Microstory 2663: The Duty Republic

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3.1

Resi’s new responsibilities will begin tomorrow, though he will need time to prepare, so the work actually starts right away. An average of 31 kids turn 16 every day, so the next batch has already begun their cleansing ritual. He remembers his own cleansing like it was yesterday, because it was! Now they’re putting him in charge of the whole thing. Kokore apprentices train for years before they even perform one ceremony without supervision. And it’s not like watching them work on stage would prepare someone to fill in. There’s all sorts of other things going on behind the scenes that Resi doesn’t even know about. He doesn’t even know what he doesn’t know. He just assumes that there’s more to it. For him, it’s even worse. They want him for a job that hasn’t been done in two hundred years, with no education, experience, or aptitude, and no manual. This has to be some kind of test. Is this a test?

“It’s not a test,” his mother claims.

“So you’ve heard of the fifth House?” Resi presses.

“Just stories, but yes. Before you ask, I couldn’t tell you. It’s one of many things that children are not to know until their sixteenth birthdays. I didn’t think it would ever come up. No one did. I certainly didn’t think my son would be chosen.”

“Chosen?” he echoes. “Chosen. No one is meant to be chosen for a House. It’s a subconscious decision. That’s the entire point of the Kidjum. If I was chosen, then who chose me? Who is responsible? What else do they choose? Is our whole culture a lie?”

“It’s not a lie, brother,” Omir insists. “It’s just changing. You’re the one who’s changing it. Your decision was still subconscious, but it was nearly unique. You were born to a world different than our ancestors. You see things differently. The island is ready for House Kutelin, and you tapped into that. It’s still all you, but what sets you apart is that you have a deeper understanding of the way things need to be now.”

Resi has never felt any different than the other kids. Mediocre is a word that always swims around in his head. And he’s liked that—it doesn’t sound like an insult to him. He appreciates being part of the collective. He wants to stay that way. He wants to blend in. This is far too much pressure, and he hasn’t even started whatever he’s expected to start. He doesn’t even seem to have any sort of trainer or mentor. No guidance, no real answers. His family doesn’t know anything. They’re just guessing. He looks down at his little sister. She’s a quiet one, and if he can be honest with himself for a minute, his favorite. It’s hard to tell how much of this she’s understanding, because she never lets on. When you look into her eyes, you will see nothing but wisdom and patience. He kneels down. “You’re the only one I can trust now.”

She smiles and wraps her tiny arms around his neck. “I’ll come with you.”

“Oh, honey. You can’t go with him. It’s not time for you to choose—be chosen,” she corrects, “for a House yet. Seven years more.” Mother always talks down to Kala.

“It’s not about House Kutelin.” Resi takes Kala’s hand as he’s standing up straight. “They’re moving me closer to the Tadungeria. She can stay with me there.”

‘“You can’t take care of a child,” his mother argues. “Not only are you not qualified, but you won’t have the time. You have a duty to the whole island now.”

“Let’s not oversell it,” Resi counters. “I have a duty to the Four Houses.” Many refuse to acknowledge that there are two other nations on Yana, which have their own beliefs and practices. Today, they live in peace, and there is plenty of cross-pollination, but there has been much conflict in the past. The animosity can largely be attributed to a failure to recognize each other’s presence. Or really, it’s more about mentally attempting to absorb them into a single unified people. Resi knows that that’s not helpful. Pretending the divisions don’t exist doesn’t dismantle the divisions, it reinforces them.

“You also have a duty to this family,” Omir pushes back. “We need Kala here to complete our chores. You will have access to resources now. The city is well-established. You no longer need her, nor any of us.”

“Which is it, brother?” Resi questions. “Do I have a duty to our family, or am I no longer a part of this family?”

“It’s both,” his mother says. “This tradition is not changing. Even if you had chosen a different House for yourself, we would stay in contact.” Yeah, that’s how it’s supposed to work, but it doesn’t make that much sense when you break it down. If your subconscious wants to join a different House than the one you grew up in, your ties to your first House are probably not that strong to begin with. If Omir had switched to, say, House Naino, Resi would not see him very often. He doesn’t even live here anymore. He should probably be at his new home right now, doing his own early morning chores.”

