Showing posts with label storm. Show all posts
Showing posts with label storm. Show all posts

Thursday, April 3, 2025

Microstory 2379: Vacuus, October 28, 2179

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Dear Condor,

I saw the letter that Velia sent you, and the photograph that she sent along with it. I knew that she was curious about you, I just didn’t realize how attached she had become to the idea of getting to know you more personally. She’s been very lonely here. As you can see, she’s quite good-looking, but she has a little trouble communicating with others. I think she jumped at the chance to correspond with you, because the medium allows her to rethink and revise her thoughts before they ever reach you. Just be careful with how you approach the situation. A long-distance love story is romantic, but not very practical. You and she will never meet in person, and even if you can accept that, it will probably eat at her over time. Be nice, and don’t just ignore her, but really try not to lead her on. She deserves to be happy with someone who is living on the same planet, and she doesn’t deserve to be distracted from such fulfillment and contentment. Okay, that’s enough of me scolding you for something that may never be a problem. That’s exciting news about your nurse, please let me know how that goes when she gets back to you. It reminds me of that book two development where Roscoe tracks down his estranged grandfather, and learns that he’s the one who protected Audie’s grandmother from that storm when they were young. It was a cool symmetrical twist, and the writer handled it well. Though, I admit, the adaptation could have done it better. I don’t like when the leads are double cast into entirely different characters for flashbacks. It’s a little cute, but mostly annoying. That’s just my opinion, I guess. Anyway, it would be great to reunite with someone who was so important in your past. I hope it goes well. She sounds lovely. I’m worried about Pascal and his trip, though. I don’t like it when you have to breach the safe confines of your floating platform at all, but I’m more worried than I was before; probably because I know you two better now than when you were first telling me your whole situation. I know he’ll have already left, but remember to tell dad to be careful. I’m sure you always say something to that effect, but a lot has changed since he last saw your neighbor. He could be dangerous, even if he had nothing to do with our separation. A part of me hopes that he’s dead, or simply can’t be found, just to avoid the risk of an encounter that does not go well. Just be safe, and get him back home quickly.

Lounging on an imaginary beach,

Corinthia

Friday, February 7, 2025

Microstory 2340: Vacuus, March 4, 2179

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Dear Condor,

It’s okay that Pascal won’t be able to write for a while. Honestly—and you don’t need to tell him this—it’s a little awkward. These are just letters, but I still felt like I was on a blind double date, which I know is a weird way to look at it. I suppose we could always speak through you if we really needed to. That’s great news about reaching your rendezvous point. How long will/did it take? By the time you read this letter, you may be well on your way back out into sea. Make sure you choose the right path, though. It sounds like the weather is pretty dangerous out there. I never thought about that, about how the toxins in the atmosphere could make things even more dangerous. We learned about climate breakdown in school. Things were already not as safe as they were a couple hundred years prior. Humans were evidently damaging Earth before they started to do it intentionally to harm each other! I just hope your leaders always exercise caution. Vacuus does have weather. It’s not nearly as bad as it is for you guys, it’s just different. We experience infrequent, and rather weak, dust storms. These can still damage our instrumentation, though, and our permanently outdoors equipment needs constant cleaning. Or rather, they don’t. We’ve incorporated state-of-the-art onboard self-cleaning technology into nearly everything. You have windshield wipers on your cars with wiper fluid? We do too, but for cameras and other sensors. Instead of going out to clean every day, our field maintenance workers go out periodically to refill the fluid, or maybe repair or replace a blade. It’s much easier, and the infrequency of the task lowers the risk of something happening to them while they’re exposed like that. They’re also at risk of running into electrical storms. These things happen all the time. Our habitats are riddled with lightning rods. They both protect us from the strikes, and help power our habitats. That’s something else we’ve developed out of necessity, ultracapacitors which capture the short, energetic burst of raw power, and store it safely for future use. I keep using words like we, but I obviously had no hand in any of this. As I’ve said, I’m not cut out for field work, and I have no interest in it. I didn’t choose where to break ground on our settlement either, which was not chosen at random. Other parts of the planet experience volcanic activity. Some of these are even cryovolcanoes, which release nasty chemicals like ammonia and methane. Thankfully, we’re really far from those things, but I have a friend who operates a drone array which studies the nearest spots. So yeah, it’s dangerous here, but not worse than Earth. At least no one did it on purpose.

Again, stay safe,

Corinthia

Thursday, February 6, 2025

Microstory 2339: Earth, February 24, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

Here’s a little bit of bad news. We’ve reached our destination to begin welcoming the new immigrants from their overcrowded dome. They’re not here quite yet, because we couldn’t have them waiting for us in limbo until we hit the shore, but they’re on their way as I’m writing this. That’s not the bad news, though. A consequence of this situation is that my dad won’t be able to send or receive any letters for a while. It’s a security thing, since he knows so much information about our new allies. Obviously, I know that he would never abuse his power, or put the population at risk, and no one seriously thinks that he would, but the moratorium is a necessary precaution just the same. I’m still okay. Even though I work in the office, I’m not privy to enough of the data, and am not considered a threat to security. I don’t know if you were hoping to hear from him again. I’m sure he’ll reach out once more when he’s allowed to, but we don’t know how long it will take. Such is the life of a diplomat. The good news is, of course, that we’re finally here in beautiful Australia. It took us a lot longer than we wanted, but as you’ve suspected, the platform doesn’t move all that fast. Plus, there were some tropical storms that we had to detour around. That reminds me, we have not talked about the strange weather we have here thanks to our toxic air that didn’t exist when we were young. The toxic cocktail in our atmosphere makes these events really dangerous. We end up with some bizarre localized particle densities and temperature fluctuations, which make the weather—not entirely unpredictable—but less so than it was just a couple decades ago. As you would imagine, they’re really bad for your health too, even after they’ve dissipated, more so than the air in the area is when it’s just at its regular level of toxicity. Fortunately, we knew what we were up against while we were on our way here, but the environment can change on a dime these days, and we may not be so lucky on our way back out into the open water. We typically stick to very specific regions and routes when we don’t have anywhere particular to be, like we are right now. I know that your atmosphere isn’t breathable, but with a celestial body as large as Vacuus is, you must experience weather of some kind. Could you tell me about that? Do you have emergency protocols, like lockdowns, or escapes into a basement? I guess I don’t even know where your habitat was built, if it’s in a lava tube, or a crater, or what.

