Microstory 2503: Sibling of the Savior

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3

My brother, the hero. Yeah, it’s petty, but I can’t help but be annoyed by this. Obviously I love my brother, and obviously he’s doing good work, and obviously I shouldn’t be jealous. It’s hard, ya know, to live in the guy’s shadow. I’m older than him, and I’ve always been good at what I do. It’s not that I’m immediately great at everything I try. Well, it is, but not how you think. I’m good at everything I try, because I only try things that I know I’m gonna be good at. That’s my real skill, knowing myself so well. I can picture it in my mind, and if I imagine how it’s going to turn out, and if it’s no good, I simply won’t go down that road. I didn’t love growing up being more successful than my brother. I wanted him to succeed. I just didn’t know what it would look like once he finally did. People—total strangers—stop me on the street now. They all ask the same questions, about how I must be so proud, and also whether I have any magical powers too. No. No, I don’t. It’s not hereditary. He received them as gifts from other people. I’m not downplaying how important he’s become, but come on, I had nothing to do with it. Whoever these people were, they didn’t come to me. Why not? Well, we don’t have the whole story, but they didn’t seek Landis out either. He happened to be in the right place at the right time. It easily could have been anyone else who lived or worked in that area. I’m complaining a lot, I get it, it’s just annoying because I feel like I’ve addressed this in interviews, yet instead of actually doing their own research—which would take all of five minutes—they ask me again and again. And the jokes, oh the jokes. I’ve heard them all, and everyone thinks they’re so clever, like they’re the first to come up with them. Give me a break. I had a chance to live at the hotel with Landis. He wants me to. Our parents have their own suite. I just don’t want to be involved in all that. I’m sure they could use someone with my technical skills, but I’m happy where I’m working. They need me there. In fact, we still don’t know what this fabled panacea is going to do to the global economy yet. People like me need to stay where they are to keep the lights on once we conquer death, and people stop spending their money. Do you have any idea how much we spend on health? It drives the whole world, because the death rate has been at a steady 100% throughout all of human history. If the day comes that that changes, no one at that hotel is gonna be able to save you, or will even want to try. You’re gonna need people like me out here. Who will be your hero then? No, I shouldn’t end this on such a negative note. The truth is, that we have a decent relationship. I was always in his corner, and he in mine. We loved playing together as children, back when there was no pressure on either of us. It’s only when we grew up that things really started to get hard. I started feeling the need to be the best of the best, and he started getting discouraged when one little thing didn’t work out. I don’t regret anything, though, because we’re both happy now.

Microstory 2487: Skilldome

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3

I don’t want to speak for you, but I’m guessing that your life is pretty easy. Everything you need is handed to you, along with a few things that you might just want. There are those who spend their whole lives holed up in their modules, connected to VR or the network. Dayfruit growers provide them with food. Drones deliver their feedstock. Their electricity and water is piped in, and their waste is shipped out. Their personal robot does all their work. I’m not criticising people who live like this. This is just a preamble so you’ll understand what purpose Skilldome serves. So many things that you may or may not take for granted were either not cheap for our ancestors, hardly available, or outright didn’t exist. Obviously, different time periods came with different limitations, and over the years, there are skills that we’ve lost to automation, and engineered simplicity. I’m not saying that you’ll become a better person if you learn how to drive a car with your hands and feet. I’m just telling you that the skill is something that this dome offers. You can also learn how to churn butter, command an animal to plow a field, or write something down with a pencil and paper. It’s hard to describe what these activities are, since there’s such a broad range, but it’s basically everything that people used to have to do to be productive that we don’t anymore. To be sure, there are some things that still hold some merit in our world. You might not have access to a medpod or healing nanites, even today, so knowing how to perform first aid is one of those skills that some people have maintained anyway. But for those of us whose minds it didn’t cross to do it before, if you’re on Castlebourne, come on down and take a class. As far as skills that are less practical in the synthetic era go, like stuffing mail in envelopes, or coding a program in an obsolete computer language called C++, you can do it just for fun, or to have a greater appreciation for modern living. Or come up with your own reasons. There are no requirements on what you have to do when you come here, but if you do come, and you do choose a particular skill, it is asked of you to use the tools you are given, and not “cheat”. If you’re taking a math test, only use one of those old basic calculators that they will provide you with. Don’t just ask an AI to do it for you. That defeats the purpose. I actually saw a guy do this, which was so stupid, because no one was making him take this otherwise pointless test. What you get out of coming here is entirely up to you. Ain’t nobody gonna hold your hand. Nor should they have to.

Microstory 2483: Campodome

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3

Camping has never gone out of style, but it’s had its ups and downs. Once our ancestors invented computers, they realized how disruptive it was to be away from their devices. People in the 19th century were basically, like, “camping is just living without being in a building, and peeing in the woods”. Over time, the gap between regular urban living and camping in a tent widened. Then we started developing better portable energy storage, and more prolific satellite connectivity, and it started going back the other way in many respects. You could go out to the middle of the woods, and enjoy nature, while still maintaining a connection to the outside world, to just about whatever degree you wanted. There were snobs, of course, who said that you really shouldn’t have anything, and to a certain extent, I agree. Glamping is what they called it when you basically lived in a tiny home with no sacrifice of amenities. Really, what’s the point? The leaders on Castlebourne couldn’t answer that either, so it doesn’t exist here. There are all kinds of other camping formats, though. Forest, prairie, desert, even wetlands, and snow camping. What people don’t realize is that each dome is large enough to be fully capable of supporting a diverse multi-biome ecology. You just have to tailor the terrain to fit what you need, and maybe add a bit of scientific intervention. Colder regions are near the top of a mountain range, as you might expect it on Earth. It doesn’t have seasons, since the kind of engineering that would require is just a little beyond what’s practical. It’s not impossible, but it’s more logical to divide climates up by areas. You choose where you wanna camp, and how you wanna do it. Some people go out there and totally rough it. They have no supplies, no food, maybe not even clothes. There’s a subculture of people who go out there totally naked and alone, and survive on their skills.

