Showing posts with label supplies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label supplies. Show all posts

Thursday, May 15, 2025

Microstory 2409: Mizmaze

Generated by Google AI Studios text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 2
The mizmaze. This is an interesting one. I didn’t know what to expect. They told me how big these domes are, and when they told me that this maze covered the entire surface of one of the domes, I didn’t really believe it. That’s over 1.3 million acres. We’re all from different places, so I can’t really give you a clear frame of reference on the sheer scope of this thing, but it’s the biggest maze ever created. Don’t talk to me about VR, those are self-perpetuating; what we have here is a work of art. So here’s how it works. You walk into the intake building, and tell them that you would like to do a maze. They ask you a bunch of questions, first and foremost being how much time do you have to spend on it? Of course, the entire point is that you don’t know how long it will take to get through, but that’s why they ask you these other questions. They’re about your sense of direction, and your problem-solving skills. How much stamina do you have when you’re walking, how many supplies can you carry with you? Some of these mazes can literally take weeks, even if you’re really good. Remember, the scale. On the longest routes, there are supplies along the way, but you don’t just pick it up from a table. You have to complete tasks to get what you’re after, and you may lose out. Someone else might get it first, or you’ll just lose the minigame. There are mystery boxes which may be good, or bad. There are obstacles in there, which are definitely bad, but you have to get through them, or find another way. Some of it is made of hedge, other parts made of concrete. The mazes here aren’t like the ones that you’re used to. In most mazes, you have to stay on the ground, or you lose, but there are no real rules here. If you can figure out how to climb, go ahead and climb. Your sense of accomplishment is entirely your own. If you say that’s good enough, then it is. People may judge, but whatever. I stayed on the ground, and did the second-hardest route. The hardest ends with a grand prize. You aren’t even told what that is unless you agree to do that one. The walls move with that one, I don’t know how anyone completes it. I never heard about anyone who did, but the droid staff was mostly cagey about it, like just the very idea about whether anyone finished should also be a secret. Mine took just a hair over two weeks. I had to take the tram clear to the other side of the dome to start it, and ended up not too far from the main offices. The routes criss-cross each other, so I was in underground tunnels some of the way. I’m pretty proud of myself. I had trouble locating resources, but I didn’t get too tripped up by the hazards. I think I shouldn’t tell you what they are. It’s all meant to be a surprise for you, and I’m not sure how much variety there is across the board. Highly recommend. If you’re unsure, try a day maze, and if you like it, you can level up.

