Microstory 2702: Alternate Arrangements and Agendas

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It’s time for Ronan to speak. In the old ways, a witness would be assigned either the defendant or the plaintiff or prosecutor. They were on one side or the other. Over time, this started to feel too combative. Society decided that the point of the justice system should be to uncover the truth, and balance fairness. There were different variations for the setup, but the changes were sweeping. A whole new vocabulary was created, which alone, made everything seem less partial. Lawyers became advocates or adherents to more clearly define their roles. Defendants became accused, and were considered pending so as not to bias the decision from minute one. Even juries changed. Half of the arbitration panels deliberated in one room while half did so in another. If they came to the same decision, maybe it was more likely right. Ronan still remembers the old ways and the old terms, and since this is the first time he’s ever been in any court in the centuries he’s been alive, he still frames everything he’s seeing through that lens. It’s jarring when they contradict it.

He must remember that he’s an attestant, not a witness. Attestant, not witness. Because he didn’t witness Talus do anything, he can’t attest to it. He can only tell the court what he knows, and what he knows is that Talus is not right in the head. As he’s sitting up here, not answering the most recent question that he was asked, he’s thinking about who else could be blamed for his son’s behavior. He keeps coming back to the implantation procedure. Something must have gone wrong. They must have made some mistake. They...spliced the wrong genes, or—he doesn’t know, he—

“Mister Truett. Mister Truett,” Jericho Hagen urges. “Have you seen any other behavior out of the accused which you might categorize as abhorrent?” he repeats.

Ronan was zoning out, but now he’s more sure of what he wants. He waits to answer again, but this time, he’s looking the attorney—no adherent—dead in the eye. “I wish to make an alternative accusation.” He looks up at the judge—adjudicator. “Did I do that right? Am I supposed to say it another way?”

“There is no formal syntax,” she replies. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, I—” Ronan begins to say.

“This is not the place for that. We will have to schedule a new inquisition to formalize your accusation. Until then, you cannot be expected to attest further at the current proceedings. But I must warn you, people have used this as a delaying tactic in the past. I will not stand for it in my court, so you better have a plausible accusation.”

“I do, your honor.” What Talus did was wrong, but it may not be his fault. Ronan is not going to try to stop Talus from being dealt with accordingly, but those bot doctors need to answer too, and he doesn’t want to continue until they do. He stands from the chair, and begins walking back towards the attestant waiting area.

“Agent, please prepare the next attestant for a round of assertions,” the adjudicator orders. They changed it from bailiff to fit all the other A-terms. So stupid.

The agent escorts Ronan back into the joint chamber, where he is supposed to go into his own little private room. They keep attestants separate, again to maintain impartiality. Something has gone wrong here too, though. The next attestant is out of her own room already. She seems as surprised to see him as he is to see her.

“Mayumi.”

She doesn’t speak. She picks her jaw off of the floor, and slips back into her room.

Microstory 2701: This is the Beginning, and This is the End of the Sentence

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It’s not the trial yet. This is called the inquisitorial period, where all of the primary evidence is laid out before the court. There are no witnesses, there are no testimonies. The state, in this case, the owner of Castlebourne, has provided them with what they claim is the proof of Talus’ guilt. Truthfully, Ronan doesn’t doubt it. Talus hasn’t been right since he’s been old enough to make his own decisions again. He doesn’t understand why Talus would try to kill his little brother, but there’s almost no way that Castlebourne has this wrong. They have this whole world wired up. You can only keep your secrets as long as they don’t hurt anyone. Once they do, it ends up out in the open. You know that going into a simulation, and Ronan and Mayumi had no problem with it. They still don’t. Especially if it’s true that Talus did hurt Yumo with malicious intent, they need to know what happened.

At first, the footage is all right. It’s certainly weird, but out of context, it’s totally fine. Maybe Talus was gathering dirt and leaves to make a new pigment. Maybe he wanted to study them, or build a terrarium. It is easily explainable, or rather would be if they didn’t know what they knew. The next part is far more damning. Talus takes all the stuff he picked up from the forest floor, and rubs it into little Yumo’s bellybutton. His eyes. That’s the hardest part. They’re so...detached. He’s not angry or sad. This is just a task he has to complete, and he has no strong feelings about it. Ronan has to look away. It’s horrific. He did it with such intent. He doesn’t know if it’s because the original Talus would be smart enough to understand the mechanism, or if the new one teased it out. Or if it was some sick combination of both.

“That’s enough,” Judge What’s-Her-Name says. “We don’t need to see the whole thing. Is that it for the state’s evidence?”

“It is, Your Honor,” a lawyer named Jericho Hagen replies.

“Does the defense have evidence to provide the court at this time?”

Talus has an attorney of his own. His name is Kyle K. Stanley. “We do not, Your Honor. We accept the state’s evidence as a matter of existence without acknowledging any particular interpretations of it. We are anxious to prepare our defense.”

“Very well,” the judge says. “If there are no objections, this inquisition hearing will come to a close, and we will break for two days while the advocates prepare to call witnesses, and make their cases.”

“I plead guilty,” Talus says.

“Son, that’s not how it works. There will come a time for that—” the judge begins.

“I plead guilty now, I plead guilty now!” Talus insists. “I did it. I tried to kill him, and I would do it again! He was never supposed to exist! He’s not real! It’s just a simulation! He’s an NPC! He’s not real!” As they’re dragging him out while under contempt, he keeps yelling that. “He’s not real! He’s not real!”

“What does this mean?” Ronan asks Stanley. As the father, Ronan doesn’t have any legal authority in this court. He doesn’t have the right to know something simply because he raised Talus for the last eight years. Still, it’s okay for him to ask.

“If the judge accepts the plea, we will move on to the sentencing portion of the proceedings. That was always going to be the more grueling component of the process. Honestly, he is guilty, and we all know it. What we need to determine now is how to handle him. That’s what I was really brought in for, and I will protect him as much as possible.”

Maybe he shouldn’t.