As I said, there are no seasons, though these survivalists can replicate them by moving to different spots. I will say that that’s not quite right, because if you really wanted to start your journey in Spring, and see how you fared when the weather changed, you would build your shelter as well as you possibly can, and wait for it to become necessary. That’s not a feasible option when your campsite has to shift in order to account for that journey. So maybe they can improve upon that. I know it’s not easy, and maybe they shouldn’t try. After all, that’s why the flying spaghetti monster made Earth, because it already has everything you need, and the cycles kind of take care of themselves. I’ve not mentioned it yet, but there are hiking and backpacking routes, if you like to stay on the move. Some of them are pretty long, but nothing that compares to the grueling trek of the Pacific Crest or Appalachian Trails. There’s just not enough space. There might be a dome out there that winds you around enough times to cover that distance, but it’s not here. This is mostly about the camping and again, some things probably should be left to the homeworld. We didn’t spend decades rewilding the surface exclusively to leave it to nature. We still allow ourselves access to that nature, and are encouraged to camp when we feel like it. So, is this place better at what it does? No, I shouldn’t think so. You’re still in a snowglobe. You will always know it’s artificial. And it’s nothing we don’t have elsewhere, unlike say, the waterpark in Flumendome, or the realm in Mythodome, but it’s still pretty nice. I certainly wouldn’t cast your consciousness here with the express intention of coming to this dome, but it’s a great option if you’re already here, and need to take a break from civilization.

Microstory 2477: Wheeldome

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3

In case you’re confused, this dome is all about wheels. This includes bicycles, roller blades, skateboards, etc. What it doesn’t include are cars and motorcycles. Basically, if it runs on petrol or electricity, it can’t be here. I guess I shouldn’t say that. They do have some electric bikes, but obviously that’s a whole different animal. There are hundreds of wheel-based leisure areas, as well as long trails that stretch between them. They have all sorts of hills if you wanna go fast, and the best part about it is that you don’t even have to hike all the way back up. They have chairlifts that take you back up. It’s like a ski mountain, but for wheel sports. You couldn’t do that on Earth. They just didn’t want to build the infrastructure, and of course in more recent decades, all those old abandoned roads have been demolished to make way for nature. I didn’t come here because I was a skater. I came because I’m not, and I want to learn. I’ve had plenty of time to practice in virtual simulations but never got around to it, despite how accessible the worlds are. I guess I was waiting for this. Having a whole dome dedicated to what might one day become my passion seemed like the perfect place to get into it. It’s real, ya know? Anyway, I tell you that I’m a beginner so you’re not expecting me to give a detailed review of this place. I don’t know how it stacks up against other skate parks. I just know that when you’re working with 5,410 square kilometers, it’s hard to believe it’s lacking in anything. Unless, again, you’re looking to race cars, or something. Go somewhere else for that. Just because it’s got wheels, doesn’t mean it belongs in Wheeldome. Hang ten, bruh. Gotta go.

Microstory 2405: Ancient Thebes

< > Table of Contents

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

Sorry for my poor writing. It’s just not a skill that I ever picked up. I’m more into history. I’m really interested in history. I don’t have that much interest in going to one of the adventure domes, or whatever. I feel no want to run from zombies, or even relax by the ocean. I like to see what real places looked like at different times in history. Today is all about Ancient Thebes, Egypt. I could go on and on about this place, because it was amazing, but I’m sure it would be boring for you. Words just can’t describe how it feels to feel like you’re really there. As I was saying, I’m just not good at writing. That might have been too repetitive. The great thing about a planet like this is that you can make these places. It all looks so real and authentic. Ancient Thebes is gone. It was all modernized by the time people started taking photographs of the area, and now it’s been entirely removed in order to make room for the wilderness. I’m not saying that I don’t like plants and animals, but at one point, there was a plan to make wildlife refuges on rotating cylinders in orbit. What happened to that plan? I think that they were worried about us using it as an excuse to blanket the whole surface of Earth in a giant city. I wouldn’t have wanted that either, I think we just should have preserved historical architecture. I mean come on, there’s a middle ground, you know? I’m getting off track, but you really should be more cultured, and visit Ancient Thebes. They can’t build this sort of thing on Earth because of the whole animal thing, and it’s their territory, or whatever, but it works here. It really works. It’s like you’re really there. Just, if you come to this planet, don’t spend all your time having fun. Try to learn something. You can get a robot guide here who will tell you everything about Thebes and Ancient Egypt. You might find you like it more than you thought. Oh, and don’t ask if there are any attacking mummies. Those movies weren’t real. Okay? Had this guy on my tour kept asking about that shit. It’s like, shut the hell up.