Hoping you stay in range forever,

Condor

Wednesday, December 11, 2024

Microstory 2298: With All the Snow and Ice

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I’m writing this on the plane. I spent all day at the airport, because my flight kept getting delayed. There’s a big snowstorm in the east that I feel shouldn’t have much impact on my flight up to Chicago, but what do I know? The purpose of leaving one day early was to get a jump in the preparations for Nick and Dutch’s memorial, but it looks like that’s not going to do me any good. Still, who knows what would have happened if I had just stuck to my original flight tomorrow. Anyway, I bought the WiFi, and have maintained contact with the publicity firm and the venue. Everything is fine, and getting set up. A word of warning, we have not set aside any hotel accommodations for this event. People have been asking about that, and I totally forgot to tell you before. You have to work through that on your own. I’m sorry, but this is so last minute, and we have no idea who is going to come. Perhaps if we had taken more time, we could have done a lot more on our end, but at some point, it would have felt like a little too much. Sure, we have money, but that doesn’t mean we’re gonna spend it on frivolity. Nick wouldn’t like that. It’s not a party, it’s not a convention, it’s a farewell. And it will be streamed online, so if you can’t make it, it’s not like you’re missing out. We actually considered that at the very beginning, holding it in a very small venue, and letting other people be part of it from the comfort of their own homes. Thinking back now, he might have preferred that, because then we’re letting it be available passively, instead of expecting a large crowd. But it’s too late now, and I don’t want to dwell on the past. This is what we’re doing, and it’s going to go great. I’ll see some of you Friday. Until then (and even afterwards), stay safe out there with all the snow and ice. Trust me, I know how dangerous it can be.

Saturday, July 13, 2024

Expelled: Exploded (Part IV)

