Showing posts with label scientists. Show all posts
Showing posts with label scientists. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 22, 2025

Microstory 2392: Vacuus, December 26, 2179

Generated by Google VideoFX text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 2
Dear Condor,

No, I don’t know which one of us is older than the other. We could have been born hours apart, for all I know. Well, that’s probably too long of a difference. You would think that Pascal would say something about it if that were the case. Unless, I guess, if he was out of town, or something. Was he even there? Has he never told you anything about what it was like when you were born? Probably not since his story would have been shaky from having no choice but to leave me out of it entirely. Let me get right into what happened. I’m glad that I talked to Elek sooner rather than later, because I might not have had another chance to tell you about it. Our scientists believe that the Valkyrie long-cycle is imminent. Unless something major happens to change their current projected trajectory, they’re coming for us, and they’ll be blocking transmissions for a really long time. Theoretically, the only thing that could affect them enough for them to change their path would be a gravitational body of significant mass-density. That would be even worse, because it would probably cross the Roche limit, and collide into Vacuus. I told you that I would be getting into what happened, then went off on a tangent. Sorry. Elek. When I approached him earlier today, he seemed very scared. I don’t think he read our messages, or anything, but I think he knew that this conversation would be coming at some point. We were bound to put the pieces together eventually. He actually seemed relieved when I demanded answers about the study. Attached is the full transcript of our conversation. Our laws say that I can record audio on the base with everyone’s permission,  but I can’t record video. It’s a little weird, but it would be a lot to compress anyway. Here are the highlights. The program had been going on for a hell of a lot longer than we realized. Madalena was only hired for its most recent iteration. They tried this with other missions prior to this, including lunar bases and Martian outposts. They have always wanted to know how one person would fare across contradictory realities, and twins are the closest thing they can come to gaining any insight on that. The thing about us being fraternal twins was the result of a series of concessions they had to make over the years. It started out as one would think, with the ideal conditions, and no legal qualms. They just kept changing it and changing it until it became all but pointless. Elek observed me as I grew up, and took some notes, which he showed me, and they’re all attached too. They weren’t very detailed, and his heart wasn’t in. It was just stupid from the beginning, but they sunk so much money into it, they didn’t want to let it go. They since have, disbanding entirely, and the various players no longer communicate with each other. He thought that Madalena was dead, but he’s pretty sure most of the others on Earth are indeed gone. After this I think it’s time we put this whole thing to rest. It sounds like it’s all over, and nothing really came of it. Now let’s just be. Let’s be twins who talk via weekly letters.

Until the Valkyries descend upon us,

Corinthia

Thursday, November 28, 2024

Microstory 2289: I Can Fill in Any Gaps

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 3
I’m gonna make this short, because I really want to get back to my work. I’ve been furiously typing, and not having to spend so much time doing research. That’s what has traditionally been the biggest time suck. Maybe I shouldn’t phrase it like that, because that makes it sound like I hate it. I actually love doing research. It’s like learning, except I care about it, so I write it down to reference the information later. I like my stories to be as plausible as possible without sacrificing adventure and intrigue. Of course, as we all know, all of my stories were proven true the moment my alternate self conjured me in another universe. So as it turns out, even the most fantastical of narrative liberties wouldn’t be a problem for any scientist with sufficient data and understanding. What I’m really trying to say is that I don’t have to do much research this time, I only have to recall my own past. That sounds easier than it is. I have a notoriously bad memory, which is just one more reason why I was never built for an autobiography. But the great part about it is that I can fill in any gaps in memory with made-up plot points. The heart of the story will be my own, but so much more. Okay, I gotta get back to it. Kelly is yelling at me about my work-life balance, but when you’re an artist, work is your life, so there’s no reason not to be working at all waking hours of the day.

Monday, December 25, 2023

Microstory 2046: Pennsylvania

You might have heard of ALS already. People were dumping ice water on their heads to raise money for it several years ago. They still haven’t found a cure, though. I really wish they had, because then my papa would still be here today. That doesn’t mean that scientists aren’t trying to find a cure. Massachusetts has some really good doctors, but my fathers heard of a specialist in Pennsylvania who knew a lot about it, so they wanted to meet with her. I had to stay with my cousins again. My fathers flew down to Philadelphia without me. I don’t know what they talked about, because no one will tell me, but they obviously didn’t solve the problem, because my papa is dead now.

Tuesday, November 7, 2023

Microstory 2012: California

As I mentioned on the last slide, my papa one time went to two different states. Actually, he also went through Utah, but he would not have counted that yet, because he didn’t even stay the night. After the college tour in Arizona, he went on to San Diego, California. It was here that people were holding a convention for EmptyCon. You’ve probably never heard of it. They don’t do them anymore, because most of the fans are dead now. The first time they did it was the first convention in the history of the world. Soon after movies were invented, a bunch of them were made that told the story of a man who accidentally traveled to a thing called EmptySpace where there weren’t any suns or planets. Aliens only had ships, and there were stars that were far away that gave them light. I’m not sure how they were able to build ships without planets, but whatever. Papa was probably the youngest fan of the movies, which are kind of stupid now that scientists know more about space than way back before. He spent the rest of the weekend in San Diego, talking with other fans, and the people who owned the movies, but none of the actors who were actually in them, because they were long dead even by then. I’m not into the movies, and neither is my dad. That’s not a problem, though. Both of them taught me that it’s okay to not like everything that the people you love like. I did some things with my papa, and sometimes he did things on his own. It’s the same with my dad. They did things without me too. Always keep an open mind, though. They taught me that too, so maybe I’ll start liking EmptySpace one day when I’m older.

