Microstory 1040: Jerry

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I’ve only lived in Blast City for a couple of years, so if you’re looking for a different perspective than you’re getting from these townies, you’ve come to the right place. I don’t know what reason your family had for moving, but mine had to do it because of me. I grew up in a really red state, but my mother had a really good job, and they thought they would be able to survive. My first high school was the absolute worst, though. In the summer after eighth grade, I asked if I could become a cheerleader, which they had no problem with whatsoever. They were actually getting a little worried that I wasn’t interested in anything. It was a bit too late to sign up for cheer camp, but they made tons of calls, and found me a place that was far away, but really open to beginners. Most of the other kids had been really active their whole lives, even if they were switching from gymnastics, or acrobatics, or whatnot. They were so incredibly supportive and patient with me while I was catching up. So you can see why, even though I knew my hometown was more conservative, it was a huge shock when I was met with such backlash when I tried out for my school’s cheer squad. It’s the 21st century, you would think there would be protections for diversity just about everywhere in this country, but no. They just shut the door on my request, and wouldn’t even entertain the possibility. In the end there was no fighting it. They seemed more angry when I mentioned I wasn’t gay, because then I wasn’t afflicted with the homosickness—their word, not mine—I was just confused and weird. Well, we learned about this place, which we found surprising progressive for a small town. My mom was offered a really good job at the club, though still not as good as what she had, and I will never be able to pay her back for that. You may be wondering why I’m even telling this story, and what it was to do with Viola. The truth is, everything. The issue with my old school was tragic and traumatizing for me and my family, but it didn’t make national news, or anything. Perhaps it should have, but I guess we just didn’t make a big enough stink. Viola herself actually called me out of the blue, and acted like she worked for your paper, Alma. She said she had heard what happened to me, and wanted to tell my story. We got sidetracked, and she brought up an open position at the club, and let me know how much safer and loving Blast City Senior High was. It was she who suggested we move all the way out here, though she did a great job making me think I had thought of it myself. It wasn’t until my second week in that I realized the whole thing was made up. She didn’t work for the school paper, and the article never existed. Even then, I never found out how she found out about me, let alone got her hands on my phone number. I’ll tell you what, though, I’ll always be grateful she did. I’m captain of the cheer squad now.

Microstory 920: Youth Programs

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If there’s one thing I’ve learned since the beginning of this series, it’s that creating a list is a lot easier than expanding upon it. I’m ashamed to say that it took me a long time to come up with ninety-seven things that I love. Yes, that means I still have two empty slots that prove how negative of a person I really am. I tried looking online for ideas, but people are...what’s the word? Basic. People are basic. They like rainbows, and the smell of coffee in the morning. They like curling up with a good book, and—my God, this isn’t a joke—long walks on the beach. I’ve not been to a heck of lot of beaches—being landlocked in Kansas—but even on those few, never did I see a single person taking a long walk. Anyway, the point is that I love the idea of youth programs. I like that children are being engaged, and that they’re learning, and gaining new experiences, and that they have a safe place to go. I don’t however, have much experience with them, though. When my sister and I were younger, we were often placed in programs during the summer, so we would have something to do, and because our parents needed to work. It wasn’t until I was older that I discovered kids go to summer school because they have trouble completing requirements, or understand material, during the regular year. I’ve also been to summer day camp, sports camp, and participated Boy Scouts activities. They had me do these things because, like I said, I didn’t have anything else, but also to try to figure what I liked, and where I excelled. I was well provided for, well-educated, and I lived in a safe environment, but not everyone has that. While I don’t personally carry a connection to any sort of youth program (except for that one time in middle school when a group of us went to pair up with elementary school students at an underfunded school, for literally one day), I did want to take a moment to give them a shoutout. Thanks for looking out for our kids. We’re gonna need them if we ever wanna clean up this mess.

Seeing is Becoming: Boarders (Part IV)

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“You want me to do what now?” Vearden asked.

A Gondilak doctor was standing in front of him, hands on his hip. “I would like you to cut yourself. With that knife. It doesn’t have to be too deep, but it can’t be too shallow either.”

“I’m not into that.”

“We just have to see what it looks like.”

“You do it.”

Dr. Reeder—translation unclear—rolled his eyes. He moved shockingly like a human. “Fine.” He took the knife back and carelessly ran it across Vearden’s arm.

“Oh my God!” Vearden screamed. “Does it always hurt like that?” The cut sealed up almost as quickly as it was created.

“For us, we get used to it,” Reeder replied. “Especially for those of us living so close to the Orothsewan border.”

“I was to understand that Orothsew was the name of the entire planet?”

Reeder cut Vearden on his other arm.

“Ouch again! Jeez, you never told me you were going to do it again.”

“Did I not?” He stabbed Vearden in the leg. “The Orothsew and the Gondilak evolved on two different continents, separated by a treacherous ocean. Each culture had named this planet on its own before the Orothsew progressed enough to discover us. We’ve been warring for decades. They only recently made claim to their sliver of land on our continent, which they were able to do with slightly superior technology.”

