we’re so rich, but it doesn’t account for all the money. I get paid for this work. I get paid very well. I just have to go in the field every once in a while.”

“Field work, doing what?”

“Various things, usually unrelated. At least that’s what I thought, but now we’ve found out that Senator Morton was involved, I’m starting to think there’s some kind of secret civil war in the government, and it’s all connected.”

“If there’s a secret war,” Mateo begins, “our team is at the center of it.”

“Yes. Unless...”

“Unless our arrival here is but a fraction of the story, and plenty of other travelers have made their way into this reality.”

“Yes, we may be only part of a statistic. I’ve been trying to find that out, but Winona doesn’t give without getting.”

“Then let’s give,” he suggests.

“What do you mean?”

“She wants answers, and you haven’t been able to give her very many, because you’ve had to protect us. But the thing is that we’re here, and we can protect each other, so let’s give her whatever we need to in order to get what we want. She may know where my cousin is, and not even realize it. She may know the location of a reality transition point, but not understand its nature.”

“You want to tell the rest what I did?” Marie asks, up to her eyeballs in anxiety.

“Well, only the core group. Andile, the alternates, and the McIvers don’t need to know anything about all that.”

“That’s how it starts,” Marie says, “the lying. You start justifying what you’re saying, and what you’re not. Then it just gets worse from there.”

“You’ve had to carry this burden on your own for four years, and I would love to share the load, but I am not smart enough to help. We need the others. Leona, Ramses, and Angela can tell us what to do. Truthfully, Kivi is literally unreliable, and Heath...”

“Heath is still an outsider to you.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it.”

“That’s okay, I get that. Either way, can we wait a little while longer?”

“Okay,” Mateo replies diplomatically. “Whenever you’re ready.”