The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 1, 2390

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There is no stealth in space. If you’re generating power, then you’re generating heat. There is nowhere to dump all that heat, except to radiate it away, which others can detect. According to Ramses’ research, some ships in this reality can shunt it to another dimension, but on its own, this takes a lot of energy, and can still be detected in other ways, so it’s not really that useful. Pilot Fish protocol was not about making themselves completely invisible, but hiding themselves in the chaos of a larger vessel; a very large vessel. The WTD was enormous, and radiated a ton of waste heat. It also had lots of other little ships flying around, executing repairs, and whatnot. It was rather easy for a tiny lifeboat such as the AOC to attach itself to a remote part of the hull, and sit there quietly. No one and nothing knew that they were there, which was good, but it was the easy part. Presumably, the Warmaker Training Detachment was presently in the middle of the beginning of a new war. While it was out here, there was no telling where the rest of the detachments were, or whether they would ever be rendezvousing with each other anytime soon. Fortunately, they only needed to cross paths with the SWD once. The team’s AI knew what to do when that happened. It would detach itself from the first ship, and attach itself to the next. They didn’t know if it would happen within the next year, but they figured it would occur at some point in the next few days from their perspective. It turned out to be one day realtime.

When the team returned to the timestream, they learned that the Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez had been pilot fishing the Security Watchhouse Detachment for almost the entire year. This was perfect, because it was even more massive than the WTD, so their chances of being caught eventually had actually gone down. Everything was going according to plan. They were going to make their way to Dilara Cassano’s office, reveal to her that she had a special time power, and a destiny in another reality, then all go home together.

“Wait, who are you again?” Dilara asked. She was sitting in the same place they had always seen her, in the breakroom area.

“Mateo. This is Leona, Ramses, Olimpia, Angela, and Marie.”

“Angela and Marie are twins?”

“Alternate selves,” Angela clarified.

Dilara yawned. “I remember you people looking older.”

“Eh. Time, right?” Ramses noted

“Right,” Dilara sort of agreed. “Did you need some...antiquated technology, or sanctuary...?”

“We want your help getting home,” Mateo requested.

“There’s nothing left for us here,” Leona added. “The main sequence is where you belong anyway.”

“How do you figure?” Dilara questioned.

“We’ve seen you there,” Leona claimed. “You have the ability to cross back into old timelines, which means you necessarily also have the ability to travel to parallel timelines.”

Dilara stared at her, and then looked one by one at the rest of the team, like she was waiting for someone to give away that this was some kind of prank. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“We know,” Mateo said. “It happened in our past, but in your future.”

“Do I go on adventures in this future?” Dilara pressed. “Do I exert a lot of effort?”

Mateo leaned his head back in confusion. “I mean, I think so...”

“And I’m walking?”

“What?”

“This person who you think is me, does she walk?” Dilara continued.

“Yeah, she walks,” Leona confirmed.

Dilara opened a panel on her armrest, and pushed a few buttons. The chair gently flew out from under the table, and began to hover before them. “I can’t walk.”

“You what?”

“I have literally never walked,” she said, though it must have been a lie. “I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not your girl. I don’t have any powers, and I’m not going to be going on any adventures.”

“They can’t cure whatever’s stopping you from walking?” Angela suggested.

“Mother says no. They tried when I was younger.”

“Can we speak to her?”

“She’s dead.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Ramses said. “At the very least, you can strap an exoskeleton on her, and have her simulate walking. There is no way a reality this advanced can’t find a way to fix her.”

“I don’t need to be fixed,” Dilara contended. “I’m fine sitting down, thank you.”

“I’m sorry,” Ramses said sincerely.

“There’s also the matter of this.” Dilara reached up to her necklace, and pushed another button. A hologram flickered off, leaving a much older and wrinkled face behind. “I know what it’s like to change your age of appearance.”

They all stared at her, unsure what to say. Mateo looked to the floor behind them. “The football. You say you can’t find a record of it being a sport that ever existed before, yet you know what it is.”

“That’s right,” Dilara agreed.

“Mateo...” Leona began without finishing.

“You are our Dilara Cassano,” he realized. “You’ve just lost your memories. I don’t know how, or whether it was done on purpose, but that’s why you’re older than we knew you, and it probably partially explains why your mother claimed you couldn’t ever walk again. I don’t have all the answers, but the main sequence is not part of your future. It’s in your past, just like it is for the six of us.”

“Except it should also be in your future,” Dilara reasoned. “Because you want to get back there, whereas I don’t think I care to get those memories back, if they even exist.”

“They exist,” Mateo assured her, “and no one’s going back now. You were our last hope. If anyone else had the ability to cross realities, we probably would have heard of them by now. I mean, maybe if we were able to find Jupiter, or Jupiter, or one of the other Jupiters...”