Microstory 2700: Crashing Down

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To honor Ronan’s late wife, Gia offered to name the baby Yuma if it was a girl, and Yumo for a boy. Ronan can’t stop looking at Yumo. This is his son. It’s his real, flesh and blood son, which he made the traditional way. No consciousness transference, no artificial gestation. He made love to Gia, and nine months later, their son was born. How crazy is that? It used to be so normal. People had no other way to propagate the species. How did anyone survive that? Of course, Ronan realizes that many didn’t. Mayumi didn’t, at least as far as the simulation is concerned, and it happened for the same reasons it always does, because medical intervention was impossible.

Speaking of which, Yumo is pretty hot right now. He must have a fever. They don’t have a thermometer to check, and he’s two weeks old now, so they’re back on the farmstead, all alone. Ronan did read up on this. He knows a lot about Norse history, because that’s the point. And fortunately, the dome designers wanted to be historically accurate, so they seeded plenty of willow bark there. After Ronan finds what they need, he stays by the baby’s side while Vith turns it into a tea. He gives it to Gia, so the natural aspirin will pass through her system, and end up in Yumo during breastfeeding. Now it’s just a waiting game.

The next day, tiny Yumo is still alive, and his fever has gone down. It’s working. The herbal medicine is actually working. Such a wild way to administer a treatment. They would never do anything like that in the real world, even if they knew that that’s how it used to be done. They both breathe a sigh of relief. Everything’s going to be okay.

There’s a knock on the door. Vith answers it. They can hear him talking to someone, and then the footsteps of more than one person. Ronan stands defensively. Vith is a little more trusting than he ought to be for this dangerous world.

A man walks in. “Ronan Truett. My name is Azad Petite. I’m responsible for the security of this world. Is there somewhere private we can talk?”

“We can talk at the well. We need water anyway.” Ronan is more scared than he has ever been in his life, and wants to get this anachronistic man away from his family.

“Son,” Azad says to Vith. “Is there something fun that you and your brother do?”

“We like to mix new pigments for paint from the local plants,” Vith answers.

“Good, good. And the girl. She should stay with the mother, keep her awake,” Azad decides.

“What’s this about?”

“I’ll explain.”

Ronan and this Azad guy step out of the house, and out of earshot of everyone else. “You know that we monitor what you do here, right? Using smartdust.”

“I suspected that was how,” Ronan acknowledges. He doesn’t want to discuss such things. “The prospectus didn’t list the particulars, but it said that it tracks crimes which fall beyond the confines of the sim.”

Azad sighs. “Your youngest. He was just sick?”

“Yes.”

“We don’t monitor you all the time. We have a sophisticated series of layers featuring progressive levels of intelligence—”

“Could we...not...talk about the real world, please?” Ronan requests.

“We have to. Yumo never consented to be in this sim. Neither did Isavet, so we have been paying close attention to her behavior. Talus is different. He consented.”

“How does this have anything to do with Talus?”

“After your baby was flagged as sick, we ran the sensors back, and traced his history. This wasn’t a natural fever. He was infected. Pretty simple, really. Talus rubs some shredded leaves and dirt over the baby’s navel. Easily washed off later, after the infection has had time to set, clearing all evidence, which he did, very deliberately. Mr. Truett, your son is an attempted murderer. He must leave Nordome, and stand trial. You come too. Depending on the outcome, you may be allowed to reenter later.”

Microstory 2695: Isavet Arrives, Talus Survives

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Ronan is a fool. He failed to recognize the mechanics of the simulation. It’s true, a robo-goat can’t likely eat grass and convert it into milk. That level of glandular engineering veers too far into the territory of true organic life. If the Custodians of this dome are trying to keep everything vegan, it’s a line that they would not cross. But that doesn’t mean it’s a loophole he can exploit. The sim expects the goat to eat grass, and it expects the mama goat to give its kids milk. If that process is halted, you have cheated, and the Custodians put a stop to it. So he changes tactics. He lives as he’s meant to live. He lost sight of the whole reason they came here in the first place, but he won’t make that mistake again. He needs to make sure that Talus survives, but he won’t do that by breaking the rules. That’s not what Mayumi would want, nor Talus himself. When he’s old enough, and his brain starts to rewire itself to remember all the things that Talus did as a full grown man, he will appreciate Ronan’s dedication.

It’s been another several weeks now, and things have only grown harder. Talus is having trouble with the goat milk. It’s not really what he’s supposed to drink, but it’s all they have available. His body needs more. And then she walks in. Gia. She shows up out of the blue holding her own baby, tears in her eyes, asking for a place to rest for the night, and maybe a little food. Ronan is suspicious. It honestly looks like a gift. The Custodians would be able to see how much he’s struggling, so they’re helping him out. How can he trust this person who shows up right when he is at his lowest, carrying the very thing he needs to keep his best friend and child alive in her body? It is too convenient. She has to be a plant. She might not even be an organic human. She might be just like the goats. He has to know the truth, so he simply asks her. “I know we’re not supposed to talk about this, but are you an NPC?”

She switches her baby to her other arm. “Why would I be an NPC?”

“I just have to ask, I’m sorry. I’m seeing the seams in the simulation, and it’s messing with my head. The goats. The goats aren’t—”

“I know what the goats are,” Gia interrupts. “I read up on the laws and ethics of this planet when I came here. They don’t have to follow Earthan laws, but that doesn’t mean they don’t. I assure you, I’m real, and I need help.”

Ronan has just finished building an addition to their home. He was pretty early in the process when Mayumi was still alive. He stopped needing it after she died, but he kept working anyway because when he commits to something, he commits. “We have the space, but I would kindly ask you for something in return.”

She frowns. “You’ll forgive me, sir, but my body is mine.”

“I respect that, but my son has no mother, and he’s been missing nutrients...”

“Oh. Oh, you need milk? Milk, I have aplenty. My breasts, they overproduce. I did not know what I was asking for when I filled out the request for a pregnant-capable substrate. What’s your baby’s name? This is Isavet. As you said, we should not talk about this, but the father quit. He didn’t even know I was pregnant, and I don’t want to break character to send him a message.”

