Microstory 2437: Warehouse Dome

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This is a big planet, and it needs a lot of stuff. But you don’t just make all the stuff you need, put it where you need it, and walk away. Some stuff gets consumed, while others get worn out. Plus, they’re always expanding, so stuff needs to be added to these new environments. They build the stuff ahead of time, and store it away. I don’t know how many warehouses there are, but there are at least thirteen, and this is one of them. Picture a warehouse with concrete floors, tall shelves, and a bunch of random artifacts. Now multiply that by who knows how much. That’s Warehouse Dome. I have no idea what all these things are for. I’m guessing that there were more appropriate goods in a section that I didn’t see, like dayfruit growers and vactrain seat upholstery. In the area where I was, I saw a set of humming golf clubs, a whole shelf of glass insulators, and a giant vat of purple goo. Tell me what that’s all about. The people I saw there sure wouldn’t. I immediately felt totally accosted by them, like I wasn’t doing my job, or something. I was apparently in the wrong place, and was supposed to be in a different aisle doing inventory? Those idiots thought that I worked there. It didn’t even seem like they expected any visitors in the first place. Like, there was no tour or orientation, not even anyone who seemed to be in charge. They were just really secretive and weird. I was probably not meant to be there at all, but if that’s the case, why did they even let me in in the first place? Can you just go anywhere? Can you go to any dome you want, no matter how much of a threat you are? I heard of one where they keep all the water. Can you just pour some poison into it without even sneaking around, or breaking in? Whatever, it was boring. I perused the objects—like the self-typing old-timey typewriter, and a mirror that had some creepy little girl in it—for a little bit, but then I left. Lock your doors, or put up a sign, or something. Don’t just leave me hanging like that. I don’t see this as my fault. By the way, the above is my name for it. They just called it Warehouse 13. I didn’t bother finding out if the first twelve were just as weird. Then again, maybe the prospectus is broken. It was listed as an adventure dome, despite clearly being logistical, so I don’t even know.

Microstory 2310: Whole World

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Welp, pretty much everything is out of this place. I’ve stuck all of Nick and Dutch’s possessions in temporary storage, along with a lot of my own stuff. I packed up the other rooms too, like the kitchen, to give the majority of it away. I’m only keeping a little bit for myself, like a couple of plates, a few forks, etc. Like I’ve said, I don’t need much, and I don’t need much space. The three of us actually struggled to furnish this oversized house when we first moved in. Now that I’m re-downsizing, I can go back to a simpler way of doing things. It’s surreal to be in this place now. It’s so empty and creepy; even worse than it was just last week. I’m going to snag a few nights at a hotel until my new place is ready for me to move in. Both the seller and I are highly motivated to expedite the process. We could finalize it by Monday. I told you yesterday that I won’t have a whole lot to say for these last few posts, and it would seem that I was totally right about that. I’ll try to come up with some memorable final words to say, but I am not a wordsmith, like Nick was, so don’t get your hopes up. Until next week, I would just like to thank you all for joining us on this journey. Every blog starts out with zero followers, but now you number in the hundreds of millions. That’s amazing. Thank you so much. It’s sad, how it ended, but at least we had a little time together, and I wouldn’t trade that in for the world. Nope, I’m not supposed to say that. Nick taught me to never say that. He put it in perspective for me. It’s the whole world. I would give up just about anything for it if I didn’t already own it anyway. Ha, I’m not sure I agree with that, but I can appreciate the sentiment. Have a good weekend.