Wednesday, August 30, 2023

Microstory 1963: Activated

Generated by Google Workspace Labs text-to-image AI software
Reese: Myka, could you step into my office, please?
Myka: Yeah, I’ll be there in a second.
Reese: The Director wants to speak with all of us, so it’s gotta be right now.
Myka: Oh, right. Sorry. Stopping now.
Reese: *walks down the hall* Leonard, could you—
Leonard: I see her. Coming.
Reese: Oh, and grab one of your chairs. I only have three.
Leonard: Okay.
Reese: Madam Director, you can sit in my chair. It’s nicer than my guest chairs.
Director Washington: This one is fine, thank you.
Reese: All right. *sitting down*
Director Washington: As you’ll recall, yours was not the only team we sent to Wyoming to investigate the Ochivari intrusion. We dispatched a shadow team to follow you. In addition to this, you discovered friends and allies who followed you as well. They are now working in these offices in various capacities. What you may not remember is that there was yet another interested third party in the area. An extra set of footprints was spotted that could not be matched to the fifteen people and aliens we know to have been out there. Obviously, despite the fact that the aliens we have in custody do not seem to wear shoes, we were most worried that there was a fourth one running around out there somewhere. As it turns out, that may not be our greatest threat. To be honest, the aliens have been very well-behaved and cooperative. Don’t worry, that doesn’t mean we’re going to start trusting them, and release them into the wild, but they’re presently in pocket. The entity I’m here to talk with you about today...is not.
Reese: Entity?
Director Washington: Clarification: unknown subject. It has become evident, after the investigative team completed their...investigation, that we have some competition, folks. Ours is not the only agency that is aware of these aliens. We do not know who they are, or how much they know. It could be more, it could be less. It could be another department within our own government, or a foreign actor. We have yet to exorcize enough information from our prisoner.
Reese: You have someone in custody? How did you find them if we don’t know who they may or may not work for?
Director Washington: We found text messages between this individual, and someone else. It’s the scientist who helped us find the aliens in the first place. He first discovered the arrivals incidentally, and we thought that he was working for us, but apparently not.
Reese: Yes, I met him. He seemed a bit sketchy, but not a traitor. What do you want us to do? No one here is any better trained for interrogation than whoever is doing it now.
Director Washington: *shakes her head* That’s not what we need. His whereabouts at the time of the Wyoming trip have been confirmed. The mysterious footprints could not have possibly been his. We’re sending you to find his contact.
Reese: Why us? We’re neither trained, nor ready for this at all?
Director Washington: You and yours are the only people that I can trust right now.

Friday, July 21, 2023

Microstory 1935: Insurrection Detection

Generated by Canva text-to-image AI software
Special Investigator: Are you sure?
Scientist: No, I’m not sure. We’ve never done anything like this before. We were just running a test on the new satellite software. We didn’t think we would get a ping. I mean, maybe it blows our whole hypothesis up, and it turns out the equipment just happened to detect a specific instance of something that happens all the time.
Special Investigator: It happened twice. Your equipment registered both arrivals.
Scientist: That’s proof of nothing. We still don’t understand this data. This was new technology when I installed it in Kansas City in the first place. Perhaps it’s good at detecting—I don’t know—long-distance nanoquakes. Sure, your alien arrivals cause them, but so does fluid moving through rocks. It’s a very common phenomenon.
Special Investigator: Okay, but your tech isn’t detecting other nanoquakes. It’s only picked up three events, and two of them were travelers from other universes.
Scientist: It’s allegedly picked up two alleged interdimensional visitors. And the nanoquake thing was just an example. It could have just as easily been caused by unusual temperature fluctuations. Again, we still don’t understand this data. It’s all very complicated. I see nothing here that proves beyond a reasonable doubt that anything special happened in the Wyoming desert.
Special Investigator: I don’t need undeniable proof. I need you to tell me whether it’s worth it for me to send a team.
Scientist: To Wyoming? How much would a mission like that cost?
Special Investigator: An elite recon trio runs about $15,000 a day, though that can easily double for special necessities.
Scientist: So, like, nothing? I say go for it. Just don’t cite my science as a reason for greenlighting the operation. Like I said, we picked it up during a test.
Special Investigator: Don’t worry, I won’t blame you if it turns out to be a false positive. And I wouldn’t call 30-grand nothing. Maybe I’ll just send one, and maybe he doesn’t have to be elite...
Scientist: That’s not my department.
Special Investigator: Thank you, Scientist. I appreciate the insight. *leaves*
Agent Reese Parsons: Sir, I know you said it wasn’t time yet, but I would really like to see Parole Officer Miazga.
Special Investigator: This isn’t about that, son. I need you for a mission.
Reese: Sir, this is the mission. I’ve been trying—
Special Investigator: Don’t worry about the P.O. There has been a new development. I need you in Wyoming as soon as possible. We got a ping.
Reese: A ping, sir? I really would like to revisit—
Special Investigator: We’re not going to discuss you talking to the prisoner again, Agent Parsons. You can either do your job, or lose it. We think more intruders arrived in the Red Desert. I need you to go look into it for me. You’ll have limited resources—
Reese: Then I want to take a confidential informant as backup. We’ll split the cost.
Special Investigator: *shakes his head* No, I know what you’re thinking, but we—
Reese: Let Leonard Miazga out of his stupid cell right now, or I walk.