“Same thing happened to me,” Ronan replies, “though she didn’t quit by choice.”

“Oh.”

“But it’s okay. We’ll see each other again one day. Come on inside.”

She goes inside. They stay there together for years, ultimately falling in love.

Microstory 2694: Little Cheater

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Ronan is distraught and overwhelmed. He has two kids to take care of now, and he’s all alone. Vith is old enough to help, but not old enough to be a true partner. He’s not breaking character. He’s supposed to be a child, so that’s how he’s acting. Ronan commends him for the commitment, and appreciates it. That’s what he would do in his situation. That is what he’s doing, in his own way. Mayumi was supposed to be here. She wasn’t supposed to die. She certainly wasn’t supposed to die after less than a year. But that’s how real life works, so she has stayed away in order for the simulation to feel more real. That’s what they agreed to do, and she’s not a liar.

They actually talked about it at length. They made a pact before all of this that if one of them died, the other would continue on in the simulation. It was only a hypothetical at that point, but he wants to honor her by following through with it. It’s probably why she never came back. It would not make sense for him to leave, and have her be upset that he broke her trust. They have been together for centuries. A few decades will be hard, but in the real world, there’s no escape. If someone you love dies, you either end your own life, or try to move on. Suicide is not an honorable death, and would harm her memory. It wasn’t worth it. They would see each other again.

Hopefully she was having fun in their second choice dome. Dome for Pioneers doesn’t have the same cultural adventure that they were looking forward to, and it didn’t sound like it would be quite as immersive, but they thought about visiting. They considered going there first to dip their toes in the water, so to speak. In the end, they decided to jump into the deep end head first, and this is what it has cost them. Ronan is struggling to feed his boys. His only saving grace is that a few months ago, they found two baby goats, and had the good sense to keep them both alive, even though it meant taking food out of their own mouths. Now, though, the mama goat has kids, and the daddy has become worth more dead. They needed her milk, and his horn and meat.

He slaughtered the father earlier, and cut off its horn. Then he stole some milk away from the kids, and filled the horn so he could use it to feed his human baby. Once little Talus was happy for the next hour, he went to work on preparing the goat meat. He was going to cook some of it, then smoke the rest so they could save it for later. This was always part of the plan. They had hoped to wait until they could have at least one more litter to keep the bloodline going, but that is tomorrow’s problem. He slices into the animal, and hits something hard. It doesn’t feel like bone. It clinks like metal. He pulls the flesh apart, and is horrified at what he finds.

“What is that?” Vith asks.

“That, son, is a robo-goat. I was not aware.” Ronan looks up and breathes. “I suppose some of the laws here do resemble what they have in the Core. They don’t kill to eat anymore. This is all part of the simulation.” He looks outside. “Those kid goats are never gonna grow. They never have grown since they were born. They are simply being systematically replaced every once in a while. Which means...” He trails off.

“What does it mean, father?” Vith presses.

“The milk has to be resupplied at some point. It certainly doesn’t get it from the vegetation we feed it. We can keep all the food for ourselves, instead of giving it to the goats. All of the milk can go to Talus.” Is that cheating?

It apparently is cheating. It doesn’t work. They run out of milk.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 4, 2548

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Echo Cloudbearer explained his mysterious origins to the team, giving a brief overview of his life. When Olimpia screamed to create the Sixth Key parallel reality, she also created him as a conscious component. The theory was that the DNA in the saliva that came out during her scream somehow rearranged itself, and gave birth to a new living being. Exactly why this being wasn’t a perfect clone of Olimpia herself was the least insane unanswered question about this whole thing. As a lone entity in the center of reality, Echo had to raise himself, absorbing random psychic energy from everywhere in the galaxy to even grasp the concept of survival. His mind conjured memories that were not his own, or maybe not even real at all, to explain to himself where he had come from. Years later, members of the Rock peace talks spontaneously sprouted from a magical tree, headed by an antagonistic godlike woman named Clavia.

Clavia wanted to use Echo’s powers for nefarious purposes, so he regressed her to a childlike state, with no memory of her past. To protect the future, he had to do the same to himself. The two of them were raised as siblings by the Sixth Key leadership, and eventually ascended to power themselves. They used their reality-warping abilities to create another universe called The Eighth Choice. The Reality Wars had been subverted, hopefully forever. There was now more than enough room, and enough resources, for everyone.

After the rundown, Olimpia and Echo stepped away alone with each other to have a more private conversation, though they could still be seen. They were all kind of watching the two of them, but Ramses was paying especially close attention. Mateo walked over to him. “Are you worried for her? Do you think this Echo guy is lying?”

“If he’s gonna try to hurt her, we’ll be here to stop him,” Ramses said. “That’s not what is on my mind, though.”

“What are you thinking about then?” Mateo asked.

“He looks Sri Lankan, right?” Ramses asked.

Mateo nodded. “I would say he does. I don’t understand how he was...created, but he looks like he could be her son.”

Ramses nodded. “Do you think he perhaps...could also be something else?”

“Something else, like...a vampire?” Mateo had no idea what he was driving at.

“No. I mean...” He shook his head. “God, maybe I shouldn’t say it. It’s nuts. But then again...I was there. I wasn’t there when she created the Sixth Key with her scream, but I was there just before she did it.”

“Wait. Are you saying you think he looks Egyptian?”

“I....maybe.”

Mateo tilted his head as he was looking at the mother and son. His resemblance to his supposed mother was undeniable. Echo was definitely Sri Lankan, even if that meant he bioprinted a fake body just to sell a con. But he could be half Egyptian. That was harder to see, but absolutely not impossible. “Well, you have a DNA testing kit in your lab, don’t you?” he figured.