“There may be another way,” Olimpia said, nervous about bringing up whatever it was she was thinking.

“What would that be?” Leona asked.

“I don’t wanna say anything without any more information.” Olimpia answered. “I was just hoping you could...point me towards that library database that you used a few days ago, Mateo?”

Mateo wanted to respect her wishes, even though he also wanted her to just say it. “Yeah, I’ll take you.” He offered her his hand. When Olimpia took it, he turned his head back to Dilara, who was resituating herself under the table. “Thank you for everything. I apologize for the confusion.”

“It’s quite all right.” Dilara reinitialized her youngification hologram.

Mateo escorted Olimpia to the library. Nothing had changed since last time. It was still completely empty. He tried to look over her shoulder as she began her search for whatever she was searching for, but she looked right back with a look. All he caught were the words mysterious war before he agreed to literally back off, and walk the perimeter. It wasn’t long before he started to get a feeling. It didn’t hurt, but he knew it wasn’t great either. It felt like waves of energy pulsating on the side of his forehead. When he turned his head, the waves stayed in place, so now they were on the other side of his forehead. He did a one-eighty, and now they were hitting the back of his head. Something external was out there, doing this to him. Again, it wasn’t painful, but he instinctually prepared himself for an attack of some kind.

The attack came in the form of a bullet, right in his shoulder joint. At least that was what he assumed it to be. He heard a loud explosive sound, and felt a sharp pain in his chest. It didn’t last very long. The pain went away to be replaced with another wave of information, reminding him that there was a bullet wound there. It happened several more times after that. Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang. Somebody wanted him dead, but Mateo was getting the feeling now that that wasn’t going to happen. Ramses’ upgrades were just too good. He didn’t know if he could heal as fast as superheroes did in movies, but he was still standing even after all this, and the pain was gone.

A figure rounded the corner. “You think I wouldn’t recognize you, didn’t you?” It was the security guard from years ago. He was still patrolling the same area. He walked forward, and placed his gun against Mateo’s head. “You can hologram your face in whatever form you please, but I can still tell. You have a certain smell.”

“Hey, that rhymed.”

“Shut up!”

“Are you going to kill me?”

“I said I would, didn’t I?”

Mateo shrugged. “People changed their minds. It’s been six years.”

“No, it’s been one year.” He reached into his bag, and pulled out the mangled remains of the Cassidy cuff that Mateo forced upon him to make sure he didn’t leave him trapped in a time bubble.

“It took you that long to figure out how to get it off?”

“I don’t have any friends!”

“Sorry, dude.”

“It doesn’t matter, it’s just time. I told you that you shouldn’t ever come back, and now you’re gonna face the consequences.”

“Look at me,” Mateo said. “You’ve already shot me several times. Why do you think it hasn’t killed me yet?”

The man tugged at Mateo’s shirt. “Body armor.”

“No. Armored body,” he corrected.

He frowned, and loosened his grip on his weapon while he looked away. “This isn’t a hologram, is it?”

“No.”

“You people have technologies that we have never seen before.”

“Which is weird,” Mateo said. “I mean, consciousness transference? That’s not easy, but it didn’t take us as long as faster-than-light travel. It’s like you just skipped over a bunch of developments that would have been really helpful to your lives.”

“Or they were deliberately withheld from us.”

“That would sure make sense. I personally know the people who invented FTL where I come from. It’s taken them until recently to even begin thinking about sharing that with everyone else.”

“You’re trying to get back there, aren’t you?”

“We weren’t before, but we are now. Unfortunately, the tech we used to come in the first place has been lost to us. We’re working on it.”

Now the security officer lowered his arm completely. “Take me with you.”

“What?”

“It sounds like you have purpose. I want that too.”

Mateo sighed. “You wouldn’t be the first stray we took in.”

“Please.”

“Mateo!” Olimpia came up from behind him. “I found him.”

“Found who?”

“The guy who’s gonna get us back home,” she said cryptically.

“How’s he gonna do that?”

She presented her tablet. “Medavorken Alon.”

“Is that a band, errr...?”

“He was a famous Comradiant in the People’s Army of the Independent Triangulites For The Independence of Triangulum.”

Mateo couldn’t help but laugh, “wwwwhat?”

“The Triangulites?” the security guy questioned. “They were wiped out centuries ago.”

“Who are you again?” Olimpia questioned in return.

“Go on,” Mateo prompted.

“He went missing...before all that happened. They say he went into a deserted building alone, they heard a loud horn, and then it blew up.”

“So he’s not missing, he died,” the security—

“What is your name?” Mateo asked.

“Summit Ebora.”

“Well, Summit, we know he disappeared because of the horn. It’s The Transit. That’s your idea?” Mateo asked her. “You wanna hitch a ride?”