Saturday, January 14, 2023

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: November 11, 2398

It’s been a month since Angela, Carlin, Moray, Petra, and a small crew of scientists started their relativistic journey to the Oort Cloud. For them, however, it’s only been an hour, and nothing interesting has happened. The four of them are in the middle of a game of Bridge, but that’s about it. Now Angela’s bladder is yelling at her, so she’s taking her break and heading for the head. When she opens the door, she runs into someone she assumes to be one of the research scientists. She doesn’t even look up at his face. “Oh, apologies. I’ll go find another facility.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, madam,” the man says as she’s trying to walk away. That voice. She would recognize it anywhere, even a thousand years from now. It’s the man who put her in prison, Tamerlane Pryce.
She spins around, a little too whimsically than she would like, given the tone she wants to present. “They were right. You’re here.”
He’s genuinely confused. “Someone told you I would be on the rocket?”
“No, I mean, this reality. I don’t know why you’re on the rocket.”
“I’m here to save your life,” he says cryptically.
She folds her arms. “How? Did a seer four million years ago tell you that it would blow up?”
He chuckles. “We don’t have seers. That’s by design. No time travel, no fortune telling, no temporal manipulation of any kind...except for the thing that controls all of that, of course.”
“Of course,” she mocks. “I would love to continue this conversation, but I really do have to go.”
“I meant what I said,” he calls up when she tries to turn away from him again. “You shouldn’t use the toilet.”
“Excuse me? You’re trying to tell a woman what to do with her body?”
He nods as he’s preparing his explanation. “Exactly four months ago, Earth realtime, you imbibed three cups of water while stranded in the village of Vertegen, on the Svalbard archipelago.”
“Yes, we surmised that they were three types of immortality water. That’s why I’m here, to buy time for my friends to find the rest, so Marie isn’t killed.”
“That’s not why I had the villagers give you the water,” Pryce says. “Something worse happens in your future, and I feel responsible for you, so I didn’t want you to die, but that event cannot be changed. What I mean is, the sequence of events leading up to it can’t, but I could alter the outcome. Fortunately, you came to my reality, and provided me with the perfect opportunity to do just that.”
“Okay. Let’s say I believe you. Why won’t you let me pee now?”
He shrugs with both his shoulders, and his chin. “Isn’t it obvious? The waters don’t last forever. Your body purges them from your system, just as they purge anything else you consume...unless it’s permanently detrimental, like a pathogen. If you pee today, Marie will die. Actually, she’ll already be dead, because the whole point is that you would be trying to save her life in the past. You don’t have much time left. I calculated incorrectly, and didn’t give you very much time to reach all eleven immortality waters before the first ones expire. You can do it, but you have to hold on for the next several hours. Your friends are already on the path that will lead them to a permanent solution.”
“We don’t need any solution that you came up with,” Angela contends. “I lived in your world for centuries, but I eventually broke out, thanks to my new family. We’ll break out of this one too, especially now that I know it’s yours.”
Pryce smiles sadly. “The afterlife simulation is not my world. Now, before you argue, I really mean it. I’m a different version of the man you know. He went back in time, and created a new timeline, one in which no one ever really dies. I was born in that one. I never did any of the stuff that he did.”
She’s taken aback by this, but his story isn’t completely implausible. He certainly wouldn’t be the first alternate self she’s met. There have been so many in the Third Rail alone; it’s like a magnet for them. She herself has an alt who goes by their middle name. “You just said you felt responsible for me.”
“I do. I feel personally responsible for all the people he’s hurt. If he’s not going to make up for his mistakes, then I guess I have to.”
She takes a deep breath. “Horace Reaver was a serial killer in one reality, then a rich douchebag in the next, and a hero in the next. I want to trust that you’re like that, but there’s no reason to believe versions of people in subsequent timelines are always better than their Past!Selves. It could just as easily go the other way. Maybe you’re not the man I knew, but that doesn’t mean you’re an improvement.”
“You’re right, but I can give you this.” He pulls a water bottle from behind his back like it’s Excalibur. “Energy water isn’t the most difficult kind to procure, but in the political climate surrounding the Dead Sea and Birket, I would prefer it if you didn’t risk your freedom by trying to go back there to steal more.”
Angela peers at it. “How do I know that isn’t just tap water from a suburban house’s kitchen sink?”
“I went through a lot of trouble to get you the three first immortality waters. The first one is from billions of years ago, the next is from another universe, and the next is from another galaxy. If I couldn’t even sneak into Birket to get this one, I certainly couldn’t have gotten the others, and the whole endeavor is moot.”
She keeps her eyes narrowed, but accepts the gift. “I can’t drink this yet. If I remember the order, I need waters from the Bermuda Triangle and North Pole first.”
He nods. “The others will handle that. This is a good faith gesture, don’t drink it until you get back to Earth. But remember, you can’t go pee. I haven’t had a doctor examine you, so I can’t say for sure it would purge your system of what you need to keep, but if I were you, I wouldn’t risk it.”
Now that he’s been talking about it so much, it’s all that she can focus on. The pressure is worse than ever, though that’s clearly only a psychological reaction. Assuming she believes him in the first place, how long can she last before she explodes? “Thank you...I think.”
He smiles, “that’s as much as I can ask. I better go hide again. I’m a stowaway, after all. Try to keep yourself busy. Maybe activate your acute stress response. When your body is in a hurry, it shuts down digestion, because it knows that it can’t take a break when you’re running from a saber-toothed tiger."
Angela watches him disappear, then she returns to her cabin to stash the Energy water in her refrigerator. Then she goes out for a jog. It doesn’t work.

Wednesday, November 16, 2022

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 13, 2398

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.