“Yeah, but he would have to consent to it.”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Mateo encouraged. “We don’t have to do the thing where we give him a cup of water, and then steal the cup, or pull a hair out from his head. He might not be trying to hide the truth about you from us. He may not know. Like you said, if you left before she made the Sixth Key—and him—Echo might not have any reason to suspect a connection. If your hypothesis is true, we would have to figure out how your DNA ended up there.”

“Well, I did give her a hug while she was trapped in the proto-Sixth Key,” Ramses explained. “We couldn’t actually touch each other at the time, but I guess if you can make a baby without having sex, it turning out that the dimensional barrier separating the mother from the father was semi-permeable—allowing a second sample of DNA to pass through—isn’t any harder to believe.”

“Why don’t you go get that kit, and then let’s have an open conversation?”

Ramses knew that there was no point in wasting time. He jumped into his pocket dimension lab, found what he was looking for, and returned. Only Mateo went with him up to the mother and son. The rest didn’t know what was going on, though they might have spotted the scanner, and guessed. Or guessed part of it.

Echo’s eyes darted down to the scanner as Ramses approached. “You want proof.”

“I don’t think it’s too much to ask. It will barely hurt.”

Echo chuckled. “Pain isn’t a problem. But my origins are bizarre, as you heard. I’m not sure what that test will say. I’m not a Boltzmann brain, but I’m not a normal person either.”

Ramses shook the scanner gently. “I designed this myself. It accounts for temporal anomalies, and looks for signatures of cloning or bioprinting. It will tell us if this body is her genetic son. Even if you’re an evil psychopathic killer who stole her DNA to infiltrate our team, it will know if it’s even worth trusting you in the short-term.”

“I understand why you need this. I have no problem with it.” Echo made a fist, and presented his arm. He didn’t flinch when Ramses placed the top of the scanner against his skin, and pierced it with a tiny little needle.

Ramses then did the same for Olimpia, but against the side of the scanner. He made a fist and lifted his own arm up. “I have a hypothesis. I don’t know if you know the answer to this question, or if you had even considered it, but this machine is designed to capture both parents, and a child. That’s why there are three needles.” He placed it against his arm, but didn’t prick himself yet. “Do you see why I feel like I should be doing this?”

Echo narrowed his eyes and studied Ramses’ face. He looked over at the woman he was certain was his mother, then back to Ramses. “I see it. If it’s true, I want you to know that I didn’t consider it. I never thought much about whether or not I had a father, and it did not occur to me that it might be you. But you should also know that if that comes back positive, I’ll be twice as happy as I was when Olimpia finally showed up.”

“Okay.” Ramses pierced his own skin, and captured the final blood sample. The results came in within seconds. After interpreting the data alone, he showed them both the screen. “Mother, father, and offspring. It’s struggling with your sex, but leaning masculine. If you didn’t know before, you are intersex in a way that does not exist in the natural world. Your sex appears to be rather fluid, in fact.”

Echo nodded. “That is not surprising.” He took a deep breath, then let his body transform. In only moments, he had fully transitioned into a more feminine form. “My pronouns are whatever you feel like. I spent most of my childhood masculine, but I have taken this form from time to time.” She pulled her shirt collar away from her body, and looked down, widening her eyes at the sight. “It’s been a long time, though.”

“You get those from me,” Olimpia told her daughter.

Ramses looked at his scanner again. “Hm. Fascinating.”

“What is it?” Mateo asked him.

Ramses looked back up at his daughter. “The sample you gave me, it’s leaning more genetically female now. You didn’t simply transition yourself. You changed blood that wasn’t even in your body anymore.”

Echo shrugged. “It’s still a part of me.”

Ramses sighed, and dropped his arms.

“Wait, what just happened?” Mateo questioned. “That sounds cool, why are you upset now?”

“Oh, shit,” Echo began. “That means I could be lying entirely. I could be some untrustworthy shapeshifter.”

“I don’t believe that,” Olimpia promised, entangling her daughter’s arm in hers. She looked over at Ramses. “We still don’t understand how this is possible, but I’m choosing to believe that it’s real. Rambo, you can think what you want, but we have met more good people in this universe than bad ones. The odds are in our favor.”

Ramses exhaled before wrapping his arm around Echo’s shoulders to bring her into a hug. “I choose to believe as well.”

Echo went back to his masculine form as the four of them were returning to the rest of the team to explain the most recent news. Then all eight of them walked back up to the reality portal, and slipped back over to the main sequence version of this planet. Echo didn’t know what he was going to do at the end of the team’s day in the timestream, but he was going to stick around at least until then. Romana knew of a perfect spot for a picnic, having spotted it during her surveys. While they were eating, Echo gave them some more details about his life. They were less factual, and more personal. The team talked about the things they had been up to as well, but he had kept up with their dealings, so there was little that he didn’t already know about.

While they were in the middle of dessert, a woman walked up to them. None of them had seen her appear, but Echo’s face fell when he noticed her. He tried to cover up his emotions. “Sister,” he said, standing up. He wrapped his arm around her waist. “Everyone, this is Clavia...what’s left of her, anyway. I told you, it was complicated.”

They all stood up respectfully. “It’s nice to meet you,” Olimpia said, trying to shake Clavia’s hand.

Clavia didn’t accept right away. “You didn’t tell them?” she asked Echo.

“I was trying to have a nice time with my family,” Echo argued.

“Nice to meet you too,” Clavia finally said, taking Olimpia’s hand.

Ramses pushed himself forward. “What is this?” He pulled Olimpia back a little in case he needed to protect her. “You really are evil, aren’t you? This was some kind of terrible plan?”

“It’s not a terrible plan,” Echo defended. “I’m not evil. But I was sent here. I really am your son. I have not changed my DNA in any way, but the person I work for needs something, and realized my connection, so we decided to use it to our advantage.”

Off with the sundresses and casual picnic clothes. The team armored up, and prepared to fight.

“That is not necessary,” Clavia contended. “You are friends with this person. One of you has already promised to help them. It has just taken this long from your perspective for them to collect. We are cognizant of present and future events in this universe. We are taking you out of this brane at this particular juncture because we know that doing so will not cause problems. The rest of the team will remain here to build a home. Once you’re done, you’ll reunite.”