“They’re the only people who can do it,” Olimpia said. “And we know exactly where they’re gonna be, when they’re gonna be there.”

“The problem is that we don’t have a time machine,” Leona said, having teleported to their location. The rest of the team was there too.

“A time machine? I can get you to a time machine,” Summit claimed.

“Now, is it an actual time machine, or just an amusement park ride in the bulk store?” Angela joked.

“I don’t know what that is,” Summit said. “It’s an actual time machine, which can get you back to the 21st century.”

“Great!” Mateo said enthusiastically. “Leona, that’s your birthday present. I didn’t get you anything else.”

“Kind of an irresponsible gift to give to a thirteen-year-old,” Angela joked more.

Leona shook her head and half-scoffed, half-laughed. “I’m gonna get you back for that.”

“Thirteen-year-old or not,” Marie began, not joking, “you’re the captain.”

They waited patiently for her decision.

Leona waited to respond, considering the dangers and ramifications. “Very well. We’re going back to the past.”

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Microstory 1856: Civil Servant

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Most of the time, when I was a civil servant, I didn’t feel like I could get anything done. There was so much red tape, and pushback from people who didn’t want to spend any money. The entire purpose of government—even local government—is to use money wisely, not to just hold onto it, and not use it at all. My colleagues kept screaming about wasting taxpayer money, but that’s not what I was trying to do. It’s meant to be for schools, roads, and emergency services. And it’s that last one that always got me into trouble. They wanted to dedicate pretty much our entire budget on law enforcement. Seriously, I think if someone like me wasn’t there to stop them, that’s exactly what they would do. One of them actually believed that there would be no need for any hospitals if cops handled everything before it got to that point. That, of course, doesn’t make any sense; that guy was an idiot. I started out as the City Comptroller. It’s the biggest joke in government. Everyone has the right to vote for it, but no one knows what it is. Fortunately, I was responsible for a fairly well-educated city in that regard, so many people actually did vote for me, and they knew why they were voting for me, instead of one of my opponents. Now, I never thought I would have free reign over the finances, but I thought I would have a stronger voice than I did. The Mayor had all the power, just like the TV shows make it seem. And our mayor was the absolute worst. Slimy, corrupt, impassionate, selfish. So many people tried to get him out of office, but they kept losing. I’m not saying he was rigging the elections, but something fishy was going on, and I decided to get to the bottom of it. Luckily, I just so happened to be a brilliant accountant, and I couldn’t get anywhere with my real duties, so I investigated in secret.

Long story short, he was stealing money. Unlike the movies, he wasn’t lining his own pockets, though, which is interesting. Every cent seemed to be going into his reëlection campaigns. Still wrong, still illegal, but I saw his house, and the car that he drove. He was living a surprisingly modest life. Even so, I had to expose him, and I expected my actions to ruin my life. It didn’t matter, because the people deserved the truth, so if I was going to go down, I would make sure he went down with me. To my surprise, that’s not what happened. The city practically raised me up on their shoulders, I was their hero. He went to jail, and I became the most famous comptroller in the country, which as we’ve established, isn’t saying much. It was an election year, so someone else was going to get the spot soon. So many people suggested that I go for it. Even with him out of the way, there was no guarantee that things were going to get better. It wasn’t like he was the only bad politician in the world. My friends knew that the population could trust me to be competent, faithful, and accountable. All I needed to do was convince everybody else. It wasn’t easy, but I fought a hard campaign, and I did it with a lot less money than my primary opponent. As far as I could tell, he was a pretty decent guy, so after I won, I appointed him as my Deputy Mayor. Together, we were going to change the way our great city was run; most importantly, by reworking the budget to be responsible, reasonable, and fair. Only thing is, we’re not going to get the chance to do that. At first, I think it’s raining on our first public address, but then I touch my face, and realize it’s blood. I look down at my deputy mayor. Headshot, he’s gone. Then I feel a sharp pain in my chest, and I fall down next to him. I shouldn’t have dared to dream.

Microstory 1336: Shot to Hell

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Product Surveyor: Thank you all for coming in. I mean, both. Thank you both for coming. Please have a seat. No, no, these are not refreshments. You’ll get a chance to sample all of the products, but I would like to start with introductions.

Tester 1: I’m Tester 1. I came into the mall to browse. I hear they’re shutting down, so I wanted to see whether it looked like a ghost town. I don’t have much to do with my life, so I figured I would come in here and see what this was all about.

Tester 2: My name is Tester 2. I too have nothing to do, but I also have no one to talk to. My landlord shut off my internet, so now I have no outlet for my opinions. I like to go around, answering surveys, so that at least someone will listen to me.