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There were two ways to gather temporal energy for time travel, or to accomplish other temporal manipulation goals. One was to find it in a parallel dimension, and the other...was to literally wait for it. In the end, that was really all temporal energy was: the passage of time. The ladies listened to Elder’s explanation silently until they thought he was done. “What if we took multiple trips?” Rita suggested. You go back, reconnect with Extremus, build a larger time machine, and then come back for us.”
“I don’t want to be stuck here without a temporal engineer,” Debra argued.
“You wouldn’t be,” Rita tried to clarify. “It’s time travel. He could return to this moment a second after he left.”
“Unless wherever he goes kills him,” Debra reasoned.
“I’m not even sure if I can gather enough temporal energy for even one trip as far back in time as we need to go,” Elder tried to continue. “I’m just pretty sure that I can’t take anyone with me. It’s the triple mass rule. The average choosing one can transport themselves plus two buddies. The machine itself would be more massive than three people alone, which means that it will require extra temporal energy. Maybe if one of us metabolized the energy naturally, it would be different, but this is all very uncertain.”
The conversation halted when they heard a noise outside. It sounded like something was falling. They were in the garage, which didn’t have any windows. “Was that one of the solar panels?” Rita guessed.
They stepped into the foyer to look out one window, but couldn’t see anything. They spun around to the opposite window when the sound recurred. They still couldn’t see anything, so they peeked over the sill as far as they could. Debra had the best angle. “There’s something sparkly down there.”
“Sparkly, like a diamond?” Rita asked.
“More like water. Or ice.” That was when they saw it. It was ice. It was fallen ice, also known as hail. Whether it was made out of water was a question they couldn’t answer, not yet.
Elder pulled out his handheld device, and commanded the nearest exterior drone to drive over to the ball of ice, and run a quick analysis. “It’s water ice. Ninety percent dihydrogen monoxide, plus five percent air bubbles, and three percent dust. The other two percent is carbon, and a few other trace elements.”
“Guys. Look,” Rita encouraged.
They raised their heads to find that the few pieces of hail were only the vanguard. It was hailing and raining in the distance. The precipitation appeared to be coming out of nowhere from about thirty meters above the ground. “I guess now we know where Oaksent has been living.” Elder gritted his teeth, irritated about what this meant.
“He looks like he has a lot of temporal energy,” Debra pointed out the obvious.
“Yeah, looks like it,” Elder admitted.
“It’s just that...if we wanna get out of here, you two are gonna have to swallow your pride, and let us go over to speak with him.”
“Yes, Debra, thanks, we get it,” Rita snapped back. “Is the rover ready?” she asked Elder.
He first manufactured a rover to test the stability and durability of the metals found on this planet. They could do with a way to travel away from the structure in person anyway, and it came with lower stakes than the time machine will. “It’s finished, but I’ve not tested it.”
“You should do that today,” Debra suggested.
One time, when Elder was looking for a book on the tablet that he hadn’t read yet, he came across a personal document that Debra had written. It was fanfiction that portrayed Bronach Oaksent as the hero, and Debra herself as the damsel in distress. She couldn’t even picture herself as the protagonist of her own novel, which was what saddened Elder the most. He didn’t read much of it, because it wasn’t any of his business, but his speedreading kicked in automatically, so he got the gist of it pretty quickly. She had contrived this whole fantasy about a man she had barely met. They didn’t even have an image of him in the database. Her entire idea of what kind of person he was came from a short biography in the manifest, while her imagination had to fill in the rest. She thought of him as her savior mostly because Elder was the poisoner. The fact that Oaksent was the one who had orchestrated this whole thing was a causal connection that she wasn’t capable of making. This wasn’t surprising considering she also struggled to string two sentences together into a coherent thought. That was probably why she sought out men like Oaksent in the first place, because she relied on others, and always had. Coming aboard Extremus alone was the biggest mistake she had ever made, and this would be true even if none of this had happened to her. “Boy, you’re quite anxious to get to your little boyfriend, aren’t you, Karen?” That was mean.
“Don’t call me that!”
Elder didn’t want to apologize, and Rita didn’t want to give him the chance to try, and screw it up, so she changed the subject. “Do what you need to with the rover, and then we’re leaving.”
“It holds two people,” Elder clarified. “One of us will have to stay here. Or should I say, one of you, because I obviously have to go.”
Rita looked over at Debra apprehensively, who looked back in fear. She had obviously been dreaming of finally meeting her hero for months, but she was not useful. Elder was the genius, and Rita was the leader. So her only option would be to beg. Rita sighed, apparently giving up already. “You go, but I’m trusting you with that. You know how we feel about him. If you make one choice that gets any of us hurt because you can’t tell the difference between fantasy and reality, you’ll wish you had chosen to stay.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Debra complained.
Rita gave Elder a look. Perhaps she too had come across the fanfiction. It was just sitting there in one of the main menus. She didn’t even password protect it, like an amateur. “Just follow my instructions before you leave, and while I’m on the radio. And whenever I’m not telling you what to do, listen to Elder. That’s all you have to worry about. You don’t have to make any decisions at all.”
“Fine.” Debra wasn’t happy, and was probably already searching for loopholes in this mandate.
Elder went back to the garage to shift gears from the time machine to the rover. He gave it multiple inspections. Whenever he encountered an issue that needed to be corrected, he would then go all the way back to the beginning, and start the inspection over. His own safety codes demanded that he complete an inspection in full without discovering any problems whatsoever. Measure twice, cut once was a cliché for a reason. Once it was ready, he piloted it remotely from the safety of the structure, but only for twenty minutes. The safest way to do it would be to have it make several unmanned trips, but Rita was anxious for answers, and they didn’t know how much, or how little, temporal energy Oaksent had stored up, or how he was using it. There were different ways to trigger a hyperlocalized low altitude thunderstorm, and some were more efficient than others. There was no purpose to causing the weather event in this situation beyond demonstrating his might, so it was a total waste. Elder might need to get him to stop before they ran out of the energy they needed for the time machine.
He moved the rover back into the garage, and repressurized it. Debra was packed up and ready to go. She had showered, which wasn’t a bad idea, if for bad reasons. Elder decided to take a quick one himself, further delaying departure, and making her even more impatient. After he was out, and ready to go himself, Kivi pulled him aside. “Here.” She handed him a gun.
“Where the hell did you get this?” Elder questioned. They had never had a gun on this planet before.
“I don’t know,” Kivi replied.
“You don’t know?” he echoed. “Don’t you think that’s a little weird?”
“I found it in my personal back the day we arrived on this godforsaken planet,” Kivi explained. “I didn’t say anything, because tensions were so high back then, and I didn’t say anything later, because there was no reason for it. Well, there’s reason now. Oaksent is dangerous, and you need to protect yourself.”
“Kivi, he’s the mastermind. He probably gave you the gun. He slipped it in your bag, knowing that you had been marked for transport.”
“Maybe,” Kivi agreed. “It doesn’t matter. Take it. I don’t advocate for violence, but I would rather it be in your hands than his...or mine, for that matter.”
“Fine.” He carefully stuck it in his own pack, and headed out to the rover where Debra was waiting. He performed one more quick inspection, the kind you were supposed to do every time you went out for a drive, whether it was on an alien planet, or within the safety of a breathable atmosphere. Then he and Debra waved goodbye to Rita and Kivi, and headed out into the minor unknown.
The rain and hail fell upon the rover, causing annoying damage to the frame. It was a new vehicle, but it already required repairs. Great. Fortunately, they found that the storm served only as a border between the two camps. They passed through it quickly, and ended up in Bronach’s domain. Now they realized why Elder’s drones had never managed to find it, because it was located within its own parallel spatial dimension. This wasn’t a pocket dimension, but it was similar. It was sunny here, and grassy on the ground, and the air was thick and breathable. He had come a hell of a lot more prepared than Elder had ever suspected. Oaksent was going to win this battle of minds. Debra would never see him as the enemy now.
“What a dick,” Debra said.
“What?”
“He’s had this the whole time, and never said anything? I’ve been shitting in a hole, and showering with freezing cold water. What. A. Dick!” Wow, that was a dramatic swing in the other direction. It was a little offensive. The toilet that Elder ended up building for them was nothing fancy, and it was made out of metal, since they had no ceramics to work with, but it was pretty nice. “Ugh. Stop the car.”
“We can’t get out yet, Debra. I can’t be sure that this is real.”
“Stop the car!” she repeated.
He came to stop, and let her open the door. A gust of wind rushed in, and didn’t kill them, so the atmosphere appeared to be legit. And anyway, if Oakset had wanted them dead, there were easier ways than tricking them into thinking that this was a hospitable environment.
Oaksent stepped out of his brick house with a huge smile plastered on his face. “You’re finally here! Only two of your survived?”
“The other two are back home,” Elder replied.
“Two?” Oaksent asked. “Rita, and who?”
“Kivi,” Debra answered. “Kivi Bristol.”
Oaksent shook his head rather apathetically. “Never heard of him.” Hm. As much as he knew, maybe he didn’t know everything. He wasn’t God.
“It’s a her,” Debra corrected.
“Whatever.”
“How are you powering your dimension?” Elder asked, only wanting to be here long enough to make some kind of arrangement.
“Initially?” Oaksent began. “Temporal battery. Now, a temporal generator.” He chuckled when Elder looked around for it. “It’s disguised as that mountain.”
Yeah, that rock spire would be about the right size for something like that. A temporal generator would have to be a giant tower. It either collected energy from two dimensions that operated at different temporal speeds, or it processed the flow of normal time over the course of aeons. Neither one should have been possible. For the first method, you can’t get any more energy out than you put into creating and maintaining the parallel dimension, so it would have to be maintained through some other source. For the second method, it would obviously have taken a long time to build up the energy required to be useful. It had only been less than a year. “Hm.”
“You’re confused, I can see that.” Bronach was quite pleased with himself. “Tell me, have you ever seen the Bill and Ted films?”
Elder knew exactly what he was talking about. The Bill and Ted Gambit was a time travel trick where, instead of being prepared for present and near-future obstacles, you make plans to later go back in time to make those preparations. If you’re operating within a single timeline—which you aren’t always, so be careful—then it will appear as if you could see the future. It took the concept of cause and effect, and flipped it in reverse, so the effect essentially caused the cause. It was risky, relying on your future self to accomplish something in the exact same way that you had already experienced, but not impossible given enough time and power. “So. I will one day take you back in time, and in the past, you will have me build a temporal generator on this planet, so your past self can use it in our current present.”
Oaksent acted like he wasn’t smart enough to instantly track the sentence as he carefully considered it for a few seconds. “Yes,” he said, tapping an imaginary nail on the head with his finger. “Except I’m not sure whether you were the one who built the generator for me. All I know is it was waiting for me precisely where I wanted it to be.”
“What do you want in exchange for the temporal energy?”
“A ride, obviously. You want the time machine too. You want it to go back to Extremus, and I want it to go back to before the Extremus even existed.”
“We can’t go back to the Extremus if you prevent it from existing,” Debra reasoned.
“I never said that I was interested in that,” Oaksent insisted, shaking his head. “On the contrary. When I say before the Extremus, I mean way, way before, but that doesn’t mean I want to do anything to it. I don’t care about it anymore. I’m exactly where I would like to be, and the crew and passengers of that ship can go off wherever they want, as long as they stay out of my way.”
“What happens if they don’t?”
Oaksent sighed. “They will. Because you will warn them to leave me alone. This is my domain. Neither Extremus nor the stellar neighborhood wants or needs it, so let me do my thing, and we will all get what we want.”
“I don’t think so.” Debra suddenly pulled a gun out of the back of her pants, and trained it on Oaksent.
“Why the hell does everyone have a gun around here?” Elder exclaimed.
“It’s the same one, Old Man,” Debra explained. “I heard Kivi talking to you, and took it out of your bag while you were focused on the road.”
“Well...” Elder began. “Don’t use it.”
“I thought you would be my biggest fan,” Oaksent said to her, hands up defensively. He didn’t look too scared, but not because he knew what was going to happen in the future, only because she didn’t seem like the violent type.
“Don’t underestimate me!” Debra cried. “I’m sick of everyone thinking that they know who I am. But you people never actually ask me about myself. You just make these unfounded assumptions about me because I maybe complain a little too much, I have trouble taking responsibility for my own actions, I’m insecure about my mistakes, and I find it a lot easier to blame everyone else for my problems! But that doesn’t mean you know me!”
“Okay, okay, okay,” Bronach said in a tone.
She waggled the gun towards him. “You could have made our lives a lot easier with your little time mountain thing, but you chose to keep to yourself! What kind of selfish son of a bitch are you?”
“It was a test,” Oaksent argued.
“Oh, it was a test?” she asked mockingly. “Test these bullets!” She fired the gun, but missed, because she wasn’t exactly an expert marksman.
Oaksent took this opportunity to take out his firearm, and shoot at her instead. He too missed, but not because he didn’t know how to aim. A masked man appeared literally out of thin air, and took it on the chest. He tripped backwards a little, but didn’t fall down.
Elder couldn’t see the time traveler’s face, but he recognized the mask. This was standard issue in the Darning Wars for ground battles that took place on unbreathable worlds. Thousands of people wore it, but there was only one man who would logically be standing before them right now. The stranger removed the mask, and smirked at all of them. It was a young Elder Caverness. Present!Elder didn’t recall ever being here in his own past, but that wasn’t surprising since he already knew he had deliberately erased the memory of several years of his life.
“What the hell?” Debra asked.
Oaksent was shocked too.
“Fire in the hole,” Young!Elder said coolly. He lifted a device in his right hand, and pressed the button on the top of it. The temporal generator disguised as a rock spire exploded, sending temporal energy every which way.

