The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 1, 2422

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It always seemed like a lie that the reason Venus Opsocor wanted the team to go to Worlon was because it was the safest place to be during this time period. Perhaps what was happening now was what it was really all about, and the team being here was all part of some grander plan. They spent all day last year getting to now the Krekel, and understanding how they were different from the Ochivari. Something happened in their past, which transformed them from a race of regretful polluters bent on stopping anyone from making the same mistakes they did, at all costs, to one of compassionate and patient guides with ethical boundaries who only wanted to help people. Unfortunately, the Ochivari were bulk travelers. Once they left their home universe, they separated themselves from all of reality, meaning that while the timeline could be altered, they would remain in existence. Nothing could stop them from going on their crusade against other intelligent races by sterilizing entire populations. The Ochivari were not fighting their war in a traditional sense, with guns and bombs, except when it came to the Krekel. That was a real war. And right now, Team Matic was in the center of it.

The next day, when they returned to the timestream, they were invited to breakfast again. The first time they did it, they were up on the mothership in orbit. Now that a year had passed, the new capital of Worlon was well underway, including the Capitol Building, which was where the second breakfast banquet was taking place. Ellie Underhill wasn’t here this time. This was to become a yearly thing apparently. The team’s unexpected arrival was only a part of this new holiday. It was the part that dictated when specifically it would be held. Worlon had a different daily rotation, and a different solar revolution than Earth, but the team’s pattern was tied to midnight central of the Earthan Standard Calendar. This meant that Cadatora would be celebrated on a different day each year on Worlon, kind of like Easter. That was where the humans’ contribution ended. The Krekel had their own reasons to celebrate their peace and harmony, and these reasons were threatened by the sudden arrival of a fleet of Ochivari ships a couple of months ago.

The Ochivari were violent by nature, but it was not an arbitrary development. A long time ago, they realized that they were all biologically capable of traveling the bulk. They didn’t need a machine. They didn’t need an amazing technicolor dreamcoat. It was just something that they could do. It came at a great cost. The whole process involved a battle of chemicals, pheromones, and possibly psychic fortitude. That last thing lived within an area of research that scientists were not completely sure about. It also resulted in sacrifice. As these opposing forces reached critical mass, they would literally explode, and the consequence of this fight would be the sudden and fleeting opening of a portal to the outer bulk in which all universes were suspended. If two Ochivari were bulkbattling, one of them would die from this. The other would survive, and usually be sucked into the portal, and transported to another world. This was where the possible psychic energy came into play, because if they did it right, the survivor went to the right world, instead of some random planet, or the middle of empty space. They had to be fast, though, because if they didn’t jump in right away, the portal would collapse before them, and the whole thing would be a waste of time. The thing was, though, that the greater the sacrifice, the larger the portal, and the longer it lasted.

If three Ochvari came together to bulkbattle, two of them would survive while one died. If five came together, three would survive while two died. The total number of attempters, number of sacrificers, and number of survivors each went up exponentially according to the Fibonacci sequence. It was the most clear evidence that this sequence was more than a series of numbers, but a tangible physical phenomenon with real-world consequences. One of these consequences was that Ochivari ships were incredibly rare. The size and stability of the portal wasn’t actually based on the number of Ochivari involved, but total mass. The higher the mass, the more voluminous the pheromones and chemicals, the more stuff that could be used to fuel transportation.

A battleship was a profoundly massive object, so the sacrifices required to move it from one universe to another were equally profound. They numbered in the tens of millions of people, but even then, there was a catch, because the ship was a giant weapon flying through space, and that would kill anyone upon impact. So even the survivors of the bulkbattle generally ended up dying soon thereafter, because a ship would immediately come barreling towards them in order to make it through the just opened portal in time. It could last longer than smaller portals, but still not indefinitely, and it was possible for it to collapse while you were still trying to pass through it.

Over 70 million should be an unacceptable loss by anyone’s standards, especially since the reason they were fighting was because the Krekel figured out how to do it without incurring any loss. Instead of hating them for it, they should learn from them. As it turned out, these sacrifices didn’t need to happen at all. The winginsing that the orchestra of Nexus guards performed for them last year wasn’t just a beautiful symphony of nature. When done in the right way, using the right melody, and other mathematical precisions, it too could open a bulk portal. Krekel portals were not any more stable than Ochivari ones, but no one had to die to open them, even for those large enough to accommodate ships.

The Krekel were at a huge advantage because of their alternate technique. It made them nicer, peaceful, and more harmonious amongst each other. But their disadvantage...was that they were nicer and more peaceful than the Ochivari, so when war came for them, they mostly lost. Until recently. In response to the unprovoked attacks, the Krekel started building out their own armies, training them with the lessons they had learned from those early losses, and really fighting back. Their return to Worlon was not just because they were homesick. This was a staging planet now, and the Ochivari didn’t like that. That was why the fleet came here, and why they were even angrier than usual, because the sacrifices made to transport them had to total nearly a billion people. This was crazy. After all, that was the first rule of warfare, always outnumber your enemy.

The Battle Over Worlon lasted for only days, and in the end, the Krekel won with their home field advantage, and their ability to recruit reinforcements from a planet called Folia, in a universe called Moderaverse. That didn’t mean it was over, though. Krekel and Ochivari looked exactly the same, just as British and German people did because they were both humans. The only distinction possible was clothing, which could always be changed. The Krekel won the war, but that didn’t mean there weren’t survivors. Some of them escaped through sacrificial bulk portals, but others were believed to have blended in with the locals, and assimilated into society. Maybe some of them were indoctrinated into the new way of life, which included a lot less death, but others held firm. They became sleepers. Today on Cadatora, they attacked for the first time since the end of that fateful battle months ago.