“You’re being so vague,” Mateo argued. “Who are you talking about? Who made the promise, and who did they make it to?”

“Leona?” Echo said simply.

“Me?” Leona questioned. “I don’t remember making any sort of promise.”

“Senona Riggur,” Clavia clarified, “at Origin. You said you would help them fulfill other people’s wishes.”

“Oh, right,” Leona recalled. “I did say that, and it was a very long time ago for me.” She looked amongst her friends. “They’re right, I have to go.”

“I’m going with you,” Mateo insisted.

“So am I,” Olimpia added.

“Mother, you can, and I was hoping you would say that,” Echo began. “Uncle Mateo, you can’t.”

“That’s not true,” Clavia said to him.

“I really wanna spend more time with both,” Echo snapped back in a whisper.

“Share with the class,” Mateo urged.

Echo sighed. “Only two of you besides Aunt Leona can come. If it’s Mateo then it either can’t be Olimpia or Ramses. I have a personal stake in which two it is.”

“How long will they be gone?” Angela questioned.

“Interversal travel is complicated,” Clavia said. “Based on your patterns, it would be a matter of days. Whoever goes will experience years of service, but we will not be able to return them to a few minutes from now.”

“I have to stay here,” Ramses said sadly. “The two smart people can’t separate themselves from everyone else. We realized that a long time ago.”

“I’ll take care of the dummies,” Clavia revealed. “Your tech isn’t that hard. I’m smarter than all of you combined, including Echo.”

“Debatable,” Echo said.

They continued to discuss the plan, running through a few contradictory scenarios, but only one made sense. In the end, Ramses and Olimpia chose to aid Leona in her duties, along with Echo. The ladies said their goodbyes to their husband, and everyone else. Then they returned to the Sixth Key, where a Nexus would evidently be waiting for them.

“That’s a good idea,” Marie determined. “Are there schematics for a Nexus in Ramses’ forge core? That should be the first thing we build.”

“All in favor, say aye,” Mateo prompted.

“Aye.”

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Extremus: Year 120

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Tinaya and Arqut wake up on the floor. The first thing that she notices is that there is something rather heavy weighing her ankle down. She lifts herself up at the waist and looks down to find a shackle, attached to a chain, attached to another shackle, which is wrapped around her husband’s leg. His clothes keep changing colors. They’re mostly orange, but occasionally flicker to yellow or purple. Hers are doing the same. It apparently worked. They pleaded with the AI in charge of The Buffer to keep them on ice until it was time to be downloaded into new bodies, and finally see the Extremus planet. It didn’t sound like it was working, but something must have changed.

“Oo, I’ve never seen a couple come through here before,” a voice behind them says. It looks like some kind of authority officer, maybe police. His uniform has green and purple stripes, which seems like an odd choice, but who knows how much has changed in the last century?

“We did a lifelink,” Tinaya explains, standing up, and helping Arqut do the same.

“Never heard of it,” the cop says. “I’m sure the judge will know what to do with you, though. Right over there. Lucky you, you’re in the short line.”

“The short line?” Arqut questions when they look over to see a minimum of a few dozen people snaking their way towards an entrance.

“Yeah. As opposed to that one.” The officer points in another direction. It’s hard to parse, but he’s right. Once they realize what they’re even seeing, they realize that the line in the distance has many thousands of people in it, possibly more. The floor curves upwards as if they’re in a centrifugal cylinder of some kind, which they might be.

“A judge? We have to see a judge?” Tinaya asks. “We were to understand if we answered yes, we would be downloaded to new substrates, no questions asked.”

The officer winces and chuckle-scoffs. “Downloaded? You think you’re being resurrected? Ain’t nobody gettin’ resurrected ‘til Pinocchio gets what he wants.”

“Who is Pinocchio?”

“You’ll learn.” The officer waves the back of both of his hands towards them. “Now, shoo. Shoo! The line waits for no one, not even two people sharing a hock chain.”

They step in line. Other people’s clothes are shifting colors too, with that same orange base, but various other colors instead. “I think it’s a caste system,” Tinaya postulates. “We haven’t been judged yet, but maybe the system has some kind of idea of where we belong, so it changes.”

The next person in the queue turns to face them. “Well, which colors are best?”

“No idea,” Tinaya admits. “Probably not orange, though. This endless bureaucracy screams guilty until proven innocent to me, but I could be wrong.”

“No, that’s what I guessed too,” the woman agrees.

“When did you die?” Arqut asks.

“Arqut,” Tinaya scolds. “That’s a sensitive question.”

“No, it’s all right,” the woman says sincerely. “It was 2388.”

“Same as us,” Arqut replies. “Admiral Emerita Tinaya Leithe, and I’m Superintendent Arqut Grieves.”

“Oh, interesting. And this is an army you commanded?”

That was a weird question. Their names could have fallen out of the history books over time, but not within the year. That would be crazy. Who could have possibly not heard of the recently deceased Admiral? “Where did you die? Where were you living?” Tinaya presses.

“Proxima Doma, in a dome called New Hertfordshire,” she answers.

Tinaya and Arqut exchange a look. Proxima Doma is a planet in the stellar neighborhood. It is, in fact, the nearest exoplanet to Earth, which is why it’s called that. They’re not in The Extremus Buffer, but somewhere else. This is something, perhaps...universal, maybe the real afterlife?

“Where are you two from?” she goes on.

“We’re on a Wanderer. I mean, we were.” They’re not entirely sure if this is a current term. It’s the closest one that fits their description, since they ought not to give away the truth about time travel and other universes, and all that. A Wanderer refers to a ship that is designed to be the permanent habitat for its residents. Instead of settling somewhere around a star, it flies—or even drifts—somewhat randomly. Star systems being what they are in the way of being predictable and relatively evenly distributed, the Wanderer isn’t looking for strange new worlds. They just are...somewhere out there, often without even any quantum connections to any other worlds. They’re basically hermits, though some communities can be quite large, and they’re not necessarily misanthropic or distrustful of others. Arqut knows the term because that’s what the history books called them before they existed for real, but their last update was a very long time ago, so the concept may have evolved since then, or just changed names.