Thursday, May 30, 2024

Microstory 2159: Can’t Ever Be Happy

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Yesterday evening, I had my usual meeting with my therapist. We talked about the storm a little, but it was mostly about the volunteer work I’ve been doing. It was no big secret that I got an early jump on my community service due to the traumatizing meat-eating incident the other day. She was able to piece together that I’ve been pretty depressed about it, and I think I knew that; I just didn’t want to think about it. I’ve been filling my days with tons of stuff to do so that my brain doesn’t get a chance to stop and ponder my life choices. It’s been really hard on me. I feel like I’m an addict, and I just had a relapse. It’s super not the same thing as a real addiction, like drugs, or sex, or even food in general. I made a decision to become a vegetarian for several reasons, none of which was that it was harming my life, or causing issues with others. Even so, I made a commitment to stop, and I broke that promise to myself. It can’t be reversed. It will always mark a new beginning, but in a bad way. The streak cannot be repaired, no matter how long I live without ever doing it again. And that sucks. It’s gonna take a lot, and a lot of time, for me to be able to move past it, especially since depression always reinforces itself with dark thoughts on other things. I start to think about every bad thing that has happened to me in my life, and all the mistakes that I’ve made. I dwell on it, and everything negative. My therapist tried to figure out what brings me out of my funks, but I don’t know that anything ever really has. It just kind of stays with me. It subsides after things regress towards the mean, but I can’t ever be happy. Happiness is a concept that I only understand through the lens of relativity. I’ve been happier at times than at other times, but true contentment sounds impossible, and if you tell me that you’ve experienced it, I may not believe it. If you tell me that you’re in the middle of experiencing it, I can’t promise that I won’t punch you in the face, so just don’t give me that BS. Sorry, didn’t mean to become so violent, but it’s impossible to delete my words, so I won’t. I just don’t care for braggers. We get it, you love life, now shut up about it, and leave me to brood in the shadows.