“I’m starting something new,” Resi begins. “It’s scary, and I don’t want to be alone. I wasn’t condescending to Kala when I said that she was the only one I could trust. She is too young to have kept anything from me.” He holds his free hand up when his mom opens her mouth to argue. “Now, I’m not mad that you did. I understand why. But I can’t do this if I’m relying on my family. If you can’t help me do what I need to do, then I need to commit to my new House. But that doesn’t mean I’m leaving everything behind. I’m taking Kala, because I need her, and I don’t want to hear another word.”

Omir and their mother look over at Father. He’s a quiet one too, but not in Kala’s way. His silence shrouds an anger, and a darkness. He would never hurt them, Resi doesn’t think. He hasn’t before anyway. What’s frightening about it is how much he seems to be holding back. He doesn’t know why Father should be so mad, and why he has to work hard to tamp it down and remain calm. Resi thought he was doing something wrong when he was a kid, but grew up to decide that it doesn’t have anything to do with him specifically. There’s something bigger that bothers Father, which he can’t or won’t say. But as reserved as he is, Father always has an opinion, and they all respect it. “Son, it is not for you to know why your mind chose the House that it did. It is not for any of us to know, for ourselves, or for you. The fact is that starting a new House is no small venture. For my part, I do not care what you do with your power. You could tear down the Houses. You could wage war against the rest of Bungula. All is up to you, and we’ll love you for it, and stand by your side. But what you won’t do is deprive us of the labor and loyalty that we deserve. We had all four of our children for a purpose. You may take Kala with you, but in return, you will provide us with two new daughters as replacement, and you will do so with your first decree after tomorrow’s Kidjum.”

If anyone on this island can make Resi do something he doesn’t want to do, it’s Father. What he’s asking for—to Resi’s knowledge—has never been done before. You don’t ask for new family members to host. When someone chooses a House, they go where they’re needed, and no one is entitled to more than two children, adopted or otherwise. Yet everything is changing now. That’s what they’re fighting about today. He didn’t ask for this responsibility. “Very well, you will have your new daughters.”

Microstory 2662: Last to Still Believe

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3.1

Resi wants to go see his family, but it’s not time yet. After the cheering dies down, the Kokore whisks him away to a different room backstage. The Kokore apprentice is going to take over responsibilities for the rest of the ceremony so the current one can explain to Resi what the hell just happened. He’s waiting here now so she can pass the torch appropriately. The way she talked about it, he gets the sinking feeling that none of this was an accident. They knew it was going to happen, and planned for it by accelerating her apprentice’s experience so he would be prepared for this moment.

There’s food in here, but he’s not sure if he is supposed to eat it. Some of it looks like it’s just waiting to be distributed afterwards, but three courses are sitting separately on a tray on a table. He’s getting pretty hungry, but he won’t do anything without explicit permission or instruction. He just waits patiently, recognizing that all will be explained, even if he doesn’t like the answers. There’s no point in fretting about it until he fully understands what this fifth house is about.

The Kokore returns. “Okay, we’re good.” She looks over at the tray. “You’ve not eaten a single thing! The Kidjum elixir makes you hungry, don’t you know that? It doesn’t work if you just fall asleep. People sleep all the time. It’s a serious drug.”

“I suppose I forgot that part,” Resi admits. “I am indeed hungry, but I have no appetite. I’m too nervous. I don’t understand how I could have been assigned this mysterious fifth house. My subconscious didn’t choose it. What does aether look like? I don’t remember seeing it as part of my body in the vision.”

She snags a grape from his plate, and pops it into her mouth before she sits down. “That was the decision,” she begins. “Most people do not experience what you did. Yes, everyone has their own mind palace, and it always looks a little different, but you don’t become the elements. Or rather, you do, but no one else does. Well, I shouldn’t say that. It does occasionally happen, but only when the dreamer’s palace is already very body-centric, like a hospital operating room. Even then, their decision is always really obvious. They’re covered in dirt, or fully engulfed in fire, or totally wet, or something like that. The elements were well-distributed, and not simply on your body, but the composition of your body. That’s how we knew that you were Aether.”

