Microstory 1863: Magnetic

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I’ve met, and heard about, voldisil before. There seems to be a consensus that each one of them is born with two spirit abilities. One is whatever specific special thing they can do. The other is simply knowing that that’s what they are. If I’m a voldisil, then I only have the first thing, and not the second. I’m not inherently conscious that there’s something different about me, but there must be, right? I mean, no single person can run into this many unusual people over the course of a lifetime. My home life was normal. My parents were normal, my half-brother was normal, my neighbors were normal. In high school, I started asserting my independence, which is very normal. As a result, I began to regularly leave my bubble behind, and met all sorts of—let’s call them quirky—characters. I think the first time I noticed it was when I was in psychology class. I had this thing where I would sit at the desk in the far corner of the room on the first day of school. The more interested I became in the subject, the farther up I would move, sometimes to great annoyance to the students who had already chosen their spots, and wanted to stay there. So it was the second day, and I still didn’t think I would want to move, when another kid sat next to me who I guess skipped the first day of school. He seemed to think that we were kindred spirits, even though we didn’t know each other. His big thing was serial killers. He signed up for that course so he could learn all about them. Fine, whatever; to each their own, but he wouldn’t stop pestering me about it. He wanted us to share in the passion for the topic, and I wasn’t into it. I found it difficult to move on the third day. People knew I did that by then, and even though I went in early to get a different seat, they kicked me out. But he was just the first. The first of many.

I could not go on a single blind date, or even a non blind date, without that date deciding that I wanted to hear their weird ideas, like how the stars weren’t real, and if animals don’t wear clothes, why do humans? One of them didn’t like to eat bread, which I’m sure doesn’t sound too crazy, but for me, it’s a non-starter. I met this one guy at a party who thought that water was trying to talk to us through the bubbling and jetting in fountains. A neighbor of mine when I got my own place kept sleepwalking into my unit. I even had the super change the locks, but that guy always managed to get in. Come to find out, he happened to be a thief, and while he wasn’t trying to steal from me, muscle memory occasionally drove him to break in to any door he saw. When I finally got a job, all of my coworkers were bizarre in their own special ways. I began to wonder if they were hired as part of some charity for flat-earthers and autistic people. I know, that sounds really insensitive, but it made me question my sanity, because if I was saying such things about them, what did others say about me? Were they the normal ones, and I was the weirdo? What if none of those people even existed, and I just made them all up in my padded cell? This continued throughout the rest of my life. I met a lot of regulars, to be sure, but the ratio of people I couldn’t understand or relate to seemed higher than it should be. Well anyway, I don’t think I have any superpowers. I don’t think I’m voldisil. I think it’s either dumb luck, or I’m particularly judgmental, and it’s something I never got over. Or it’s like my mom said, everyone’s a little strange, and part of what makes me unique is my tendency to pick up on people’s special traits. Yeah, that makes me sound kind of nice. I’m gonna go with that. I’m not a crazy person magnet. I’m a niche detector.

Microstory 1843: Granddaughter

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I don’t want to talk about my life, nor my death. I would rather gush about my granddaughter. That is a grandmother’s job. Thack Natalie Collins was born in 1988 in Tāmaki Makaurau, as was her mother, as was I, and as was my mother. We didn’t know about the voldisil back then, but we all felt it that day in the maternity ward. The whole hospital, in fact, felt something change. When she came into this world, she brought with her a light that no one had ever seen before. Most kept to themselves about it, but people reported gaining new perspective on the universe, and their place in it. They could sense how we were all connected, and how everything mattered. There was no purpose to our reality, but there was an order, and it all fit together. As she grew older, she proved herself to be quite the storyteller. Before she could write, she was telling us about a young man fighting for peace on a chain of islands, and a pair of dolphins who tried to help humans survive a pandemic. We were so enamored with her, we didn’t understand where she was coming up with these stories. If pressed, she could answer nearly any question we threw at her. Where was this character born, and what was their middle name? What was their favorite school subject? She responded immediately, not like she knew we would ask it, but like she already knew everything about this person, so it didn’t matter what we asked. Occasionally, a follow up question would give her pause, but she didn’t look like she was trying to come up with an answer. You know what I mean, that look that people have when they’re contemplating something. No, her eyes looked more like she had to find the information from a book laid before her, except there was no book. She was getting the answers from somewhere, though, and we realized later how literal this was. All of her stories were actually true.

She witnesses events across time, space, and dimensional barriers. She can see the entire multiverse. I don’t claim to know how her ability works, or how she came to possess it. The way she tells it, she has three parents. My daughter and her husband share her with a third entity, who keeps themselves hidden from the rest of us. Thack’s father felt violated by this, but sex seems to have nothing to do with it. Evidently, a human being is normally given their soul by their god, but for some reason, voldisil receive theirs from someone living on a lower plane of existence; one that is closer to ours. Thack doesn’t know much more than that, but she knows just about everything else. Except about our universe. That appears to be rather hazy for her, which is probably for the best. Knowing what’s going to happen in the future for people around you would be an incredible burden that I can’t fathom. It’s much safer to stay distant from them, and just let them do their thing. Thack doesn’t live like that, however. She injects herself into the stories, guiding the right people to the right decisions to make the cosmic puzzle look the best that it can. She doesn’t interfere too much, bolstering herself up to be a god herself, or anything. She just communicates with those who need her the most, and she knows who these particular people are, because they stand out, and their paths aren’t completely clear to her. When I was young, our teacher asked us to write a paper about a person who we admire the most. Most chose historical figures; scientists and leaders. I think I did mine on a protester who died in prison. If I could start that all over again, I would choose my granddaughter, because she’s that amazing.

Microstory 1840: Agreement

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Oh, I’ve known about voldisil for quite awhile now. I mean, I didn’t know they were called that, but I knew there were people out there with inhuman abilities. I mean, I didn’t know that there were multiple people, but I knew that there was at least one. If you had told me back then that there were others, I probably would have believed you without proof, but if you had told me that most—or even some—of them were good, I can’t promise I would have believed that. This is the story of a lawyer who wasn’t a lawyer anymore, a friend of a friend, and a race to save my own life. I practiced law for 20 years. I wasn’t a particularly great one, but my skills were enough to live on, and my clients didn’t complain. They knew that they were getting what they paid for, and I was always upfront about my limitations going into every business relationship. I won’t get into why I was disbarred, but while I definitely deserved punishment in some form or another, it should have been another, like maybe a fine. I didn’t have anything to fall back on, but a friend of mine suggested I become a certified nursing assistant like her. It wasn’t too much education, and when I factored in expenses and all the pro bono work I did, it ended up paying about as much as I was getting before. I met a lot more people in my new line of work, which I loved. I was even sad to see them go, even though it meant that they were better, and that was obviously a good thing. I had this one patient who was in it for the long-haul, though, so I got to know him pretty well. He eventually learned that I was educated in law, and asked if I would do him a favor. It wasn’t the first time I gave out free legal advice, and it wasn’t itself illegal. I just had to be clear about my situation. I couldn’t charge for it, and I couldn’t represent them. He said that it was perfect. All I needed to do was look over this extremely long contract for his brother.