Product Surveyor: Okay, cool. Well, my name is Product Surveyor. I’ve been working for this company for two and a half years, but I’ve been using my expertise to conduct surveys for the last twelve.

Tester 2: That’s amazing, congratulations.

Product Surveyor: Thanks. First, I would like—

Tester 1: I too would like to congratulate you on your long and wonderful career.

Product Surveyor: Well, I appreciate that. Anyway, before we move forward, I want to point out that this is not an energy drink. And for legal reasons, nor is it medicine. Our marketing team has chosen to refer to these as Daily Cleansing Shots. My first question to you is, how does that name make you feel?

Tester 2: Well, we don’t know what it is. What exactly is it meant to do?

Tester 1: I too, must know what it is before I put my name on it.

Product Surveyor: No, you’re—you’re not putting your name on it. I just need to know, when you hear the phrase Daily Cleansing Shot, what does it make you think of?

Tester 1: Needle.

Tester 2: Doctor.

Tester 1: Evil.

Tester 2: Evil?

Tester 1: Yeah, like Dr. Evil.

Tester 2: Oh, okay. Umm...pinky.

Product Surveyor: All right, it’s not a word association chain. We’re really just trying to get your initial thoughts on Daily Cleansing Shot.

Tester 1: It makes me think of a needle, I said that.

Product Surveyor: Okay, I can accept that. It makes you think of needle shots. But you have heard of drink shots, correct?

Tester 2: My father was an alcoholic, so absolutely.

Product Surveyor: Okay, so that’s important to hear too. There are some negative connotations to the word shot. I will write that down.

Tester 1: I never said his alcoholism is a bad thing.

Product Surveyor: Right. Umm, why don’t you try the first cup there?

Tester 2: Ahhhhh.

Product Surveyor: Tester 1, do you want to try it?

Tester 1: It looks like he drank the whole thing.

Product Surveyor: No, you have your own. All these little cups here are yours. They’re each just one shot. You’re supposed to drink the whole thing. Yeah, whole thing. Tip it all the way up. You almost have it.

Tester 2: Is he okay?

Product Surveyor: Tester 1? Tester 1. I’m sure it’s all gone now. You don’t have to get every molecule.

Tester 1: Ahhhhh.

Product Surveyor: Now, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate the taste of that first sample? We call it Mornin’ Orange.

Tester 1: Is it gonna make me poop?

Product Surveyor: I’m sorry?

Tester 1: Most cleanses make me poop.

Tester 2: Uh, I too, would like to know if it will make me poop. I can’t remember what underwear I’m wearing today.

Product Surveyor: Well, it’s not a laxative. It does have some fiber, which can regularize your bowels, but unless you have underlying medical conditions, you should always be able to make it to the restroom. Are bowel movements important to your daily health? Is it something you find yourself worrying about?

Tester 2: Not really. I could take it or leave it.

Product Surveyor: I’m not sure what that means. Did you two like the taste, or dislike it?

Tester 1: I love it.

Tester 2: That wasn’t one of the choices, dude. I liked the taste.

Product Surveyor: Okay. Why don’t you try the second one; the green one? While these are designed to be taken one shot each day, you get to choose when you want it, and it’s okay to have more than one, so don’t worry about that today. This one is better suited for lunchtime. We just call it...Verde.

Tester 1: Oh my God, no. Dislike, dislike!

Product Surveyor: Oh, I’m very sorry to hear that. Tester 2?

Tester 2: I already forgot what it tastes like.

Product Surveyor: So, that’s a zero from one, and a bland from the other.

Tester 1: Why are you writing this down?

Product Surveyor: This is a survey. We need to know your reactions to our products, so we can market them better.

Tester 2: I see, and then we get a cut.

Product Surveyor: This is an unpaid survey. The poster outside was very clear on that. We’re paying you with free samples of our products!

Tester 1: Well, which is it. Is it unpaid, or is it paid?

Tester 2: Yeah.

Tester 1: My brother used to be paid, but they let him go.

Tester 2: Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Where did he work?

Tester 1: I don’t know, I’ve never met ‘im.

Tester 2: I have a pretty good job. It’s called life. Maybe you’ve heard of it?

Tester 1: That’s my job too. Where do you live?

Tester 2: The whole universe is my home, my man.

Tester 1: That’s beautiful.

Product Surveyor: Would you please try the blue sample? Effervescent Evening is a dinner shot. Great, thanks; we...got it in one try. How did you like that?

Tester: I think I’m gonna go back to work.

Tester 2: Yeah, me too.

Product Surveyor: That’s wonderful. Thanks for stopping by. It was..profoundly unhelpful, and I hope you don’t find us at our next location.

Tester 1: Thanks.

Tester 2: Thanks! Hey, you wanna grab some food?