Microstory 2308: In a New Direction

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That was quick! The house sold. I shouldn’t be surprised. Famous people once lived here, and it’s a really nice place. We’ve also done well to keep it up, so there shouldn’t be any repairs, or minimal ones, at worst. Its last inspection was not very long ago. It isn’t a done deal yet, the process is complicated, but I’m sure it will be fine. Then again, the people who put in the offer didn’t even come look at it for themselves. That typically means that they intend to tear it down, and build something new on the land, but this area isn’t particularly desirable, so my real estate agent is assuming that the notoriety is enough for someone wealthy enough to take it. To them, it really doesn’t matter what condition it’s in, because they enjoy collecting things for their inherent value. But that’s just a guess, we don’t know what’s going on in their heads. If this deal falls through, another one will be just around the corner. As for my next steps, I have all of Nick and Dutch’s belongings packed up. I think I’ll keep them with me for sentimental reasons. My new place isn’t too big, but there seems to be enough storage, and I like to find ways to simplify. People have been asking if I’m retaining the security team for my own personal protection, and that is a question that I’m not going to answer. You knowing about my security procedures is a security vulnerability, which has already bitten us in the ass. Yes, anyone who truly ever wanted to hurt us would have been able to find that intelligence on their own, and would have had great incentive to do so, but we shouldn’t have been so open about such information. I’m learning from our past mistakes, and taking my life in a new direction. Please respect my privacy. There’s a reason I’ve decided to stop posting on this site, or create a new one. I just want to go back to the way I was before, when it was safer. There are only six more days left this year, and only four of them will see full posts. It’s time to start thinking about saying our final farewells.

Microstory 2303: To Distract Myself

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You know how it goes, the company you work for gives out branded flash drives during their end-of-the-year party, but it’s not enough space, so you buy another. Then you lose it for a few months, so you have to replace it, but then you find the first one again. Then you make a large purchase, and portable storage is the easiest way to hand over all the relevant paperwork, instead of a big binder, or something. But the flash drive I found last night wasn’t just in a drawer of his desk. It was hidden in the little cavity for the electrical outlet. You may ask yourself, why would I go diggin’ around in there in the first place unless I knew that it was a hiding spot? Well, I’m gonna put this place up for sale at the end of the year, so before that, a lot of little things need to be fixed. I remembered seeing a box of cover plates in the garage, and decided that I might as well replace the one in Nick’s room, because the corner was chipped. Of course it wasn’t a priority, but I’m finding myself coming up with excuses to put off sorting through their stuff, and this was one thing I could try to distract myself. I’m glad I did, or some random stranger would have discovered it years from now. I was kind of expecting to find porn on it, but not really, because he was never ashamed to be a real human being. It turned out to be a folder with two main documents, and what appear to be accessory research files. One is an unnamed novel, but I don’t know what it’s about yet. The other is a stage play called Joseph and His Dreamcoat. It sounds familiar, but I searched for it online, and didn’t find any references. I’ll be reading them both this week to see what we’re working with. I would love to publish them posthumously, however that works.

Microstory 2247: Anecdotes that Never Happened

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Good news is I bought a new bed today. I was looking for specific one with special features. Back on my Earth, I had one like it. I didn’t buy it myself, but my sister did. Then she moved to another country, and couldn’t take with her, so I got it instead. It’s not something that I would have chosen, because I struggled with holding onto work, and didn’t have the marketable skills to afford it. But now I’m in a different position. Now I can buy things like this. It is really comfortable, but that’s not the reason I did it. Like I said, sister gave it to me, so it’s just a small connection to my past. I know it’s the same thing as being around the people that I care about, but it’s still a small bit of home. Or it’s a reminder of it anyway. I should look for more things like this, to make myself feel a little more comfortable, and a little more safe. There is nothing in this world that anyone in my family is so much as aware of. They never seen the movies you make. They have heard of your presidents. They not study your history. I have to do my best to pretend. If I were back there, my dad would have helped me carry this thing in, and up the stairs. We would have bumped the wall at least once, and after four years, he wouldn’t have able to take it anymore after occasionally passing by it when he visited, and fix it for me. My mom would have insisted on buying my sheets for me. I can make up these little anecdotes that never happened, but could have, and almost feel like I’m back where I belong. It makes feel better. And I really need it. Especially right now. I’ve spent all day cleaning and arranging our new furniture, so I’m going to break in this new bed, and get to bed early. I see you tomorrow, and all that.