The brother had applied for a new job, and it was evidently very hush-hush. They couldn’t even tell him what he was going to be doing until he signed the non-disclosure agreement. All they said was that his résumé came up, and that he was perfect for a new position. So I took the document home, and read over it very carefully. I didn’t want to miss a single word, because it was fascinating how long it was, and I wanted to figure out what this was all about. These days, the length would be standard, but in those days, it was weird. There wasn’t a lot about the company, or even what the job was like. It talked a lot about compensation, and the consequences of insubordination. There was one line near the end that caught my eye. I still remember the words: anyone who reads this contract is subject to its terms, with or without a final signature. Failure to sign after reading this paragraph will result in death. Well, that was me. I read it, and since it was so big, and my patient and his brother knew they wouldn’t understand it, I was the only one who read it. I brushed it off, even though it was really creepy, because all I had to do was pretend I never saw that paragraph. That was how I found out that the supernatural was real. A demon—as I called him, with no better comprehension of spirit powers—just knew that I had read the line, and he started coming after me. What followed were a series of near death experiences, blood sacrifices, and a ton of running. I hate running, and I think he knew that too. In the end, I signed, but my life did not get easier after that. The job was darker and more twisted than I ever could have imagined, and after 75 years of hell, I’m relieved to have finally reached the sweet release of death.

Microstory 1801: Jellyfish Cycle

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I have been around for centuries, but I’ve not been young the entire time, or even most of the time. A few species of jellyfish are capable of something similar, through by different means. They use their genetics to be immortal. I use my soul. Before they can die, they will revert to an earlier stage of development, and begin anew. These creatures have evolved to do this, but the same can’t be said for me, because humans are not like that. The majority of us aren’t, anyway. I belong to a subspecies of humans called voldisil. We did not technically evolve out of the other either, though. You see, there are three genders. Normal people are only conceived by two, but a third can get involved, often without their knowledge. They’ll inject something else into the process. It’s a spiritual experience, which those like me would consider a gift. Back in the early second century, I was created, and unfortunately, I never had the pleasure of meeting my third parent. My mother and father died shortly after I came into the world, when you think about it, because it was only a few decades. I felt like I was able to spend a lot of time with my family back then, but I now realize how precious those moments were, and how I should not have taken them for granted. When I was 36, I contracted malaria, and I assumed that was it for me. There was no cure, no vaccine. It was pretty much a death sentence in my region in that time period. One night, I felt myself drifting away, and had to make peace with the end. I was surprised to find myself waking up the next morning as a toddler. All of my memories were intact, and I was cured. I couldn’t explain it. A new couple adopted me, thinking I was the child of a victim, and not even considering the possibility that I was the patient. They just thought of me as their little miracle.

I continued to go through this cycle lifetime after lifetime. Though, I probably shouldn’t call them lifetimes. I would be older when the transition happened every time, but I was also coming back older. The second time it happened, for instance, I looked more like an eight-year-old. By the fifth cycle, I no longer had to worry about someone trying to take care of me. I appeared to be old enough to handle myself. Each time, I would have to pack up, and move to a new land, so no one would become suspicious. I felt like I was in my early forties the last time I cycled, but that was only sixteen years ago. I’ve not known what it was like to die of age-related causes in a very long time. If I keep this up, I’ll probably only have days to live at a time, and I don’t want that. My soul’s ability to rejuvenate my body was never destined to last forever, and I always knew this about myself. What I needed to do was find some way to make my legacy last. I, of all people, understood what it looked like when someone just faded away. That’s what happens to most, in the end. Barring great fame, perhaps someone’s great great grandchildren will recall stories of their ancestors, but they won’t likely pass these on to their own descendants. I didn’t have any myself, because I didn’t know what their lives would have been like. It wasn’t worth the risk. As I lie here on my bed, prepared to go through this once more, and come back as another middle aged woman, I see now. I see that my third parent must have been in my same position all those years ago. This must be how it works; we pass the torch. I may simply be the latest in a line going back to the dawn of man. My final thoughts are of a newborn baby crying with the others two floors down, who receives my spirit ability, and has no choice but to accept the burden.

Microstory 1791: First Reflection

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I’ve always known that I was born a voldisil, but I’ve never had any special gift. For most of my life, I lived during a time when my kind could only be ourselves in secret. We didn’t tell anyone what we were, or what we could do. We weren’t out in the open until a man with the ability to heal felt he had to go public to save as many people as possible. Some of us weren’t happy about it, but I always admired his bravery. As I watched the news talk about him, and suggest there were others like him, I wondered whether I would finally find out what I could do. It didn’t happen. I lived the last couple years of my life without a purpose; at least in the voldisil way, that is. It’s only this last moment that I have finally figured out who I am. According to current statistics, about a hundred people die in the world every single minute of every single day. As I lay dying, the histories of each of these fallen strangers are flooding my brain. We’re not dead yet, but I just know that these are the people who are on their way out with me. If there is something on the other side of the death barrier, then the hundred of us will cross that threshold together. It is overwhelming and inspiring. Get something to record this, because I only have a couple of hours to live. I will be spending my last breaths on telling you these people’s stories in first person perspective. They’ve been through a lot. For some, their time has come, but for others, it is tragic and unfair. In the future, scientists will synthesize the healer’s abilities, and create a panacea, but until then, this is life. It always ends, and I am no exception. I shall begin this series with my own story.

Since I didn’t seemingly have any special abilities, my life was fairly normal and mundane. I really liked to paint, but I was never particularly good at it, and even if I had been, I don’t think I would have wanted to translate it into a career of any kind. I like for people to see my art, because I think it’s something that should be enjoyed, but I don’t need them to pay me, and I don’t need to become famous. I made a living working as a groundskeeper at a cemetery. You know, no one is really sure what makes a volidisil a voldisil. No one has been able to study them until recently, because we had not yet gone public. One of us that I met called us spirits, which evidently means our abilities come from our souls, as opposed to our minds or bodies. It appears that voldisil is merely one kind of these spirits, but I’ve never heard of any other, so perhaps she was mistaken, or they’re just straight synonyms. The point is, does my ability have to do with death because that’s what I dealt with my whole adult life, or was I drawn to the field because of my future ability? Is there any connection at all, or is it just a coincidence? After all, like I said, everyone dies, so maybe the link is just something that I’ve wrongly perceived. I suppose it doesn’t matter in the end, but it would be nice to understand where we come from, and how we are the way we are, and whether any reason is strong enough to combat the chaos. I’ll die happy and satisfied with the small way I contributed to the world, helping families move on despite the sadness. Others are not so lucky, like this next reflection, from the perspective of a man who couldn’t be nice to save his life.