Sunday, July 7, 2024

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 3, 2455

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When Mateo and Leona finally had the time to meet back up in their bunker room together, they both said, “I need to leave,” at the same time. They were surprised by the other’s declaration, and certain that it couldn’t have been for the same reason. They were right. They spent all evening talking about their respective missions until the end of their day when they jumped forward to the future. They then went to sleep to get their full five hours before waking up to have breakfast with their friends, Carlin included. He was vital to both operations, so he needed to know what was going on too.
The tension in the air was undeniable. Even though they didn’t know that they were coming together for a meeting, everyone seemed to feel that that was part of the reason they were here, not just to eat. Leona sat up straight to speak. “Olimpia saved our lives a few days ago when she used the Sangster Canopy to break through the dimensional membrane that separated Salmonverse from Fort Underhill. This was especially impressive since that membrane was particularly thick. Hogarth Pudeyonavic designed her artificial universe this way on purpose, in order to protect it from intruders. The way I understand it, that’s what makes it a fort. Someone evidently figured out how to replicate that technology, and-or extend it to our home universe as well, which was why we couldn’t just turn our ship around to escape.
“We must do the same, for this universe. What Angela and I learned from the Ochivar we interrogated was that they are not going to stop coming. This is a playground for them. They’re testing their infiltration methods, but it could worsen. They might later test weapons of mass destruction, or ultimately their sterilization pathogen. Time in this brane does not match up with time in theirs, which means that they could come here from any moment in their history. We believe that these invaders are coming from relatively early on in that history. The ones that the locals have detained as prisoners of war would therefore not be armed with the same knowledge that the future Ochivari we and our friends have encountered had. They’re young, and dumb, and people like that are reckless, and unpredictable. Shutting them out completely may be this world’s only hope. So I have to go back to where we came from, approach the Angry Fifth Divisioner who keeps trying to kill us, and get him to lead me to whatever actually intelligent person or group that he’s working with. Carlin, I would ask you to...relapse me there.”
“Me as well,” Marie offered.
“I was about to volunteer,” Angela argued with her sister.
“Like she said,” Marie began, “she’ll be confronting a dangerous man, who is probably working with a more dangerous group of people. She needs a fighter.”
“I am a fighter,” Leona reminded them. “I can go alone.”
“Oh, yeah?” Marie asked. “What happens when you need to defuse a bomb while keeping an angry horde of crazed zombies at bay? Can you do both at the same time?”
Leona gave her a look, and held there for a moment. “I’ll give you a million dollars if I find myself in a situation where there’s a bomb, and a bunch of zombies.”
“How will you pay?” Marie questioned. “You’ll be dead. I’m going with you. We don’t separate; not completely, not anymore. After what happened to me in the Third Rail, and Olimpia in her kasma, I won’t allow it. Carlin, you remember that. I’m telling you to never relapse only one of us somewhere. If she tries, you come to me immediately afterwards, and send me exactly where she went. Leona, you can’t prevent that.”
“She’s right,” Carlin agreed. “I don’t like people being alone either. You could order me to stand down, and I’ll just ignore that.”
Leona sighed. “Okay. I’m sorry, Angela, but she’s right. She’s better suited for this mission. You’re both smart and capable, but she was a spy, and we may need to spy.”
Angela folded her arms. “She wasn’t a spy, she was an asset. Totally different.”
“You can come with me,” Mateo suggested.
“Where are you going?” Ramses asked.
“I have my own mission,” Mateo began. “Speaking of the Third Rail, I once disappeared from that mine in Russia. Carlin can show me what happened; how I ended up with a solid block of timonite in my stomach. I don’t think that I just skipped over time. I think I went somewhere, and spent time there. It’s been long enough. I have to recover those memories. I am getting the feeling that it is of vital importance. I don’t know why, but now is the time.”
Angela took Mateo by the hand. “I would be honored to accompany you.”
“You’ll likely run into your past self,” Ramses pointed out.
“That’s probably why you lost your memories in the first place,” Olimpia conjectured. “You did it on purpose to prevent a paradox.”
“That’s the reigning theory,” Mateo concurred.
Ramses looked over at Olimpia. “I suppose the C-team will stay here to man the fort, huh?”
Leona scoffed. “Ramses, we’re on the front lines. Don’t downplay that. These people need you. Now that the breach detector is done, you need to start working on the breach predictor.”
“Good point.” He bobbled his head. “Some might even say that we’re on the most important mission out of the three groups.”
“Carlin?” Mateo started. “You’ve not actually agreed to relapse us yet.”
“You’re right, I’ve not,” he replied. “That’s probably because I wouldn’t know how to get you back. I’m not a boomerang thrower.”
“We discussed that last year,” Leona said. “I can always go to the nearest Nexus, and plead my case to Venus Opsocor. Mateo has a psychic bond with a woman named Amber Fossward, who can link him up to a bulk traveler. We’ll find a way back.”
“Those sound like very unreliable and vague strategies,” Carlin determined.
“I will admit to that,” Leona replied. “We always find a way, though. I’ve decided to stop worrying about it. Remember, someone wants us here. They set in place a series of events that led us to this planet on a day that, according to the local calendar, matches our pattern back home. It couldn’t be a coincidence; the odds are too low. If we had never left, it would be June 3, 2455.”
“That’s even more vague,” Carlin pressed. “You’re putting your faith in a higher power, like some dumb Santien trying to cleanse the population.”
“I hardly think it’s that,” Leona insisted, “but it’s not your concern. You only need to help us get out of here. Please?”
For some reason, Carlin looked to Olimpia for guidance. She nodded her head slightly. “Okay. I’ll send the four of you to your two missions. But I take no responsibility for what happens after that.”
“We would never blame you for it,” Mateo assured him. “You should know us better than that.”