Microstory 2246: So There’s That

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Moving day! That happened fast. One thing that has made it easier is that we don’t have to worry about selling the place where we lived before, and we don’t have to transport any furniture. Well, we did have a few things. Kelly left some stuff at her old place, and so did Dutch, though his parents had moved a lot to storage while he was missing. I only have enough belongings to carry in one small suitcase because I’ve left my apartment the way it is for the next tenant. I hope they like it. What we’re gonna have to do now is buy stuff to fill the new house up. The security firm is taking care of some of that, because they need it to be secure, of course. Also of course, I can’t give you details on our security protocols, because that would be dumb. But they’re good, so don’t come after us, lemme tell you that. There will be cameras, and other sensors. I won’t bore you with any more information about this stuff. I’m sure you’re all more interested in the surgeries that I’m about to have. Well, there’s no updates on those at all, so I can’t tell you what I don’t know. Oh, and the President of the United States wants to meet me, so there’s that. NBD.

Microstory 2080: It’s Frickin’ Perfect

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I’ve been writing kind of long posts recently, especially that one from Monday last week. I’m particularly tired today, though. I had so much to do. I had to work first shift, and then go to several appointments for my apartment search. My real estate agent was great. She doesn’t make as much money in her job as the kind that sell full family homes, but she was committed, and she understood what I was looking for. There was one particular unit that I am very interested in. You can see the entire thing from one spot. A single room quadruples as a kitchen, living room, bedroom, and office. One door leads to a closet, and the other to a bathroom. I think they said it was 27 square meters in area, which is about 290 square feet, if you like to use the WRONG measuring system. The way the building manager tells it when we met him, there was a bit of an error when calculating the number of units that could fit within the length of the complex. Every floor has this tiny little thing that they tacked on in the corner. It’s too big to be just a storage closet, or something, but not big enough for most people’s needs. I am not most people. It’s frickin’ perfect. I can already picture the layout. The building is a little farther from work than I would like, because I would prefer to walk, but I think I can invest in a bike, and still avoid buying a car. I don’t know what I will do in really bad weather, but it might be worth it.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: October 30, 2398

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Vearden pulls up to the house, and turtles his head to look through the windshield. Arcadia fell asleep, even on this short drive. The internet says that it’s not necessarily a symptom of pregnancy, especially not this early. She’s probably just stressed, which is a symptom of pregnancy. “We’re here,” he whispers.

Arcadia opens her eyes. “Did I miss it?”

“No,” he laughs. “I think the agent is just pulling up behind us.”

As the SUV is parking behind them, Vearden gets out, and opens the door for his...his whatever—they’ve not come up with a word for it yet. “Hello, you must be Radha.” He offers his hand.

Radha shakes it. “And you’re...Varden?”

“Vearden,” he corrects.

“Nice to meet you. And you...Leona Matic?”

“I’m not Leona,” Arcadia says. “I’m her twin sister, Arcadia.”

“Forgive me,” Radha says politely.

“I need a new body,” Arcadia says to Vearden out of the corner of her mouth as they’re heading for the doorway.”

“I don’t see how the baby would transfer,” Vearden replies in the same way.

Radha unlocks the door. “Four bedrooms, two and a half baths. The master suite has a jacuzzi, and a walk-in closet, plus this cute little reading nook that I think you’re going to adore. The kitchen has recently been remodeled, as the previous owners were both professional caterers. They’re moving because their business got too big for it, but it should be perfect for a growing family. I assume you’re not far along.”

“Do I already have a bump?” Arcadia questions.

“Oh, heavens, no,” Radha says apologetically. “Your husband asked me to look for a good school district.”

“Oh, we’re not married.”

“Forgive me,” she repeats. “I was under the impression that you were Kalialists.” That must be a religion that doesn’t allow extramarital sex, or maybe just not pregnancy.