“Oh, fun!” She seems to be familiar.

“Do you happen to know why our line is so much shorter?” Tinaya asks her.

“We all just died,” she explains, nodding her head. “All those people have been dead a long time, possibly for millennia. Apparently, something has changed with the process and they’re all getting new assignments,” she continues with airquotes. “That must take a long time, but we’re sittin’ pretty because people don’t really die that much anymore.”

“No, they don’t,” Arqut agrees. It’s not exactly true from their vantage point. Everyone on Extremus dies, and while they don’t know how any of them will respond to The Question, it’s not like it is in the stellar neighborhood, where you’re all but crazy if you don’t opt in to virtual immortality. At least that’s how they understand it. Again, their copy of the central archives isn’t up to date.

There’s a commotion behind them, which the woman notices first since she’s already looking that way. It’s growing louder. When they turn to look, they can’t really see what’s going on. They can just tell that the gigantic line, which once was uniform, has now been broken. It’s moving erratically, be it from an attack, or maybe an escape? If there are good assignments or bad assignments, there are probably some who are reluctant to accept their fates. And as they say in the old movies, everybody runs.

And they are running. At first, it’s just a wall of green heading this way, but faces begin to appear. It really does look like they’re trying to escape, which suggests that green is one of the bad colors. “I don’t know what the hell to do here,” the officer says.

“Are they dangerous?” Tinaya asks him.

“They shouldn’t be. Greenies don’t have the best lives here, but they do okay. They should be rejoicing.” Why would people like that be escaping?

A man suddenly appears. He’s wearing a rainbow of colors. So he has all the assignments? What the hell is this place? “I can’t stop them all,” he kind of says to no one before turning to the officer. “Court Agent, Usher all of these people into the courthouse, then close the doors behind you.”

“Yes, sir, Pinocchio, sir,” the agent responds.

It’s then that this Pinocchio fellow notices Tinaya and Arqut, and their orange chain. “Hm. You’re too interesting to be judged by one of the others.” He reaches out and pokes them each in the shoulder. Their clothes stop fluctuating and settle on pink. “It’s only temporary, so don’t get too excited.” Just before the oncoming storm can crash into them, he teleports the three of them away.

They’re standing on a platform in the middle of the ocean now. No structures besides this little wooden dock can be seen before the horizon. Pinocchio steps over a little and bends his knees, materializing a throne just in time before he can hit the floor. He waves his hand, and generates two arm chairs behind Tinaya and Arqut. “Where are you two from? No need to lie about anything, by the way. I can always look it up in your file. I just prefer to have a conversation.”

“The Transgalactic Generation Ship Extremus,” Tinaya replies. “Currently roughly 84,000 light years from the stellar neighborhood.”

Pinocchio nods. “Yes, I remember reading about that. It was quite difficult for my predecessor to install the relay station on board without anyone noticing or discovering it later. He has spies everywhere, though.”

“Relay station, sir?” Tinaya asks. They don’t know who this guy is, but it seems prudent to treat him with respect until they have more information.

“Quantum communication is more difficult across vast distances,” Pinocchio begins. “It’s obviously possible, but it’s better to package up whole IDCodes, and keep them intact. Since it doesn’t make sense to mirror you remotely, they installed a dedicated server onboard your ship, which manages the codes, and sends a data burst back to us only when necessary.” He flicks his finger around, and pulls up a hologram, which is blurred from their perspective. “Looks like you died almost two years ago. The farther out you travel, the fewer bursts it delivers. It’s an efficiency constraint.”

“So, we’re not really dead?” Arqut asks.

“In any meaningful sense, no. In the present day, the consciousness mirroring tech we use isn’t that much more sophisticated than the living establishment has already developed on their own. We’re just very, very good at it, and very, very accurate, and we don’t tolerate coherence errors. You’re in a computer simulation, which was first created some eleven thousand years ago. Everyone who has ever died since then has come here. They were assigned levels to determine their lot in afterlife. If you were a good person, you got privileges. If you were really good, you got more. If you were bad, you went to hock, and if you were really bad, you were just erased. I’ve recently taken over responsibility, and I’m making a few changes to the system.”

“The giant line,” Tinaya acknowledges.

“It’s been slow-going, but necessary,” Pinocchio claims. “They used this hyperintelligence to judge everyone, and I didn’t like that it was just this one entity. Everyone who is already here needs to be rejudged. It’s a mess, but I promise, it will all be better in the end. The colors are good, I like the colors. It’s the nuance that needs to be reassessed, especially since people aren’t really dying anymore. Like I said, the living have mostly taken over the responsibility of maintaining continuity of consciousness. If anything fails on their end, I’m not sure we should step in as a backup plan anymore. Sounds like overkill to me, to be perfectly ironic.”

Tinaya and Arqut look at each other awkwardly.

Pinocchio glances back at their file on the hologram. “I see that you had the option of being backed up locally instead, and for whatever reason, that failed. Don’t worry, nothing has been decided on that yet. I’m not going to zero you out just because I’m reconsidering the policy. The question is, what level do you deserve, now that you’ve made it here?”

“Is it possible for us to go back?” Tinaya asks hopefully. “Is that one of these colored levels?”

Pinocchio smirks. “Level Eleven, White, Resurrected. It’s incredibly rare, but it has happened. I’ve never done it myself as I’ve been focused on the reassessments. Let’s call it a hiring freeze. I don’t know why I should unfreeze it for you.”

“Our son,” Tinaya starts to explain. “He died a few minutes after us. He was murdered. We have to fix that.”