“We were never told that you can see our dreamscapes. That’s another lie.”

“It’s very important that you not be given all of the information ahead of time. You know that things were kept from you. It’s our way of life. The Kidjum is a special, lucid dream state, but it’s not magical. The universe isn’t trying to tell you where you belong. This is our way of surfacing subconscious desires.”

“Yeah, that part I know.”

“Again, most people’s visions are unlike yours. They don’t only see something that represents the House they want to join. They see other things that they yearn for. It’s often...sexual. And to be clear, I did not have access to your dreamscape. Someone else was assigned to bear witness, to you, and to a few others. This is necessary because while I wasn’t lying when I said it wasn’t magic, it is important. What our dreams show us lives at the core of our belief system. We can’t just take people’s word for it. For you, you probably would have ignored the distribution, and chosen whatever House you thought you should join. If we were okay with that, then what would be the point of the Kidjum in the first place? We would just ask you. It would be a lot easier, and save time.”

“I suppose that makes sense, but I still don’t know what this fifth House is, or why I’ve never heard of it. You said I was the first in centuries. If that’s true, why isn’t it in the history books?”

She’s been smiling kindly the whole time, but her face grows serious now. “That’s the result of our last First Tongue of Aether. He destroyed the evidence. It was his final act of anger. Now everything we know about House Kutelin was passed down by word-of-mouth. I couldn’t say for sure why our ancestors played it so close to the vest, but we keep the circle tight to this day because it might have all been made up. Most of my predecessors and colleagues don’t believe that it ever happened. For my part, I didn’t think it mattered whether it was real or not. My job remained the same, which was to facilitate the ceremony. But I always knew it was a possibility, and you’re proof of that. And now...I’m out of a job. It’s bittersweet, I would say.”

“Okay. Now you really lost me,” Resi admits. “Why are you out of a job? Is your apprentice ready to take over full time? Did I precipitate that somehow?”

She laughs uncomfortably. “No, the apprentice is out too.” She pauses, presumably choosing her next words carefully in her head. “As long as you don’t end up like your own predecessor, the Kidjums are no longer necessary.” She points at the door with her thumb. “The others out there are the last round to choose Houses. For anyone who comes of age after today, you will be the one to choose for them. While my job ends, yours now begins. You will have access to their subconscious desires. You will see which of the four Houses they belong to, but you don’t have to do anything they want. You can move them to wherever you think is best, or choose it on a whim, or roll a die. You can select your own brethren too, who will join you in House Kutelin. Everything’s up to you now. According to the lore, the last head of your House chose all warriors to join him in the fifth House. He created conflict by consolidating all physical strength into one place. They used their strength to create a military state, and our culture nearly fell apart. He underestimated how strong others could be when backed into a corner. But...I really shouldn’t say any more about the spoken history. It’s not my place to sway your mind.”

“If this assignment has a history of violence, though, why was everyone clapping out there? Why are they so excited to risk that happening again?”

“That’s one reason we keep it a secret, so no one aspires to become like him. They were excited because this is how it’s supposed to be. The four Houses arose once our ancestors discovered that they were not in the Garden of Heaven. They had been rescued by time travelers, and brought to this world in their future. Of course, over time, even that part of our history has been brought into question; our culture being the last to still believe. But either way, what we do know is that we started with a singular voice. We fractured when we encountered the first Bungulan colonists, who assumed we were crazy, and just forgot that we came here in a spaceship like everyone else.”

Resi sighs. This is nuts. These weren’t just lies. They were cover-ups. He does not know who he is, or where he comes from. He thought he knew what this island was, but he wasn’t even close. He was so ignorant. How can he ever move on from this?

“I can’t tell you what to think, but I’m here to help. It’s not technically my job, but if anyone has the requisite skills to serve as an advisor, it’s a Kokore.”

“I don’t even know your name.”

She finally smiles again. “Caprice.” A colonial given name? Is she Kinkon?