Olimpia was the first to see the knife. She wasn’t sure if she should be nervous at first. Maybe it was some kind of ceremonial gesture, and wasn’t intended to be used as a weapon. But the supposed Krekel’s body language seemed to indicate that he had ill intentions towards the Domina. While the timeline that the Krekels came from was different, there were still some similarities. Their respective cultures were both ruled by diarchies. The Domino and the Domina were like King and Queen, except they were not in a relationship with each other. In fact, the more they liked each other, the harder it was for them to maintain power. While all systems of government that relied on non-elected leaders were at least a little tyrannical, in this case, it was pretty easy to overthrow a Dominé that began to act outside the interests of the people, and in the Krekel’s case, it could be done nonviolently. The Domini were well-loved, particularly the Domina. That was why the Ochivar infiltrator was attempting to assassinate her.

Everyone on the team picked up on Olimpia’s unease, and Leona acted quickly. She pulled out her weapon, and once she saw where the danger was lurking, she took her shot. She could have set her gun to incapacitate the attacker, but she didn’t. The would-be assassin was killed instantly, placing everyone in an awkward position. The only way they even knew that he was Ochivar, and probably was trying to kill the Domina, was because they could not identify him, so he wasn’t a known citizen of Worlon. He was certainly not approved to be in the Royal Court during the Royal Cadatoran Breakfast. So Leona almost definitely saved the Domina’s life, and who knows how many others, but that didn’t make it okay.

Weapons were not allowed in the Royal Court. All armed guardsmen kept their posts outside its walls. The guards inside had to check their weapons in, and if a problem occurred, would only be allowed to use their fists and feet and wings. The attacker broke the law by sneaking one in, but Leona shouldn’t have used hers either. They made an exception by allowing her to bring it in in the first place, but they were humoring her as their honored guest. They didn’t think that she would actually use it, and now that she had, they were all in big trouble.

“You have two options,” their state-appointed advocate explained to them. “If you risk going to trial, there is no telling what the arbitration panel will decide. You could be put to death, placed in prison, assigned to a work camp, forced into the military, exiled in universe, or expelled to the bulk. Or, I guess you could be found innocent. The first six are equally likely, but that last one is remote. These consequences could be suffered by you alone, or shared by the whole group, or each of you could conceivably be handed different sentences. Like I said, it’s a risk.”

Leona lifted her hand, and started counting herself and her friends, as if she didn’t know that there were six. “Death, prison, work, military, exile, expulsion. Six people for six punishments. Sounds like a long arc...except for one of them,” she mused, referencing execution. “You said there were two options. Was all that one option?”

“You could volunteer for one of them, but you would have to do it together, and obviously you can’t choose freedom.”

“Well...obviously we should choose exile, right?” Angela figured. “We didn’t really want to be here anyway.”

“That comes with a caveat. There are pros and cons to all of them. Death would be swift and painless. Prison would be comfortable. The work would be easy. Military service would be relatively safe. Expulsion would be to the universe of your choosing.”

“You skipped one,” Olimpia pointed out, “the one that we’re actually suggesting.”

“If you don’t leave by the end of the week, which for you would only be a few hours, you will experience all other punishments, and none of the advantages will apply. You’ll be put to work doing hard labor in an uncomfortable prison, and then sent to the frontlines of the war once the appropriate opportunity arises. If you somehow survive that, you’ll be expelled to a universe not of your choosing, and while I’m not privy to which universe that would be, my guess is that it would be an extremely hostile environment, especially since they were clear that you would have to go through all five other punishments, and death would necessarily be the last on the list.”

“Who came up with this, a science fiction writer?” Leona questioned.

“Probably. It’s not in the law books. That’s why it took me all day to get back to you while you were in jail, because the court had to explain it to me and the adherent first. He didn’t know what they were talking about either, and he’s more upset than I.”

“Okay, this doesn’t make any sense. Why is there a time limit on self-exile? We’ll just go through the Nexus, and it’ll be done,” Angela presumed.

“That’s the thing,” the advocate went on. “You can’t use the Nexus. And no one who lives here is allowed to help you. I told you there was a caveat.”

Leona sighed, annoyed at yet another round of games. This was reminding her of The Cleanser’s Tribulations, Arcadia’s Expiations, and all the other needlessly convoluted missions that people have sent them on over the centuries. “So it’s our responsibility to punish ourselves, and if we fail to do that, they’ll punish us, and it will be five times worse.”

“How would we get off this planet without help?” Marie asks.

“I don’t know how you could,” he said, “but I’m just an attorney. You’re the legendary adventurers. Isn’t escape sort of your thing?”

“Emphasis on the sort of part,” Ramses clarified.

Leona looked at Mateo. “You’ve been quiet. I noticed you put your thinking face on.”

Mateo turned his neck to face different parts of the room as if members of a crowd in the middle distance were taking turns expressing their thoughts, and he was listening politely. He settled on the door. “I’ve already solved this problem.”

“How do you figure?” Leona pressed.

Mateo kept staring at the door. “I just feel it. Help is coming. Senona Riggur lives outside of time. They can see the future as easily as anyone can see the present. Venus is no different.”

“What do those so-called gods have to do with anything?” Angela asked.

“Five..four..three..two...” Mateo lifted his hand, and pointed at the door just as he finished the countdown. The door opened to reveal Maqsud Al-Amin, a.k.a. The Trotter.

Maqsud was one of the few people in histories who were capable of transporting themselves from one planet to another, at seemingly infinite distances. He helped return Leona and her then-team from Dardius to Earth a long time ago. None of the others had ever met him, but they all knew who he was. He dressed very uniquely. “Does someone here need a ride?” he guessed. “I did not come to this planet on purpose.”

“We’ll take exile,” all six of them volunteered simultaneously.

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 30, 2421

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It was really dark when they arrived on Worlon. Not a single star could get its light through the thick armor of clouds in the atmosphere. They decided to stay near the Nexus, because it was probably the safest place on the planet. There was no sign that the Ochivari who once lived here still kept this place active. They might never have used it at all. Once they developed the ability to travel across the bulkverse, it may have seemed mostly pointless. That, or it had just been enough time. Venus wasn’t responding to them at all; not even Leona. They were where she wanted the team to be, so she was perhaps done providing her guidance. There were countless other Nexa in multiple universes too, so she could have also been quite busy from whatever perspective of time she experienced.