Tuesday, May 3, 2022

Microstory 1877: Obeying Gravity

I don’t remember where I was when we first put a man on the moon. What I remember is that I made a point not to be near a television or radio. I was a dumb little rebel back then. If normal people were into something, then I had to not be into it. Funny enough, I stayed away from drugs and alcohol for this reason, which is probably the only good choice I made in my youth. Normal people cared about grades, and finding good jobs. It was a long phase, but I finally grew out of it. I still didn’t care about things like the moon landing, but I wish I hadn’t been so eager to avoid it. Of course, I would later be able to watch the footage—and more recently at my leisure—but it just isn’t the same as knowing that millions of others were watching the same thing. Then again, everything I did, including not watching the landing, has led me to this moment. Because of this thing my niece told me about called the Butterfly Effect, I may never have met my future wife, nor had the children that we had, and without them, I wouldn’t have met my first grandchild. She was born in the most unusual circumstances, but not by accident. You see, even before people went to the moon, humans have been trying to live up in outer space. At first just for a little bit, but further missions increased the duration. Part of this research was to study other things about low gravity, but a not insignificant amount of it was to test an organism’s ability to survive under such conditions. Obviously no creature evolved to live this way. We were all designed by nature to exist in this exact atmosphere, with this amount of surface gravity. Some are better in water, and some can even fly, but we’re all the same in this regard. If we want to visit other planets, and other star systems, however, we have to figure out how to adapt. We have to learn.

As of yet, scientists don’t really know what any of that looks like. They have some ideas, but these ideas have to be tested first. We can’t just fly up here, and hope it works out. Can it be done in the first place? What do we have to do to prepare ourselves? Should we create certain habitats, or is there a way to modify our bodies to cope with the atrophy, and other health problems that come with low gravity? All of these questions are being studied on a new mission that my family and I were selected for. Most astronauts have to go through a series of tests, and be in peak physical condition, in order to qualify for even the most modest of missions. Not us. The whole point is to understand how normal people handle low-g. We were each chosen for a number of reasons, but my daughter, her husband, and I are up here to test family dynamics, along with a few other things. For instance, it’s important that scientists know whether people can have children in space, and now we know they can, but what will her physiology be like? Will she be able to go back down to Earth after this mission is over? If so, will she have to acclimate in a certain way? This is a dangerous mission, but we all agreed to it, and I’m proud to be a part of something so vital to the future of our species. Not every person, and not every country, is on board with this, but my nation has a space program of their own, and they didn’t need anyone else’s permission. As morbid as it may sound—and as unethical as you may consider it—our team believes it’s important for us to get these answers under controlled experiments, rather than experience them as surprises. Until today, many have died in the attempt to travel to space, but I’m honored to be the first ever to pass on while already all the way up here. The last thing I see will be a great thing of beauty.

Wednesday, April 6, 2022

Microstory 1858: God’s Eye View

I wasn’t paying attention when I was diagnosed with a terminal disease. That’s really all I caught when the doctor was trying to explain it to me. I wasn’t in shock, or anything, I just didn’t care. I’m going to die in prison, and that’s true whether it happens tomorrow, or ten years from now. If you had asked me yesterday what went wrong with my life, I would have blamed it on the world. I have a mental list of people who have wronged me throughout the years, and to be sure, some of those people deserve to be on it. Maybe even all of them, to some degree, but there’s one name I forgot to include, and it actually ought to be at the top. Me. I should have taken responsibility for my own actions. I should be on it both for the things that I did, and also because I’ve lived in denial of my culpability. Let me explain where this sudden realization is coming from. Government scientists have developed a drug that they hope will help restore the memories and general faculties of people with age-related diseases that cause those kinds of problems. I have no such disease, but they needed a control group, so I’m part of that. As an incarcerated terminal patient, I was the perfect candidate. I didn’t even wait to hear the whole pitch before agreeing to sign the documents. If the experimental medicine they gave me resulted in my death, then as I explained before, it didn’t really matter. I wasn’t sure what to expect as I sat down. I suppose I figured I would get a flood of memories that I had either suppressed, or had just forgotten, because they weren’t very important. If it should work on dementia patients, why wouldn’t it work on me too? That’s not what happened, though. As I’ve said, my memories were fine; probably about as intact as any normal person’s. I didn’t remember anything special, but I got some new perspective.

I was a piece of shit. I treated strangers poorly, and my friends even worse. I alienated everyone who ever cared about me, and I didn’t even realize it. Because they didn’t truly ever leave; our relationships just never totally recovered. I had some pretty crazy ideas about the world too. I made political and economical claims that—now that I think about it—didn’t make any sense. The truth is that I was super uneducated, and to no one’s fault but my own. I went to class, and I took the tests, but I didn’t really care about the material, I didn’t retain it, and I was entirely incapable of drawing reasonable conclusions for new problems. I just didn’t understand a damn thing, but I thought I was so smart. Do you remember saying something stupid when you were a kid, like how the older boys who stole your lunch money would be sorry when you grew up, and were older than them? Or maybe you lied to everyone about climbing up the side of a building. This is what it feels like to look back at my past. I feel like a God, my hindsight is so much better than 20/20 right now. I was so wrong about everything, and I’m incredibly embarrassed of myself. It’s unfair, having this perspective so late in life. I don’t have any time to go back and correct my mistakes. Plus I’m still stuck in here. I won’t go over every epiphany I had while I was on this drug, but I’ll say that the old me wouldn’t care about it. I’m smiling, because even if it doesn’t technically do what it’s meant to, it should still be able to help people. I just need to figure out how to convey this data to the researchers. I’m about to die, I know this much. I don’t think that should stop their research, and I’m worried they will if I don’t manage to explain the results to them before I fade away. I have to get back to the real world. I have to wake up befo—