Arcadia has already looked into this. “We are Berarians.” As far as she can tell, it’s the least involved religion of them all. It’s not atheism, but they don’t really care about the nature of the almighty, or what the meaning of life is. It respects the rule of law more than some faiths. It recommends its members try not to bother others.

“I see. Well, here’s the open concept living room, breakfast dining area, and the kitchen that I was telling you about. That door in the corner by the bookcases leads to what I believe the original owners intended to use as a panic room. But then they moved, and the caterers came in, who never had it finished either. You can use it as a storage space, I suppose.”

Or they could use it as a panic room. “Oh, I would like to see that,” Vearden says.

Radha continues to show them through the house. It’s a nice place. On the outside, it doesn’t really look like something they would want, but that panic room almost sounds like fate. They’re trying to stay out of trouble, but it seems to find them, and that would be a nice thing to fall back on since Arcadia doesn’t have any powers, and because of the baby. They’ll consider making an offer.

Microstory 1864: That’s It

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Here’s a story for ya. You can either choose to believe it or not, but I’m telling you, it happened, and it happened to me. My father and his father did not have a good relationship. According to what little my mother was able to relay to me, they fought all the time when he was young, and then they just stopped talking completely. I don’t know what they were so angry at each other over, but whatever it was, it’s the reason I never met my grandfather. When he died, he left no one to go to his funeral, let alone plan it. I decided to take up the responsibility of putting him to rest. Because hey, if my dad wouldn’t tell me what the guy did that was so wrong, he couldn’t expect me to hate him as much as he did. Four hundred bucks gets you a bag of your loved one’s ashes, and that’s pretty much it. I didn’t hold a service, and I didn’t buy a fancy urn. I just kept it in the cardboard box that the guy at the morgue went out of his way to tell me was included free of charge, and walked away with the rest of his personal effects. And when I say effects, I really just mean the one thing. Besides his pajamas—which he died in, and I didn’t want back—the only possession he had was a key around his neck. Per the paperwork, he lived only a few blocks from my childhood home, which makes the whole thing even sadder. I took that key, drove to my grandfather’s house, and unlocked the door. The place was immaculate. No dust, no dirt, no smudges on the windows. It looked like it had just been cleaned, but it couldn’t have, because it was missing the smell of cleaning chemicals. Oh, and everything else. Like the man himself, the only thing in the house was a key, hanging from the chain for the entryway light. I tried it on every interior door, but it didn’t work anywhere. It didn’t even fit. I had to investigate, which was harder back then, because my phone couldn’t magically spit out information about it just by taking a picture, like my grandson’s does. He showed me that once.

I went to three locksmiths until one happened to recognize it. It belonged to a storage facility on the edge of town. Most facilities require that the renter use their own lock, but this particular location prided itself in excellent security. Their keys couldn’t be copied, and you couldn’t use it unless you were already on the list of people allowed to access the unit. Still, I figured I might as well go check it out in case they made an exception. They didn’t have to. Their records showed that I was on the list, as was my grandfather, and nobody else. He left this all for me. Whatever was in there, it must have been pretty special. Was it a pristine collection of rare figurines worth millions? Did he just leave me a chest of actual millions? Could it be a creepy, ominous freezer, inside of which was the dead body of his archnemesis? I just kept thinking of all the amazing things that could be waiting for me, and nothing was even close to what I ended up finding when I opened that roll up door. Was this it? I was about to run back to the office to ask for a flashlight, but the guy who signed me in had followed me, and had one at the ready. I switched it on, and shined it all over the unit. “Any secret entrances?” I asked. No, this was it. Both of the neighboring units were recently emptied, in between renters. This. Was. It. On the floor in the center of the unit was a key, like someone had dropped it without noticing. But it wasn’t just any key. It was the key to my parents’ house. It looked exactly like the one on my keychain. All that anticipation just to learn that my mom had given him access to our house in case of emergency, and he had never used it. That’s it.