They left the Dante on Flindekeldan. It was funny, they were gifted this giant capital ship that was capable of true faster-than-light travel, but they gave it away again almost immediately, deciding to limit themselves to one of its shuttles. Shortly thereafter, they gave that away too, but that didn’t leave them with absolutely nothing. Ramses was hard at work every day he was in the timestream, and left a lot of the intervening time to a stunted copy of the Constance intelligence. This version of Constance had no personality, and no sense of free will. It could continue solving calculations on its own, but had no need for companionship, or any other form of stimulation. Ramses couldn’t even talk to it. He had to input commands manually. They were developing a lot of projects simultaneously. One of them involved the pocket dimensions that were being stored in the shuttle. He found a way to separate them from the vessel, and make the access portals small enough to fit in one’s literal pocket.

They were skin tight silver bracelets; stylish and not uncomfortable. They served as doorway access keys. Leona and Mateo shared access to the same door, while the rest each had their own abode. Ramses and Leona had a second bracelet, which granted them access to their shared laboratory. Once an individual was inside their respective room, they could then open doors to each other’s rooms, but not from the outside, unless they were wearing extra bracelets. The pocket dimensions could not be stored and established with these bracelets, though. It wasn’t like they could open them from anywhere. They first had to be built at a chosen location. Ramses could do this with a larger device ahead of time, which was sufficiently powerful enough to generate the pocket dimensions. When they were done with a particular location, they could be collapsed again, and rebuilt elsewhere. While active, they were invisible and intangible, even to the team members. One could walk right through it without realizing it if they couldn’t remember where it was. They had to have the intention to open their door with their bracelet by hovering it near where the lock would be if they could see it.

After Ramses taught them how all of this worked, they decided to go to sleep. None of them required the rest, but dangers could be lurking outside. It was best to be fully functional once the sun rose. They didn’t know when that would be, so he quickly rigged up a light sensor on the Nexus to awaken them at the appropriate time. He was still trying to figure out how to set up security cameras on the pocket dimensions. Being invisible to the world outside inherently meant that everything else was invisible from inside as well. Transmitting images in spite these complications was not going to be easy. The scientists still had so many other things to take care of.

When the sun sensor woke them up, it was shortly after midnight central. No one was in a hurry to leave their pockets but Mateo. He opened his invisible door, and took a breath of fresh air. And fresh it was. This world was apparently free from all pollution, having recovered from centuries of it brought upon by its native inhabitants. No one on the team knew all that much about the Ochivari. In fact, Mateo, Angela, and Marie probably knew the most of all. It wasn’t clear when they abandoned their homeworld so it could be brought back to homeostasis, but they had returned at some point this past year. A group of them were standing at the entrance to the Nexus, hanging out as if smokers on a break from work. They stared at him, shocked at his sudden appearance, and not sure what to do about it. Mateo could tuck himself back through the door, but then what? They would just wait for him to come back out again eventually. “Hello,” he called politely. He cleared his throat, and closed the door behind him. “How do?”

Even though they very much looked like aliens, Ochivari had very humanoid faces, and very humanoid facial expressions. One of them raised his eyebrow like Mr. Spock. He pulled a handheld device out of his pocket, and seemingly snapped a photo of Mateo with it. He tapped on the screen a few times, and then showed it to his friends. “Mister Matic.”

Mateo rolled his eyes. More fans. Cool. “I see my reputation precedes me. “Friends or foes?”

“We’re friends,” another Ochivar claimed. “We took this planet back from the Ochivari a few months ago.”

“Forgive me, I thought that’s what you were.”

“No,” the first one said, shaking his head. “We’re Krekel. Same species, technically speaking, but with different ideas about how to deal with aliens. Particularly, we don’t cause harm. You are in no danger around us.”

“I appreciate that,” Mateo replied, having trouble believing it. He wanted to trust them, but he had heard nothing but bad things about the critters that evolved on this planet, and his personal experience supported this position. When did this reportedly good faction break off, and under what circumstances exactly?

“We see that you’re still concerned. What can we do to make you feel more comfortable and safe?”

“We could sing,” another one suggested.

“Oh, yes, let’s sing.”

“No, that’s okay,” Mateo said, trying to sound as polite as possible.

“Nah, it’ll be good. You’ll love it.” The Ochivari—or rather the Krekel—gave each other some space, and started to play. They didn’t do anything with their mouths. The sounds they made came from them rubbing their wings and legs together like crickets. Cricket. Was that related to Krekel?

It was actually rather good and mesmerizing. Mateo didn’t even notice that everyone else had come out of their pockets to listen. Once the orchestra was done, they took a bow, and let the humans clap. “Are we sure about them?” Mateo asked quietly.

“No,” Leona admitted.

“I am,” said someone else. It was Ellie Underhill. “They’re fine. They’re friends!” She waved over at the Krekel orchestra, who all waved back.

“When did you get here?” Leona questioned.

“About the same time you did. I teleported down from The Phoenix.”

“That’s in orbit right now?”

“We’re using it to protect the Krekel. They can’t travel in ships, because they’ve not figured out a way to transport them through their bulk portals, so they require protection if they want to maintain a stronghold on this planet. The Ochivari have few qualms killing the dozens of people that would need to be sacrificed to accommodate the mass of a starship.”

“What makes the Krekel different?” Angela asked.

“They’re from a different timeline. They were taught how to travel the bulk without killing each other. That’s why Ochivari are so angry all the time. Every time they do it, there is a strong chance that they’ll die, and an equal chance that a friend will. Without that, the Krekel were able to keep their social civility. You really are safe here.”

“Okay, we’re safe,” Leona began to reason, “but that doesn’t explain why we’re here. We were sent.”