Tester 1: Nah, I just ate. It was these weird shots that you put in your mouth, instead of a needle in your butt...

The Advancement of Leona Matic: September 21, 2198

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In one of the other timelines, a bad Horace Reaver formulated a plan to capture Mateo Matic, whom he considered to be his archrival, once and for all. After years of trying to track his movements, he was finally sure of where Mateo would reappear in the timestream after an interim year, within a couple dozen meters. He was also in the right position to purchase the entire chunk of land, so when Mateo did come back, he would do so right in a trap. While his plan ultimately failed, due to a number of unforeseen traitors, Horace was confident he would be able to employ the same strategy again, but make it work this time. This he explained to Leona Matic, who was meant to be in a relationship with Mateo. But this was a new timeline, and something had happened that had somehow prevented Leona from remembering him. The name sounded familiar, like that of an actor you know you’ve seen in a number of films and series, but cannot identify a single one at the moment. His name elicited a response of love and connection that Leona could not explain. Someone had messed with reality, and her memories of it. Unfortunately, this was not the time to deal with it. Right now, they needed to put Ulinthra and her plans to rest, and Horace’s idea was exactly what she was hoping for. It had even worked.

Horace let Leona sleep after she came back in 2198, because there wasn’t anything they needed from her. Once she was awake, he proudly marched her into the interrogation room he had commissioned two months ago after he and the whole world had finally located Ulinthra’s whereabouts. Ulinthra came back a week before Leona did, showing that the time-skipping pattern was wearing off. “Don’t worry,” Horace said. “This is Round Two of today, and you did not speak with her the first time around. Everything you say to her now will be just as unpredictable for her as any normal human conversation.” He looked towards the glass, and flipped on the lights inside, which illuminated Ulinthra on the other side. She was not only in a different room, but also locked in another confinement chamber, as if Hannibal Lecter. “She has lost all of her leverage.”

“So you didn’t find what I described?” Leona asked him.

“They’re still looking. No one else knows what it can do.” His eyeballs fluttered to Ulinthra, then back to Leona. “Not even her, I presume.”

Leona took a breath. “I never told her. At least I have no memory of telling her.”

Horace nodded in understanding.

“I’m kind of surprised she’s still alive, though. Lots of people have it out for her, not the least of which is you.”

“It wasn’t hard to keep the radicals at bay. Capital punishment was outlawed everywhere decades ago, which surprises me, but it did make it easier to keep Ulinthra safe. I don’t want her dead. She’s the only one of my kind.”

“Yet, you..” Leona trailed off.

“...would do anything for you,” Horace completed her sentence for her. “I’m not like this Ace you told me about. “While I’m no longer the antagonist, I’m still a villain. If I weren’t going to die anyway, it would probably be in your best interests to kill me after her.”

“Why would you die at all? We have this figured out. Everything in the other time branch happened just as it did before. The Arborist was wrong; we didn’t create a paradox. You don’t have to go back.”

Horace smiled kindly. “That’s not it.” He was going to continue, but was accidentally interrupted.

“Is anyone going to come talk to me, or what?” Ulinthra asked from her cell. “Let’s get this enhanced interrogation party started!”

Horace scoff-laughed. “It’s nice to be on this side of a prison cube.”

“Yeah,” Leona smiled coyly. “I see you used a similar design. Maybe you need to talk to a professional about your hang-ups.” She gave him a wink.

“I love you,” Leona thought Horace whispered, but she couldn’t be certain. She decided to not embarrass him by pushing the issue. “I mean, I’ll be right here.”

Leona nodded. “Horace, if everything goes according to our absolutely insane plan, I’m going to need you more than ever. I won’t be able to help tomorrow.”

“I won’t let you down,” Horace said to her, wiping a tear from his cheek. “Not this time.”

“Thank you,” Leona said solemnly. Then she opened the door and went into the other room.

“Ah,”  Ulinthra said. “I thought it might be your day, but I lose track of time in here. They’ve got some system going. I know that my days are resetting, just like always, but they make it hard to see it. That’s a form of torture. Guiltless Leona of yesterday would not approve.”

“I wasn’t here yesterday,” Leona said, knowing full well that Ulinthra was using the term in a more general sense.

Ulinthra tried to hide a smile. “Funny. I do want to extend my congratulations. Clever recruiting Horace Reaver. I would have thought of that, but I wouldn’t think you would have thought of it. I’m impressed.”

“I appreciate your support. You know why I’m here?”

“For the first time in my life, I do not,” Ulinthra answered.

“You stole something from me, years ago. I want it back.”

Ulinthra tilted her head to think. “I stole many things. I stole a planet from its peoples. I stole the lives of people you loved. I stole the hearts of my loyalists. But I don’t think I stole anything that I could ever give back.”