Microstory 2376: Vacuus, October 14, 2179

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google ImageFX text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 3

Dear Condor,

It’s nice to hear from you. I know that you weren’t writing that open letter directly to me, but it felt very personal, even though I’ve never experienced anything like what you did. I’ve heard more about you from Corinthia. I’ve known about your whole situation almost as long as she has. You and I have a lot in common. My grandfather was the Chief Helmsman of the ship that brought us to this planet, and before that, he was a space shuttle pilot, and before that, an airline pilot. I spent a lot of time on the bridge with him at the helm as we were on our way out here. He would tell me stories about all the places that he used to travel to back on Earth. I’m younger than you, so I have never set foot on your world before. I guess that’s what fascinates me so much, because I feel like I have all these somewhat similar personal experiences. I know that they’re not my own, though. I dunno, I suppose I just felt a connection with you that I’m probably making up in my own head. As for clothes, I do like them, but not necessarily any more than anyone else. I gravitated towards this job partially because there was an opening, and partially because I probably have even less of an interest in going outside than Corinthia does. I just want to stay in my little room where it’s safe. My work area doesn’t even have a window, because some of the rooms have to be on the interior sections, and they can’t all be lavatories and closets. My job is really not that hard. It may be more involved than your sister’s on a day-to-day basis, but there’s a whole lot less pressure. If I mess something up, I can usually fix it before anyone else sees it. The truth is that anyone could do this, because the fabricators do most of the work. I don’t even know how to sew by hand all that well. I did learn, but I don’t use those skills at work. I’m mostly there in a supervisory role. The machines aren’t hard to operate, but rather than training everyone who needs clothes, they only worry about making sure that I know them, and I make sure that nothing gets screwed up. It’s pretty low-key. I have some free time, which I typically spend making up new designs. I’m not exceptional at it, but there are no deadlines, so I eventually figure out what it needs to look like. Corinthia has actually tested out a lot of my own clothes for me. She says she likes them, but you never really know, right? She could just be being polite. I did design the outfit that I’m wearing in the attached photo, so you can tell me what you think. Be honest. Cori thinks there’s too much cleavage, but maybe you have a different opinion?

Hugs and kisses,

Velia

PS: I like your outfit too. It fits you well, though I would imagine just about anything does with a body like that. Trust me, I'm a professional.

Microstory 2217: He Only Watched

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2, and by Pixlr AI image editor

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

Microstory 2208: Steep Physical Decline

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2, and by Pixlr AI image editor

Weird and unexpected news today. Do you remember that high school student that I worked with at the nursery? Well, after she graduated, she went straight into an intensive program to become a lifecare assistant. It’s a lot more socially acceptable on your world to forgo a college degree, instead focusing on training for more specific fields of study or work. The reason it works here is because of how careful and methodical you are with your children’s skills, and learning schedule. You see, where I’m from, every student from before first grade to when they become an adult is expected to learn pretty much all the same things. You do that too, but you don’t take it quite as far. By the time a kid is fourteen years old, you should have a pretty decent idea of where their strengths lie, and instead of forcing them to struggle and struggle through the topics that they have a harder time with, you encourage them to concentrate on what they’re probably going to do with the rest of your life. Sure, you hear a few stories here and there on my planet of someone ultimately becoming a brilliant scientist after failing chemistry class, but really, how often does that happen? Anyway, I don’t have to tell you people this, you obviously already understand. My former co-worker has now become my lifecare assistant. It wasn’t even planned that way, it’s just a coincidence. I’m her first patient since she aced the final exam. She’s going to live with me in my extra bedroom. Due to my steep physical decline, while I don’t need a whole lot of help yet, the doctors believe that it’s only a matter of time. By the end of this, she’s going to be doing pretty much everything for me, including the gross and awkward stuff that no one wants to need help with. It’s a little embarrassing, yes, but I can handle it. She’s a highly trained professional, and I still prefer to be treated by a woman. I’ve always been like that. Sexist or not, it’s the way I am. I see no reason to request a new assistant either way. Be prepared for the next installment in which things get incredibly depressing and sad.

Microstory 2081: Half a Surprise

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2

I didn’t have to go to work today. I worked eleven days straight, so it’s time for a break. I’ve not just been sitting around, though. I got out, and did stuff. First, I walked back to the bike shop, where they let you rent for the day. The first time is free as long as you sign up for their emailing list, and promise to seriously consider buying something at a later date. They have a few used ones, so instead of exploring my options online, I think I’ll just end up choosing one of these. I’ve gotten my first deposit, but I’m not exactly a millionaire yet. I would like to get a couple more before I start making any big purchases. I did spend a little cash on some food. I am not much of a cook, but I can get by if I plan it out, and I’m very careful. My landlord happened to have the day off too, so she planned something with a friend. She’ll be home for dinner, though, so I’m making something for her. I told her that I wanted to pick something up for the two of us to thank her for everything she’s done for me, so shh, it’s still half a surprise. She’s a vegetarian too, which is great. Do you know what the most important part of cooking is...? [...] Give up? It’s eating. Eating, of course; what else would be the point. The second most important thing, however, may be timing, and it’s one of the hardest things to learn. That’s what I’m struggling with now, but I think I’m gonna be okay. Something that really helps is having a bunch of little bowls ready with the individual ingredients. This is how they do it on all the cooking shows. My landlord doesn’t cook much herself, because she’s too busy at the clinic, but she inherited a lot of kitchen stuff from her grandmother, so there’s enough here for me to be ready to go. Wish me luck, I’m making a Mediterranean bowl, which shouldn’t be too terribly hard for an unskilled, perpetual novice like me. I’ll let you know how it goes tomorrow.