“You were?” Ellie was surprised. “If that’s true, then it has nothing to do with the past. Something is going to happen, and whoever sent you wants you to be here for it. Now I’m worried. Nobody sends you nowhere without a reason.”

“It’s probably a good thing you brought that ship,” Marie decided. “What, are you on a break?”

Ellie shook her head. “No, the work is done. Somebody did it for us.”

“Wadya mean?” Ramses asked.

“Everyone still left on Violkomin was transported to their new homeworlds all over the galactic neighborhood. It wasn’t all at once, but it was a lot quicker than it would have taken for us to do it with the Phoenix.”

Everyone looked down at Mateo. He chuckled softly. “You’re welcome.”

“You’re responsible for that?” Ellie questioned him.

“Not me personally. I asked a god.”

“Oh. Well, thank you anyway, and thank them for me. That’s a load off my chest.” They stood there awkwardly for a moment. “So, do you want it back?” she offered.

Rames reached over and unlocked the door to his personal living space. “I don’t think that will be necessary. We have everything that we could possibly ever require.”

“If you don’t need the Phoenix anymore either,” Leona concurred, “find someone new who does.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll do that.” Ellie took a breath, and clapped her hands. “Anyway, we were just about to share a breakfast. Humans and Krekels don’t eat the same foods, but we have plenty to share. That is, if your bodies even need that anymore. Mine doesn’t, but I still like to partake anyway.”

“That sounds lovely.”

“Are they going to be there?” Mateo asked, pointing.

“Those are just the Nexus guards. Subordinaries. I do not know them. We’ll be dining with the Domini.”

“Are they nice?” Olimpia asked.

Ellie grimaced a little. “No. We’re working on it. They’re dictators, but I’m trying to introduce them to democracy. They’re mostly peaceful, unlike their Ochivari counterparts, but they’re not altruists.”

“We better get dressed,” Leona decided. She opened a door, but not to her and Mateo’s dwelling. She went into the lab instead, and later showed up at breakfast armed. It wasn’t necessary then, but they were all grateful that she repeated it the next day.

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 11, 2402

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With Danica gone, the only logical place to seek help from someone in the time traveler underground was at the Salmon Civic Center in Kansas City. The place was deserted when they teleported there yesterday. It didn’t look like anything had gone wrong, more like everyone who worked there just happened to call out sick on the same day. They tried to go to the Great Pyramid of Giza too, but there was no one there either, though that wasn’t surprising, because as important as it was, it wasn’t known for its hubbub. No one could think of any other options for a while until Marie remembered something. “Let’s just reach out to the Delegator.”

“Ah, that guy’s never helpful,” Mateo whined.

“We have to connect to somebody,” Angela contended. “He may not be able to help, but he may know where everyone else is. This is just meant to be a start.”

Mateo sighed as he was stepping over to the industrial synthesizer, which they requested in their unit. “Hey Thistle, build me two sets of Jenga playing blocks please.”

Once the machine was done, they arranged the blocks in the formation of Stonehenge, then Mateo laid the final stone, and uttered the magic words. Nothing happened. Well, not nothing, exactly. They could feel a tug on their skin. The Stonehenge dimension was trying to reach them, but was unable to, for some reason.

“Ugh, I guess we’ll just play a game,” Marie suggested, shaking her head.

“No, there’s one other option at least,” Mateo said. “I didn’t offer it before, not because it would be a worse option, but because it may take some time for me to remember the code. Stonehenge isn’t the easiest thing to build a replica of, but there are tons of photos for reference. This one can only come from memory.”

It took so long for Mateo to remember the special knock that it was early morning the next year. Baudin Murdoch opened the door. “Mister Matic. How long has it been?”

“Hard to tell. Are you the only one left?” Mateo asked.

“Yeah, everyone else is at the meeting.”

“The Edge meeting?” Angela questioned. “I thought that was just for The Shortlist.”

Baudin shook his head. “No, it’s for anyone who didn’t want to end up with a duplicate in another universe.”

“That doesn’t describe you?” Marie asked.

Baudin shrugged. “Not many can do what I do. The way I see it, this new universe is better off with access to my power without the OG salmonverse being S-O-L at the same time. Anyway, come on in, come on in. Let’s have a seat in the lobby.”

They stepped into his office building. The girls had never been here before, so they looked around. “Do we have duplicates?”

Baudin shrugged again. “I don’t know. I suppose so, though.”

“We were led to believe that we were not allowed to attend the meeting.”

“Maybe that’s really where they all are,” Baudin began. “The way I understand it, the entire planet they’re on was protected from that whole thing. I didn’t read the fine print, because I made my decision quite quick.”

Mateo nodded, but needed to readjust the topic of conversation “We need help. Our friend is missing. She’s somewhere in the Sixth Key, but we don’t know where to start, and we don’t have a ship, or know anyone who might be able to get us one. We don’t know where all the other Earths are either, in relation to this one.”

“Did you speak with Stargazer?” Baudin asked.

“We went to the Pyramid, but he wasn’t there. And I only know that because no one was there. We’ve never actually met. Paige told me about him.”

“He’s mapping the new universe,” Baudin said. “I figured he’d stay there, but maybe he needed access to other telescopes, which are all basically doing the same thing. With all the time travelers gone, there’s no one left to help them understand what’s happening. Perhaps that’s why you weren’t invited to the meeting; so that you can do that.” He studied their faces, which were making it clear that they were uninterested in the responsibility. “All right. In that case, I’ll reach out to him for you.” He went behind the reception desk, and started digging through the cabinets and drawers. Finally, he found the remote control, which he used to bring down a screen behind them. They moved so they could get a better look while Baudin turned the projector on too. Using a tablet, he searched for what he was looking for, and then he picked up a microphone.

“Are you going to sing?”