“Do you get aliens on this side too?” Vearden dodged a few more attacks, but a stealthy archer shot him with an arrow from behind.

“We do occasionally,” Reeder said while he was breaking the arrow. “But humans only ever help the Orothsew.” He pulled the back end of the arrow out quickly. “We do not know why.” He lowered his gaze, obviously preparing to drop the knife on Vearden’s foot.

“Let’s...stop this for now,” Vearden said, gently taking the knife. “I think you have enough data for the day. And I need to contact my partner.”

“She is still with them.”

“Well, it’s not my fault that you only took me.”

“Not my fault either. That is not my job.”

He sighed. “Do you have a telephone, or a carrier pigeon, or something?”

“I have no idea what those words mean.”

Vearden thought about his options for a moment. “Okay. She’s going to try to find me. But she doesn’t know the terrain, so she would request a guide or a search party. Assuming they agreed, where might we be able to intercept them? Where would they start their search for me?”

“Well, they would go back to where the ambush was, probably. But that’s still in their territory. Our operatives took great risk to get you but that’s only because they value you. For her, the leaders would never agree to cross that deep past the boundary. Your next best chance is in the Diamond Forest.”

“You have a forest of diamonds?” Vearden was excited.

“It’s shaped like a diamond,” the doctor condescended. “Calm down. Anyway, I doubt they would let you go. You are, as I’ve said, valuable to them.”

“I don’t need their permission. I am not a prisoner here.”

Reeder shrugged. “Semantics.”

“Can you help me or not?”

“I can’t help you, per se. But I can lead you to someone who can.”

He gave him directions on where to go, but it wasn’t necessary. His new liaison-slash-bodyguard took him there. They walked into a tent and found themselves with a crowd of both Gondilak and Orothsew. One such of the latter was clearly in some kind of position of authority.

“Ah, the human,” she said. “What is he doing here?”

“I was told that you could help me get back to my partner. She’s with the...um, you know, with you guys.”

She laughed. “Don’t look so surprised. This war is based on land; not race. The Orothsewan government would like you to believe that they are following a singular vision, but they are most certainly not. The majority of the population on both sides disapprove of the war, and a few of us have temporarily defected in hopes of forming a new culture, composed of the entire planet of Orolak, free from segregation.”

“Ked rihl,” one of the other Orothsew muttered in his native tongue.

“Quiet, Mujel. It isn’t a pipe dream. And please speak English in front of our guest. Those are the rules.” She looked back over to Vearden and extended her hand. “I am Uhyiopa.”

“I can’t help but notice,” Vearden admitted, “that there is a surprisingly high number of people here who speak my language. Even with the supposed hundreds of human visitors, most of you should not be able to speak it, especially not so fluently.”

“We teach it in schools now. We have determined it to be the most widely spoken language in the galaxy.”

“It is?” he asked. “How is that possible?”

“You have heard that Orolak is some kind of natural hub for alien visitors?”

“Indeed.”

“In the spirit of that, Earth seems to be a sort of ambassador homebase. It’s true that only a few hundred have come here total, but a not insignificant number of those few hundred have been transported to planets besides ours. You’re like a colonizing race, but without all the conquering. The strange thing is,” she paused for effect, “not a single one of you appears to have any control over it.”

Vearden took a second to process the information. He had already known that he and Saga weren’t the only ones. But it seemed to be so much bigger than that. The people in charge had some kind of grand design. They plan these missions, and they send their unwitting minions out into the field. No one knew who they were, or why they were doing this, but there was clearly a consensus that they existed. No one was even so much as entertaining the possibility that there was no plan at all. What if it was all just random? What if these...what should he call them, powers that be, aren’t there at all? What if people just didn’t realize that this was how the universe worked; a strange form of chaos theory where sometimes you’re simply teleported somewhere else?

“I need some air,” Vearden said, nearly hyperventilating. He walked over and pulled the flap of the tent back. What he found there was a change in scenery. He had been transported, just like before to Orolak, but this time he was back on Earth. At least, he assumed it to be Earth. He saw no Orothsew or Gondilak. The buildings looked more familiar. And he saw humans.

“Vearden?” came the voice of his sister.

“Allison!” he cried out. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too,” she agreed. She didn’t act like he had been missing at all. “I honestly thought that you would crap out on me again. But you’re here. On time. And on the day that I asked.” That wasn’t right. Not only had he spent a few days on Orolak, but he had set out for this summer camp a day later than he had promised. Even if the powers that be had moved sent him back to Earth the moment after he first left, he would have been late, according to his sister’s schedule.

“What day is it?”

“What are you asking, V?”

“Just humor me. Please.”

She eyed him suspiciously, but felt like it wasn’t worth arguing. “It’s Tuesday, May 19.” That was the proof. He left for Orolak on Wednesday, and had already been scolded by Allison about that. He had traveled back in time.

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