Wednesday, May 29, 2024

Microstory 2158: No Such Thing as Extra

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I did more volunteer work today. After the storm, a bunch of people came together to help with the cleanup effort. This isn’t any sort of official organization. There’s a special social media app that they’re all on, where people can stay connected to each other based on proximity, rather than other reasons, like mutual interests. I only heard about it from my next door neighbor, because I’m not on the app, so I wasn’t a part of it from the beginning. They’ve done this sort of thing before, when there have been other issues. I picked up and broke down a lot of fallen limbs, which was not fun, but I did feel like I was getting a lot of important work done for people who were unable to do it for themselves. Working from home makes it a lot easier for me to just do stuff like this, and not everyone’s life is like that. Like I said, it wasn’t a real charitable organization, so I didn’t think that anyone could sign my community service log. So I just wasn’t going to bother, because I only did it for the one day, and I figured that it was just more of a rounding error. Apparently, that doesn’t matter for people in my position. When you’ve been sentenced to CS, there is no such thing as “extra” until that sentence has been completed, and then you’re free to choose whatever service work you choose, just like you can as a normal person. Don’t worry, though. I didn’t get in any trouble, or anything, but my parole officer is certain that he told me this before, and he’s probably right. That’s the thing about me. If someone claims that I should have known something, or that something happened in the past, I often kind of just have to believe them, because I can’t trust my own memory. Anyway, it’s fine; no harm done. I could never understand the legal ramifications, but essentially, I’m required to record it every time I volunteer my time or effort for anything more than holding the door open for someone. That’s okay. A thousand hours is the minimum, not the maximum. I think that this is all meant to get people used to the practice of giving back to the community, not just to punish them. But far be it for me to explain the judge’s intentions. That’s why they sit in that raised chair, and I’m over here. Ugh, I’m getting too philosophical. All I’m trying to tell you is that you don’t have to have a reason to help other people. You don’t have to be a convicted criminal, or a juvenile delinquent. This world is better for all of us when we all try to be better for it. That’s all I have for you today. Stay frosty, and keep shakin’ that bush.

Tuesday, May 28, 2024

Microstory 2157: Jail For Everyone

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All right, the power’s back, and we’re okay. I mean, we’re not okay. Three people died in the storm, and another in the aftermath. Did I not tell you that there was a storm? It didn’t seem that bad, but I was in jail at the time, and I don’t have a cell with windows. The wind was apparently really bad. It knocked a bunch of electrical poles over. Contractors from all over drove in to help restore power. I think I heard that some of them were from as far as Arkansas, which is so crazy to me. I could go into more detail about what I experienced during this time, but I think I’ve said just about everything I need to about it. I will tell you that my fridge and freezer did fine. I deliberately didn’t open either of them even once that whole time, to keep as much heat out as possible. I drank directly from the tap, and I had a peanut butter sandwich, since I couldn’t access the jelly. I know a lot of people had it a lot worse than I did. I was able to open some windows in my apartment to keep the air circulating. It was still hot, but not unbearable, and it went back to normal overnight. I was gonna try reading a book to pass the time, but I really only have these so my built-in bookcase doesn’t look empty and pathetic. I don’t actually like to read, and I don’t want to read any of them. I mostly just took naps, and went on a few walks. I took care of my plants and flowers, though, so that took all of ten minutes. There’s a bit of good news, though. For everyone who was in intermittent jail at the time of the power outage, or was scheduled to be while it was still going on, those days were erased from our respective sentences. That means that I don’t have to make up for it later, and push my end date further back than it already is. The way I’m guessing they reason it is that the power outage was basically jail for everyone, though they didn’t actually use that as an explanation. Either way, I’m grateful.

Friday, December 15, 2023

Microstory 2040: Wisconsin

My fathers’ bad luck continued as they were trying to fly from Alaska to New Jersey. They were supposed to make a stop in Chicago, which is where my papa used to live, but that’s not what happened. On their way on the first plane, another passenger got really drunk, and started misbehaving. He was causing problems for everyone, and being really rude, so the pilot had no choice but to land the plane at a different airport to let him off. They even had to have the police waiting for him there. The closest one was this little airport called Southern Wisconsin Regional Airport. It wasn’t really built for planes like that, so it took them a long time to get through all the stuff with the police, and start trying to fly again. By the time they were ready, they couldn’t leave anyway, because of a snowstorm that had formed over Canada. If that guy had just not gotten drunk, they would have arrived in New Jersey on time. Honestly, it’s kind of scary for me to think about, though. They had to spend one night in Wisconsin until the storm passed, and then they were able to fly again. By the time they made it to New Jersey, though, the child they were going to adopt had already gone to another family. They were too late. They would have to wait a few months longer. They had to wait for me. I, for one, am glad that they did.

Thursday, November 23, 2023

Microstory 2024: Louisiana

It was a couple of years before papa took a lot of time off from work all at once again. He would sometimes take one or two days off, or he would do his volunteer work on the weekends. He would hand food out to people who couldn’t afford it, and he would build houses. He did a few runs to raise money for different charities. He was always working, even when he wasn’t working. In August of 2005, Hurricane Katrina formed in the Gulf of Mexico. When it hit land, it destroyed a bunch of homes, and people even died. The news called it devastating. None of us was even alive yet, but my papa was. He asked for an emergency vacation, and his boss let him have it. Papa spent an entire Thursday learning new skills with the Auxiliary Support Branch. If you have an older friend or relative who donated blood, they probably did it through ASB. They provide volunteer aid all over the continent, and they were in charge of something called disaster relief after the big hurricane, along with the government. The next day after his new training in Chicago, they called to tell him that they needed him to fly to Louisiana on Saturday. So without much warning, he did that, and was sent to a shelter for people who had just lost their homes. Because of his experience as an engineer, he was put in charge of Facilities. It wasn’t an official job, they just needed someone, and there was so much chaos, volunteers just had to do whatever they could to help. He made sure that each resident had a cot to sleep on and blankets, and that there was enough kitchen stuff to feed everybody, and stuff like that. He spent so much time there that he had to take time off, even though this was time off. We’ll talk about that on the next slide.