“This was literal.”

Ulinthra thought some more. It didn’t seem like a game. She genuinely might not have known what Leona was talking about. “I’m afraid I legit don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“My family heirloom.”

“Oh, that sword thing? The glass sword?”

“It’s a dagger, and it means a great deal to me.”

“Okay...sorry? I don’t know what you want me to say. I tossed it a long time ago, I think in a swamp. I don’t really remember, it meant nothing to me.”

Leona studied Ulinthra’s face for a moment. “Nah, you didn’t throw it out. It intrigued you, and you could tell that it was special.”

“It is—I mean was? What does it do?”

Leona needed a lie that was believably interesting. Ulinthra needed to feel like it allowed her to maintain leverage over Leona, but still consider giving it up for the right price. It was a good thing that Leona and Vitalie had spent last night thinking of a good one. “It removes your time powers...or pattern, depending on what subspecies you are.”

It was working. Ulinthra leaned back to see if she believed it. “A stabby thing that takes away powers?”

“Think of it as...a prototype for The Warrior’s Sword of Assimilation,” Leona explained. “It can’t transfer powers, but it can take take ‘em out.”

“It does look old, like it could have been one of The Weaver’s early inventions.”

Leona nodded slightly, and consistently.

“But no, I’m not buyin’ it.”

Leona closed her eyes in exasperation. “I am tired. You may enjoy rewinding your days, but I can’t do that. I was blessed with suck, and I want it gone.”

“Why didn’t you use it before?” Ulinthra questioned. “It’s unlikely I stole it just after you received it.”

“Actually it wasn’t all that long after, but that wasn’t why I hadn’t tried it yet. First of all, it doesn’t work alone. It’s one of two ingredients,” Leona continued to lie. “The other is easy to come by, but I just hadn’t gotten a chance yet. I have what I need now.”

“And second of all?” Ulinthra waited.

“Secondly, it’s a dagger. I wasn’t relishing the idea of stabbing myself with it. It requires something bigger than a wee papercut, but not so damaging that I can’t heal. If I just wanted to kill myself to end it all, I would have used any other dagger.”

“I see.” Ulinthra definitely believed the lie now. “What’s the second ingredient; the thing that makes the dagger work?”

“I’m withholding that. You need to tell me where it is.”

“No,” Ulinthra said firmly. “I don’t need my powers gone, I don’t care what happens to yours, and as long as I’m stuck in here, I can’t use it to control my enemies.”

“This feels like a classic impasse,” Leona said. “I can’t let you go until you give me the dagger, and you can’t use the dagger unless I give the other ingredient. The difference between you and me, however, is this barrier between us, and who’s on which side of it. I also have time. You’ll rot in here for years before I get the hankering for Chinese food again. I can wait.”

Ulinthra laughed abruptly, and loudly. “You don’t even know why that’s funny, because you don’t remember—”

“Mateo Matic?” Leona took a guess.

“So you do remember.”

“I remember...” Leona paused for effect, “that I know people with powers. Your problem is that you relied too heavily on yourself. You didn’t make any friends. I don’t have that problem, so when I asked my mind-reader buddy for a favor, he just did it. I don’t even owe him one.” She looked over at the glass, on the other side of which no one was standing, but Horace Reaver. “He’s just standing over there, getting ready to tell me where the dagger is. All I needed was for you to think about it in your brain.” Leona tapped on her own temple, again for effect.

“What? No, you’re lying.”

Leona shrugged. “Maybe I am, but you’ll die in here, never knowing for sure.”

Suddenly, there was gunfire on the other side of the door. Leona jumped out of her chair, and slinked back in fear. Ulinthra was noticeably frightened as well, because she didn’t yet know if this was a good thing or not. The firefight stopped, replaced with a grinding sound as someone was cutting through the wall with a laser. Once they were all the way through, people with guns slipped inside. One of them raised his weapon, and shot Leona right in the stomach.

“Oh my God!” Ulinthra cried as she watched Leona fall to the floor.

Leona had experienced a lot of pain in her life. She had lost everyone she had ever cared about, and despite being a time traveler, she rarely ever saw them again. But this. This was pain unlike any other. She did not expect it to feel like this.

“Is it a trick?” Ulinthra asked. “It’s a trick.”

“Lord Arianrhod,” the man who shot Leona said. “We’ve come for you.”

“You shot her!” Ulinthra shouted at him.

“Ma’am,” he affirmed.

“I wasn’t done with her yet!”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. What can I do?”

“You can shoot yourself in the head.”

Without hesitation, the man lifted his pistol, and did exactly as he was told. His dead body fell right next to Leona’s dying one. Their blood started intermingling as someone managed to unlock the prison cube. The last thing Leona felt before she died was Ulinthra’s warm fingers on her neck, checking for a pulse that would soon be gone.