Microstory 2066: Just Backpedal a Little

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Workspace Labs text-to-image Duet AI software

Had a good meeting with my social worker today. I was coughing a lot, but we were both wearing masks, and he apparently always walks around with this foldable clear plastic partition. I’m not the only client of his who has health issues. I just hope I get over mine soon, and adapt better to this world. I didn’t tell him any of this, but I’m just now realizing that I told him that I’ve been keeping a blog, and gave him a link, so he’ll be able to read all of this. I’ve already talked a lot about how I believe I’m from a different universe. Maybe I could just backpedal a little, and tell him that it’s fiction, and this is all nothing more than a creative outlet. But he would be able to read this installment too, which apparently negates that explanation. Maybe I’ll just schedule this to post near the end of the evening. I don’t expect he’ll read this far anyway. It’s not like this is brilliant writing. Then again, the newest post will always be at the top, and I’ve spoken to people back when I was writing my fictional stories who just read that most recent one, and then stopped. So the newest one always has to be the best. But even then, it’s often taken completely out of context. I am trying to paint you a picture here. You can’t start in the middle, and expect to form a reasonable opinion on my skill, can you? No, that would be unfair. Start at the beginning, or don’t start at all. No, don’t do that. That’s what most people do. Five billion people in the world, and the number of people who actually read my ish adds up to a rounding error. Just kidding, it’s zero, with a margin of error of zero also. Yay, me! Whatever. Anyway, I got a second hit on my ad. She doesn’t claim to be an alien, but she hasn’t said she isn’t yet. I’m calling her tonight. Audio only.

Microstory 1984: Pancakes Come First

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Workspace Labs text-to-image AI software

Myka: Are we sure about this?

Reese: No, but everyone else is safe at the third location, and this is the best chance we have to getting our jobs back. I want to work with Director Washington, but we have to make sure that we can trust her.

Myka: Anaïs doesn’t think she’s a mole.

Reese: Even if she isn’t, she may lock us all up just because we ran. This is the best test I can come up with. Well...Anaïs came up with it, but I approved it, so the responsibility falls upon my shoulders. Of course, she could pass with flying colors, and then screw us over later, so maybe none of this matters.

Leonard: Today cannot be understood before tomorrow becomes yesterday.

Myka: Did you come up with that?

Leonard: It’s from a poet from my world.

Myka: *sighing after a pause* Why didn’t we give the Director the third location, and keep everyone safe here. Isn’t Micro upset about this place possibly being burned.

Micro: *walking up* This is a great lair. She’ll believe it’s where we’ve been hiding, because we have. I don’t mind it being burned. I have more copies of this in other universes. Don’t you worry your pretty little self about me.

Reese: You don’t have to be here, though. You can hide with the others.

Micro: Like she’d believe you could do any of this without me. *starts to step away*

Reese: Hey, wait. How are your sensors? Are you detecting any strike team?

Micro: A-okay, boss. We’re clear. Balls to the wall. Once more, unto the breach. That’s poetry from my world. [...] She’s here, doe.

*after a few moments, the door opens, and Director Washington comes in alone*

Reese: *clearing his throat* Madam Director, you found it.

Director Washington: It wasn’t that hard. I didn’t start out in an office, you know.

Reese: Of course, sir. Thank you for coming. Juice? Tea? Pastries?

Washington: Is this Sunday brunch, or did you wanna discuss business?

Reese: I want us to come back together.

Washington: That’s what I want too, Subdirector Parsons. You’re the ones who left. *looking around* Where is everyone else anyway?

Reese: Valentine Duval is working security. Everyone else is presently...out.

Washington: *thinking about it* This was a test. You only gave me your location to see what I would do with this information? You thought I might attack?

Micro: *coming back into the main area* Yeah, you came alone. What’s with that? Don’t you have your own bodyguards?

Washington: Like I was just saying, I was not always an administrator. I can look after myself. Now. Subdirector Parsons—

Reese: Am I still a subdirector? Am I anything to the government but a fugitive?

Washington: Yes, Subdirector Parsons. I know that we are in the midst of corruption issues, and I know that you are not one of these corrupted people. I would be glad to discuss reintegration, but first...you must tell me where the others are.

Micro: No, first...pancakes.

Microstory 1951: Leader de Jure

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Workspace Labs text-to-image AI software

Reese: SI Eliot! Wait up. I’m glad I caught you.

SI Eliot: Is this urgent, Parsons? I’m about to step into a meeting with the Director.

Reese: It’s about the jobs you offered Mr. Miazga and Miss Tennison?

SI Eliot: You can just call them Leonard and Myka, Agent Parsons. We all know that you’re friends with them. I assume that you’re worried about what our angle is. I assure you that there is no nefarious purpose to our offers. Very few people know what we know, and we would like to keep it that way, at least for now. We believe that the two of them possess valuable skills and knowledge that we may need in the future.

Reese: Well, what about the others; the other three freewomen, and the escapees?

SI Eliot: They have received their own job offers.

Reese: Really?

SI Eliot: Yes. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really must get in there.

OSI Director: It’s all right, Hisham. This meeting is about him, after all. He may as well be there. It’s not like I need your permission to proceed.

SI Hisham Eliot: Very well. After you, Agent Parsons.

Reese: *stepping into the conference room, and sitting down* This meeting is about me? In what context, may I ask?

OSI Director: How long have you been on loan to us from Fugitive Services?

Reese: A few months.

OSI Director: And before that? How long were you in FS?

Reese: About eleven years, sir.

OSI Director: That’s a decent run. *pauses* How would you like a job here?

Reese: I thought I did a job here, don’t I? My tenure was marked as indefinite.