Wednesday, September 14, 2022

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 12, 2398

Apparently, the radio tower they were hoping could put them in contact with someone who might be able to help them is more of a decorative piece. It worked at one point, but the locals never used it, and didn’t maintain it through storm after storm. Now it’s so damaged that Ramses probably couldn’t cobble together a fix, even with parts from The Olimpia, or the other way around. He didn’t really even want to try. The more they thought about it, the riskier the idea felt. They don’t have any allies out there, except in the penal colony. In order to protect Amir, and his whereabouts, they have to get out of the region themselves, and they pretty much have to do it in secret.
Ramses decided to keep trying to fix the Olimpia to get them closer to home, or at least so far away from Amir that no one thinks to look for him in the village. He takes this as an opportunity to try out his new lantern as a source of light when looking into an access panel, and that’s when he makes a startling discovery. The lantern illuminates everything around it uniformly, but there are also points of light in various places. One wire here, a circuit there. When he checks these places, he notices an issue that’s contributing to all the problems that they’re facing with the full operation of the vehicle. As he works through it, the points of light adjust in a pattern that he’s had to learn to understand, which guides him to a solution.
The lantern is obviously special, but he doesn’t know exactly how. He’s tried to come up with a temporal explanation, but there isn’t one. Nothing about time and space would lend itself to such a function, and nothing about the advancement of more traditional technology would either, except maybe some very fancy augmented reality. That has to be it, even though he’s never encountered such tech before. The locals of this little bit of land on this island obviously know more than they have conveyed, though it’s unclear if they’re intentionally keeping secrets, or if the language barrier between the two parties is simply too hard to see over.
Marie has kept trying to communicate with them, using body language drawings in the dirt, and demonstrations. From what she can gather, a boat comes around from the cities on the other side of the island once a month to deliver supplies, and occasionally transport people. They could get on it, and from there, make their way to anywhere in the world. This would be a great option—despite the sadness that would come from having to abandon the Olimpia—but the problem is that it’s not due for another two weeks, and sometimes, when the weather is bad, it ends up having to skip a month. Unfortunately, that may be their only hope if Ramses can’t get the Olimpia back in full working order. Even with the lantern, he might not have the tools he needs to accomplish this. There are a lot of missing parts here, strewn all over the North Pole.
Mateo climbs down to the engineering section with a certain smile.
“What?” Ramses asks, knowing that look.
“Nothing. Just. What are you missing? Like, what’s a part that needs to be replaced? A cable maybe, or a bolt?”
Ramses picks up a small, clear object. “This is called a crystalatis. It’s supposed to be glowing blue—”
“Yeah, I don’t care,” Mateo sets the crystal-thingy on a step, and stabs it with his new knife. A blue-glowing duplicate of it pops out of the handle. “Ta-da!”

Friday, July 9, 2021

Microstory 1665: Rainrider

I’m going to get specific with this one. I kind of just chose a story at random to tell you about someone living in Salmonverse. Many people have the ability to manipulate time in some way. They can travel back and forth, or maybe even just back. Others can only teleport. Some people can do crazy things that you wouldn’t think called for temporal manipulation. Invisibility, for instance, is generally done by altering the path of light, but in Salmonverse, it’s done by creating the illusion that something is not there when it is, by superimposing what would be there if the invisible thing actually were not. Some of the restrictions and specialties—which are sometimes referred to as flavors—are bizarre, and seem oddly designed. They can suggest that there’s a higher power making these decisions, even when there’s not. There is in many cases, mind you. People who have no control are called salmon, while people who do are choosing ones. But choosers still have their own restrictions, and like I said, they can be almost too strange to believe. One man in particular could travel through time and space, but only in the rain. When he went outside while it was raining, it prompted his ability to make a jump, and he could land anywhere in time and space, as long as it was raining at his destination as well. Each jump would discharge the temporal energy, no matter how far, and the only way to recharge would be for him to dry off completely, and then go back out in the rain. If the storm had since passed, then he was stuck there until he could find another. I just think this is such a funny little story. There is no explanation for why he had to ride the rain, and he never even looked for one. He accepted his limitations, and used them to his advantage. Man, he loved it too. Once he discovered the power, he abandoned his old life, and used it all the time. He didn’t go back to make changes to the timeline. In fact, he was usually just doing it to see the sites. He didn’t run into any evil time travelers, or get stuck somewhere scary. He just traveled the world, and the timeline, enjoying life as one of the lucky few to see all this in one lifetime. Only once did he go into the future from his time period of origin, just to make sure there wasn’t some kind of temporal lid that would block him. He never had any interest in actually spending any time there, though, partially because he didn’t know the weather patterns anyway, but also because he figured all the beauty was in the past, before pollution and overpopulation ruined everything. Few other travelers ever met him, but it was one of them who gave him his nickname: The Rainrider.

Tuesday, April 13, 2021

Microstory 1602: New House

In 1981, after Japan House was finished being built, the Bicker Institute started trying to think of other ways to allow the human race to survive. Eight full bunkers were already up and ready to go, with another House in New Zealand, which was designed to maintain its population mostly above ground. Jumping off of that idea, they decided that keeping people underground wasn’t necessarily the only way to survive the end of the world. In fact, it may not even be the best way. The organization was not founded upon the basis of some specific disaster. If they had those answers, they probably would have channeled all of their efforts into stopping it. They wanted to prepare for anything, and massive global earthquakes, for instance, might just bury all of their bunkers, so they wanted to come up with new strategies. People in the ocean could conceivably survive such a thing. It wasn’t guaranteed, but nothing was, and again, this was all about preparation. They needed a ship. They needed the best ship in the world. And they needed it to potentially endure a tidal wave or tsunami. Their next interim deadline was in seven years, which was important, because the hope was to support a certain percentage of a growing population. The project leads started looking around, hoping to find something that would meet their requirements. It didn’t have to be perfect, they had time to modify it, and bolster its features, but after a few months, things were getting ridiculous. Nothing fit the bill. Nothing was good enough for them. All ships were made to weather storms to some certain degree, but none of them could last through the worst storm in history, should it occur. Before wasting any more time, they decided their only solution was to build their own vessel from scratch, which they did over the course of the next eight years. They went about a year past their deadline, but that was okay, because the actual end of the world wouldn’t start happening until around 2021, and even then, things weren’t bad enough to warrant populating the Houses. This latest project made them better with their time management, and before it was finished, they ended up getting to work on the next plan for survival, which was a submarine. As for the ship, it was a magnificent beauty, far beyond anything else 1989 had to offer, and probably even superior to the ships built in 2021. I won’t tell you whether it, or its Inheritors, survived what came to it.