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Microstory 904: Loud Nonvoting Activists

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Months ago, I was enjoying a vacation with my family when news broke of the shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School. I was horrified, of course, but also struck by how well-spoken many of the survivors were about what had happened. This wasn’t the first school shooting, nor was it the last, not even that month. We have been forced to surrender to the fact that school violence is just the way it is, but these students decided that that was not acceptable. I suddenly found myself awe-inspired by a handful of teenagers, many of whom were not yet old enough to vote in this country. We have always enjoyed a healthy dose of nonvoting activists, but these kids were taking it to the extreme, and I’m proud to call them my heroes. Old people have long complained of how annoying “kids these days are” and how they’re so much better. Well here’s a news flash. This planet is in shambles right now. The reason there are so many more disaster movies than there used to be is because we can see ourselves falling to all that. And you know whose fault that is? I’ll give you a hint, it’s not the millennials, who are only now reaching positions of power. You need us, and the generation after us, because we’re the ones who are gonna clean up all this shit you’ve let build up. Several weeks ago, I found myself at a town hall meeting in Kansas City, Kansas, hosted by a couple organizations, one being March for Our Lives. The panel was composed exclusively of high school and college-aged people, and they were more eloquent than anyone in the so-called “GOP” could ever hope to be. They certainly made their point better than I am right now. So if you want to know more about what we need to do to change the world, I recommend you start paying attention to the loud nonvoting, and first-time voting, activists.

The Departure of Hokusai Gimura: Chapter Two

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I spend one day looking over every document that Hokusai left me in that frightening knife dimension—and while it’ll be helpful in understanding how the world of time travelers works—it doesn’t give me any leads as to where she went. From this failure I give myself a week to rest and recharge while indulging in the kinds of things rich people have access to...namely time. With more than a million dollars in the bank after buying a unit in the Ponce de Leon, I don’t have to worry about working. I don’t know how much I’ll end up having to spend on my personal investigations, but at least for now, I’m not even going to consider finding a job. Ennis Patton, a.k.a. The Courier drops by a couple times to check on me. Out of pity, he ends up giving me a little bit information that can help. As it’s his job to know lots of different time travelers and time manipulators, he’s able to provide me with some connections I wouldn’t be able to get on my own. He first directs me to a wealthy investor who uses his ability to see the future to play the market with zero risk. Apparently everyone who can, in some way, manipulate time has to have a nickname, but this guy is different. He never gives me his birthname, no, but nor does he have his own code name either. Instead, he belongs to a class of precognitives called Investors who see money and power as the only benefits to their gift. He throws a single tip my way, saying that this investment is too minor to be worth his time, but could set me up for life if I live frugally.h

More money is great, but what I really need is to meet someone who can get me answers. Investors live in their own respective worlds, not inconveniencing themselves with problems like disappearing towns, or door scribbles that magically turn into books. So Ennis gives me another lead, this time a twentysomething guy who lives in a safehouse, for a reason he won’t tell me. He jokes that the guy might be able to open some doors for me, but I have no idea why that’s funny. Since it’s my only good lead, I make the drive out to Overland Park and knock on the safehouse door.

A man opens with a juice box in his face, completely apathetic to my arrival. He stands there waiting for me to say something, but I don’t know what I should say. After a moment in the awkward silence, he crushes his box, and lets it drop to the floor. Then, leaving the door open, he just goes back over and sits on the couch.

“I’m sorry,” I say to him from the threshold. “My name is Kallias Bran. I’m looking for a few people, and was told you might be able to help.”

“Where are they?” he asks in monotone.

“Well...I mean, I don’t know. That’s why I’m looking for them.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

“You have powers?”

He chuckles and burps. “Quite the opposite. I have...no power over my life. I’m salmon.”

“I’ve heard that, what does that mean?”

This finally gets a reaction out of him. He turns his head, but slight enough to still be looking at me sideways. “You must be pretty bloody new. I’ll give you the run-down. Some people have powers. Ya got your teleporters, your time travelers, your precogs. Then you got the weird ones, like the bubblers, and the ripplers. They can all do whatever they want with whatever power they have. Since they get to choose how to use them, they’re called choosing ones. Then there are the people like me. We travel through time too, but we do so at the behest of some mysterious group of shadow people. Someone told me once why we’re called salmon, I can’t remember.”

“What do these shadow people make you do?”

“Are you gonna sit down, or just stand there like a weirdo?”

“My mother taught me manners.”

He burps again on purpose. “Manners aren’t allowed in this house.”

I start walking in.

“But take your shoes off. Goddammit, animal!”

I just sit down in the chair he probably uses to tie his shoes when he leaves the house.