Microstory 1751: Spirit of the Lynx

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When I was a boy, I had no identity. All of my classmates had some kind of online persona, which represented who they were, and what they enjoyed. Their usernames reflected these attributes, be it a love for football, or all things Star Wars. I didn’t care about anything in particular, or have any special way of setting myself apart from others. I suppose that’s what it really comes down to, that I was not special. Ya know, I liked watching the news, and not because I wanted to become a reporter when I was older, but I’ve always been more interested in the goingson of real life than fiction, or other forms of entertainment. But NewsBoy1994 seemed like a dumb and boring name that I didn’t want to use. One day, I was flipping through my favorite news and documentary channels, hoping to learn something new, when I came across a nature show about the lynx, and it gave me an idea. Maybe I am a lynx. And not because of the animal’s particular behavior, or the way that they look. Maybe it’s just arbitrary. I could call it my spirit animal, and claim to others that I just really like lynxes. I felt like a fraud, but no one else appeared to have any problem with it. He likes lynxes. Whatever, doesn’t matter to me. I didn’t get ridiculed or questioned, and everything went well. Over time, these creative online identities faded away. Social media allowed you to connect directly to your friends and contacts, but also just say things for the world to absorb at will. Real life has become trendy. People can read your posts if they want to, and on their own time. Many are using real identities now, because for most, it’s the closest we’ll get to fame, and we don’t want to hide ourselves under a layer of anonymity. Our friends can’t find us if they don’t know enough about us. Even then, is PermaLynx94 the guy you’re looking for, or some random stranger who also happens to like lynxes?

I shed my lynx identity, and moved on with my life. It was a lot easier for me than for others, I imagine. Some still probably weren’t too butthurt about it, since they were no longer so obsessed with the pastimes of their youth, and were glad to grow up. I didn’t care at all, because I never really cared about lynxes. It’s probably better now that people have to look deeper than my name if they want to know who I am. I got into hiking, which is something I never thought I would do. I probably would have tried to figure out some kind of clever walking pun back in the day if I had realized who I was at a younger age. I still like the news, and don’t care for fiction. I don’t have a problem with it on principle, but I watch Star Wars, and just don’t feel a damn thing for those people. This week, I’m backpacking alone in the woods, in the freezing cold of Canada. This is where I find my zen, away from people, and all of their noises. Things are going fine until I slip on a wet rock, and over the edge of the cliff. I hang onto a root, just hoping it doesn’t give. The drop is bout about six meters down, so I’ll live, but I’ll break bones, and not be able to leave. I have to find a way to lift myself up. Now I wish I had once identified as PullupDude69. As I’m hanging there, mere moments from a slow death, a lynx trots up and stares down at me. We study each other’s eyes, and don’t move a muscle. Suddenly, I’m no longer on the brink, but in some kind of tranquil and balanced serenityscape. We watch each other for an eternity, and then my spirit animal graciously provides me with the strength I need to pull myself up, and survive.

Microstory 1718: The Cassiopeia Pivot

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In the United States, the prohibition of alcoholic beverages began in 1920, and ended in 1933. During this period, a number of bootleggers sprang up in order to both satisfy the country’s desire for alcoholic drinks, and also capitalize on the scarcity of this commodity. One such of these opportunists was a man named Dawson de Felice. He and his family started their new business in 1930, after The Great Depression devastated their farm’s produce sales. It became public knowledge in 1934, and grew into one of the largest liquor and beer companies in the world. For decades, the de Felice name was synonymous with high quality, low-cost beer and spirits. They were also known for fighting hard against anti-drug movements. They did not specifically deny the consequences of drinking, or underage drinking, but they did suggest that all those issues were the responsibility of their customers. Either the drinker was old enough to drink responsibly, or they were young enough to have a guardian who should have better controlled their alcoholic intake. They lobbied against laws that would raise their taxes, or otherwise limit their customer base, and they regularly dismissed any suggestion that they ought to help curb drunk driving, and other risks. Many pointed out that they actually would have saved money by producing an ad about responsible drinking, rather than spending it on a defamation campaign against their socio-political opponents. Despite these detractors, sales numbers continued to rise, along with their once affordable prices. Their method of rejecting all responsibility seemed to be working in their favor, and no one had any reason to believe that they needed to do anything differently. To them, the idea of recommending anyone ever not drink was irrational, and out of the question. Sure, dead people can’t buy beer, but if they died from the beer they bought from De Felice, then they probably spent a lot while they were alive. That was the unspoken reasoning anyway.

In the 21st century, a woman named Cassiopeia De Felice became majority owner of De Felice Beer and Spirits. She decided to take the company in a radically different direction, and there were good and bad consequences to her actions. She was a recovering alcoholic, and never would have wanted to take over in the first place if she had not gotten the idea to change its business model completely. They would continue to sell alcohol, but no longer for human consumption. They were going to sell rubbing alcohol now, as well as hand sanitizer, and even fuel. She figured there was plenty of room in these industries, they already had the infrastructure set up to accomplish this, and she didn’t want to endanger people’s lives anymore. Customers were bewildered. Shareholders were outraged. Everyone was stunned. Never before had a company attempted to pivot so drastically. It would prove to be their downfall, but also the beginning of a new trend. The world would thank them later. Perhaps her plan would have worked if she had started them out slowly, introducing themselves to the new products gradually, and eventually letting go of their beverage division. Instead, she tried to make one big move, and no one knew what to do with it. The failure would come to be known as The Cassiopeia Pivot, and while it began as a derogatory term, the term itself would pivot to become a point of pride. Other companies made similar moves, hoping to better the world, and the lives of their customers. Oil companies switched to renewables. Weapons manufacturers switched to plumbing. Even a ballpoint company began to focus on augmented reality devices. Though, that last one was less abrupt. The other examples happened quickly, but were just as successful. The world was ultimately better for De Felice’s sacrifice. It didn’t become a utopia, but they helped a little, and not much more could be asked of an alcohol company that just wanted to do the right thing.

Microstory 1687: Licensed Genies Only

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There are many differences between a spirit, a witch, and a mutant. A spirit uses their soul to develop special abilities, a witch uses their mind, and a mutant uses their body. But it goes deeper than that. Witches use something called Craft (they don’t call it witchcraft), and while there is more often than not a biological component, it is usually a learned skill. The temporal manipulators in Salmonverse are a major exception to this, as they seem to have some kind of innate understanding of their own respective abilities, but for the most part, it takes work. Mutants obviously have some kind of genetic difference that allows them to do whatever they do, or even hinders them in some way. While their mutations aren’t always beneficial to them, they do generally figure out how to express them through survival instincts, because it’s rooted in that part of their neural makeup. Spirits, on the other hand, don’t have to learn anything. They don’t have to be changed, or be descended from those who were changed. It’s just something they are; or rather, it’s something that we are. We’re born knowing that we’re different, and also how we’re different. There’s sometimes a learning curve, but we typically grow up with a fairly high understanding of ourselves. We know what we can do, and we have a pretty good idea of what we intend to accomplish with our gifts. Some are good, some bad, but none is lost. The Genies in Genieverse were the same way, except pretty much all of them wanted to help people with their spirit abilities. Of course, as we know, they totally fail to live up to their own expectations, but this story isn’t about that. It’s about how they came together to organize, and how any recalcitrant ones were left with no choice.