“I’m going to sing,” Baudin answered. “No judgments please. I don’t have to sing well. I just have to sing passionately.” He prepared himself mentally for a moment, and then he switched on the music. “There once was a season of infinite light // When the distance from heaven was not far behind // I was close to You // I was close to You!” He continued the karaoke song, which was evidently called Constellations by Ellie Holcomb. He sang the whole thing, and he did so with the passion he promised, and he actually had a pretty nice voice. “Never alone // Never alone!” When he sang the final line, “out here in the dark” a real darkness consumed them all.

Seconds letter, pinpricks of glory began to appear above them. They formed the shape of a human heart, and once this shape was complete, they fell together from the ceiling, into a three dimensional human silhouette. From this, a man appeared. It must have been Stargazer. “I miss that feeling,” he said as the last of the light dripped from his skin, and faded on the floor like liquid sparks. It seemed to be a pleasant experience. “No one ever calls me anymore. Thank you for the opportunity.”

“Hello, Stargazer. My name is—”

“Mateo Matic. I’ve met a version of you.”

“I see. We were hoping that you could help us. It would seem that the main sequence planets do not possess many time travelers, but if you’re one of them, perhaps you can find a friend of ours? Her name is Olimpia Sangster.”

Stargazer nodded slowly. “Is she a friend?”

“Of course,” Mateo insisted.

Stargazer looked over at Baudin, who nodded. “If he says so, it is so.”

“I have heard the echoes,” Stargazer said as he was staring up at the ceiling. He waved his arm above his face, and transformed it back to the night sky, but this time with more than just the one constellation. “My name is Olimpia Sangster, and I have a normal voice,” he recited. “A fool who refuses to follow their superior only proves why they are the fool, and why their superior is the leader,” he added. “Olimpia Sangster, circa 2371.”

“Those are quotes from her. Where did you hear those?” Angela was nervous.

“She says other things,” Stargazer replied cryptically, “but those are the only times she mentions herself by name.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, she does say O-L-I at one point. I assume she was having to spell it for someone. I don’t know why she stopped in the middle.”

“Explain. Where are you hearing these lines?”

Stargazer looked up with his eyes, and pointed with his whole hand. “The stars. The stars are echoing her words. You can’t hear them?”

“No. We can’t...hear stars. Why are they talking about her?”

Stargazer was confused. “Because she made them. She made half the universe. Someone else made the other half.”

“What the hell do you mean, she made the universe?”

“Just what it literally sounds like.”

“Have you...seen her?” Marie asked him.

Stargazer shook his head. “She only speaks. She speaks from everywhere.”

Ramses suddenly appeared out of nowhere, holding Mateo’s once-rosary again. “Oh, hey. You’re here too? I just left you at your apartment, like, a second ago.”

“That was yesterday,” Mateo told him. “What are you doing? Where is Olimpia?”

“I need him.” Ramses gestured towards Baudin. “It starts and ends with the Superscraper.”

“Hm.” Bauden had never heard the term, but he was intrigued. “Tell me more.” He reached out to Ramses.

“Wait. Where. Is. Olimpia?” Mateo repeated urgently.

“Go to Violkomin.”

“What? Tell us what that is!” Angela pleaded, but it was too late. They were both gone. “Have you heard of this Volkomen place?” she asked Stargazer, mostly because he was the only one left with any answers.

“It’s the edge of the barrier between the two halves of the universe. The stars speak of it as well, but I can’t find it. I will one day”

“Grrr,” Mateo growls. “Then we need to go to the Superscraper. Hopefully we can catch Ramses a third time. Would you be able to take us to the Third Rail Earth?”

“That I can do.” Stargazer raised his arms, bathing them in light. When it receded, they were in the lobby of Leona’s Superscraper in the Nation of Arvazna.

A woman stepped out from behind the reception desk, which Mateo now realized looked a lot like the one in Baudin’s office. This whole building screamed Murdoch architecture, now that he thought about it. Baudin did build it. That made perfect sense. “Hello,” she said politely. “Welcome to Arvazna. Do you need to go through intake?”

“We’re pros,” Mateo replied. “We were looking for our friend, Olimpia. Or Ramses. Have you heard of them?”

“I’m sorry, I’ve not. Are they two of the New Arvaznians?”

“No, I...Alyssa!” Mateo could see her across the way. “Alyssa, there you are!”

“Mateo, you’re back!” She teleported the twenty-five meters to them. “Sorry I had to cut out a couple years ago. As you can see, I had a lot of other work to attend to.”

“You run this place?” Angela asked.

“Mhmm, I do. Someone’s got to help these people with their new powers, patterns, and afflictions.”

“Have you seen Ramses around here?” Marie asked, not caring about that.

“No. Why would he be here? He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“No.”

“Well, sorry.”

“Well, he built this building. I mean, he commissioned the man who built it, Baudin Murdoch.”

“Oh. Well that explains why the auditorium is called Murdoch Hall. I assume he went back in time to do it in secret?”

“Yes.”

“You work here? This place is yours?” Angela asked again, just in a slightly, but not any more helpful, way.

“Yes, I told you that, Ange. Are you okay?”

“You were supposed to be one of us. They know you from the past...the future...whatever. You can’t work here.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Angela. I can’t. This is my responsibility. Even if you stayed to help, I wouldn’t leave. These people need me. The normies are coming after us. We have to protect ourselves.”

“But...fate,” Angela pressed.

“It’s okay,” Mateo assured her. “It’s not meant to be.”

“No, she’s part of the team,” Angela argued. “We need her. We need all the power we can get. We need to find Olimpia, and no one else is left. They all abandoned the main sequence for the other main sequence.”

“I guess we changed things,” Mateo said sadly. “For Alyssa. For all of us.” Everything they knew about the timeline was up in the air. Maybe she was meant to join them on their future adventures, and maybe things will worsen because she chose another path, but they were not in the business of coercion, or even guilt-tripping. “It happens. Marie was never meant to exist, but she does, and I wouldn’t go back to put a stop to it. We’ll just have to find her another way.”

Angela scowled, and crossed her arms.