“What were you saying?” he asks.

“It doesn’t matter. If you don’t think you can help me yourself, maybe you know someone who can.”

“Well, what do you need?”

“Maybe there’s someone who can...track people? Or someone who can send messages across time and space.”

“A spacetime email?”

“Yeah, sure. Can someone do that?”

“Prolly.”

“Shit,” I say under my breath, but he could definitely hear.

“I don’t know that many choosers, Elias. Where did you last see these missing people?”

“Springfield, Kansas.”

“Did you try going back there and retracing their steps?”

“Springfield doesn’t exist anymore.”

“They got rid of it? Good riddance. Frickin’ Red-Tailed Hawks, always beating my Cardinals in the postseason.” Yet another person who’s heard of a town that was taken out of time. I’m starting to think that never happened.

“I’m sorry to have wasted your time. I’ll let you get back to your LOST marathon.”

“Now, hold up, he says. I might have someone for ya. But we’re gonna need two things.”

“What?”

“Number one: another juice box. I’m parched, and the kitchen’s way over there.”

“I can get you two.”

“My man! Thinkin’ big. You’re okay, Alias. You’re okay.”

As I’m retrieving the drinks from the fridge, which is about five feet from where Vearden is sitting, I ask, “what’s the second thing, a pudding cup?”

“Oo, three things.”

I hand him the juice and pudding, then sit back down, trying to stay patient.

“A gun.”

“A gun?”

“A gun. You got a gun?”

“I used to a cop, I got a gun. Why do we need a gun?”

“You ever heard of cell phones?”

I don’t even bother answering.

“Dude, we’re time travelers. I’ve met people who haven’t heard of phones before, including my first wife. Don’t act like that’s a dumb question.”

I just show him my cell.

“Guns..are like cell phones, but they only call one person. His name is...The Action, but I just call him Ashlock.”

“The gun is a phone?”

“Like how you stand in front of a mirror in a darkroom and say bloody mary three times. Lots of choosers have special ways of contacting them since cellular networks don’t work past, what, the 1930s?”

I take my gun out of its holster. “You want me to fire my gun in your home?”

He seems confused. “This isn’t my home, it’s a safehouse. My real home is nine years from now in an alternate timeline. And you can’t just fire a gun, otherwise, Garen would have to be in a million places at once.”

I take in and release a deep breath. “What do you want me to do?”

He starts chowin’ down on that pudding. “His calling card is on the TV stand, if you can figure out my filing system.”

“You mean this pile of trash?”

“I’ve heard it both ways.”

I sort through the mess and find the card from Garen Ashlock. On the back is a script I’m apparently meant to recite, which I reluctantly try, ultimately shooting a hole in the baseboard next to a small closet. Nothing happens.

“Nah, you gotta do it right. Once more with feeling, and all that.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have to act it out, Elsa. Again, he can’t risk some rando just stumbling upon his code phrase.”

I take another breath, then try again, moving around to mimic the way the original characters said these lines as best as I remember them. First I reholster, and re-unholster. “Say hello to my little friend!” I then point it at Vearden. “You’ve got to ask yourself one question; do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?” I toss my gun to the floor, which I was never explicitly taught at the academy I shouldn’t do, but it was kind of implied. “Trinity! Help!” Then I awkwardly pick the gun back up and place it point blank at Vearden’s head. “Dodge this.” Before squeezing the trigger, I swing over and plant another bullet in the same hole I made earlier. Again, nothing happens. “Son of a bitch!”

“Oh, that was beautiful, I don’t know why it didn’t work,” Vearden says. “Let me see that.”

I give him the business card.

“Oh, you know what, I think this is his old one.”

“I feel like I’m not getting anywhere!” I shout louder than the gunshots. “I do all this work, and nothing really does any good! Sure, I got money now, but who the hell cares! I’m just looking for Hokusai, Springfield, and the missing children! Is there no one who can help me with that!”

Suddenly a beam of light shoots out from my double bullet hole, and shines on the opposite wall. This light expands to form an opening vaguely in the shape of a doorway. There’s a staircase on the other side of what I can only guess is a portal. A woman and a man are walking down the stairs, but only the woman steps through. “Thanks for the ride, Juan,” she says to the man, who just smiles and nods. He then snaps his compass shut, giving the impression that this act is what causes the portal to close too.

“Garen Ashlock?” I ask of the woman.

She shakes my hand. “He couldn’t be here, so I’ve been sent in his stead.”

“Sent by whom?” I ask.

“The powers that be, of course,” she answers.

“You’re salmon.”

“Indeed,” she replies. She shakes my hand again, possibly hoping I don’t notice that we’ve already done that. “My name is Sanela Matic...but you can call me The Screener.”

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