“You knew me when I was a child, and children don’t have very good memories.” That was a decent point. They had missed so many years of his life. He was practically a stranger to them now. But he was a McIver, and that was good enough for them to trust him with this. “Are you going to tell the Primus where you’re going?”
“We won’t get into specifics,” Leona answered. “She doesn’t need to know, in case it doesn’t work out. We’ll just tell her that we’re going off to find help.”
“Okay.” Carlin stood up. “Let me know when you’re ready.”
“Thank you,” Leona said. “Oli, could we talk?”
“Sure,” Olimpia replied.
“Leona?” Ramses asked. “Could we talk?”
She laughed. “Sure. Just give us a minute.”
Leona transported Olimpia to the same place in the Gobi desert where she and Angela discussed the ramifications of the Ochivar’s claim that some of the exo-universe infiltrators were human, and would be more difficult to detect. If neither Leona nor Angela ever managed to come back, someone else needed to carry the burden of that information. She was free to dispense it as she felt was prudent, but Leona gave her some advice in this matter. It was a very delicate and sociopolitically charged situation. Once they were done with that, she met with Ramses in his lab on the Vellani Ambassador.
He presented her with a PRU, which stood for Portable Resource Unit. It was a special backpack that could be affixed to, or detached from, their integrated multipurpose suit. There were four components: oxygen, water, food, and other supplies. One side was flexible, capable of conforming to the body of the user as they moved around, while the other sides were more rigid and durable. They were not wearing them when they were spirited away to the Garden Dimension, but stored on the Ambassador. He had been lobbying for them to keep them on at all times, as well as the helmet, which could magnetically attach to the outside for a real turtle look.
“Okay,” she relented. “I will take them with us. But you’re the one who designed our bodies to be able to survive in the vacuum of outer space.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t design them to help you survive the equilibrium of interuniversal space apparently, though. And anyway, that’s not the reason I brought you here, or why I’m so excited.” He was smiling widely. “These are special. I modified them myself with miniature dimensional generators. They now come with three months’ worth of water and the liquefied dayfruit that comes through your feeding tube.” He flicked the food tube that was presently collapsed into Leona’s IMS collar.
“Dayfruit smoothie, my favorite,” Leona said sarcastically. This variety of the versatile food took a lot of the taste out of the daily nutritionally-complete food, and drinking it from the tube made it impossible to switch to other flavors, since it logistically had to come from one storage container.
“It beats dyin’,” he reasoned. “The oxygen tank is a lot larger too, which places less strain on the carbon scrubber, though that has also been upgraded, as have the surface ramscoop nodes.” Theoretically, a regular person could survive for weeks in outer space with nothing more than their suits, and a resource unit. There were minute amounts of hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen, and carbon atoms in the interstellar medium, which the PRU’s ramscoop could suck up, and process for power, air, and even food. To Leona’s knowledge, no one had ever tested this, though, because that would be insane.
“Yeah, you’re right,” she acknowledged. “Did you modify the other three that we need for the two away missions?”
“Of course. I modified them all.” He reached over his shoulder, and tapped twice on his own PRU. “I need you to convince the other three to wear them now. I’ll take care of Olimpia. I’m sure we’ll all need them at some point, and I would feel better if you had them at any rate.”
Leona nodded. “Marie and I will operate at PREPCON three, I promise.” This preparedness condition required the user to be wearing the suit in its near entirety, as well as the PRU, with the helmet attached to its dock. The higher levels didn’t demand quite this much readiness, and for the lower levels, the helmet was on the user’s head. A member of the crew of a ship who was on duty was expected to be ready to be shot out of an airlock, or a hull breach, at all times, but that wasn’t necessary while they were simply walking around a planet with an atmosphere. This was the space travel equivalent to the DEFCON system.
“Thank you.”
Leona ordered the rest of the members of the away teams to report to Ramses for a short training session regarding the new PRUs. Meanwhile, she met with Naraschone and Kineret about what they were doing. She told them that they needed to investigate ways to stop the Ochivari from being able to come here at all, but that she couldn’t explain more than that. They planned on relapsing after everyone was finished packing up, but Ramses’ bulk portal detector went off. Mateo teleported Carlin right to the location in a rare opportunity for him to get to the scene within moments of an alert. The teleportation should have made it a quick detour, but Carlin was required to report to an after-action debrief. Fortunately, Mateo was able to jump them to the Defense Bunker too. He was asked to participate anyway, but it only took them about an hour, after which they were able to return to the Executive Bunker.
“Will it hurt?” Olimpia asked.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Carlin said to her. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. There was something going on between them, but it seemed rather nascent.
“Yeah, but I don’t want it to hurt my friends.”
He smiled. “People report that it’s jarring, but not painful.”
“We’ll be all right,” Marie promised.
“Have you thought about exactly where you wanna go?” Carlin asked the group.
Mateo handed him a piece of paper. “These are the coordinates to the Russian mine. I don’t know for sure that I traveled through time on that day, but it’s likely.”
“I don’t need this. You’re the navigator, as my teachers would call it. I’m just the engine. Concentrate on your destination. Mrs. Matic?”
“I have a few options in my head. I too am unsure, but I’m hoping that crossing into a bulk aperture sufficiently qualifies as a time travel event. We have to locate that angry Fifth Divisioner who trapped us in the kasma. He must be somewhere close. If not, there are other, less than ideal options where we’ll have to go the long way around.”
“Okay. Say your final goodbyes,” Carlin advised.
They hugged and kissed each other, then separated into their pairs to either make their way back to their own pasts, or stay exactly where they were. Ramses and Olimpia watched, fearing the worst for their loved ones, but hopeful that everything was going to work out. “Okay,” Olimpia said after they were gone. “It may all be up to us now.”