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 1, 2399

« < » > Table of Contents

Generated by Canva text-to-image AI software

Winona needs some company to deal with all the testosterone in the air from Mithridates Preston and Hamilton Burr, but that’s not the only reason that Leona wanted to contact Dilara Cassano. The cane that Dalton Hawk was using, and which he gave to Alyssa before she lost it, was named for her. Leona isn’t sure if Dilara made it herself, or if someone like Holly Blue or Weaver made it for her, but it is based off of her power, and utilizes a gigantic synthetic diamond that Leona procured for her a long time ago in another timeline. They may require Dilara’s help with Dalton in the coming days, so it’s time to bring her back into the fold. Until then, there doesn’t seem to be much for anyone to do. The task force teams are in place, and awaiting Leona’s orders, but she doesn’t have any orders to give, because she doesn’t know the specifics of what they’re going to do. Trina said that the Keys and Keyholders would reveal themselves soon, but they still haven’t gotten a solid date on this whole Reconvergence thing.

For now, Aldona is the only one with a job to do. If Ramses were around, Leona would ask him to reverse engineer the inter-reality TV that Mithri let her take from the Fifth Division. Without him, Aldona is their best bet for on-the-fly inventions. Leona herself is smart and well educated, but she’s not an inventor. She understands how to use technology, and she loves to tinker with stuff that already exists, but she was never all that great at making something from scratch. In a day, Aldona is done. The Fourth Quadrant had all of the raw materials that she needed to make enough communication devices for everyone, and the potential to make more.

Leona is distributing them now, and teaching the teams how to work them. They look like the Farnsworth communicators from Warehouse 13, which Aldona may have been subconsciously inspired by. She doesn’t have time to figure out the network protocols, so each reality has one phone number, which everyone in that reality shares. If multiple people in one reality answer their devices when they receive a call, the video and audio will be mashed together in a confusing and incoherent mess. That’s why she had to include a sort of ultra-advanced squelching knob that will focus the signal between only two devices. Perhaps with a little time, she could modify them to handle full three-way communication, but again, they don’t know how long they have before the event goes down. Trina and Cheyenne should have reached out to them sooner.

Leona is in the main sequence now. Mateo nods, grasping the basics, and obviously not worried about it. “Do you know what day it is?” he asks her.

“Thursday,” she answers, though she knows why he’s bringing it up.

“Yes, but...”

“Mateo, I’m a time traveler. This may technically be 399 years since I was born, but I’m not 399 years old, and I’ve not experienced any significant interval of time since then. In fact, I don’t even know how old I am.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he replies with a slow shake of his head. “It’s your birthday, so we’re celebrating it.”

“You can’t make me.” She threatens him with her reality-jumping dial.

“You would abandon me on this, the day of your birth?”

“Mateo...”

“Come,” he insists. “Let us eat cake.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: February 16, 2399

« < » > Table of Contents

Generated by Fotor AI text-to-image AI software

Leona tried to think about what the code to the computer would be. She realized that it wouldn’t just be something that she would choose, but something that Coronel Zacarias would know that she would choose. But that’s ridiculous, because he doesn’t know her well. That’s not the right way to put it. He barely knows her. He could not have come up with a password for her to use, and even if he could, he would know it too, which would not alter the chances of the Fifth Divisioners from getting their hands on it. This must not have anything to do with him. So she decided to just sit down and see for herself. She tried to access the computer, and was met with a question. What was the name of your first pet? A security question, like what a bank might use to verify a customer’s identity? How would anyone involved know the answer? She answered it with an N/A, because she’s never had a pet before, but the window trembled, and switched to a different question. Where did you go to high school?

“How many are there?” she asked Summit.

He was reluctant to answer. “Hundreds. When you get one wrong, it skips it, and comes back later. We’ve actually gotten a few right just by guessing, but as soon as you answer one wrong, the cycle will start over.”

“And they’re all about me?”

“None of them appear to be specific to you, but when you consider them as a whole, I was able to detect a pattern, and determine that you’re the admin.”

“How did these questions get here?”

Summit lifted his chin and rolled his eyes around. “This place is incredibly mysterious. Maybe it can read your mind.”