“Have you heard of...what was that again?” Marie asked Stargazer.

“Violkomin,” he helped.

“Yes, that. Have you heard of that world?” Marie went on.

“Yeah,” Alyssa replied. “The Global Council is sending one of Aldona’s diplomatic ships to meet with them.”

“We need to get on that ship,” Mateo decided.

“I can show you where it will be launching from next year,” Alyssa said, “but I can’t get you a seat. I’m sure they’re all full-up. This is a big deal. They’re trying to stop the Reality Wars. Of course, they don’t know specifically about them, but in these couple of years, there has already been a lot of tension. Everyone’s worried, and they’re hoping that the other half of the universe will help.”

“That’s okay,” Mateo said. “We’ll just teleport into a broom closet, or something.”

“Sounds cramped. Allow me to help you make it bigger. Take Moray with you.”

“Your brother? Does he have a power too?”

“Yes, as does Carlin, but it’s Moray you’ll need. Come on out,” she insisted to the aether. “Come out!” She rolled her eyes, and reached behind an invisible wall right next to her. She pulled Moray into view. At least it looked like him. He also looked about twice the age he did when they last saw him.

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 13, 2399

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Generated by Canva text-to-image AI software

Leona was still hesitant to let Heath go undercover in the Church of Daltomism alone, but he’s finally doing it today. Daltomists meet every day of the week, but Fridays are the biggest. At first, he thought that that would be the best day to go, but if he’s trying to establish himself in the community, Saturday may be the better choice. He may be able to stand out more here, which is what he really needs. Of course, this is such a large congregation that a smaller service is still pretty big, but he has other ways of getting noticed. They practiced strategies yesterday.

He’s not going to start right away. He has to get his bearings first, and find out who here has the power to help him infiltrate. In Daltomism, just because someone is up on stage, it doesn’t mean that there isn’t someone in the audience who is more important than them. He’s looking for someone who all of the other congregants are avoiding, but not like they smell, because they respect and fear them. They’re more than likely too high ranked to be worshiping here as a normal person, and are here to make sure that this particular location is following the teachings of Dalton, and not straying from The Word. This person won’t know that Dalton is alive, but they may know someone who knows someone, who knows someone, ad infinitum.

There. That’s her. She’s holding herself with a strong sense of entitlement and superiority. She’s disgusted by the size of this place. In other faiths, the larger group of followers you have in one place, the more clout you have amongst the other chapters. Daltomism is different. The smaller the meeting house, the more elite you are, which is why this place is so gargantuan. It’s a starter house, and doesn’t require an invitation. He doesn’t really have time to prove himself, though. He has to move up the ranks fast...or else. That’s why he needs to get in the good graces of whoever this woman is, because she’s his ticket into something greater.

He won’t approach her right away. In fact, he’ll probably never try to speak with her at all. He’ll have to find some way to get himself noticed. He doesn’t want her to know that he’s targeting her, after all. God, he sounds like such a creep. This is important, though. Knowing that Dalton is just a man with access to special powers makes him seem a lot less mystical. Heath was never a huge believer, especially since he was taught to believe that he would never amount to much, but the truth has pushed him over the edge. He doesn’t feel bad about doing this, and doesn’t consider these his people anymore. Let’s see, he needs to get himself on stage. He doesn’t have to be the center of attention, but they sometimes bring people up to sing. They usually pick from the front, and he didn’t get here early enough for a good seat, but maybe he can swing it.

While he’s thinking about that, the woman he was eying suddenly approaches. “I know who you are,” she says to him, almost accusatorily.

“You do?” he questions. He’s not famous, in any circles. She shouldn’t recognize him in the least, especially not since they’re a thousand miles from Kansas City.

“I saw you on the news. You weren’t featured, but you were there, being led into that woman’s crime hole.”

“Oh. It’s not a crime hole. She’s trying to change all that.”

“Yeah, I don’t need to hear the pitch. I just need you to get me in the building.”

“That I can do,” he says with a smile. “Hi, I’m Heath Walton.”

Microstory 1731: The Cygness

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We don’t know where it came from, but the disturbing rumor is that someone in our town once lay with a swan. They’re calling it the cygness as a pun. It starts out with a white skin rash. According to reports, scratching it will cause it to grow worse, so family members have bound the arms of their loved ones, hoping to stop the process, but they always fail. It can be slowed, but it can’t be stopped. All succumb to the transformation sooner or later. Once the victim’s skin is completely white, bumps will begin to rise. Out of that, chutes will appear, like seedlings bursting from the ground. These chutes will spread out, and form something that the researchers call powder down. Over time, as this down fills in, the feathers will mature, and eventually become just as beautiful and full as a swan’s real feathers. The victim will not grow wings, nor a beak, nor flat feet, but their shoulders will lock their elbows behind them, limiting movement, their face will blacken, and their toes will become webbed. Lastly, and we still don’t understand how this works—well, we don’t understand any of it, but especially not this—the patient will lose their ability to produce vocal sound. Something about their vocal cords will change, preventing them from not only creating speech, but other sounds as well, like hums or whistles. They’ll still be able to breathe and cough, but that’s just about it. From start to finish, the transformation takes weeks. At times it’s painful, at times it’s uncomfortable. Once it’s complete, however, patients report feeling better than they ever have in their entire lives. Some wish it to never end, but it does. The last stage is death, and it follows the patient’s returned voice. If someone with the cygness begins to talk again, you know that their life is nearly over. I have been fairly lucky thus far, but the condition has recently fallen upon me, so I know that I need to make arrangements.