OSI Director: That’s what I’m saying. Let’s define it. Let’s decide that you’re no longer on loan, but a fulltime permanent employee of the Office of Special Investigations.

Reese: This is...unexpected. I always assumed that I would go back. I never thought about doing anything else. I barely unpacked my belongings in my office here.

OSI Director: That’s probably for the best. If you agreed, we would give you a new one.

Reese: Sir?

Hisham: She wants you to lead the staff of a new department of national security, incorporating personnel and resources from a number of other branches and divisions. You would not be in charge of the office itself, but you would be managing the employees, which would include your friends, and the other...consultants. The National Commander has been discussing doing something like this with us, and the Assembly, for a while now. Officially, the name of this department would be the Department of Exogenic Affairs. Since there’s already a DEA, it would be known as DExA for short.

OSI Director: Does that sound like something that you would be interested in?

Reese: Again, this is quite the surprise. I suppose I should have guessed that something in government would change as a result of these developments, but I never thought I would be considered for a leadership role. I only have de facto experience.

OSI Director: We believe that’s enough. Why don’t you think it over, and get back to us in two days, okay? NatCo wants to get the ball rolling by the end of this month.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: October 5, 2398

« < » > Table of Contents

Heath is getting better. He’s learning his skills quickly. The clinical neuropsychologist, Doctor Nuadu Merrick is very optimistic regarding his recovery, and expects him to be a fully functioning, independent human being within at least a couple of years, much to his surprise. Heath has the benefit, of course, of not suffering from any actual brain injury, which is what has happened to most of Dr. Merrrick’s patients. Heath—or rather, this version of him—just has a brand new brain, which needs to learn everything that a normal person would know. They’re starting with the basics, like how to walk and talk, before tackling more advanced tasks, like how to eat food with a fork.

Marie was overjoyed when the first assessment came following a few therapy sessions. She could see it for herself too, he is well on his way to no longer needing any help anymore. When she thought about what that day might look like, though, she started to realize the truth. Now she understands that any happiness she feels for the patient’s progress can really only be felt in a general sense. Her love for people, and the desire for their success, is what’s going to keep her going, as long as it’s strong enough. There are other forces at play here. The relief she felt upon hearing the news has subsided. She now feels herself falling into a depression. It’s as close to a literal pit in the earth as possible while remaining metaphorical. Her heart feels low. No matter what they do, that’s not Heath. He’s a completely different person, and he always will be.

“There is another option,” Mateo says somberly.

“What would that be?”

“Keep in mind that this is only a possibility. I can’t guarantee anything, and if it doesn’t work, we may not be able to undo the attempt, and go back to just helping the individual we have here learn how to move around the world.”

“Spit it out, Mateo,” Marie demands.

“If we ever get back to the main sequence, and we bring him with us, we could blend his brain with the real Heath from the past.”

“That’s it,” Marie says. She paces away from him like a soap opera character, and looks for figurative holes in Mateo’s suggestion in the imperfections on the wall. There’s one big one. “Except what are we going to do with him until the day comes when we can escape the Third Rail?”

“I don’t know, but that’s not our biggest problem.”

“What is?” she questions.

“The Third Rail is special. Nerakali can blend brains from any timeline, but I’m not sure what that means for parallel realities. I don’t know if her power would treat them the same, or what. She may not have any access to Heath’s original mind, especially not if this world’s power dampening-power makes it impossible to do anything like that anyway.”

“She’s not the only one with such a power,” Marie points out.

“They all originate from her, including when Leona and I shared the ability.”

Marie paces some more. “So either we help Heath Two-Point-Oh learn how to live, or we stick him in a box on the off-chance that we can recycle his body later.”

“Correct.”

Marie sighs. “We obviously can’t do that. It’s incredibly ethically suspect.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 3, 2398

« < » > Table of Contents

Mateo and Heath aren’t about to leave just yet. It will be at least another week, possibly two. They’re pretty sure they’re going to do it, but they don’t want to jump into anything without thinking it through. They’re going to need a little time to plan out some kind of itinerary. Until then, Mateo is going to continue to study at the library. Today, Angela is there for a different reason, which is to become a volunteer. She doesn’t have a degree in library sciences, so she isn’t seeking a paid position, and it doesn’t bother her much that her alternate self is paying her way now, so this should work out just fine. She isn’t worried that they’ll reject her, but she still wants to look nice, and be professional. She’s wearing a slightly frilly blouse, gray jacket, and a matching gray pencil skirt. Though, they call that last one a slimmy here, which probably doesn’t sound funny to the natives.

As the hour approaches, she finds herself to be more nervous than she should. She knows the librarian, Madam MacDougas pretty well, and they seem to have a good rapport, but now that she thinks about it, she’s never interviewed before. Before she died, she wasn’t allowed to have a job. She was always expected to meet a nice white man, and let him take care of her financially—preferably someone with lots of slaves, since they add to the profits, but not the overhead—while she handled the housework. When she was on track to become a counselor in the afterlife simulation, she was just promoted when it was time. Her past actions were enough to prove that she was ready for the responsibility, and if they had not been, the people in charge would have simply waited until they were.

Mateo senses her anxiety. “You. Are. One of the wisest, and kindest people I know. You may be the best. You’re gonna do great.”

She smiles. “Thanks.”

“I’ll be in philosophy. You remember where that is? It might be on the test.”

“I’ll see you later, Mateo,” Angela says. She breathes, and prepares herself. Then she walks over to the counter, where Madam McDougas is opening her daily computer programs. “Do you have time to talk?”