She looked back at the screen. “That’s not unsettling.” She cleared her throat, cracked some joints, and got to work.

It’s been hours. A lot of these questions are really tough. For one, she has to be perfect with her syntax, and even capitalization. She has to word it the exact right way, even if a normal person would accept a variation as close enough. Secondly, some answers are completely wrong because the answer is only located in her subconscious. She took a few naps to spark her memory of a few of them. For instance, she technically never had a pet, but when she was little, she found a rabbit with a broken leg in her front yard. She tried to nurse it back to health without telling her parents. This was before her mother died, in an old timeline. Secret. Goddammit, no. Secret Delaney. That’s it.

Even with her naps, she’s tired as hell. It’s stressful, trying to run through the whole thing with no mistakes. She’s almost there. If she can only remember her first license plate number, it will be over. It actually says that on the screen; that it’s the final unanswered security question. She’s already messed this one up twice, but she has to be able to remember it. Summit was right, they have to be coming from her own mind, which means that it’s in there somewhere. She just has to access it.

Summit is nodding in the periphery. “You got this.” He slaps her in the back encouragingly.

Leona breathes in through her nose, and out through her mouth. She closes her eyes, and types, trying to let her subconscious take the reins. She opens them to make sure she didn’t accidentally press the equal sign, or something, then submits. “We’re in!”

“Great job!”

A hologram is projected on the view window that shows the Nexus machine in the other room. It’s streaming the security feeds from the exterior cameras. “I’m glad we shut the doors. They’re trying to get in. They’ve probably been trying the whole time. They’ve resorted to explosives.”

“Should we be worried?” Summit asks.

“My understanding is that the walls and doors are virtually indestructible. I’m not worried, but they should be. I don’t think this material is designed to absorb the blast. I think it reflects it.” She swipes the feed away, and returns the glass to normal window mode. “Who cares. The computer is unlocked now, so we can go wherever we want.”

“Maybe later, but I need you to bring my mother here.”

“Right, we haven’t talked about that. Who is your mother?”

“Unlock the address, and you’ll see for yourself,” Summit says.

“It’s the Crucia Heavy, isn’t it?”

He just bobs his head, and gazes through the window.

“Yeah, it’s the Crucia Heavy.” It must be, or he wouldn’t be acting so cagey about it. “How does this even work? There’s no Nexus on Flindekeldan”

“Is there not? Hm. Then you may as well unlock it, because it doesn’t matter, does it?” He doesn’t look at her.

She narrows her eyes at him. “I’m trusting you.”

“Good. I trust you too, Madam Matic.” Still no eye contact.

She sighs, and checks the slip of paper for the term sequence. “Computer, unlock this terminal for passage, please.” She holds the paper out so any of the many hidden cameras can see.”

“Designated terminal now open,” the computer responds. No sooner does it finish its sentence does the Nexus begin to power up.

“Unscheduled offworld activation!” Leona shouts as a nod to a TV show that no one on this planet has ever heard of. She laughs and steps out of the control room, to the top of the stairs

Technicolor lights fill the portal, then fade away. A young woman is standing in the pit, but it’s not who she thought it would be. When Leona and the team—which back then included Olimpia and Jeremy, but not Ramses—first arrived on Flindekeldan, they were greeted by the Crucia Heavy, Zora Loncar. It wasn’t long before Leona found herself training with The Highest Order to be a warrior capable of protecting herself, and dedicated to defending others. It’s a highly rigorous training program, but it is not a formal school. Students graduate when they’re ready, at whatever level of skill and expertise that they feel comfortable moving on with. Most of the time, Leona was training with Ellie Underhill. One person came and went, choosing to only learn enough to fend off any attackers in darkened parking garages. Besides them, the only other student she ever knowingly met was a woman by the name of, “Iris Blume.”

Iris smirks back at her. She lifts her brace, which is just what the Highest Order calls a bo staff. Before Leona can react, she brings it down, and smacks her in the face. Leona falls to the floor, but catches herself. She does one push up, which gets her back to her feet. Iris is in the middle of trying to strike again, but this time, Leona is ready. She fights back, and they go at it for the next few minutes. Iris is not holding back, and Leona can’t tell if this is some kind of progress report, or if she’s truly trying to hurt her. The fight ends when a powerful concussive force sends them both flying to the opposite side of the room. The two of them land on the accessibility ramp, while Summit lands under them on the floor.