Tuesday, April 5, 2022

Microstory 1857: Bad One

I moved to a new school for fifth grade. My family didn’t move homes, but the district built a brand new primary school, and the zones had to be redrawn, meaning kids were pulled from the surrounding areas who hadn’t been studying together until now. Looking back, I don’t know how my new teacher could not know about our situation ahead of time, but I remember sitting in that classroom—nervous as all hell—and becoming the center of attention without ever wanting to. I’ve never liked crowds, and I don’t like people to stare at me. I feel more comfortable with a small group of friends, so I was already feeling rather uncomfortable, because all of those friends were still at my old school. There I was in the back corner, looking around for any clue as to who might become my friend, when I heard my name being called. Estera Nowicki. I acknowledged my attendance at the same time as another girl. We each turned our head to look at the other. She kindly explained that hers was the name that was called, and I had to explain that that was my name. The teacher looked down at the sheet. There were two of us, which she had apparently assumed to be some kind of typographical error. That was a little funny, but the names weren’t exactly rare. We had a laugh, and then one classmate suggested that one of us go by our middle name, which I said was Aleksandra. The other Estera scoffed. That was her middle name too, I had to be lying. I don’t know how I could have known as much about her without social media to look it up, like some kind of private detective, but she was convinced. It took some questions to the main office to confirm that yes, there were two Estera Aleksandra Nowickis in the same class.

Something had to be done to avoid the confusion. I mean, some of the kids were already confused, and there was probably nothing we could do about that. One boy suggested that we were long lost sisters, which was obviously dumb, because that would mean that our shared parents gave their sororal twins the same exact first and middle names, and then gave one of us away to a couple with the same surname. It was a coincidence, but again, we couldn’t move on without making sure there wouldn’t be any further ambiguity. I would have been perfectly fine going as Aleksandra. Honestly, I always thought it was a bit prettier. Sure, it was hers too, but as long as only I actually used it as my main name, it should’ve been fine. She wasn’t okay with that. As soon as I expressed my idea, she decided that she wanted to use it instead. Annoying, but whatever, I could be the Estera. No, she didn’t like that either. No matter what I said, she just wanted to be difficult, and pretty soon, we all realized that we had spent almost the entire morning on this, and hadn’t learned a single thing yet. I even recommended I go by Dosia, after a famous scientist named Dosia Zajac who I came to admire after presenting a report on her the previous year. The other Estera claimed to like her too, so now she wanted to be known as Dosia. I’m certain that she hadn’t even heard of her until that day, this was getting to be so ridiculous. The teacher—bless her heart—found it impossible to keep control of the classroom. Lines were being drawn. Some favored me, while a few were on her side. But they eventually swayed over to me when they realized how insolent she was being. So the rest of the students came together, and decided that it was no longer our choice what either of us was going to be called. She was given a nickname that probably haunted her for the rest of the life, while I came to be forever known as Good Estera.