Tuesday, July 14, 2020

Microstory 1407: I Of the Portalcane

After defeating Effigy for the upteenth time, and solidifying themselves as a loyal and true Triumvirate, things seemed to be going okay. They developed a nice system of defeating the time monsters that came through the broken portal. Escher would steal power from the monsters themselves to use against them. He would donate this power to Rothko, who would destroy them anyway necessary. Savitri would supply a boost of energy as well. It didn’t last very long, though, as the consequences of their actions would eventually catch up to them. Time travel, and other forms of temporal manipulation, was tricky. It was usually pretty safe to do, because it was usually fairly controlled, and minimal. A teleportation jump here, a seer making a prediction there; the energy used in these interactions with time dissipated so easily that no one had to make sure it happened. But it was possible for all this to get out of hand. Had the time monsters been allowed to exit the portal, and go on their merry way, things would have been all right. It would have all been structured and safe, at least on the grander scale. But the Triumvirate always wanted to destroy them, and they used a lot of temporal energy to do this. Since they were acting in such close quarters, this constant transfer of power started to do some real damage. Reality was going haywire around them, causing the past, present, and future to be layered upon each other. They saw things that would not come to pass for decades, but it was all so chaotic that there was no way to gather any real information from it. Either way, it needed to be stopped, and there was seemingly no way to do that. They spent days trying to work the problem, but with every attempt, the problem only grew worse, because they were simply adding more and more energy to the convergence. There was one particular incident that kept coming back and seemed to be at the heart of the matter. They were witnessing a future event, wherein another small group of people were trying to fix their own energy problem. It generated a massive explosion that vibrated all across the globe, and when it was finally over, the portal was finally closed for good. They figured, if there was any way to stop their problems today, it involved somehow tapping into this future moment. What they didn’t realize was that the moment they were watching actually took place over the course of decades alone, and they were simply watching it on fast-forward. It took a long time for that portal to close completely, and a lot of people were taken in by it before that would happen, whether they wanted to go, or not. The Triumvirate paid their own price when they got too close. Savitri was pulled in to what was later called the portalcane, and dispatched to the universe where the monsters originated. This should have only been accessible any time after the event occurred. Even with time travel, the portalcane generally only had an impact on the future. As far as anyone knew, Savitri was the only exception to this. Her friends would never see her again. And they would never forgive themselves for it. Savitri, however, did fine without them. She lived a decent life—though, not without heartbreak. She just did it somewhere else.

Saturday, April 27, 2019

Proxima Doma: Split Level (Part VI)