Leona leans up against the wall, and looks over to the door. So maybe it doesn’t reflect all of the blast, but can send part of it through itself. Even so, the door has held, so that’s something. “Computer, show me the outside.”

A hologram appears over the pit, showing the Fifth Divisioners coming back from their hiding spots to examine the damage, of which there is none.

“How many?” Iris asks.

“Two hundred and sixteen,” Summit says as he’s pulling himself up to the ramp.

“How many innocent?”

“Twenty-four.”

Leona looks over at him. “There were more than that when I left.”

He hangs his head. “I know. I tried to keep the death to a minimum, but they really wanted access to this computer, and the Coronel wasn’t cooperating.”

Leona hops off the ramp, and picks up Iris’ brace. “Computer, open the door in thirty seconds. Once we’re through, close it up again, and don’t open it for anyone but me, Coronel Zacarias, or any of his trusted people, as long as they’re not requesting entrance under duress. Does that make sense?”

“Understood,” the AI replies.

“That’s not Constance, is it?” Iris asks.

No one replies, so the computer answers for itself. “I am not Constance. My name is Opsocor.”

“What’s the game plan?” Iris asks.

“We’re going to go out there and take this facility back. Do you have a problem with that.” Leona asks.

“Nope.” Iris hops off the ramp. “I just wanted to make sure that we were on the same page.” Stakes her brace back. “You’ve fought well, but this is mine.”

“Computer, give me a weapon, please.”

The Nexus powers up. Her own brace appears on the floor.

“You can just...do that?”

“We have a good working relationship,” Leona explains.

The door opens up.

“Let’s go!”

Microstory 1768: Father Stern

< > Table of Contents

Turtle; beach. Fun; nothing. Money; drain. Father; stern. That’s interesting. I never really thought of my father as being stern. Is that really what my subconscious thinks of him? I take a moment to reflect on my life, completely ignoring whatever my therapist is saying now. He could be talking about the same thing, or he could be prompting me with more word associations, but I’m stuck in my own head. He should have thought about that before we started playing this game. The whole reason I’m in here is because I have trouble concentrating on the real world. I can tell the difference between what’s real, and what’s not, but I don’t much care for the former. It’s much easier to pretend I’m living in a fantasy; a world that I can shape to my needs. I don’t like to rely on others, because they’ll only disappoint me. Disappointing; mother. So now I’m just playing the game by myself. Has my mother been a disappointment? She’s certainly not my favorite person in the world, but I love her, and I appreciate everything she’s done for me. What was she supposed to do, order my father to stop making me practice the clarinet for four hours a day. She did the best she could with me and my brother, and so did my father. Brother; escape. Yeah, he was always smarter than me, so he was able to get a scholarship for a college on the other side of the country. I didn’t even bother applying, because the application fee would have been the same as flushing it down the toilet. Meanwhile, he stayed out there, and never has to come back. When the time comes—and it’s coming soon—I’ll be the one still here, having to take care of the parents. They’re going to resent me for it, and he’s going to act like sending a couple hundred dollars a month is contribution enough. He’s rich now, I don’t know why he doesn’t send more. No, this is a stupid stray thought. We don’t need anything from him.