For reasons I’ve not bothered to figure out, the population of this version of planet Earth was only at about a billion when personal computers and cell phones became ubiquitous. This is unusual. Even with heavy religious influence, the global population should be beginning to see a much steeper increase by this time. They kept changing their calendar, so I’m not sure what year it would be comparatively, though, so it’s hard to gauge what’s different, and what’s on track. Still, at this point in history, Genies were starting to feel like they needed to do more to help. They numbered about a thousand when a few of them got together first. They wanted to start a local organization, which would service people hoping to be granted wishes. They were the ones who came up with the majority of the rules and procedures that would end up becoming the norm. Up until this moment, Genies operated individually, and granted wishes very rarely. It’s unclear how they chose their clients, but they included some of the most powerful people in history. A few other Genies caught wind of what this small group was planning, and wanted in on the action. They had some ideas on how to improve the system. Genies just kept showing up, and wanting to make sure the system operated smoothly. Some fought against it. This was the way they had done things their entire lives, as had their predecessors, and they didn’t think there was any need to change things now. Unfortunately for them, once word got out to the general population that Genies were real, there was no way to grant wishes without being part of the association. Even without an understanding of how Genies worked, people were suspicious of anyone who wasn’t considered licensed. Each Genie was ultimately responsible for about a million people, which was just one more reason why this was all such a bad idea.

Microstory 1650: Breathe Freely

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There are two types of voldisil in my universe; natural-born voldisil, and kenvoldisil, which are given their spirit abilities by regular voldisil. We actually say, though, that the voldisil passes on their spirit. This sort of thing doesn’t happen often, because it comes with a price. Losing one’s spirit is not like losing one’s soul. They may sound like synonyms, but it’s more like the spirit is part of one’s soul. Not everyone has one, but if they do, they can’t lose it without also losing their lives. Most of the time, when one chooses to create a kenvoldisil, it’s because they’re dying anyway, and they believe their spirit has more work to do on this Earth. They just have to hope that the person they choose is worthy, and will use the abilities wisely. Landis Tipton is one such kenvoldisil, but he did not just receive one spirit; he received five, and not because he was deemed worthy, but because he was the only choice. Five voldisil friends were all attacked by a powerful and angry sixth voldisil, and they knew that their time was up. They ran off, looking for a new group of five to take up the mantle. Unfortunately, it was a late hour, and they were in a sparsely populated part of town, so they only managed to find Landis. Still, they had to do something, so with their final breaths, they drove their spirits into him. They didn’t even have time to explain to him what they were, what he now was, and what he was meant to do with his new gifts. Separately, the abilities had many great uses. They were fit for a team looking to do some good. Combined, the applications were less useful, so he really just focused on one. Landis now had the ability to see someone’s regrets, smell their health, hear their desires, feel their pain, and taste their lies.

Without a team, Landis didn’t know what he was supposed to do with his life now. Should he become a therapist, and help people overcome their problems by knowing their regrets and desires? Could he become a human lie detector, helping the authorities catch criminals? Or should he diagnose medical conditions, and relay that information to medical professionals? Well, what he realized was that the original five voldisil probably weren’t using their spirit gifts in the best way possible. They were helping one person—or maybe one small group—at a time. He wasn’t even sure whether they knew that their abilities could be reversed. When he looked at someone, he could witness events of their past that they wished never happened, but when they looked into his eyes, he could show them their potential. Their voice could tell him what they want, while his voice could comfort them, and make them feel satisfied with their lives. He could sense pain, and take it away with touch. He could taste lies, but also force them to tell the truth. But the most important ability he now possessed was the only one he ended up really using. His nose could detect health, but his breath could heal. Once he discovered this, everything changed. He sat down, and made a plan, and then he carried out that plan exquisitely. He first approached the wealthiest man in the city who was publicly known to be presently having health issues. He made a deal. Give Landis a thousand dollars right now on the chance that Landis could heal him, and then the rest of the million dollars once the oncologist told him he was cured. Of course, the man was hesitant, but a thousand bucks was nothing to him, and he had tried everything else, so he might as well give it a shot.

A few weeks later, Landis was a millionaire. He didn’t just spend the money on fast cars, and small-portion food, though. He asked the man to reach out to his other sick, but rich, friends, and got himself a few more million dollars, and then Landis bought a hotel. He cleared out all the guests, hired a growing team, and started a foundation. He brought in people one by one. They literally stood in line, and waited their turn to be healed. He didn’t always charge them, though. Much of the pre-work that needed to be done involved looking over every patient’s finances to determine which category they fit into. The rich people paid, the less rich people didn’t pay anything, and poor people actually received money. It was just free money that Landis gave them, along with the cure for what ailed them, from an account that was funded by the wealthiest of patients. As word spread, the operation was able to expand. A security team maintained order in the ballroom. A video played in the entertainment room, explaining to people what they were here for, and why it worked the way it worked. Just about all his staff members lived in the hotel, which was why he chose it in the first place, instead of a gymnasium, or something. It was a complicated, and extremely efficient program, which served to cure literally millions of people over the course of several years. He didn’t do much but work. Someone came into the room, he breathed on them, and then they left to make room for the next one. He worked for about ten hours every day, stopping only to use the restroom, and eat. In the evening, he had a nice dinner, enjoyed an hour-long massage, then started his nightshift, which was... Well, it was different. Let’s just say that certain women were...interested in...seeing if his abilities could be...passed onto a new generation. Landis took this part of his job seriously, and was doing it for all the right reasons, but he didn’t apologize for not hating it, nor for screening the candidates personally. In the end, Landis saved billions of lives once researchers were able to replicate his healing abilities—and only his healing abilities—for mass production. He was inarguably the most important voldisil in our history.

Microstory 1637: Wish Fulfillment

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I’ve not said anything about universes that contain a great deal of people with spirit abilities. Mine is like that, but throughout the bulkverse, we’re pretty rare. In any given brane, you might find one or two spirits in all of history. In Genieverse, there are many, though not quite as many as there are here in Voldisilaverse. The Voldisil are complicated in that we never all get together to make decisions. Each one of us tries to do whatever they believe is right, and sometimes that doesn’t work out so well, but we never decided to form some kind of governmental system. The spirits in Genieverse did. They were all born with the ability to find and recognize each other, and in the hopes of creating a better world, chose to found an organization that would utilize their abilities effectively. All spirits here were the same thing, though to varying degrees of success. They called themselves Genies, as you could have guessed, and I’m sure you’ve heard of them, but you probably know them to be slaves, or evil creatures of some kind. The real Genies can’t manipulate reality, or alter the laws of physics, but they can answer people’s prayers. And answering prayers is what they chose to do. They could have charged for their services, using regular currency, or maybe favors, but they wanted it to be fair. They opened their doors to all, and their only rule was that no wish could contradict someone else’s wish, or interfere with someone’s general happiness. Lots of people wanted the person they loved to love them back, but that would violate that other person’s agency, so it was off limits. It’s unclear whether they would be capable of such a thing anyway. They thought this simple restriction was all they would need, but there were problems, of course. It led them to prioritizing certain people over others—usually on a first come, first serve basis—resulting in an unfair system. It also resulted in chaos.

The Genies were powerful, intelligent, and knowledgeable. If two people wanted the same promotion at work, the person who asked for it first would usually be the one to get it, unless the Genies were aware that the second person was better suited. Well, this came with questions, like what were their parameters for job fitness, and what right did they have to circumvent the hiring manager’s decision? They were trying to become gods, while pretending they weren’t trying to be gods, while just making everything worse for everyone. They didn’t have any rules about how many wishes any one person was allotted. They didn’t think too far down the line at possible consequences for their choices. As long as a wish did not pose an immediate threat, and it was within their power, they made it happen. Society fell apart as people became obsessed with making their lives better without actually putting any effort into that goal. They believed as long as they didn’t ask for too much at one time, they would not be denied, and all of their dreams would eventually come true. It became impossible for the Genies to understand the ramifications of their actions. Soon, contradictions were popping up all over the place, and the solutions never really helped, because they always felt unfair as well. In two years, pretty much everyone in the world was unhappy, and there seemed to be no way out. The only reason it took that long was because not everyone believed the Genies were real right away. Unfortunately, it didn’t matter what they did at this point. No one was really wishing for the environment to be healthier throughout all of this, so the Ochivari came through, and wiped them all out, but it was their last successful mission.