Saturday, April 2, 2022

Extremus: Year 38

Rita was exhausted as she tried to continue her story, so Kaiora escorted her out of hock, and up to her new cabin. After she slept, Rita was still unable to continue with the story. Explaining as much as she did proved to be more traumatic than she thought it would be. It was tough, reliving the experience. After about a week, she felt comfortable restarting the process, but only with a therapist, who was trained to converse with her in a safe and nonjudgmental environment. Of course, the therapist did not reveal any details to Captain Leithe, or anyone else, but she was able to report that Rita’s truth would not endanger the Extremus mission, or the people. So nobody else had to know anything about it if Rita wasn’t willing to tell them herself. Even so, she could tell them, because others having this knowledge would also not threaten the mission. Until then, they moved on, and slowly reintegrated her into society. She no longer had a responsibility on the crew—nor did she want one. And for the most part, the other passengers weren’t pushy about her giving them answers.
To be honest, Kaiora hasn’t thought much about it for the last 21 months. She wasn’t even born yet when Rita disappeared. And as a Lieutenant, Rita didn’t make too much of a mark on the mission, since she spent so little time on it. She’s important, no doubt, and Kaiora’s glad she’s returned, but if she doesn’t want to talk about it, she doesn’t have to. The Captain has a ship to run, and that’s what she needs to focus on. As interesting as Rita’s tale might be, her therapist was quite clear that it’s not relevant to the ongoing operation of Extremus, so that means it’s personal. And Kaiora doesn’t have time for personal.
The door chirps. A very well dressed Dr. Daud Kreuleck is on the other side of it. “Is there a science awards event tonight?” Kaiora asks him.
He briefly doesn’t realize what she’s talking about. Then he looks down at his garb. “Oh, no. I was...uh, on a date.”
“Oh. Did it...not go well?”
“It went great,” he answers.
Awkward pause.
“But you needed to leave, and come to me for something?”
“I did,” Daud says with a nod. He’s acting really weird, like he’s just on autopilot, and doesn’t know what he’s going to do next. “His name was...”
“His name was what?”
Daud remembers, “Yusef. It was Yusef, sorry. We had a great time. As it turns out, we have a lot in common—”
“Why are you telling me this, Dr. Kreuleck?”
“Can I come in? I would like to come in.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“I just was hoping for some privacy.”
“Okay.” Kaiora selects a contact on her wristband. “Lieutenant Seelen, could you please jump to my cabin as soon as possible?”
Corinna appears in the room behind Kaiora. “All right,” the Captain says to the scientist as she’s stepping back. “Come on in.”
This is privacy?” Daud questions.
“This is what you get when you ask for privacy with a captain who’s in charge of a spaceship of thousands of people.”
“I’m just.” He growls. Then he walks in, and sits down. “Sorry.”
Kaiora sits down across from him. Corinna remains standing off to her Captain’s flank.
Daud takes a breath. “I’m sorry,” he repeats. “This is all making me sound like a creep, and that is the furthest from what I mean. I’m trying to tell you that, while the date was perfect, I just kept seeing your face on his head.”
“I thought you were trying to not be creepy,” Kaiora points out.
“I just mean, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“Well, that’s understandable. Like I just said, I’m the leader of a ship.” She looks up at Corinna. “I’m sure there’s some kind of psychological complex going on there?”
“Yes, sir,” Corinna agrees insincerely, trying to remain detached from the conversation. She’s not there to listen, but to protect her superior officer. It’s still not clear if that’s necessary, and the longer this goes without an answer, the riskier the situation becomes.
“It’s not because you’re the Captain, I don’t care that you’re the Captain. I mean, of course I care that you’re the Captain. I just mean—it’s you. It’s just you. I care about you. I’m falling for you. There’s chemistry between us, and you can trust that that’s true, because I know chemistry. You have to agree that there’s something between us. You’re nice to everybody, but you’re particularly nice to me. If you could—”
“Daud. Daud, Daud!”
“What?”
“Stop talking.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You keep having to say that.”
“I’mmmm...” He stops himself from the irony.
“Dr. Kreuleck. I am not interested in your company on a nonprofessional level. I respect you as a scientist, and a member of this crew. But I will not be pursuing a relationship. I apologize if anything I did, or said, led you to believe that there was anything between us beyond mutual professional respect.”
Daud can’t stop fidgeting. He’s heartbroken and upset, but he will get over it. This was the best way to break the news to him. It would be so much worse if Kaiora tried to talk about it, or let him down easy. The hard truth was the only way through. He leans his head back against the top of the couch cushion, stuck in a daze. “Could you please just spirit me away to my cabin? I know you don’t use your teleporter for that kind of thing, but—”
Kaiora does as she’s asked. She sighs once he’s gone.
“I thought you did like him?” Corinna reminds her.
“Fleeting thoughts,” Kaiora dismisses. “Besides, it’s not like I can be with anyone, whether I find someone I truly like, or not.”
“Why not?”
“I’m the Captain, as we established.”
“So what?”
“So the captain can’t be in a romantic relationship. It’s a conflict of interest, or something.”
Corinna frowns. She fiddles with her watch, and uses it to project a hologram of the book of Extremus laws. “Show me in here where it says you can’t be in a relationship.”
“Well, it doesn’t explicitly say that, I mean, but come on...”
Corinna closes the book. She wasn’t expecting Kaiora to literally look for the law. Because it’s not in there. It can’t be. “I’m not saying you should go after...that guy, whoever he is. But if you meet someone, or you’ve met someone, don’t let your job get in the way of that. You are entitled to happiness, and having a responsibility doesn’t mean you lose that. Yeah, it’s true that there are some things you can’t have because you’re the leader, like a completely private or anonymous life. Love isn’t one of those things.”
“Halan never pursued anybody,” Kaiora points out.
“Halan is aromantic. That’s why they chose him.”
“Huh?”
“Obviously it’s not the only reason they chose him—or even necessarily the deciding factor—he’s absolutely qualified for the job, but he was a great candidate, because they didn’t want him to be distracted.”
Was that true? That might actually be true. It would have been almost impossible to pass any laws restricting anyone’s right to love and partnership, so they may have decided that their best alternative was to find someone who wasn’t looking for that. “So you’re only proving my point. Whether it’s an actual law, or not, it means I don’t have time for all that.”
“No, because those people aren’t here anymore. They’re all dead. Well, I think that one of them might be still alive, but he wouldn’t matter. That was their sneaky way of protecting the ship’s interests, but they weren’t infallible. You make your own choices, and when it comes to your personal life, no one can stop you from doing whatever the hell you want. Again, I don’t know who that guy was, but do what you want, and don’t fret over other people’s reservations. You’re not Halan Yenant.”
Kaiora takes a moment to think about Corinna’s words. Hoping they’re true, she reaches over, and selects a destination point on her wristband.
“Are you...going to someone?”
“Thanks, Lieutenant. You’ve been a big help.”
“Squee,” Corinna squees.
Kaiora teleports herself to the executive infirmary, specifically the Chief Medical Officer’s office.
Dr. Holmes is staring at some x-rays on the wall, and looking at a chart on her tablet. “Captain, is there a problem?”
Kaiora gently takes the tablet away from Ima, and replaces it with her hand, to get a feel for it at first.
“Captain...”
Kaiora doesn’t say anything. She just holds the doctor’s hand with her own, caressing her thumb carefully.
Ima reaches up with her other hand to match and begins to breathe heavily. “Captain,” she repeats for the third time.
“I would like to kiss you.”
Ima continues to try to steady her breath. “I’m thirty-four years older than you.”
“Is that right?” Kaiora lays her forehead against Ima’s.
“Actually, it’s...thirty-four years...three months, and six days.”
Kaiora doesn’t let Ima pull away. “You’ve calculated it.”
“Yes,” Ima whispers.
“You don’t know the hours and minutes?” she whispers too.
“One hour, eight minutes,” Ima says, barely audibly.
Now Kaiora pulls aways, and backs up a few steps. “I’m going to stand here. Ten seconds after I stop talking, I’m going to pucker my lips, and kiss. That might mean I’m kissing the air, or I’m kissing you. You will have to choose which.”
Unable to last ten seconds, Dr. Ima Holmes lunges forward, and initiates the kiss. They hold it forever before letting go, each taking a half step back again. “Why did you come here?”
“I had to.”
“This isn’t appropriate.” Ima steps back even farther.
“Yes it is.”
“You’re a baby.”
“No I’m not.”
“I mean I saw you as a baby. I didn’t deliver you, but I’m good friends with the doctor who did. I lived so much before you even showed up.”
“I don’t care about any of that.”
I do.”
“If you thought you couldn’t get past it, you would have let the ten seconds run out.”
“Ten seconds isn’t enough time to make an informed decision.”
“Ten seconds is sometimes all you have, and I don’t know how many ten secondses either of us has left, but I don’t want to spend them unhappy.”
“I’m going to die comparatively soon, whether we pursue this, or not, and you will have a lot of ten secondses without me.”
Kaiora shrugs. “That’s what you did. You had thirty-four years of ten secondses without me. Calculate that.”
“I didn’t know you. I didn’t...know your smell.” She finds herself walking forward again. “I didn’t know how your bouncy brown hair frames your face, or how my heart flutters when you come into the room, but calms when I hear your soft voice. I was so ignorant back then. If this is mutual, and you feel anything for me like I do for you, I don’t want you to lose it, because I know how I would feel if I lost you.”
“I would rather have and lose you than not have you at all. The distance between us feels like a firestorm, and the closer we get, the cooler it becomes.”
“People will talk,” Ima laments.
“I’ll order them not to,” Kaiora jokes, but she’ll do it for real if she has to.
“I won’t be anyone’s secret. If we start something, we have to go public right away. Can you handle that? Can the mission survive that?”
Kaiora doesn’t wait long to answer, “yes.”