I experience the same symptoms as anyone else, in the same order, and according to the same timeframe. They place me with all the others who are in the same stage as me, I suppose so we can all die together. As our conditions worsen, I notice something strange about the others. They’re flapping their lips, and moving their laryngeal prominences up and down. It takes a moment for me to realize that they are all trying to speak. Evidently, even though they know that they have become physiologically mute, they cannot help themselves. They don’t even just forget their limitation every once in a while. They appear to be constantly attempting to communicate with each other, hoping that with enough hard work, it will suddenly start working again. I know better. I know that that is not how it works. I sit quietly, and mind my own business. No one else seems to notice that I’m unlike then. I guess I’ve had more practice being quiet, since I wasn’t one to talk much when I was a regular human. One by one, they fall. They make one last call to our people, and then their eyes shut for good. Finally, I’m the only one left. I stay in isolation for a few more weeks, knowing that people are watching me, trying to figure out what makes me different. I can feel that I have my voice back, but I dare not use it, for I remember what happens next. The researchers come in, and demand that I use my voice. They need more data, so they can come up with a treatment, and they don’t care if it kills me. I refuse, but they threaten the lives of my family, so I give in. I speak. Then I sing. And then I survive. I am the human swan.

Microstory 1557: Special Day

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Prompt

I have always hated holidays, and I’m not sure what other people see in them. Life is a series of events, and no single day is more important than all the others.

Botner

Instead of concentrating on the special days we don’t have, we should concentrate on the special days that are ahead. Yes, we should be thankful for our family and friends, and cherish the good times, but the true meaning of Thanksgiving is not spending the day with those we care about, but sharing our blessings with those who don’t have much to be thankful for. That is the true meaning of Thanksgiving. Tomorrow at 8:00 A.M., the NCAA’s football championship will be held in the Rose Bowl stadium in Pasadena. My family and I are really excited because we will be in California for the big game. Of course, the game is great, but I think the reason we get so excited is that we are near our family and have the opportunity to celebrate together. As Americans, we love the chance to celebrate. We like to make a day of it, and we do. We cook big meals and go out to eat. I know a lot of us will also watch the game, and although I am excited, I am also nervous. I have worked hard to get to this point in my life, and I know how proud my family will be of me. They will look at me and tell me that they are so proud of me. I will never forget the moment I look up and see...

Conclusion

...my proposal on the jumbotron. My boyfriend will be so surprised. It’s happening in about fifteen minutes, and I’m worried it’s not going to go well. I know he’ll say yes, but what if he doesn’t even see it? They’re not gonna leave it up there forever. I love the guy, but he can be kind of oblivious. He’s not what’s the number for 911? dumb, but he’s been known to miss really obvious things. I always keep his anniversary and birthday gifts just sitting on the corner of my home office desk, and even though I always get him what he’s been wanting, he never notices. I like to tease him about it. Right now, he’s also getting hungry and antsy, which is another problem. I can’t let him get up and go, because who knows how long that will take? Sensing my distress, and wanting to torture me with it apparently, he stands up, and starts to leave. I try to hold him back, but he doesn’t let me. He claims he has something important to do, and when I ask him when he’ll be back, he says he’ll see me in ten minutes. Then he winks. Okay, ten minutes. As long as he sticks to that schedule, we should be fine. The minutes tick by, and I’m getting worried. Four, five, six. Now it’s been nine, and there’s still no sign of him. He’s really cutting it close. Ten. No! Just then, a man in a tuxedo steps onto the field with a microphone. He clears his throat, and announces that a man in the audience has a special proposal. The crowd goes wild. No, he’s not back yet, it’s too early! This is going to be ruined. I shake my head, but my family just smirks knowingly at me. They know what I’m planning, why are they so excited? Then my boyfriend steps onto the field, and approaches the man in the tuxedo. The marching band comes out simultaneously. He takes the mic for himself, and begins to sing. It’s our song; the one that was playing at the restaurant when we first met. It wasn’t a date. I was with my cousin, and he was alone at the bar, and we both couldn’t help but nod our heads to the beat. He finishes the song, and then pops the question. Who’s the oblivious one now?

Microstory 1270: The Bird and the Cat

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When a cat’s owner first brought home a new pet bird, the cat was hungry. He eyed the bird up in her cage, and dreamed of chomping down on her meat. The bird showed no fear, but did not antagonize the cat either. Over time, the bird and the cat became friends. The cat always had plenty of food to eat, and there was no need for them to be enemies. She would sing him sweet songs, and he would tell her fun stories. The cunning cat even figured out how to open the bird’s cage, so she could fly free when their owner was not home. One night, the owner left some chestnuts to roast under the fire. “Oh, how we would like those chestnuts,” tweeted the bird.

“They would be mighty tasty,” purred the cat. “But we could never get them.”

“You could,” the bird said to him. “You are quick and sly. Pull them out one at a time.”

“They are too hard for my teeth,” the cat lamented. “The owner cracks them open for me, and lets me have a little every year.”

“If you get us the chestnuts,” suggested the bird, “I will crack them open for us.”

“You promise to share?” the cat asked.

“I promise,” said the bird.

And so the cat reached into the fire, and retrieved the savory nuts with his fast paws. As he did this, the bird cracked them open with her mighty beak. All told, they were able to secure nearly two dozen chestnuts between the two of them! The bird ate eleven, and the cat ate eleven. They then buried the remaining nut into the rug, hoping to spring a new chestnut tree, because they were animals, and they didn’t know any better. But they were full animals, and happy, and together.

This story was inspired by, and revised from, an Aesop Fable called The Monkey and the Cat.