Sic Transit...Labor (Part I)

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Freya and Limerick watched in horror as her mega dragonfly babies flew away. He reached up, and prepared to start plucking the strays out of the air, but was hesitating. “I...uh.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Do you want me to kill them, or...?”

“Yes, of course!”

Limerick grabbed one, and smashed it in his hands. It was a hell of a lot larger than a regular dragonfly, but as a newborn, still small enough for him to destroy in one move. He was able to snatch five more, but the rest managed to escape. “Sorry, I just...”

“Do you think that I think of those as my babies?” Freya questioned.

“Well, I don’t know.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Freya said, shaking her head. “It’s not like you could have killed them all. And we both know what becomes of them. This is where the Ochivari begin. We did it. We created them.”

Limerick frowned. “Stable time loop. Engineers of our own fate.”

“Yes.” She frowned as well. Then she winced. Then she screamed.

“What? What is it?”

“It feels like a contraction.”

“There are more in there?”

“It’s different. That was incredibly uncomfortable, but not really painful. This is pain. It’s starting to be the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced.”

“Okay,” Limerick said, calming himself with some deep breathing. “I remember what you taught me when we thought you were just pregnant with a human baby. We have to assume this is that human baby, and work from there.”

“Whatever it is, get it out of me!”

She had technically been in some form of labor for the last several hours, so the real baby came out in a matter of minutes. She was crying and screaming, as any good baby should. Ten fingers, ten toes, and most importantly, no wings. The problem was that she wouldn’t let up. She just kept screaming and screaming. Both of them had heard babies before, but imagine the loudest baby in the world, and then turn that up to eleven. Finally, the scream seemed to reach some kind of apex. It was so powerful that it tore a hole in the fabric of spacetime, and sent all three of them to a different universe.

Once the technicolors faded, the baby’s cries stopped, like she knew she was in a safe place, or even knew how to navigate here. They found themselves in a very small clearing in the woods. It was beautiful and peaceful. Limerick rested his chin on his fist, and admired his little girl. “She must get that from you,” he joked.

“You make light of it, but this could be a problem.” Freya was still in a lot of pain, but being here made her feel safe and comfortable.

Limerick kept smiling. “She knows what she’s doing.”

“I don’t doubt it.” A young woman appeared from behind a tree. “You should name her. It’s bad luck to travel without a name.”

Now Limerick was defensive. “Who are you?”

“Thack Natalie Collins. I’m the one what brought your little team together. I see the goingson in other universes. This is where Landis is from.”

“Voldisilaverse,” Freya uttered.

“Your baby is a hundred percent safe here,” Thack claimed. We will always protect her.”

“We?” Freya questioned.

Thack reached up, and twirled her finger in the air. Other people started coming out of the woodwork, and approached nonthreateningly. They kept a little distance, though, presumably out of respect. “We are all voldisil. I foretold your arrival, and I gathered only the best, and most virtuous, among us, to help me create a haven for the little one.”

“They look like they’re waiting for something,” Freya pointed out.

“We’re waiting to take you to your new home,” Thack explained. “You really should name her first, though.”

Freya looked down at her precious love. She recalled a personal conversation she once had with Diamond Zek. Zektene was a teleporter Freya met a couple years ago, who was accidentally transformed into a diamond in the attempt to boost her abilities. They were talking about Freya’s new name, and Zek pointed out that the goddess, Freyja from Norse mythology bore two daughters of lore. One was named Hnoss, and the other Gersemi. Both of them meant treasure. Diamond Zek admitted to thinking it would be a good name for a girl. They weren’t really thinking about Freya having an actual child at the time, but looking back, it felt like destiny. “Treasure.” She sighed blissfully, and looked up at her daughter’s father. “Treasure Hawthorne.”

He smiled gratefully.

“Treasure Hawthorne,” Thack echoed, as if addressing the heir apparent. “This will be your home...for now.” She took a beat. “Come. You should see a doctor. Your physiology may be too different from ours, which could potentially lower the efficacy of the panacea. Once we determine that it will work, you are welcome to start taking it like everyone else.”

“This is the Landis panacea, correct?” Limerick figured. Landis Tipton was another member of their crew on the Cormanu. He had many abilities, but one of them allowed him to heal any wound or medical condition. He used it to cure millions of people on this version of Earth, and only stopped because biomedical scientists were finally able to synthesize a drug that people could take whenever they needed it.

“Yes. We call it Tiptokois.” Thack turned, and started walking away. The others waited until Limerick was able to help Freya up. They formed a security barrier around them, looking out for all dangers. Voldisil was a general term for anyone who was born with some kind of ability in this universe. They could be good, or they could be bad, and some chose to be bad. Neither Freya nor Limerick knew much about the culture here, or how prevalent bad voldisil were, and even if Landis had given them details, they didn’t know how much time had passed since he left to join their crew. These could all, in fact, be bad people pretending to be on their side. They didn’t know anyone here, though, so they had no choice but to trust them, and hope it didn’t backfire later.

They walked for maybe a kilometer before Thack stopped, and turned towards one of her people. “Are these good?”

A man stepped forward, and carefully inspected two trees standing opposite each other. He waved his hand in the space between them. “This will work. Gather inside.” They all crowded around, and waited. The man continued to wave his arms around, this time like he was dancing without his feet, or like he was playing a game with the wind. This wind picked up, and after a minute, blew them away. They instantly transported to a pair of different trees in an urban setting. They were spaced about the same distance apart as the first trees, and as they looked around, Limerick and Freya could see other pairs, at different spacings. It was an interesting form of teleportation that was unmatched by anything in Freya’s universe, despite the fact that a lot of people there could do it in some way, or another. Tree portals, she presumed to call them.

Thack continued to lead them forward, all the way to a small hospital. It looked like something out of an old timey one-horse town, but this was clearly a big city. Freya figured that made sense, because most people here would have access to Landis’ panacea, which mostly negated the need for traditional medical practices. The receptionist greeted them kindly, and then stood up from her chair, showing that she was wearing a lab coat. The others stayed behind while she led Thack, Freya, Limerick, and little Treasure to the back, where she revealed herself to be the doctor as well. Again, with such little need for medical infrastructure, there wasn’t much reason for anyone but a doctor to work in what might very well have been the only hospital on the whole planet.

They spent the rest of the day being examined, and undergoing tests. Blood draws, CAT scans, and urine samples; they were all quite familiar to them. Once it was over, the doctor sent them on their way, saying that the results would be ready in the morning. Thack and the voldisils accompanied them to their new home. It was just large enough for two people and a baby, but very nice and clean. This world was all about simplicity and efficiency. It didn’t need to be luxurious to be comfortable, and to have everything they needed. Their only neighbors were Thack and the other voldisil. There was no telling how long they had been preparing for their arrival. Different universes operated on totally unrelated timestreams. The moment they left salmonverse, and the moment they arrived here felt consecutive, but there was no telling how much actual time these people had to plan for this.