Tuesday, June 25, 2024

Microstory 2177: Dark About a Lot

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2, and by Pixlr AI image editor
Wow. Just. Wow. These are some nice offices in the jail administrative section. We’re on the top floor of the building, and have a great view of the skyline, as well as some greenery. I prefer the latter, but some prefer the former, so it’s the best of both worlds. They’re giving us an entire conference room, which is big enough to accommodate our eighteen person team. I have my own office that comes right off of that room, and the facilities department has set aside four other workspaces for us. Each subdepartment will be able to separate themselves from the group, and focus on their own stuff. At the moment, the only thing that’s ready is the conference room, since it’s pretty much already configured the right way. It’s lined with bookshelves, so I’m thinking that it used to be a library, which they eventually started using for meetings, but I don’t know what has happened with all that since. It was reportedly pretty dusty in here. I said that I wanted to physically work on a lot of this myself, but I am not bummed out that they did all the cleaning for me. I’m more of a designer and arranger than a cleaner. I have really bad allergies, and I just don’t care for it. I’m weird that way. I’m truly grateful for everything that everyone has done in preparation for this new project, and I’m excited to get started. I spent all day yesterday slowly moving things around in my office, and the other four shared spaces. We need a few things that the jail doesn’t already have on hand for us, like computers, and other various things. I drew up a list so facilities and IT will be working on procuring new equipment and supplies this week. I still had plenty to do on that front today.