Saturday, March 26, 2022

Extremus: Year 37

Three and a half months later, and they still don’t have any answers. They can’t explain what they’re seeing in the mysterious box that the drone they sent out for resupply returned with. The person living inside of the box is too small to be seen with the naked eye. The glass the box itself is made of can be adjusted to magnify the image a little bit, and a microscope can make the image even larger, but it’s so far not enough to communicate. They can’t even make out the individual’s face, but she appears to be feminine, and she recognizes that giants are gawking at her. She mostly sits in a tiny chair, reading a tinier book, inside of a sort of living room that looks more like a movie set since there are two walls, and a floor, but no roof. She shows no signs of fear, insecurity, or general helplessness. The scientists placed in charge of figuring this out posit that she’s patiently waiting for them to do just that. One thing they’ve learned is that she refuses to leave the box. They drilled a little hole on the side, but she won’t crawl out of it for further testing. They don’t know why, so they’ve come up with a way to reach out to her.
“You wanna shrink somebody?” Kaiora questions.
“No, Captain,” Dr. Kreuleck says. He’s not in charge of the team, but the man who is has trouble communicating with anyone who doesn’t have at least three advanced degrees, so Daud usually finds himself as the interpreter between them. “The envoy will be piloting a miniature avatar. You’ll still be much larger than the specimen, but if you speak the same language, you ought to be small enough to carry on an intelligible conversation.”
“When you say you, you mean generic-you, right?”
“Umm...no, we were thinking actually you, sir,” Daud clarifies.
“Why would I be the one to do it?”
“We assumed you would want to make first contact.”
Kaiora hadn’t considered it. It sounds right, though, doesn’t it? She’s responsible for the crew and passengers, and she represents them in a way that no one else does, even compared to First Chair. Surely the technology is safe. Surrogate piloting is old technology that has only improved over time. There should be no danger to this. “That’s not what an envoy is,” she can’t help but point out. “You can’t be an envoy for yourself.”
“You mean yourself,” Daud jokes.
The Captain always tries to maintain a distance from everyone, for obvious professional reasons. She would be lying to herself, however, if she claimed to not find Daud’s company to be pleasant and enjoyable, but of course, no matter what she feels, she has to lie to everyone else. “Right.” She sighs, and takes another look at the nano-human, who’s presently sleeping in her little bed. “Tell me what to do. If it’s ready, I’ll make contact when she wakes up.”
Daud goes over the specifications of the interface pod. Everything is pretty standard. They will lie her back in the chair, hook her brain up to the machine, and then link her neural signals to the nanobot. It may never have been done at this scale before, but billions have experienced it in the history of mankind, so Kaiora isn’t worried. A few hours later, the specimen gets out of bed, cleans herself up, and then goes back to her books. That’s when they initialize the program.
Kaiora finds herself standing at the entrance to the box. The hole they drilled is as big as a building from her perspective. She has to climb up the side just to get to it, but it’s not that hard, because the glass is pretty rough, with lots of handholds. It’s not like she can get tired of it either, because she’s not really there. The bot is doing all the work, she’s just controlling it. After a little while, she reaches the edge, and walks over the threshold. Before she can climb down on the inside, everything changes. She can no longer see the box, or the movie set that the specimen lives in. She just sort of sees shapes and colors. Nothing looks distinct. She can’t orient herself. It’s all just a meaningless blur.
Kaiora forces herself back to her real body, and works hard to catch her breath. The experience was more traumatic than she even realized while it was happening. It was surreal, but now she’s shaken, and doesn’t want to go back. What the hell was that? “What the hell was that?”
“Tell us what happened,” Daud prompts.
She describes the images to the best of her ability, and slows down when the scientists seem to be having some kind of simultaneous revelation. “What? Tell me.”
“It was just a theory, and we tried to test for it, but we found it impossible to penetrate the box,” Daud doesn’t explain.
“You drilled a hole in it,” she points out.
“I mean, we can’t get our sensors in. We can’t take any readings. It seems that only visible light crosses the barrier.”
Barrier?” Kaiora echoes. That word is really only used for one thing in regards to temporal manipulation. “You mean dimensional barrier.”
“Yes. She’s not actually tiny, she’s just in another dimension, which is being generated and sustained by a powersource somewhere inside the box. The glass serves as the boundary, and when you crossed it, you became part of it. You were in the form of a nanobot, so in the other dimension, you’re still in a nanobot, so from the perspective of everything else in there, that is how you appear...or rather don’t appear, because you were so small. At that point, to us, you were smaller than an atom.”
Kaiora nods once, and points to the box. “So in reality, she’s regular size; it’s just a different reality?”
“We believe so.”
“So if we teleported someone into the box, they would become her size.”
“Theoretically.”
“Why didn’t we do that in the first place?”
“If we were wrong, it could have destroyed the box, and the specimen. It would be like if we teleported a planet inside the Extremus.”
“Fair enough. But can’t you teleport her to this dimension?” Kaiora suggests.
Daud looks at the rest of the team. “We didn’t...think of that.”
Kaiora continues, “if we transport her from inside that box to our dimension, she should show up as a normal-sized person from our perspective. And if she doesn’t, she’s still safe, because we’ll know exactly where she is.”