Nothing; fun. That was a weird response too, don’t you think? Why don’t I find anything fun? It’s not even true. I love going...well, I guess I’m tired of that. What about...no, I was never very good. I guess it’s true that I don’t like to have fun. What kind of person feels that way? Suicidal, I suppose. I’ve never given it much thought, but am I secretly at risk of doing something to hurt myself? No, that can’t be right. A lot of people don’t have fun, but that doesn’t mean they don’t enjoy being alive. Fun is an interpretation of an experience, and is not a synonym for happiness. Still, I’m probably not really happy either, which I imagine, is why my wife left me. Wife; disappointed. Wow, how’s that for an Oedipus complex? I’m disappointed in my mother, and my ex-wife is disappointed in me. Does that mean I married myself, though? That doesn’t sound right. That would say more about her own poor choices, and she has her own psychology to deal with, with her own therapist. Therapist; uninspired. Whew, that’s rough. Why don’t you tell us how you really feel, self? It’s true, I don’t know about this guy yet. I feel like I read somewhere that said techniques like this word association game are basic, and ultimately don’t really improve a patient’s mental health. I don’t want to judge, but I’m paying him to help me, and if it’s not doing me any good, then there goes more cash down the toilet. Toilet; now. It’s not an emergency, but I could do with a break. Only then do I notice that we’ve both been silent for the past three minutes; me in my own head, and him waiting patiently for me to come back out of my shell, like a turtle; beach. “Are you ready to talk about your father?” he asks me. Father; stern. Stern; justified.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 1, 2055

« < » > Table of Contents

The Delegator returned Mateo and Leona to Topeka last year where they were finally reunited with their family. Aura was still clearly perturbed about having been abandoned twice, but Samsonite had apparently convinced her to convert this anger into love and understanding. Leona’s father and stepmother were notably older, but still looked more youthful than people their ages did back in the day. They say that in less than a decade, aging will be relegated to the developing populations, but that even those would be lifted up and the death rate will slowly begin to decrease from 100%.

When the two of them returned to the timeline in 2055, they were informed that Horace Reaver had been killed in an explosion in his prison cube, along with all five of his guards. There was no further information on the matter, as the powers that be would want to keep details out of the hands of the lowers. Apparently, Danica wanted to discuss something with The Rovers, alone in The Constant, and so the entire group headed for Lebanon. The rest of them waited patiently in the RV.

Danica sighed as they were getting off of the elevator. “It’s nice to see you again, cousin.” She walked them over to the counter where a smorgasbord awaited them.

“And you.”

“Leona,” Danica nodded.

“Concierge,” Leona nodded back.

“What seems to be the problem?” Mateo asked.

“Now that the whole Reaver thing is over, I figured we would reconnect.” She took a beat. “Mostly, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“We’re all right,” Leona assured her. “We’re worried about the next Reaver.”

“How do you mean?” Danica asked.

“Ours are dangerous lives. We don’t expect to go back to doing nothing all day, everyday. Our next enemy is right around the corner. Because that’s how this works.”

“This isn’t a book or movie, Leona,” Mateo told her.

“Isn’t it?” She tilted her head like a teacher trying to get a student to figure out the problem on their own. “Horace did say that his daughter told him that the choosing ones do this primarily for entertainment.”

Mateo was confused. “When did he say that?”

“Oh, I guess you weren’t there. He spoke of it in my prison suite. Evidently they just...like to watch.”

Mateo turned to his cousin. “Danica?”

“I didn’t know that, and I still don’t,” Danica answered, “but I wouldn’t be surprised. Would you?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“I do have a job for you,” Danica said, changing the subject. “It won’t be easy.”

“I thought the Delegator doled out the jobs.”

She ignored the remark, “the powers would like you to inform the families of the Guards who died in the Reaver explosion.”

“Why did they choose us?”

“The reason is dependent on whether you’re right that they’re purpose is just to mess with our lives.”

They just looked at her.

“They didn’t tell me why,” Danica explained.

“How do you communicate with them?” Leona asked.

“How does the Delegator?” Mateo furthered.

She frowned. “They implant thoughts in my subconscious. Of course, I don’t know exactly how they do this, but no one ever tells me to do anything, I just know I’m supposed to.”

“That’s frightening.”

“Just count yourself lucky that you’ve not experienced it. Because it’s more frightening than you could imagine. I can tell when it’s not really my thought, but I also can’t stop it. It’s like someone whispering loudly, straight at my brain, and it doesn’t stop until I’ve agreed to its demands.”

“Those are some sick puppies,” Mateo pointed out.

“Indeed.”

“So,” Leona began, “how are they going to send us to the future to give the bad news? Mario? The door-walkers?”

