Microstory 2682: Seeing The Whole Thing

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Resi can see the future, there is no longer any doubt in his heart about that. The problem is that, no matter how hard he tries, he has been unable to return to the vision he twice had of the eruption of Central Mountain. Brooke has her special techy spaceship, which she used to study the volcano, which said that nothing about it suggests it’s going to become active anytime soon. That is more worrisome than anything, because if Brooke is right, and Resi is also right, then something insane and unpredictable is going to happen that changes the equation. The trick is determining what that might be, and Resi thinks he may know why the answer isn’t coming to him. As of now, all of his predictions are sourced from past and present data. They’re still supernatural, for lack of a better term, but he’s not just randomly pulling information that doesn’t exist yet. He has to anchor it to something that is real. He doesn’t have to be physically touching an object to know what’s going to become of it, but it sure helps.

The fact is, Resi has nothing been very close to the mountain before. It just hasn’t been a meaningful aspect of his life. The higher you go, the less arable the land is. He’s not one for backpacking. Some class projects have involved hiking it, or even climbing all the way to the summit, but he never ended up doing that. That seems to be something that has to happen now. Brooke offered him a ride to the top, but that might not be enough. What if the problem happens lower down, and just causes the eruption up top? What if there are clues along the way? She pointed out that there is too much acreage to cover, and he agreed, but he has to start somewhere, and it can’t be at the end. That’s what’s blocking his understanding of this terrible future. He keeps trying to skip to the end. Of course, that’s what it sounds like fortune-telling is, but again, he doesn’t think he can just tap a future date, and jump to it. He thinks he has to fast-forward. He doesn’t have to sit through it all in real time, but he does have to see it all. So he’s going on a trek. He’s finally going to see what all the fuss is about.

Brooke is gone now. She has other things to do with her life outside of Yana, and outside of Bungula. She charges him to keep quiet about what he learned about her, which will not be hard, because she hardly told him anything. He’s not going to be alone, though. Caprice and Chaya are both coming. They don’t think that they’re going to have any apocalyptic visions, too, but they want to help, and it’s safer for him to not be alone. If something bad happens, someone may need to call for rescue. They’re only a few kilometers into the journey. They’ve not even reached the switchbacks yet when Chaya informs them that someone has been following them the whole time.

“Okay!” Resi says quite loudly. “Spread out! Shoot anyone but each other!”

“No! Don’t do that!” Kartica comes out with her arms up.

“I was never going to. Don’t you know me yet?” Resi questions.

“I dunno, you may have changed, man,” Kartica points out.

“Why are you here?” Resi presses. “You weren’t invited.

“I know, but you need me. You’re going the wrong way.”

Caprice looks up. “I think we can see where the mountain is.”

“Yes, you’re going towards the mountain, and you’ll even be on a trail, but it won’t be the right trail,” Kartica insists. “The mountain...is basically a cone. If you’re trying to see the whole thing, the switchbacks will only keep you to one side of it.”

“What makes you think we’re trying to see the whole thing?” Resi asks her.

“Please.” Kartica is offended. “I’ve not taken my eye off of you since we met. I can show you where to go. It will give you a clearer picture. I want this more than anyone. I want it more than you. You were hesitant before, when I begged you to tell me what was going to happen. Don’t leave me out of it. Please.”

Resi stands there thinking about it. He takes a swig of his special medicine. It still isn’t curing him, but it’s treating his symptoms. It’s keeping him vertical. Unfortunately, he believes he may be experiencing diminishing returns, and it will stop doing anything at all, probably sooner than later. “Fine, you can help. But try not to commit suicide on the way, okay?”

“I couldn’t if I wanted to,” Kartica claimed. “They locked me out of the respawn system. If I die, that’s it for me.”

Foreshadowing.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 10, 2554

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Today was the day of the launch. Ramses’ automators had constructed 121 million Outriders, and he was ready to let them go. Team Keshida had built billion of modules for Project Stargate, but that was designed to spread to every star system in the galaxy. That wasn’t necessary here. They only needed enough to get to every region for now. They still hadn’t come up with a specific reason for Operation Starframe, but perhaps something would come up sometime in the next 108 years when the farthest ones settled at their posts. They were obviously avoiding the stellar neighborhood, and every system beyond that which was also colonized, or soon enough would be.

Ramses wasn’t sending the Outriders via rockets or launch loops. He was teleporting them away, but using a very specific method. There were different types of teleportation. Momentum was sometimes conserved and sometimes not—depending on how you applied the pressure—but going the other way by adding momentum? That was more difficult to pull off, though still easier than having to include so much gravity in the calculations. This allowed him to grant a boost to each Outrider, so it wouldn’t have to rely solely on its own fuel, but also limited the amount of infrastructure he had to build. He could dispatch hundreds of them at a time using this technique. This would take a few days, but enough of them would go out today that he could monitor the situation, and trust that it would continue to go smoothly.