Tomorrow, I’m probably going to work exclusively on building out the staff. Back when I was looking for a job—or rather, when employers were looking for me—I was able to tell you about them, to some vague degree. I didn’t think that it was a problem to say this and that about a hypothetical position that I was probably not going to end up taking, as long as I didn’t specify which company was offering. Even if the name of the company ended up being publicized, it probably would have been all right. Now I’m on the other side of that, preparing to interview individual innocent people for my team. So I won’t be telling you anything about the candidates during this process. I won’t even say anything about the ones that I hire, unless they unambiguously tell me it’s okay, and probably not even then. They have a right to their privacy, and they shouldn’t feel uncomfortable applying because something may come out about them. Even if it’s good, it’s not my place to divulge it, whatever it may be. They have the ability to set up their own social media accounts, and build their own websites, should they choose to. Of course, confidentiality being a thing, there’s a lot more about my new job that I won’t be able to say. The jail is now my client, and while they’re fully aware of who I am, and what I do online, they’ve not given me permission to say absolutely anything and everything about what we’re doing here. So be prepared to be left in the dark about a lot. I’ll keep you up to date as much as I can, but my posts could get shorter if everything that I start to deal with is strictly privileged information. They could, therefore, get boring if all I can talk about is my private life. The work I’m getting ready to do here, I believe, is in the interest of the public good, so I’m all right letting my site suffer in service to that. Anyway, I’m tired, so I better grab some dinner, and call it a night.

Wednesday, March 20, 2024

Microstory 2108: My Total Withdrawal

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One thing that the couple who set me up with this untraceable computer cage didn’t realize is that I pay attention to the things that happen around me. I watch the cable guy installing my TV and internet. I watch the cashier ring up my items at the grocery store. I even watch the mail deliverer sort and scan the pieces of mail as they approach my door. There is not a single vending machine, janitor’s closet, ATM, car hood, desktop computer, or anything else like that open that I pass that I don’t inspect to the best of my ability. I’m not very handy, I don’t generally know how things work, but I like to have some idea of what they look like inside, because I’m a curious specimen, but I do not like surprises. I’ll never need to know how to load money into an ATM, and if I do, I would receive the necessary on-the-job training, but I might as well take a look while it’s there in front of me. When they installed all this gear, I took notes, some in my head, but some on a paper receipt from my wallet. When you’re on the run, you can’t trust anyone. I built a replica of their handiwork at a second location, and that’s where I am now, in hiding. The only reason I’ve not been living here the whole time is because I didn’t want to be seen going to and from it, but now that I can’t go back to work, it doesn’t really matter. I still had a little cash left over from my total withdrawal in Kansas City, and I received an advance while I was a janitor, so I’ve been stocking up on supplies in preparation for something like this. I will find a way to pay my employers back, but right now, I need to focus on my survival. I still don’t know if I’m going to stay where I am now, or if I’m going to run again. The ID makers have my fate in their hands, just as I had theirs in mine. I made my choice on what to do with them, and I’ll have to live with that. I just hope that the girl they kidnapped makes her way back to her family. Then it will all have been worth it. Signing off now, from my secret location inside a secret location.

Wednesday, July 26, 2023

Microstory 1938: Alien Genitalia

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Leonard: Is this it? Are we here?
Reese: Just about. I don’t wanna damage my truck, so I’m pulling over. We’ll have to walk a little ways, towards that hill.
Myka: There’s something over there, I can already see it. I can’t tell what it is; just that it breaks up the uniformity of the ground. It could just be a rock.
Reese: Where did you get those binoculars?
Myka: I always have them. Birdwatching is a positive outlook that keeps me out of jail.
Reese: What was that? Why did you two just give each other a look?
Myka: What look? There’s no look. Let’s go. We’re burnin’ daylight.
Reese: Hey, man. Take this.
Leonard: You’re giving me a gun?
Reese: I don’t know what we’re gonna find. I would give one to her—
Myka: No, thank you.
Reese: I just can’t be the only one armed. You have had training, right?
Leonard: Of course I do. *checks the gun, then continues forwards*
Myka: *as they’re drawing nearer to the coordinates* Oh, I see what it is now.
Reese: What?
Myka: It’s a body.
Reese: Stay behind us. Leo, keep your head on a swivel for me.
Myka: No pulse. Cold, stiff. He’s been dead for a day at least.
Leonard: I see tracks over here! At least that’s what I think they are. They’re not human, and from no animal that I’ve ever seen, but who knows what kind of fauna you have on this world? You would know better.
Reese: I can track anything on planet Earth...this version of Earth, anyway. No animal I know of makes prints like these. I never got a good look at the Ochivar’s feet, but this is how I would imagine them. They don’t wear shoes?
Leonard: Aliens don’t wear shoes or clothes, because filmmakers don’t usually bother designing genitalia for the puppets or makeup and suits that the actors wear.
Reese: Good point.
Myka: I count four sets of prints. You both get the same?
Leonard: Yeah, but three of ‘em go off in that direction, and the other one doesn’t.
Reese: The fourth couldn’t possibly be this guy, right? Ochivar can’t camouflage themselves as human, right?
Leonard: Not that I’m aware. Plus, he is wearing clothes and shoes. That seems like a weird way to throw us off the scent.
Reese: *looking into the distance, and then the car* All right, we need supplies if we’re gonna walk deeper into the desert. I can go back to my car alone, or you can join me if you would rather not wait here, but no one’s following those tracks until I get back.
Myka: We stick together. Can we all three decide on that now? No matter what happens, we don’t get separated.
Leonard: Yeah, I can agree to that.
Reese: Okay. Then let’s go. Water, food, first aid, more ammo...and a tent.