The first spacecraft that humans came up with were unmanned. They were sent up to study the sky, and gather data. The first manned craft had a capacity of one individual, while other early designs allowed for only a few people. These are all incredibly dangerous, and resulted in a number of deaths. Safety was always priority but humanity did not always know what that took, so they added two more pillars of spaceflight; compartmentalization and redundancy. If one system failed, another needed to be able to take over, and possibly another, if the second were to fail as well. Sections of vessels needed to be capable of being completely cut off from the rest, either to insulate it from them, or insulate them from it. If a fire, for instance, could not be put out, the crew needed to at least isolate it as much as possible. But these three pillars could not do the work on their own. Even later in history, scientists determined they needed a fourth pillar. Modularization. It wasn’t good enough just to be able to quarantine sections. These sections needed to be able to operate independently as well, and the vessel as a whole needed to be able to adapt to virtually any new dynamic, save for its total annihilation.
Colony ships were no exception to the SCR&M rules, which was pronounced like scram. Each ship had a maximum capacity of 168 people, though it was only designed to carry 147 at a time, seven of which were crew members. Each section, which was shaped in a hexagonal prism held seven—eight in an emergency—passengers, and could conceivably travel to the nearest star, going ten percent the speed of light. Based on stellar distribution in the Milky Way Galaxy, one such of these trips should take a maximum of twenty-five years. This wasn’t an ideal situation, but preferable to death. Four sides were lined with sleeping capsules. According to necessary conditions, a passenger could sleep in one of these capsules like normal, or they could activate stasis mode for longer journeys, or they could access virtual reality constructs. Each capsule also acted as an escape pod, and could traverse the breadth of a solar system. It could theoretically orbit a star indefinitely, maintaining perpetual stasis for the passenger, until help could arrive.
Proxima Centauri was a red dwarf, which was, by the far, the most common class of star in the galaxy. But it was also a flare star, which meant it frequently experienced magnetic fluctuations, resulting in bursts of volatile energy. Through the magic of science, these flares can usually be predicted, so as to effectively schedule space travel. Unfortunately, the technology wasn’t perfect, and there were still a few surprises. No matter how well someone followed the four pillars of spaceflight, life in the vacuum would always be dangerous. And they did not work when they were not followed. When the first of the Oblivio-primitivist Pioneers arrived in the Proxima Centauri system, Proxima underwent one such of these unpredicted solar storms. A normal colony ship would be able to handle it and survive, but the Oblivios requested special modifications, so as to better align with their ideals. They were already sacrificing much about their principles just by being in outer space at all, so the engineers and regulators felt they owed them something.
Colony ships Doma 01 and Doma 02 were already within range of the star when the storm erupted. Doma 01 was able to effect repairs on the fly, and enter a safe orbit around the planet, but 02 was not so lucky. It was forced to separate into its constituent parts, and scatter in different directions. Normally, an independent artificial intelligence could pilot each section towards safety, but the Oblivios insisted the crew consist of purely biological humans. Not every member of the crew was qualified to pilot a section; not that it mattered, since most sections at the time of module separation weren’t occupied by a crew member anyway. This left dozens of Oblivios stranded in interplanetary space, totally powerless to navigate their way to safety. At least one section was destroyed immediately, and evidence suggested another lost life support within the first ten minutes. Vitalie and Étude were equipped to solve just about any emergency on the ground, but did not have the resources, nor the time powers, to help Doma 02. And then it happened. Sensors witnessed two terrible tragedies occur almost simultaneously.
Two sections were decoupled from the main vessel, which was what they were meant to do. They started drifting away from each other, but a man in one section apparently started feeling his convictions a little less deeply, and attempted to pilot to safety. Of course, with no training, he was unable to do this successfully, and ended up crashing into one of the other sections. That wasn’t terrible, because Vitalie could go back in time, and the two of them could easily steal an interplanetary cargo ship. Sadly, though, at almost the exact same time, an unaccounted for escape pod from Doma 01 burned up in the atmosphere of Proxima Doma, killing two children who were too afraid to sleep apart. Of course, Vitalie and Étude did not know any of these specifics at the time. All they knew was that fifteen people died, and they were the only ones who could stop it. But how? Étude could teleport anywhere on the planet, or within a very low orbit, but these two incidents happened much farther apart than that. She could not be in two places at once; not even when Vitalie was there as well. They were presently discussing options.
“We have to travel back in time,” Vitalie realized.
“Right, but that doesn’t solve our problem.”
“No, I don’t mean my consciousness. You have to take us back in time physically.”
“No, I’m not doing that,” Étude argued.
“It’s the only way. We need a teleporter to save the people in the rogue section, and we need a teleporter to save the person in the pod. Since we only have one teleporter, we need to double you.”
“I’m not going to allow two different Études to run around the same timeline.”
“So, you’re fine just letting these people die?”
“We can establish contact with that rogue section, and talk the wannabe Oblivio pilot down. We can convince him to not commandeer the controls, and then I can send you to rescue the pod person.”
“You can’t be sure that’ll work. We don’t know anything about this guy. He might not listen to reason. Maybe if we had time to study his profile, or even just get his last name, someone could talk to him, but not you. You’re not a trained hostage negotiator. We can’t risk that. We have to go back.”
“Why would we have to go back? It would just be me. You said we needed two teleporters, but you can remain safe in your singular identity.”
“I want to help,” Vitalie said.
“And you will. One of you will; because there will only be one of you.”
Vitalie was getting sick of how negative Étude always was about this. She took her by the shoulders, and shook ever so slightly to emphasize her words. “You talked me into this. You made me The Caretaker, when you were fully capable of doing it on your own. I’m tired of all these cryptic little hints about how I’m meant to take over for you. I’m done talking about this.”
“We just started talking.”
“I’m already done with it. You’re going to take us both in time, and once we get there, we’re going to explain the situation to our younger selves. And then the four of us are going to hash out a real plan. No one dies today. You want me to take over? Fine, but I call the shots now.”
“What happens after the mission? What do we do about our doubles?”
“I don’t know; I don’t have all the answers, but maybe all four of us can figure it out. Maybe one pair just heads off to Bungula. Maybe that’s what we end up doing; just constantly replicating ourselves until every inhabited planet has a Caretaker team. I’m only focused on the mission right now. Those people need us, so let’s stop talking, and end this before it starts.”
          Étude pulled her arms out of Vitalie’s grasp, and took her by the shoulders instead. “Fine. I hope you know what you’re doing.” And with that, she sent them both back in time one day.
Their younger selves were sitting at the breakfast table. They weren’t shocked or confused. They just patiently waited for a report.
“Eat up,” Future!Vitalie instructed. “We’re gonna need to be at maximum strength. This is the worst one yet.”

Monday, April 22, 2019

Microstory 1086: Signa

Let me tell you a little story about how Viola Woods powered two towns, all on her own, and potentially saved thousands of people from freezing to death. Before you moved here, we had what was probably the worst winter storm in our local history. By the second day, people were trapped in their houses. This wouldn’t have been the worst thing ever, since we knew it was coming, and authorities urged us to stock up on supplies, but then the power went out. For one slow and terrible hour, almost everyone in both Blast City and Coaltown was without heat, and it would not be for another week until everything was back up and running. My mother runs the power plant that serves both towns, so she and a ton of contractors worked tirelessly day and night to fix the problems, but Viola had a temporary fix for us that very few people were aware of. As the storm was brewing, my mother shuffled the entire family to the plant, knowing that it would be the most protected building throughout the ordeal, and that she would more than likely be needed. So, thirty minutes after the lights went out, Viola showed up and pulled my mom into her office alone. Fortunately for us, my brothers and sisters all learned long ago of a vent in the custodial closet off the break room that has decent access to secret office conversations. Viola revealed to her—and by extension, us—that she was capable of patching the system herself while the technicians worked on a permanent solution. Of course, this was highly unorthodox, and mom had no reason to believe anything Viola was claiming was real, but I think you can guess where the story is headed. Desperate for a miracle, mother let Viola physically place her hands the power generator. Despite how I grew up, I don’t know how the power station works, but maybe she was touching the voltage regulator? Whatever it was, it worked, and my mother decided to only allow a skeleton crew work on the repairs in that area, so that not too many people would find out what was going on. She had to come up with a good lie to tell them about how they were supplying temporary power. We were reportedly relying on the goodness of the next power station over to help us out, which meant the head of that facility had to lie as well. The reality is that randomly supplying power to two towns that your plant wasn’t designed for is even harder than it sounds. Otherwise, they probably would have just stepped up and helped. There’s no way to know for sure how many lives would have been lost that day had Viola not been there, but I’m confident it would have been over zero, so it was worth it. Everyone here owes her a lot, and they don’t even know it yet. The day after power was restored completely, my whole family worked in the kitchen, cooking thank-you food. Then we went over to the Woods house, and gave them to her. She and I were friends from that day on. I never asked her how she did what she did, nor did anyone else in my family, and she never told us. I guess she was just waiting for you to run this series.