Microstory 1152: Micro

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Valentine Avalon Duval hated her real name. First of all, people would constantly tease her about being named after a holiday. Some more thoughtful people would assume she was named after the martyr, which was probably true, but they were no less impolite about it. Plus, all three of her names contained the string val, which her parents must have thought was pretty cute. The worst part came when kids started going to health class, and realized that her initials were VD. Many other people experienced this issue—even more had similar problems—but that didn’t make it any easier for her. Sensing her disdain, her parents started calling her Micro. She was a rather small child, and more importantly, she liked to sing, so it was more about her vocal interests. As she grew older, she began to find joy in computers, particularly in doing things she wasn’t supposed to be doing. If there was no easy way to find information, that was the kind of information she wanted. She chose Micro as her online alias, but of course, everyone assumed this referred to microchip, or perhaps a certain ubiquitous technology company. To combat this, she would embed a small microphone symbol in her work as her signature. The more she learned, the more people she met in the underworld, and the more people she met, the more dangerous her life became. She was never evil, but she certainly took her exploits too far. She would frequently use her skills to expose corporate corruption, but she wouldn’t steal any money, or hold their data for ransom, and she would never put individuals at risk. In her mind, people had the right to be safe, but not necessarily the right any and all information. She wanted to know all the things herself, but she didn’t usually reveal people’s secrets, unless those secrets put innocent people in danger. It was her achievements, and moral code, that drew the attention of Countervail. Here she was able to protect the rights and privacy of the average U.S. citizen, and make sure the government wasn’t overstepping their bounds. She would later to be read into the world of salmon and choosers, so she could help in even more ways. In earlier days, a time traveler was free to move about the world as needed. As long as they sufficiently blended in, there was little danger of getting caught. They could always escape pretty easily, unless the powers that be didn’t want that to happen. As technology progressed, however, anonymity grew more difficult, even for temporal manipulators. She helped cover up any inconsistencies. Rumors would always pervade the global consciousness, and she never had the power to stop that, but at least she would get rid of any proof that these people existed. All this work came to a head when she was abruptly taken from her world, and relocated to another.

Microstory 1054: Dolly

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I liked Viola, and that’s saying a lot, because I don’t like anybody. My apathy for everything in the world started several years ago, and as much as I want to, I’ve never been able to get past it. I keep encountering these people who are so passionate. They’re passionate about their family, or their friends, or school, or work. They have ambition, and hopes for a good future. Unfortunately for me—and for everyone that has to deal with me, for that matter—I just can’t get there. I don’t go around trying to bum everybody out, but I also can’t bring myself to get excited about anything, and people can sense that when I’m near. I can’t help but think about the many tens of billions of people who have come before us, and died. Pick up any history book, and you’ll find only a handful of people who are named. It’ll discuss all the wars, and famines that affected tons of people’s lives, but it doesn’t mention those specific lives. You might think that would be absurd, and I would totally agree with you, because that’s the point. Those handful of people are the only ones who truly matter, while everyone else is just blurry faces in a busy painting. But even those lucky few don’t matter much either. Think about how much humanity has improved, and what we have accomplished. Now think about how everyone’s story ends, or even simply the fact that it always ends. Everyone’s life is fleeting, so your only hope is to have some impact on younger people, who will go on once you’re dead. But so what? They’ll die too, having spent their whole lives trying to do the same thing you did. It all just keeps going, and the more time that passes, the less you’ll be remembered. There is no objective, and no reward. It doesn’t matter if you cure cancer, or save an old lady from a fire, because she’ll die, and so will the cancer patient. I hear you’ve been interviewing people according to how well they knew Viola, but I don’t know why you spoke with half the class before me, because I never met her. She never took pity on me, and tried to sit at my table at lunch one day. She didn’t play pool with me, or cure me of some affliction, or teach me to sing. In fact, the times I was paying attention, I got the distinct impression that she was actively avoiding me. I once saw her duck into this janitor’s closet when she saw me coming down the hall. That’s why we’re in here, to show you that she would rather come into this disgusting place than risk passing by someone she didn’t like, but whom she wouldn’t have had to worry was going to try to talk to her. Whoa, did you see that! Sorry, I just saw her face in that mirror. She was standing right behind me. It’s suddenly gotten quite warm in h—Alma. This is Viola. As great of a host that Dolly is, I don’t have long with her body, so listen carefully. Talk to Ida before Carrie. And Earl before E—what was that? You were sitting down. How did you stand up so fast? What the hell is going on?

Microstory 1053: Addie

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I was never a singer. I joined Random Spans under the assumption that I would not have to sing. But all that changed when Pearl started being able to come to rehearsal less and less, and it started looking like I was going to have to fill in for her. I wouldn’t have even considered it, but Chester and Bert—God love ‘em—are even worse than I am. Of course, the obvious solution is to just find a replacement, but those two were really dragging their feet. Pearl didn’t really feel like she could be honest with them about how her lifestyle was going to have to change because of the baby. Guys have trouble wrapping their brains around what goes into carrying, delivering, and caring for a child. That’s not to say a father’s life doesn’t change too, but it’s different for mothers. Pretty much your whole life revolves around this living creature, and any moment you’re not with them, you’re comparing whatever it is you’re doing to being with them. Everything you see will remind you of your child, or remind you that you would rather be with your child, or that you’re glad to have a break from your child. So Pearl left, leaving me to pick up the pieces of our band, even though I was not equipped for it. Fortunately, I had a great friend named Viola, who was able to help me out with it. Had she not died, I probably never would have heard whispers of other crazy stories about her, so I’m only telling you this, because I know it’s not going to shock you any more. She definitely had powers, and I have tangible proof of it. When I was a kid, my older sister used to make us put on plays and musicals for our family during the holidays. She wrote, starred in, and directed all of our productions, but the rest of the grandkids were expected to participate. So I actually have a lot of experience singing; more than enough to know that I had a terrible voice. You can hear for yourself how bad I was. The videos are unlisted online, but I can get you the links, if you want to risk your ear drums. The point is that this all changed as Pearl’s tenure in our band was winding down. Viola started giving me vocal lessons a few times a week. I don’t know how she found the time to help me, and help all those other people, but I’m grateful for it. I don’t really know what she was meant to be teaching me, but it was all nonsense. Nothing she said during our lessons was at all logical, but I realized later that it didn’t matter. She wasn’t actually teaching me to sing, but instead imbuing me with the power to sing, and using the lessons as cover. To be sure, I don’t know how she did that either, but I know that’s what she did, because she wasn’t the first vocal coach I’ve had, and nobody improves that quickly without supernatural assistance. This whole frontwoman thing might just work out after all.