Mateo, Leona, and Olimpia were lying on a bed under a room-sized glass dome on the moon. They were watching the Outriders disappear from their launch pads. Each one gave off a burst of light. Ramses intentionally programmed them to have different colors, so the visual was more spectacular. Their little dome was projecting an augmented reality, which was zoomed into space a little so they could see the exit bursts as well before the Outrider entered reframe speeds, and disappeared entirely.

They were enjoying the quiet when Sanaa Karimi’s face suddenly appeared on screen. “Can you see me now?”

“Sanaa, what’s wrong?” Leona asked.

“Nothing,” Sanaa replied, though the image quality was bad. She was pixelating, echoing, and skipping. “Except for this connection. I was told you had a pyramid.”

“We do. We had to chop off the top, though,” Leona replied. “It opened us up to unwanted visitors.”

“Whatever. Look, The Superintendent reached out to me. He’s trying to write today’s story, but nothing is coming to his mind. He knows that Operation Starframe, or whatever, is happening today, but it doesn’t lead to anything interesting. So he’s going to cut this short. He’s evidently really busy working on something called...” She paused to check her notes on her tablet. “...The Last Refuge. It’s eating up all of his time, and he thinks that you will be fine without him for at least another week.”

“What does that mean for us?” Mateo questioned.

“He says you should talk with your daughter, but that the audience doesn’t need to see it. It’s time for you to accept her choices so she can move past her loneliness arc. The story can’t restart until then, and it’s boring until it does. I’m bored with it already.” She looked upwards. “Anything else, oh Wide One?” She waited. “Yeah, I did mean wise, sorry.” More waiting. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re working very hard at your diet. Can I get back to my life now?” One final pause. “Okay.” She looked back at the camera. “Bye.”

They all sighed and went back to stargazing until Olimpia said, “ya know, they killed God on Supernatural, and the world didn’t end.”

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Microstory 1776: Serpens Novus

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Star Mountains rainforest, Papua New Guinea. The mysterious unidentifiable snake stares at me like I just ate his squirmy little children. I’m normally good with snakes, and for a special reason. I can commune with them. They don’t have complex brains, so they can’t talk, but I can convey my intentions to them, and they to me. I’m a herpetologist, which means I love them, so they always know that I never mean them any harm. I don’t know if this particular species is immune to my wiles, or if simply the fact that it has never been studied before means that it’s not in the database. I don’t understand why that should make a difference, though. When I first realized I could do what I do, it’s not like I had ever looked at that list. I actually had to switch majors in the middle of my higher education career to account for it. I didn’t grow up having any strong feelings about snakes. I try to move backwards half a centimeter, but have to stop. He doesn’t like that—or she. I don’t know how to tell, but that obviously doesn’t matter right now. It doesn’t even matter why I can’t get this snake to relax. All I can do is call upon the training I’ve never needed before, and get myself to safety. Unfortunately, I ignored a lot of what my teachers tried to teach me about dealing with wild animals, because it didn’t apply to me. That was stupid, it was so stupid. What did I think I was, invincible? Just because I’ve been able to handle myself in the past, doesn’t mean that’s going to work in the future. Why, my situation right here just proves that. Stupid. Stupid me. I wish one of my colleagues were here now. They would know what to do. They’re used to it.

Lots of people know how good I am at my job as a snake wrangler, but they don’t know why. They don’t know that the best word I’ve come up with to describe it is supernatural. Perhaps it runs in my family, but I was always too afraid to bring it up to my parents, so it’s just been something I’ve lived with on my own. I think I did a pretty good job at maximizing my abilities to their full potential. That may all be coming to an end, though. This new snake doesn’t give a crap what I can do, if it can even tell that I’m special at all. Maybe it can. Maybe it knows exactly what I am, and does not appreciate it. Maybe it thinks it’s offensive, in some way. No, that’s dumb. It’s not that intelligent. It may be the smartest reptile in the entire world, and it still wouldn’t have any prejudices against me. I am in its territory, and I am a threat. That is all it knows. That is all it’s worried about. I try to back up again, but it’s not having it. It’s not going to risk the possibility that it’s a trick, and I’m about to attack first. It snaps at my ankle, and before I even feel the pain, it snaps at the other one. I falter, and fall down. I can feel the venom flowing through my veins, headed quickly for the rest of my body. Before it can reach my arms, I reach behind my back, and retrieve my camera. If I’m going to die, at least people can find out why. The snake is still there, like some kind of psychopath who needs to watch the life flicker from my eyes. I snap the photo. Now it doesn’t seem bothered by my sudden movements at all. I guess it’s pretty confident in the efficacy of its own venom. It has good reason to. Man, that’s a good shot. If anyone ever finds my body, they’ll find this picture too, and see how scary it looks. I carefully tuck the camera away in its case to protect it from the elements. If I have truly discovered it, I get to name it too. It will be my last act in this world. I take out my voice recorder, and speak the first name that comes to mind, “Star Mountain Purple Viper.” That’s not half bad.