Madam McDougas stops what she’s doing, and places her hands on her lap. “It’s about time.”

Angela looks at her watch. “You just opened.”

“No, I mean it’s about time you asked me for a job.”

“How did you know?”

“You’ve been spending most of your time recently scanning the shelves, and taking notes. I gathered that you were familiarizing yourself with the organization of the books, instead of studying the subjects inside. You haven’t cracked a book in three days.”

“Oh. That’s quite observant of you. Well, I don’t need a job. I just wanted to donate some of my time.”

“Are you sure? We do have a couple of open positions.”

“I’m not qualified for such things. I just like learning.”

“Maybe we could work something out. What if I took a look at your résumé?”

Angela grimaced.

“You don’t have one of those, do you?”

“My past is...complicated.”

Madam McDougas nods. “Like Azad Devi.”

“I don’t know who that is,” Angela apologizes, hoping to God that it is the name of a person, though.

“Hm. You could stand to read a little more fiction. If you’re only a volunteer, you’ll have time for that.”

“Anything. Shelving, cleaning; I’ll do whatever you need...except teach fiction. Where I grew up, such media was scarce.”

Madam McDougas nods. “Some cults are more complicated than others. I don’t need to hear the details.”

That’s a good thing to know, that people might stop asking questions if you lead them to believe that your religion of origin was obscure, and limiting in bizarre ways. Yeah, that’s it. She didn’t know that pencil skirts were called slimmies because she was raised in a sheltered environment. That makes sense. She’ll have to remember to pass this advice on to the others. They just don’t want to be too specific, or claim a lie that can be too easily refuted. “I appreciate your understanding,” Angela says, neither confirming, nor denying, Madam McDougas’ assumptions.

“It will help to know more about what you know. Do you have any experience in a library, or an educational setting?”

Yes, actually. There were plenty of such facilities in the afterlife simulation. If someone at a higher level wanted to know something, they could just ask, and an answer would come. For the rest, some of the more fortunate strongly believed that they still deserved whatever education they desired, so they built places of learning. Limiteds and Basics were especially fond of these constructs, but they weren’t the only ones in need. Level 3 Hock prisoners were mostly stuck in their cells and cell blocks. Having access to the means of expanding their knowledge was fundamental to maintaining their sanity under sentences of centuries, or even millennia. Angela felt honored to help them through that in this way, and this attitude is part of what promoted her to higher levels in the first place.

“I’ve volunteered at libraries before, and for continuing education programs.”

Madam McDougas is pleased with this answer. “That’s all I need to know. We already have plenty of volunteers, so I don’t have anything specific to assign you. Why don’t you go meet with Doug, and see what he might have for you to do.”

“Thank you for this opportunity,” Angela says graciously.

“Thank you,” she echoes.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 2, 2398

« < » > Table of Contents

Mateo pulls up to Leona’s evening workplace, and puts it in park. She looks over at the building, but doesn’t get out of the car. He looks in the rearview mirror to make eye contact with Angela in the back, but she doesn’t know what the problem is either, if there is one. “Are you okay?” he asks.

“What?” Leona asks as if just realizing that there are other people around. “Oh. It’s fine.” She pulls her backpack from between her legs, and opens the door, struggling with it just a little bit, out of unrelated tension, not because of the door itself.

“You can talk to me, remember?”

“It’s fine,” Leona says, pretty dismissively. “I’m stressed, but I can’t elaborate.”

“Were I you,” Mateo reminds her.

“Yeah.” She walks away.

“She keeps doing that. She keeps not responding to that appropriately.”

“Yeah. We’ve noticed,” Angela reveals. She crawls up to the front.

He sighs. “We’re still going to the retail store, right?”

“I should say so.”

He puts the car back in gear, but remembers that he needs to map it out first, so he just holds on the brake, and finds it. Once he does, he pulls away, and heads for their destination. “Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Go ahead,” Angela offers.

“I’ve been...kind of wanting a job. I’ve actually been needing it. No matter how much I make, it will barely make a dent in Marie and Heath’s bank account, but I still feel compelled to contribute something. I have to help in some way.”

“We thought you might be feeling that way,” Angela says.

“You’ve been talking about me?”

“Everyone talks about everyone else,” she says matter-of-factly.

“Okay.”

“We just think you need to keep a low profile.”

“Lower than where I already am?” he questions.

“Yes.”

“I was thinking about applying for a job at the library. That’s why I’m going to the store, to pick up a suit.”

“That’s what I’m going to do. Well, as a volunteer. Great minds think alike.”

He’s about to contend that he doesn’t have a great mind, but that’s the sort of thing his therapist would advise him not to say. He needs to learn to value himself. So he decides that it’s true. “Yes, exactly,” he tells her. That’s a big step for him. “Why do you get to keep yourself busy, and I don’t?”

“No one said you couldn’t keep busy. We have something else in mind for you.”

“How long are these conversations behind my back?”

“I think you’ll like it.”

“Oh?”

“You have a list of places you think might hold answers for us, like Easter Island, and Antarctica.”

“Yeah...?” She can’t really be going where it sounds like she’s going.

“We think you should check them out,” she suggests.

“Seriously? How is that a low profile?”

“I guess that’s not the right term. Anyway, they may be dead ends, but they may hold the key to everything. We just think someone should be responsible for trying.”

“You want me to go off alone?” he asks. “That seems weird. I mean, I’m fine doing it alone, but it’s weird that you would agree.”