Time was simultaneously important, and not all that important. Freya and Limerick wanted to get back to their friends, but again, it didn’t matter how long they waited. There was no rush to leave when this world was perfect for them right now. So they stayed. They stayed for over sixteen years. All three of them were taking the monthly tiptokois pill, and keeping a stash of emergency class pills at all times. The former kept them young and healthy, and they never found themselves ever needing the latter. According to the history, volidisil once kept themselves hidden, working in the shadows to either make the world a better place, or a worse one. Landis was the first to step into the light, and show people what he could do. It inspired others to use their own gifts out in public. This transformed society, creating a one-world government, and shedding a lot of the pain and suffering that most civilizations lived through.

On a personal note, Treasure was a great child. She was nice, caring, and affectionate. She was disciplined, patient, and interested in learning. Thack taught a special study program at a community college on exoversal cultures. It was generally limited to adults, but they made an exception for Treasure for obvious reasons. Everyone loved her, but she didn’t have any close friends. This world loved and accepted people who were different, but she still always felt so foreign, and never really got over that. People didn’t realize either, or they probably would have tried to help. She was just so popular that no one noticed she didn’t hang out with a specific group, and didn’t have anyone outside her parents who she could trust fully, and confide in. She wasn’t depressed exactly, but she wasn’t super happy either, and that was a realization she had to come to herself. It happened this morning.

“Treasure Lydia Hawthorne, get in here right now!”

She knew what her mother was angry about, but she was going to hold firm. So she took a deep breath, and prepared for battle.

“What is this doing on the table?”

She couldn’t yell, because if she yelled, it would give her mom even more reason to think that she needed it, which she didn’t anymore. She could control herself just fine. “I’m sick of it, and I’m over it.”

“It doesn’t work that way. This necklace is for your own protection.”

“It’s not a necklace,” Treasure argued, “it’s a collar. Your flowery language doesn’t work on me anymore.”

“I don’t understand, you used to be fine with it. You know what it’s for.”

“I control my voice. I’ve taken it off before, and didn’t have a problem.”

“What is this right here?” Freya asked, pointing.

Treasure sighed, realizing her mistake by claiming there was never a problem. “That’s my elbow,” she recited in monotone.

“We left that scar to remind you that if not for the panacea, you could be dead right now. That weird bird creature was this close to eating the rest of you. Your father found you in an uncharted universe after making four—four!—shatter portals. You realize how hard that is for him? It wears him out, he could have died trying to rescue you. He got lucky that time, because of Miss Collins, but if you scream just once, you could end up too far away for even her to detect. If you see a spider, or a boy gets too handsy, that could be it. You could be lost forever. That is why the amazing scientists on this planet built you that necklace, and that is why you can’t ever take it off unless he’s there to go with you. Which you’re not going to do until you turn eighteen, which you agreed to ten years ago.”

“I’m not asking you to let me train with dad. I just don’t want to wear the collar anymore. I’ve spent my whole life not raising my voice, I think I’ve been conditioned enough.”

“Or maybe you’ve been stifled for so long, it’s all just waiting to burst out all at once,” Freya argued.

“All the more reason to let me get used to taking it off!” It wasn’t a scream, but her voice was indeed louder than it had ever been since that time she got stranded. She was still a baby back then, though, and had no memory of that.

Steam came out of Freya’s ears. She held up the collar. “Put this goddamn thing back on this instant, before you do something you regret. I’m your mother, and you’re going to listen to me.”

“I’ll show you,” Treasure claimed. “I’ll show you that I can control it.”

“Yeah, you will, because you’ll be wearing your necklace.”

“Stop calling it that. It’s a collar, and I’ll put it on in five minutes.”

“What are you going to do in the next five minutes?”

“I already told you, I’ll show you that I can learn control. I’ll be back before you know it.” She ran down the hall, and into her room, ignoring the complaints from her mother. And then she screamed.

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Microstory 1604: White Savior

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This next one is a very sensitive topic, the answers to which I do not claim to know. I hesitated to tell this story, but have determined it’s better to let the truth be out there, than to pretend that it didn’t happen. Like I’ve explained, I am a voldisisil, which makes me a spirit type of human subspecies. I was born this way, due to the existence of a third parent that participated in my conception unbeknownst to my biological parents. But there are other spirits, in other universes, with different reasons for being. Some would be considered good, while others are pretty clearly bad, but most end up in a gray area. Unlike mutants and witches, spirits sometimes don’t take sides. They let their soul guide them, and don’t necessarily try to rationalize against their impulses. This doesn’t mean that they’re evil, but they don’t always think things through, and they actively repulse any attempt at criticism. There’s one man in particular that I believe we should discuss. His given name was Wyatt Bradley, but once he discovered what he could do, he started going by the moniker White Savior. Different versions of Earth have different historical experiences with race and nationality. Some are undeniably worse than others. Wyatt Bradley was born to one of these. Racism was prevalent, insidious, institutional, systemic, and seemingly insurmountable. He saw it all over the place. Everyone saw it, and anyone who didn’t see it was lying. Do not think that Wyatt discovered his abilities, immediately threw on a white suit, and started running around. He wrestled with the idea, and ultimately succumbed to his urges, which is what I was talking about. He surrendered to his soul, and did not heed the lessons that the wise people around him taught him as he was growing up. There is a reason that humans are a trinity of mind, body, and soul. All three are required to make a person. A mind alone is a computer, a body alone is a pile of viscera, and a soul alone is a ghost. None of them is meant to be without the other two.

Wyatt wanted to do something about the racism in his country, and perhaps the world, and it felt to him like his soul powers were the best way for him to accomplish his goals. He was an aidsman, meaning that he was called to action against injustice, but in a literal sense. He possessed a general psychic connection to the human collective, and could let himself be drawn to pockets of extreme civil unrest. On the surface, he simply appeared to be a teleporter, but he couldn’t just go wherever he wanted. He could only go to these places of turmoil, or back home. Like I was saying, he put on a white suit, and wore a steel mask. Basically, he wore a fencing uniform. But he was not a fencer. The weapons he carried were all blunt instruments, and tasers. He used these to attack people who were attacking minorities, and this regularly meant attacking the police. Wyatt’s public identity was extremely controversial, but he paid no attention to his critics, even members of the black community who saw it as wildly offensive, and altogether unhelpful. He didn’t think that he could conquer racism with his methods, but he believed he could deter some of the more violent components. “If the white cop is worried about getting a dose of his own medicine, he’ll stop giving it to his victims. If he does it anyway, he answers to me,” White Savior was once recorded saying in a rare case of him saying anything to anyone. He was predominantly quiet, though not mute, instead allowing his baton to do the talking for him. They eventually got the message. Whether or not any given individual respected this message was another story, but Wyatt’s actions were not without a little progress. Instances of police brutality against minorities dropped within months of White Savior’s arrival. It would seem that law enforcement was taking notice, and changing tactics. Unfortunately, this meant that they learned to be more subtle with their racism, because he was only drawn to the violence, not general mistreatment or abuse, and definitely not systemic oppression. After a few years, his activity took a toll on his body, and his sanity. I’m not sure if he ever admitted to himself that he wasn’t really helping, but he retired just the same, and withdrew from society completely. Within the year, everything was back to normal.