Daud scratches the back of his head, embarrassed. “We’ll build the environment, and the laser teleporter. We have to be more precise than most teleportation jumps require. It should take us a few hours to be safe.”
“I’ll come back in a few hours.”
She does come back in a few hours, and the team is ready for the procedure. Kaiora takes one more look in the box. The specimen has straightened up her living environment. She’s made her bed, and shelved most of the books. She’s holding a large stack of some of them, though; presumably the ones she hasn’t read yet. She looks ready. She knows they’ve finally solved the problem. “Push it,” the Captain orders.
“We thought you might want to.” Daud lifts the single-button remote, and presents it to her with both hands.
Without thinking about it too hard, Kaiora unceremoniously presses the button, and activates the laser teleporter. A woman appears in the egress chamber, still holding her books. The bookcase behind her managed to come through too. The woman looks at it over her shoulder. “Oh, good. I was only able to hold about half of the ones I wanted.”
Kaiora recognizes her immediately, now that she can actually see her face. “Lieutenant Suárez, welcome back the Extremus. I’m Captain Kaiora Leithe, Third of Ten.”
One of the other scientists steps over, and carefully removes the books from Rita’s arms. “It’s nice to finally be back. We have a lot to discuss, but before I say anything, could someone please escort me to the hock. I need to talk to Halan first.”
Kaiora looks over at Daud. She knows that Halan is locked up, which begs the question how she would know such a thing after having been gone for nearly 34 years. “I suppose...that’s...a fair request. You’ll need a medical examination first, though.”
“I suppose that’s a fair request,” Rita echoes.
They’re careful not to let anyone else know that Rita is back. The Supply Recovery team that discovered the box in the first place agreed to secrecy, and still won’t be told this much anyway. Kaiora escorts Rita to Dr. Holmes’ office, and once the exam is over, to the hock, which adds yet another person to know the secret in Caldr Giordana. Hopefully that’s the last one besides Halan. Kaiora still doesn’t know what they’re going to do with her, and honestly, a former captain’s opinion will be invaluable in that regard.
After the pleasantries, Rita sits in the guest chair, nervously scratching her upper teeth against her index finger, but fortunately not biting down.
“Take your time,” Halan assures her.
“You’re safe,” Kaiora adds.
“Old Man knew what was going to happen. He was wearing a sort of survival pack. When Debra—that was Airlock Karen’s real name; I don’t know if anyone here ever knew that. Anyway, when she and I landed on the planet, there was no air. We were just in the vacuum of space, dying. I woke up however long later in a tent barely sufficient for two people. All three of us were in there together. Apparently, he had shot us with a teleporter gun, since we were a few meters away from him. Then he wrapped us all in the self-assembling tent. The rest of the survival supplies were in his bag. He called it the Heskit; Harsh Environment Survival Kit. It was equipped with carbon scrubbers, but since they take time to get going, he also had an oxygen tank that was good enough to last us six or seven hours. We didn’t have to share a mask. He just opened the valve, and filled the tent. I thought we were gonna die, but he just kept walking us up the steps. He had enough meal bars to last him a month alone, but we rationed them together, and still made it through that month.
“While we were waiting for the hydroponics to grow, a meat bioreactor printed meat patties for us. They weren’t particularly flavorful, and they took a shockingly long time, but they did the job. Everything was powered by small scale fusion reactors. He programmed and released nanites to build us a larger structure to live in using materials found on the planet. When we finally teleported there, we found that we were not alone. He was there, and he was a lot better off than we were. He was already wearing a vacuum suit, and brought with him far better supplies. To him it wasn’t an emergency, but a planned move. He wanted to live there. That was his temporary home, before...”
“Before he built a time machine to take over the galaxy before the Earthan humans could,” Halan tries to finish for her.
“Oaksent didn’t build shit. He forced Old Man to do everything. He also had a gun; not a teleporter gun, but a real one with bullets. A schism formed between us. It quickly became clear that Debra was on his side, and Old Man and I were on the other. I never much liked Elder, but he was a lot better than that megalomaniac. In response to our impudence, Oaksent modified the orders so that the time machine would only fit two people. The two of them then went off on their merry mission in the past, leaving us only with that second structure, and a microreactor to power it. He took everything else, including the hydroponics, not because he needed it, but because he didn’t want us to have it. Now I thought we really were going to die, but then we saw it. A vehicle was driving over the regolith, heading our way. Long story short, they were descended from the embryos or whatever that Oaksent stole from the Bridger Section. This small faction had broken off from the rest of the empire. They didn’t have any strong feelings about us, or Extremus, but they figured they might as well execute a mission to rescue us, just to make sure we were all living in the same timeline.
“They agreed to let us join their group, and we did so, because we didn’t want them to kill us, or just let us die. I mean, you fall in with whoever you can to survive, right? I didn’t love the life, because it was needlessly difficult. The empire is clearly technologically advanced, but this faction subsisted on outdated and worn out technology, I guess as a means of expressing some kind of rebellious sentiment. Stuff constantly broke down, and we were always in danger of dying. I made it work, but Old Man couldn’t. He wanted to get back to the ship, so he built another time machine in secret. He tried to get me to go with him, but I refused. It was too risky. I don’t wanna mess with time. So I stayed, and that’s when my story begins...”