Danica shook her head. “They do not intend to break your pattern. That is the hard part. You’re going to have to wait until you reach the time period on your own. I don’t have the precise timeline at present, but they’re waiting for you sometime in the very early 23rd century.”

“That’s almost five months our time,” Leona exclaimed, having done the math in her head extraordinarily quickly, even for her.

“Somehow, I don’t think the powers that be are bothered by that,” Danica said.

“Rule Number Nine,” Leona said. “gather as much information on the future, and your future, as possible. Write it down if you have to.”

“I’ll write that down,” Mateo said, taking his notepad out of his bag. “Another thing,” he said as he was writing down the rule. “I need to understand what you knew about where Reaver and Ulinthra came from. Did you know about The Gravedigger? Do you know all of the people at Daria’s funeral? What exactly do you, and don’t you, know?”

Danica took in a deep breath and prepared herself. “I am The Concierge, Mateo, of something called The Constant. It is my job to be there for my guests. That doesn't mean fluffing pillows and stocking the minibar. It means that I have to understand what they've been through, which means that I am aware of every single timeline, and everything that was changed between them. Yes, I remember the timeline where you timeslipped mostly alone. But I was not allowed to intervene. I'm walking the line just talking about it here.

“I was not at Daria’s funeral,” she continued, “but I do know every salmon who has been to my present or earlier. I don’t, strictly speaking, have a confidentiality agreement, but I try not to divulge information about my other guests. You wouldn’t have wanted me blabbing to Reaver about what you were up to, right?”

“Reaver was down here?”

“Yes, he spent many nights recharging down here. Everyone does, at one point or another.”

“But the powers that be never come down?”

She laughed. “If they did, then they claimed to be a salmon. Wouldn’t be that hard to convince me. Not for them.”

“Never met anyone named Melly? That’s Reaver’s daughter’s name,” Leona explained to a lost Mateo.

“He told you a lot more than he told me,” Mateo noted.

“I can’t imagine why,” Leona replied sarcastically.

“I’ve never heard of her,” Danica said honestly.

“What about a man wielding a knife who calls himself The Cleanser? He tried to kill me and Reaver in an alternate timeline.”

She shook her head. “I don’t. I don’t know him. I know what you’re talking about, because they implanted the knowledge of the events in my head, but I never met him. Are you sure he wasn’t just an angry former employee of Reaver Enterprises?”

Mateo smiled, grateful to know something others don’t. “He came out of nowhere, and he was there to kill salmon, not Reaver specifically.”

“Then it’s my guess that he’s one of them,” Danica suggested.

“Mine too,” Leona agreed.

“A choosing one who goes against the plans of the other choosers,” Mateo thought out loud. “I think we can work with that.”

“Let’s not count our hatchets before the chit,” Leona said...oddly.

“Can our family come down now?” Mateo asked.

“What for?”

“To rest.”

“They’ve been fine,” Danica said. “You’re the ones who need rest.”

“Okay, well they can be our plus...” Mateo tried to count in his head.

“Five,” Leona finished. “Let them in,” she ordered.

“Very well,” Danica conceded.

« < » > Table of Contents

Microstory 15: The IQ Trick

I always tell people that I have an IQ of 185. Then I laugh and admit that it’s only 130. You see, intellectually, they know that I have normal intelligence. They will never expect me to do anything particularly outstanding. But subconsciously, they will always be looking to attribute everything I do to my genius. So when I do something that they would consider wrong, they won't look down on me too much because, in the back of their minds, they’ll wonder whether I had it right the whole time, and if they aren't simply incapable of fathoming the logic. The trick is to use this on any given person only a single time. Don’t ever mention it again. The more they think about it, the closer their subconscious impressions get to the truth. And it is absolutely imperative that you never reveal your deception to anyone. Which, I know, sounds ironic, because I've just revealed it to you. But here’s the thing, a truly gifted individual can maneuver their way out of the inconsistency. And I’m gifted. Obviously I am, since I came up with this on my own, at a very young age. And that is the true irony. Because the fact is that I've been joking with you the whole time. I actually do have an IQ of 185. Just kidding. It’s only 180.