Microstory 1600: Welcome to The Bulk

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My name is Thack Natalie Collins. Weird name, I know, but my parents are a little weird, and they have good reason to be. I belong to a subspecies of humans called voldisil. I was not born of only the two parents, but also of a third, which provided me with a special gift that no one else has. This third parent did not raise me, and does not concern itself with human affairs, and it is unclear what their intentions are in regards to us, if they’re even driven by anything beyond their instincts. They may not quite realize what they’re doing. My gift may be part of some grand plan, or it’s just something that happened, but either way, I decide how I use it. I can witness events that occur in parallel universes. I can’t see it all at once, and I can’t see too much detail, but I am able to recognize momentous occasions, and important historical figures. I’m especially good at noticing when someone from one universe travels to another. Those events are so clear to me, as are some others, and what I’ve realized is that they are not inevitable. I can change things sometimes. I can only do it from a distance, mind you, but it is possible to interfere. Communication across these unfathomably vast distances is not easy, but when I need to reach out to someone, I can do it. And when I do, it’s because they’re at some kind of fork in the road, and I believe I can help them choose the right path. There are an infinite number of universes—which those in the know know are called branes, and that they are floating in something called the bulk—and while I could theoretically see any of them, I’m most concerned with the ones that are “closer”. Close is a complicated concept when dealing with hyperdimensional physics, but the fact is that some branes impact other branes more than others, and as selfish as it may sound, they have the potential to impact my universe. All of these are the ones that I’m worried about. They threaten each other, and upset the balance, and since I’m one of the few people who can actually make a difference on a grand scale, it’s my responsibility to try to make things better. The following are some of the more interesting anecdotes from across the bulkverse. I meddle in some of them, and stay out of others, but they are all important, and they all matter.

Microstory 1098: Della

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Thanks for coming to see me, Alma. The truth is that I’m glad to take the fall for Viola’s death, because I’m just as responsible as any of the others were. Well...maybe Homer was the worst of us. Nevertheless, I wanted to get my truth out there, because though I’m the only apparent survivor from our side of the cave fight, it wouldn’t be fair for everyone to go on believing I was working alone. Plus, out of everyone in Blast City Senior High’s Class 2019, I didn’t want to be the only one you didn’t interview, besides Homer himself. Or Viola. Or that guy that no one can find. I’m not going to be able to explain my actions to you, because I don’t fully understand them myself. It’s true, I was under his spell. The others were convinced to help them using their own vices and emotional traumas, but he handled me a little differently. I was technically his first recruit, but I didn’t know it at the time. When we met, he treated my kindly, and made me feel like I was the only person in the universe who mattered. For over a month, we would sit and talk under the beautiful sunset sky. He seduced me, not just for sex, but for my entire soul. By the time I realized what he was, it was too late. I was in love, and I couldn’t just throw that away. I thought I could fix him. I knew that I couldn’t. I should have listened better to my head. I stayed with him, and I helped him with his plans, because I was desperate to believe that we could overcome his urges. His powers were a curse, and there is always a way to lift a curse. Eventually, I realized there was nothing I could do, but I felt trapped. I understand now that all his talk about how important I was managed to instill the opposite message in me. I was actually not important at all. I couldn’t stop him, or help him. I couldn’t be free of him, and I couldn’t become a better person. In my mind, I was an accomplice to something so heinous that there was no reason to quit now, and there was no hope for redemption. I know this doesn’t absolve me of what I’ve done, but you should know I wasn’t like the others. They wanted to be there, completely. He might have lied to them, but he didn’t manipulate them. I wish I could go back in time and be stronger. I wish apologizing for my actions had any impact on what’s happened. All I can hope for now is that Viola has some trick up her sleeve to correct me of my behavior. So I have two favors to ask you. Please extend my gratitude towards Alice for healing me. She didn’t have to heal any of us, but it’s better that at least one of us answers for these crimes. Also, if at all possible, please ask Dolly to come see me. I would like to make contact with Viola’s spirit.

Void: Defiance (Part VIII)

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The New Crusades, as they were so unoriginally called, were a set of small attacks destined to culminate in a war between those with time powers, and those without. What began as animosity between Durus natives, and Earthans, soon warped into something completely different. Angry about the petty squabbling of the derisory humans, the paramounts—which was what choosing ones were called now on this planet—decided to take charge. Armed with so much more power than humans could do anything about, they started moving people around their proverbial chessboard. They took over the government, and started instituting their own rules. Humans from either world were treated as second class citizens. This had the completely foreseen effect of galvanizing the humans into forming a mutual union. Not only had the paramounts known this would happen, but were counting on it. They figured that the only way the Durune natives, and the Earthan refugees, would ever get along, would be if they had some kind of enemy to battle together.

Unfortunately, certain paramounts in their ranks started liking their power, and were on a path of taking things too far past the point of no return. Drawing upon the lessons left behind by the ancient source mages, they thought they could achieve peace, and also maintain their power. They had it all lined out. They had control of the child who could create new Watersheds, and wanted to use this resource as leverage over others, so everyone would depend on them. One of them was a verter, who could control the aging process of individuals, which would allow them to stay young forever, further cementing their undefeatable tyranny. What they didn’t have, however, was Andromeda. She was the only builder anyone had ever heard of on Durus. If they wanted to build a kingdom without using slaves or indentured servants, they would either need her on their side, or be able to force her to do their bidding. It was unclear whether they were going to succeed in this, though, because all of this had happened in an alternate reality.

A paramount who was not interested in a Durus under oligarchical rule, went back in time, and contacted Earth. The Overseer, which was the woman Saga and Vearden had worked under during Operation Second Wind, sent a salmon battalion to Durus to change the outcome. If the world needed a mutual enemy to unite the two sides, they would have it. The natives hated them for being part of yet another invasion. The refugees hated them for refusing to return them to Earth. There were a few hostile actions against the battalion, which had established a temporary military state in order to achieve their goals, but the soldiers never retaliated with violence, and not a single person was harmed beyond superficial wounds. One of the paramounts reported to have become hungry for power in the other timeline was showing signs of repeating alternate history, so Andromeda and Saga were asked to postpone their one year anniversary getaway to speak with him.

Enobarbus ‘Barbwire’ Agnelli had the power to invoke the spirits of dead people, whom only he could see. Theoretically, this could be used to provide closure for the spirit’s loved ones. Instead, he just used the knowledge he gained from these conversations against his opponents, real or imagined. “What are you two doing here?” He didn’t necessarily hate them, he treated everyone with about the same amount of scorn.

“We just wanna talk.”

“You’re working for the battalion, aren’t you?”

“In the spirit of honesty,” Saga began, “I will admit to having a prior relationship with a sergeant in the battalion. We are here with information regarding your future, which we procured from the battalion, but we are not working for them.” That was neither true, nor untrue. She was asked to help, but she had no obligation to do so, nor to report back to Adolphe.

“What happens in my future?” Barbwire asked.

“You tell us?” Andromeda suggested.

“That’s not my power,” he said.