“It’s more than that,” Arqut adds. “We have to stop his murderer from taking over the ship. The problem is not that he killed Silveon, but that he’s clearing house so he ends up with no opposition. If he succeeds, it could destroy Extremus entirely, and all those souls—even the ones who have already died—will be coming here. But if you’re thinking of changing that policy...”

Pinocchio holds up a hand to stop him. “I appreciate your concern. Typically, I don’t worry about living sociopolitics, but your link to each other has intrigued me, and I am not without mercy. Let’s take a look at his file, and see his status.” He waves his hand again, and changes the hologram. “Silveon Grieves. One hundred and five years old, died on January 5, 2388. Presently...awaiting integration. I’m sorry, he’s already here. He probably would have ended up in line right behind you had that horde not come running for the hills.”

“Who were those people?” Tinaya questions. “Why were they trying to escape? It sounds like green isn’t bad?”

“It’s not, but they’re not supposed to be green. There are people here who have almost as much power as I. Level Ten, Purple, Unrestricted. They can do just about anything they want, and sometimes what they want is to cause chaos. Not everyone was happy that I took over. They didn’t like the simulation’s creator, which would have been good for me, but they adored the woman who took over for him just before me, so that leaves me at a disadvantage.”

“Let us help you,” Tinaya pleads. “Make us two of these purple people, and we’ll combat the insurrectionists.”

“Tina,” Arqut says to her, not sure that he agrees, but not sure that he doesn’t.

Pinocchio thinks it over. “You were just asking to be sent back for your son. Now you’re asking to not only stay here, but to be two of the most powerful people in the simulation? Fascinating tactic.”

“Our power is your power,” Tinaya clarifies. “I assume you can always take it away, and unlike the others, we would let you. Since we will do whatever you want, that is not what we get out of it. What we get out of it is you send Silveon back to Extremus. He must be saved, because he can save everyone else. Plus, we wanna talk to him first.”

Pinocchio considers it again, incorporating these new parameters. “I’ll do it, but unpurpling you isn’t as easy as it may sound, so I have one condition.”

“Go ahead,” Tinaya offers, not surprised.

“Your ship, it’s cut off. Your son goes back to prevent it from blowing up, but if it does anyway—or if individuals just die for other reasons—none of your people comes here. Dead is dead is dead is dead.”

Brief pause. Tinaya takes a breath. She shouldn’t have this kind of power. “Deal.”

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Extremus: Year 119

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Decades ago, Tinaya and Arqut connected their lives together through a lifelink. When one of them gets hurt, so too will the other. They weren’t sure if the procedure had worked, because it wasn’t always reliable. There were times when one was sick, and the other was not. It was never really the point, though. This is why they did it. They have just died at the exact same time, which is rare on this ship. Everything that they were dealing with—all the trials and tribulations—it’s all behind them now. Their son is technically older than them, and this wasn’t the first time that he had to say goodbye to his parents. Silveon will be okay without them, armed with his memory of future events, and a lifetime’s worth of knowledge and wisdom. He and Audrey bid farewell and let them go, as did everyone else here who deserved it. Now they can move on. Now they can finally rest.

There is one thing left to do, however. It is time to answer The Question. Tinaya has known about it for many years, and eventually told her family. It’s a secret from just about everyone else, though. It violates a major principle of the Extremus mission, but again, they have known about it for so long, they’ve had plenty of time to come to terms with it. There is no way to know how many people answer yes, and how many answer no, because it should come as a surprise for most. At the moment of their deaths, Tinaya and Arqut’s consciousnesses were uploaded to a special server. If they agree, their minds will be put on ice for another century, until the Extremus planet is reached by their descendants. When it comes time to settle their new homeworld, everyone who answered yes will be downloaded into new substrates, and become part of the colonists. If the two of them were normal, it would feel instantaneous to them—assuming nothing destroyed the ship in the meantime. But they’re on a different track. When they say yes, they will be going somewhere else.

“Hello, and welcome to The Buffer,” a woman says warmly.

They were standing in the Attic Forest, though obviously a virtual simulation of it. The two recently deceased are now young again, which makes sense, and feels nice.

“Does everyone come to this place?” Tinaya asks. “The forest hasn’t always existed.”

The welcomer smiles. “You were clearly prepped beforehand, so I will skip the usual explanation. To answer your question, the simulation scans your thoughts, and generates what it believes will be the most pleasant and comforting place for you specifically. For most people, it looks something like this, as we all wish to find Extremus. For you, it sounds like it’s more specific. I hope it pleases the both of you. We don’t get many duos. I’m guessing it’s a lifelink?”

“Yes, and I helped build this place for real in base reality, as did my now-husband,” Tinaya explains, “so it’s important to us both.”

“Ah, yes. I have heard of you. Miss Leithe, right?”

“Admiral Emerita Leithe.” Tinaya doesn’t usually care about formalities, but it felt important to her to clarify her title in this case.

“Apologies. And you?”

“Superintendent Arqut Grieves. You didn’t know that we were coming?”

The woman shakes her head. Her voice is still calming. “I do not receive a manifest beforehand, or even an alert of a forthcoming arrival. My job is to ask you The Question without judgment or preconception. It doesn’t matter to me who you are, or who you were. You’re entitled to answer.”

“Who are you?” Tinaya asks, “Or, who were you, if you prefer?”

“I am Dr. Itri Meziani, thanks for asking,” she replies. “I was the Executive Grief Counselor many years ago.”

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Dr. Meziani.” Tinaya shakes her hand, then Arqut does.

“I suppose that you already know what I’m about to ask you, but I still must ask it,” Dr. Meziani says.

For a long time there, Tinaya intended on saying no to The Question. She only changed her mind relatively recently when Thistle showed her that her whole family line has been kept alive in base reality on an asteroid which Tinaya herself colonized and called Eleithium. It gave her some perspective. She doesn’t wanna die. The problem now is that Thistle is no longer the AI in charge, and they don’t know whether they will be rerouted to the colony, or just kept on ice with everyone else. Did he set it up so that it will happen automatically? Truthfully, she forgot to ask him before Oceanus stopped allowing their visits. Do they have to be honest with this Dr. Meziani about their sort of get out of jail free card? In the end, they decided to just come clean and tell the truth. They can’t risk something going wrong with the process. If it doesn’t work, they’ll just go on ice, and still be alive. All they know is that they’re not going to say no. They really want to see the Extremus planet, and they almost have to see Silveon again.