“You wouldn’t be alone,” she promises. “Heath would be going with you.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 1, 2398

« < » > Table of Contents

Mateo was surprised to learn that Marie’s therapist had an opening the following day, but he decided he needed to go ahead and get on it, instead of waiting. Now he’s waiting in the waiting room, with a little boy and his father. There appears to only be one therapist here, so either they’re really early, or Mateo’s in the wrong place. Not long before the door opens, though, the father looks at his watch, gathers his son, and they leave together. Maybe they just didn’t have anything to do before their next appointment?

“Mister Matic?” Magnus Sharpe presumes.

“That’s me.”

“What would you like me to call you?” she asks.

“Mateo is fine.” He walks past her as she holds the door open, and takes a seat on the couch. A little furry dog slowly waddles over to him, and situates itself upon his shoes.

“You can carefully move him if you don’t want him there,” Mag. Sharpe tells him. “Some people find him comforting.”

“He’s good there.”

“On the phone, you said that you’re a friend of a patient of mine?”

“Yes. Marie Walton.”

“I cannot confirm that she’s a client, or anyone else, so if you want to talk about her, we’ll have to move forward under the possibly true assumption that I’ve never even heard of her before.”

“Okay.”

“What brings you here today?”

“Well, I don’t know what she told you...I mean, she couldn’t have told you anything since you don’t know her, so I guess I’ll explain. We’re time travelers. When it began, it was just me. I was in a cemetery with my friends on my birthday, and suddenly everyone around me disappeared. I quickly learned that I was the one who disappeared, and that I had been gone for a year. I soon thereafter met my future wife, who became like me when I donated my kidney to her. The other three showed up later, for various reasons.”

She nods, not only like she understands, but believes him.

“None of this is all that important to my issue, but I’m giving you background, so you know what makes us a team. We’re not just a group of old friends who met at college, or in a stuck elevator.”

“That wouldn’t be what makes you a team,” Mag. Sharpe notes. “Teams accomplish goals together.”

“Well, we help people. At least we try. Sometimes a friend gives us missions, sometimes an enemy does, and sometimes we don’t even know who’s calling the shots.”

She jerks her head, confused.

Mateo thinks he knows why. “Yeah, there’s this mysterious group called the powers that be who have some kind of control over the whole universe.”

She shakes her head now. “No, I’ve heard of them. I didn’t know that you would complete missions for enemies. Tell me about that.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess that would sound weird, so I must just be used to it. I think that those people generally wanted to do good, but they built this reputation of being assholes, because they have all this power, and power corrupts, ya know? So they want to change, but when you’re a time traveler, it’s basically impossible to change your reputation, since linear time is just an illusion. So they keep being assholes, and force us to help others. That way they don’t actually have to have done any of the helping, but it still gets done.”

“Interesting.”

He chuckles mildly. This is going surprisingly well. He’s never felt so uncomfortable around regular humans than he has in this world, but Mag. Sharpe feels like someone he can trust. Now it’s time to get to the real issue, though, which has nothing to do with time travel.

“Go on,” she urges.

“Well, as you’ve probably heard, all the others are the smart ones. Angela and Marie studied and trained a lot of different things in the simulation. Leona and Ramses both studied science in normal school before they found out about any of this. I’m just the big dummy. The only reason I’m here is because my only true skill is that I attract the villains, and those villains have other victims, so that’s how we meet.”

“You feel useless.”

“Yes. I can’t fly a ship, or fight a monster. I try to look back on the things that I’ve accomplished since this started, and it’s all rooted in convincing others to help me. I don’t actually do anything myself.”

“You don’t think that alone is a skill?”

“Being helpless, and others taking pity on me? Not really,” he says.

“I think it is,” she counters plainly.  “I mean, think about it, if none of this time travel stuff existed, what could you do with that? What kind of job could you get? Why, you could help other people get jobs. That’s called recruitment, or headhunting. Heck, you would even excel as the top executive of a big company. People like that don’t need to understand the products or services they provide. They just need to know how to find the people who do. That is a skill, and most people don’t have it, because we grow up to be jaded and cynical, so we find it difficult to trust in the expertise of others. So not only is it a skill, but a virtue.”

“I was 28 when this happened to me. I had plenty of time to become a top executive, or at least start making my way down that road. But instead, I’m a driver. I’m a literal driver, and that’s all I could ever have been.”

“Yeah, not the most glamorous role, and I’m not saying that you should have become an executive, or that you did something wrong because you didn’t. I’m saying everyone has their own strengths, and just because yours aren’t as obvious as your friends, doesn’t mean they’re not valuable. You seem to be feeling inadequate in this reality, because while you’ve always relied on your team, you’ve probably always been able to contribute by following their direction. Now that you’re here, and relatively safe, there’s really nothing you need to do to help. If you were to sit on the couch all day in front of the TV, while the others were at work, they would be fine. No more antagonists, no more missions. It would be like if they were the parents, and you were the child. No one gets mad at the child for not having a job.”

“Hmm. Yeah, that is the difference. I was pretty much always busy, but now, all I do is read library books, so my ineptitude stands out more.”

“What are you studying?”

“Philosophy.”

She nods. “The proverbial subject that won’t get you a job unless you remain in academics. My daughter’s doing the same thing, but she doesn’t want to become a professor, or anything. So after she gets a degree, she’s going to have to find something probably unrelated.”

“What would that be?” he asks.

“You like the library, Mateo?”

“Eh, it’s growing on me.”

“Then why don’t you work there?”