“Well, what do you want your future to be?” Saga asked.

He took a second to think about this, like he was just interviewing for a job. “I want to be able to use my powers how I want. I don’t want to have to hide them, or use them for noble causes. I don’t want to be ridiculed, or categorized, or controlled.” He spoke only to Andromeda now. “You and I are powerful people. We’re better than the humans—”

“She’s one of us,” Andromeda suggested.

“Well, not really,” he contended.

It was true, for as many times as Saga could open a door to another time and place of her choosing, there was an equal number of times when she couldn’t, or opened a door against her wishes. It was interesting that he seemed to recognize this in her. Most assumed that her powers were just rather screwy while on Durus, but he appeared to know that she was not actually a paramount.

He continued, “If we’re better, don’t we have an obligation to help them?”

“I would sure think so,” Andromeda agreed. “But...isn’t that everyone’s responsibility. If you have the power to help someone, you should. Everyone should, temporal powers or no.”

“Okay, so...this is what I can do.”

“You can do what?” Saga pressed.

“I’m not talking to you,” he spat.

Andromeda stuck her finger in his face. “Hey! You won’t talk to my wife that way.”

He took a breath, and pretended to calm down. “I’m sorry. This is just something only you can understand. You’re paramount...full paramount, and you’re from Durus. We’ve spent a lot of time complaining about how things are now, but not much time actually trying to change it. People thought the republic was such a great idea, but look where that got us. Women were inferior, and couldn’t even go outside without a man’s permission.”

“That’s over now.” Andromeda shook her head.

“Maybe. Maybe you’ve cleaned out the whole government, but it’s still based on this socialistic pipe dream that, as long as everybody has a job to do, nothing will go wrong.”

“You don’t really know what you’re talking about,” Saga told him.

He was about to attack her again, but restrained himself, because it was counterproductive to his objective. “My point is that we’ve all forgotten what things were like before. Way before. When we first came here, Smith ruled over everybody. Through fear. Then he disappeared, and the source mages came to power. That was our renaissance. Yes, Miss Einarsson, we have books here too, I know what the renaissance is. The source mages used their powers to create an order, and the world flourished. We had day, and we had night. We had houses, in towns, with grass, and other life. We had food, and security. We had people protecting us against the monsters. Everyone thinks that, now that the literal monsters are all gone, we have nothing further to worry about. Well, I’m here to tell you that humans are fully capable of being the monsters. I’m scared, Andy—”

“Andromeda,” she corrected.

“Andromeda,” he said apologetically, “I’m scared. I don’t want to go back to the first republic, or to the Smithtatorship, or Earthan control. And everything I’m seeing here is leading me to believe that one of those three things is on its way. Which one would you rather have? If it’s up to me, I pick door number four. I pick us.”

“The beauty of a republic, Mr. Barbwire, is that no one rules. The people decide. The people vote. You want to take that away from them.”

“The people are stupid,” he said.

“You sound like Drumpf.”

“He made some good points,” Barbwire said with a shrug, unashamed of his opinion.

“What makes you qualified?” Saga questioned. “Sure, you have time powers, but so do a lot of people. That doesn’t automatically mean you know how to run a planet. That would be ridiculous. Powers aren’t given to people because of who they are. They’re not given at all, you’re born with them, which means for every smart chooser, there’s a dumb one. I’m looking at one right now.”

“Be nice,” Andromeda warned.

Barbwire wasn’t pleased about having to explain himself to an unworthy salmon, but he worked past it. “Are you sure about that? Do you know for a fact who gets powers, and why? Have you studied it?”

Thinking he would have no way of knowing whether she had or not, she leaned forward and lied, “I have, yes.”

He looked at the space above Saga’s head, and then scoffed playfully. “No, you haven’t. You’re just a slave.”

Saga looked behind her, but saw no one.

“You fell into this life, completely unprepared,” he recited. “You did the best you could, but if these powers that be,” he spoke with airquotes, “wanted you to do something, you had to do it. Sure, you gained real power at some point, and even when you lost it, you kept an echo of it. But you’re still. Just. A. Slave.”

He was presumably referring to the time she absorbed The Cleaner’s power, and ultimately used it against him, which left her with residual powers that allowed her to transcend her station marginally. But how would he know that about her? Saga decided to test him. “That’s true, and that led to my downfall. I was literally taken out of time, like I never existed. But then my friend, Vearden brought me back, and we continued our job together. I remember this one time,” she said, faking nostalgia, “when the powers that be asked us to help a budding agricultural society learn how to irrigate their crops. We weren’t supposed to use any modern inventions, but I snuck some hose from the future, just to get them starte—”

“That never happened,” he yelled, still focused on something behind Saga. “You just made that up.”

“I knew it,” Saga said, standing up, and looking around aimlessly. “Vearden, are you there?”

Barbwire knew he’d been caught. “He can hear you, but he can’t help you.” He was using his power to speak with a past version of Vearden, which Saga should have expected, or at least caught onto earlier.

“He shouldn’t be helping you either. He would never betray me.”

“Fear not. He has to answer all of my psychic questions. That’s how my power works.”

She could imagine Vearden standing right next to her, invisible and silent, but desperately trying to communicate with her, and stop this madness.

“Enobarbus,” Andromeda scolded, “stop this right now!”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.”

“Wait,” Saga stopped him, much to his delight. “Is there any way for me to speak with him.

“Like I said, he can hear you.”

“But I can’t hear him.”

“I’m powerful, not a god,” Barbwire forced himself to acknowledge.

Saga walked over towards the door.

“What are you doing?” Barbwire asked.

She reached for the doorknob. “You shouldn’t have brought him here. If ever this door was gonna work, it would be right now.” She opened the door, revealing a gigantic hall, which did not exist in realspace. She stuck her head in a little. “Vearden! Oh, Vearden!”

“Hello?” came the voice of a woman from inside. A woman Saga didn’t recognize appeared from the other side of the hall.

“I’m looking for Vearden?” Saga requested.

“How did you open that door?” the woman asked as she drew closer.

“What the hell is this?” Barbwire demanded to know.

“This,” Saga said to him with a smile. “Is The Crossover. This reality’s Vearden lives here.” She presented her hand to the woman. “I’m afraid, we’ve not yet met.”

“In my universe, we hug when we first meet people,” she replied, arms wide.

Saga accepted the hug.

“My name is Mindy Novak. Vearden is indisposed at the moment. He is...nearing the end of his tenure here, so he’s preparing for his exit interview.”

“Oh,” Saga said sadly. “Are you replacing him?”

“A new primary operator has not been chosen yet.”

“I was hoping he could...help me with this...problem,” she said to Mindy, referring to Barbwire, who was scared shitless.

Mindy took a look at him. “You’re Saga Einarsson? Vearden’s old friend?”

“I am.”

She took a device out of her pocket that resembled a tricorder, and pointed it at Barbwire, who was too stunned to move. “He’s not that relevant to this universe, I can take him off your hands.”

“Could you really?” Saga was surprised. She was really just hoping this Vearden could stop Barbwire from exploiting Ghost!Vearden.

“Some people can’t change, and just need to be removed from the equation. This may sound like murder is the only option, but all you really need is a different equation. I have a nice new home for him in mind.” She took him away, and it was over.

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