“We have somewhere else to be,” Arqut begins. “A friend of ours set up...an alternative option. I’m not sure how we go about getting there, though. He’s sort of...indisposed at the moment.”

“I can check for a rerouting subroutine,” Dr. Meziani says graciously, “but I can’t guarantee anything. If your friend can’t control it from the outside, I can’t get you there. It wouldn’t be that I wouldn’t want to. Again, it’s not my job to make judgments. You don’t have to do anything in particular. Hell, if you can will yourself back to life in your own body, go for it. But understand that there is a time limit. I can’t tell you what it is. It’s after five minutes following the next death, so that could be any second now. The Buffer must be kept open.” She looks to the left, presumably searching for the path that will take them to Eleithium, and hopefully finding it. She suddenly jerks her head to the right. “Something’s wrong.”

“What is it? Did you find it?” Arqut asks.

“Your time is up,” Dr. Meziana tells them. “Someone else just died.”

“But we have five more minutes,” Tinaya reminds her.

“No.” She starts breathing heavily, which doesn’t make sense given that there’s no air in this virtual environment. “You don’t.” Without warning, she pops away, leaving a faint puff of smoke behind.

A shadow appears in the trees in the distance. It’s moving in an eerie serpentine pattern, but drawing nearer. As it does so, its silhouette becomes clearer and clearer. Finally, it looks like a person, and soon after that, it looks like someone they know.

“Pronastus?” Tinaya questions. “You died?”

“Just for a few minutes,” Pronastus says in a weird tone that doesn’t really sound like him. “The flatline device that I found will revive me in about six minutes.”

“Did you have something to tell us?” Arqut presses.

“Or ask us?” Tinaya adds.

“You gave me the ability to do this,” Pronastus goes on. “You’re the one who helped me find the consciousness transference technology that I needed to hack in here. I was looking for it, but I could not find it, because it was for me. I can’t do anything for myself. I have to be searching for someone else. Fortunately, you never realized just how close you were to it. For reference, it was in a closet, in the first Frontrunner you teleported to; the one where you met AI!Elder.”

Oh, right. AI!Elder did say that there was a cool helmet in there. She should not have ignored that quip. “So you’re, uh...evil...errr...what’s goin’ on here?”

“What’s going on is that I am sick of doing everything for everyone else. I found a workaround, and it’s thanks to that helmet. Coming here was a necessary latent step, but not my endgame. I’m going to send my mind to another body. Bonus, I get to keep my pathfinding powers, and finally use them for myself!”

“What do we have to do with any of that?” Arqut spits.

“You know me,” Pronastus reasons. “You know me better than anyone. Others know that I’m a pathfinder, of course, but they don’t understand it. When Captain Jennings dies, I’ll have to make sure that he also answers no. I know what you’re thinking, but don’t worry about Silveon. He’s too preoccupied with his own life, I don’t feel threatened by him, so I don’t care what answer he gives when he dies. However, if any of you put yourselves on ice, and come back in a hundred years, you’ll see right through my disguise. I have long-term plans. Running the ship is just the first part of it. I don’t plan on ever dying, because that’s a retarded provision that our ancestors never should have decided upon or agreed to.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to say that word.”

“That’s your issue? I’m about to straight up murder you, and you’re arguing with me about political correctness?”

“We’re not too worried,” Tinaya explains. “Tyrants like you and Waldemar always create their own resistance. It’s not gonna last. You may be a pathfinder, but eventually, you will run out of paths that lead you to joy. You’ll always want more, and it will be your downfall. Extremus will get through this. It suffered but survived Consul Vatal, and Ovan Teleres, and Mister Radomil Cernak. It will survive you too.”

Pronastus smirks. “Will it survive Waldemar?”

“You’re obviously undoing that timeline,” Tinaya replies.

“Am I?”

“Oh, shit. The clones.”

“The clones,” Pronastus confirms. “They were never made by him. What would be his reasoning?”

“No, that doesn’t make any sense. You needed me to ask you to lead me to the Frontrunners for the consciousness transference technology. That’s where I found the first clone. You didn’t know about it beforehand.”

Pronastus smirks again. “I’m not in this alone. Others know where the path should go, and have known that for decades. They just didn’t know that I would be the one to take the first step in the right direction. Eight. Eight. Eight,” he says in a low and intimidating voice.

“What?”

“Eight. Eight. Eight,” Pronastus repeats. Oh, it’s a weird chant. “Eight. Eight. Eight.” It kind of sounds like hate with all that breathiness. His watch beeps. “Oh, my time is up. Don’t wanna wake up with brain damage, do I?”

“We’ve not given an answer,” Arqut tries to reason. “How exactly are you gonna force us to give the wrong one?”

“You have a time limit, remember?” Pronastus says.

“But you’re the time limit, and you’re not really dead. You have to go back in a minute or so. I doubt the Buffer will force us out. I mean, it hasn’t yet.”

“I started the clock,” Pronastus begins. “The next death will stop it. Some overlap is acceptable, but not three death events.”

“How do you know there’s gonna be another death soon?”

One last smirk. “Because I caused it, just like I caused Détha’s. Trust me, I didn’t miss anything.”

“Who did you kill?” Tinaya demands to know.

Oh, no. This is his last smirk.

“Who did you kill!”

Pronastus winks, then disappears.

“Response window expired,” a disembodied computerized voice that they don’t recognize announces. “Answer null. Prepare for IDCode purge.”

“No!” Tinaya and Arqut exclaim. “We answer yes! We answer yes!” Tinaya continues.

“Mom?” Silveon asks, having just appeared before them.

“NO!” they both repeat. Everything turns black.

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