Microstory 1822: Child Support

< > Table of Contents

When I was growing up, my family told me to get a hard-working job. It may have been the very first thing they said to me. I bet I came out of my mother 65 years ago, and they said, son, you need to know the value of honest manual labor. They didn’t care how well I did in school, or how good I was at socializing with the other kids. They could still remember the great depression, even though a long time had passed for them already, and they didn’t want me to go through the same problems they did. It was a nice sentiment, but it wasn’t very forward-thinking. Since they didn’t value education, I didn’t have much of a chance to explore my strengths, and learn new skills. I went from one blue collar job to the next. This factory, that warehouse, this office basement, that farm. I know it sounds like I kept getting fired, but that’s not what it was like. I would just keep getting better opportunities, or have to move somewhere else. In those days, finding work wasn’t all that hard. People always needed people like me to do the things that they didn’t want to do, and which robots hadn’t figured out how to do...yet. That’s kind of what this story is about. I had heard that someone or something would be coming for our jobs, but I didn’t know that meant every job I was possibly qualified to do. I didn’t know the last job I lost would be the last I ever had. I had picked up so many skills along the way, but it seemed like they were all out of date before I was old enough to survive on my retirement. You may think I was bitter, but I wasn’t. I saw it coming. I am not against automation in general. I even made sure my kids got themselves some skills that would make them indispensable within the workforce. But my daddy didn’t teach me the same, so I was unprepared for it to happen so soon.

I’m sure glad I raised my children differently than my parents did. It was a bit of a double edged sword, though. Now that they were grown, and had built great careers for themselves, they had more than enough amongst them to support me and my wife in my early forced retirement. Her parents were even worse. No daughter of theirs was going to work a day in her life. She was expected to find a man to take care of her. That was meant to be my responsibility, and I was failing everybody. Not once did my kids make me feel bad about giving us money even though I wasn’t even 60 years old yet. They said they were more than happy to give back what we gave to them. I know that this happened. I know that I raised them, and taught them, and helped them. It just didn’t feel like enough, and it felt like they were giving back far too much comparatively. Things did not get any better as the years went by. It was incredibly stressful, asking them for a little help when my social security benefits weren’t enough. It was a little less stressful when they started sending us what was basically an allowance, so we didn’t have to ask, but it was still difficult. It was better for the most part when they decided to set us up with some kind of fancy computer account where money would automatically transfer from their banks to ours, but in other ways, this was worse, because I felt like such a disappointment. One thing I let go was my health. We chose to eat a lot of fast food, because it’s cheaper, of course, and we wanted to stay frugal, since we had not truly earned this money. On the upside, my early death is going to release the kids from some of the burden. On the downside, I’m worried about my wife’s health, and there’s also this annoying thing about suffering a lethal heart attack at age 65. That’s not great.

Microstory 1773: Scorpion Unifier

< > Table of Contents

The virus got out. The intergalactic Martian faction that hates us for surviving in this solar system when their ancestors could not, attacked us with the same pathogen that nearly destroyed them millions of years ago. Fortunately, we were not unprepared for that to happen. We had just gotten over a practice run, from a disease that many in our population were resistant to. We were able to learn from our mistakes, and by the time a worse threat showed up, we knew what to do. We knew how to self-quarantine. We knew how to protect our most vulnerable. We knew how to hunt for treatments. We also had a lot of help from a faction of good Martians, who did not want to see life on Earth eradicated. Armed with all of this experience, and these resources, we fought back against the Scorpion Virus. The people who refused to believe in either pandemic didn’t last very long, and the rest of us were able to move on without them. The angry aliens didn’t think we would do so well, so they decided to change tactics. They mounted a full assault, forcing their opponents to come out of the shadows, and help us protect ourselves. We experienced a quantum leap in technology, and had to fight back again. Orbital defenses, interstellar ships, weapons of mass destruction. We did it to survive, but it would come at a great cost. War solves no problems, but it sure can create new ones. We were poised to make both species go extinct. Something had to be done to put a stop to it. Neither side was willing to relent, and that’s when the others showed up. When the virus first came about on Mars, two exodus ships were launched to ensure the continuity of the species. One of them went off to a new galaxy, but the other disappeared without telling the others where they would be going. As it turned out, they remained nearby, on a planet located only a few hundred light years away.

The Milky Way Martians, as they are called to distinguish them, came out of the woodwork about a year ago, and admitted that they had been following the goings on of both of our cultures the entire time. They knew that life evolved on Earth, and they knew what their intergalactic counterparts were up to. They instituted a policy of noninterference, but a new administration decided to take the government in a new direction. They basically demanded we halt all hostilities towards each other, and since they were so much more advanced than both of us combined, we had no real choice. Things have been fine between us ever since, but that is not going to last forever. Calling it a period of peace implies that there will be an end to it. As long as we look at them as other, and they us, neither of us can hope to prosper. The only way to prevent the war is to merge as one. Then there will be no one left to fight. So that is why we’re here. Everyone on this ship has fallen in love with a member of the other species. Through a little bit of genetic miracle work, we can actually have children with each other. We don’t even have to engineer the offspring itself. A simple injection makes a human more Martian, and a Martian more human. We’ve come together in a place of compatibility, and spawned a new species altogether. You’ll never guess how we figured out how to do it. It all comes back to that Scorpion Virus. It’s capable of changing its victim DNA, so we were able to harness that, and use it towards our own goals. I’m asking you to spread the word about us. Tell them. Tell them what you saw here today. Tell them something good has come out of that deadly pathogen. Tell them the war never has to happen.