Sunday, May 28, 2023

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 25, 2399

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While Alyssa teleported rather randomly around the area, Mateo and Tarboda started hunting for the secrets of Daltomism the old fashioned way. They looked for hidden ruins, secret hatches, visible temporal anomalies, and anything else out of the ordinary. This is one of the remotest regions of Madagascar, known as Tsingy De Bemaraha National Park. The terrain is rough and unapologetic. It would be a great place to hide a real life god, and they’re pretty convinced that someone is here, or there wouldn’t be a tractor beam under that lake. They also don’t think that whatever they’re looking for is located too close to the lake. The tractor beam is trying to keep away from it. They’re focusing their efforts on the part of the jungle where Vearden first suggested they try. When they didn’t find anything by nightfall, they decided to make camp there. Alyssa offered to just take them back to civilization, but what if Dalton showed up overnight? What if his most devout followers build a ritualistic bonfire to worship the lunar demons, or whatever the hell else they believe in? They didn’t want to miss it.
The next morning, they go back to work. They’ve found it. It’s a half hut, but not the half you’re thinking of. The bed is part way on the wood floor, then hovers over the missing floor at the foot. The roof is over the missing part of the floor, and not over the actual floor. The window ought to have four quadrants, but the only two quadrants visible are diagonal to each other. The wall that it’s been placed on works the same way, but exists only by the missing quadrants. The nightstand is missing its legs, and the lamp is missing every other slice of its shade, as well as the entire bulb, though the light emanating from it shines as if it were there. A man steps in through a door, which only has a top half.  If this weren’t a transdimensional structure, or something else crazy and weird like that, they would have seen him walk up from the side. He came from another place. This...is a permanent portal.
The man starts to set his belongings down on the bed, and then finally notices Mateo and Tarboda. He stares at them and blinks like he’s never seen another human being before. “Crap.” He looks back at the door, likely weighing the pros and cons of running. He doesn’t budge, which suggests that anyone can walk right on through, without a key, or some time power form of it.
“It’s okay,” Mateo says, dropping his pack to the ground, and holding his hands up to show that he’s unarmed. “We’re not here to hurt you.”
“I don’t suppose any of you are one of the keys,” he asks.
“No, but we know two of them. Are we allowed to mention their names, or is there some sort of compartmentalization rule against it?”
He narrows his eyes. “Which ones do you know?”
“Iris Blume and Summit Ebora.”
He perks up. “My wife and child.”
“Does that make you a key?”
“Hm. We’re called keyholders...the co-parents.”
“Do you know who the other keys are? We might know where they are.”
Cheyenne comes through the portal door, and places a hand on the stranger’s shoulder. It’s okay, Rino. They’re friends.”
Are we?” Mateo questions.
“What my husband did was reckless, but necessary. And what I did was meant to protect him, and therefore also necessary.”
“We understand, we just...don’t know who you are.”
“I’m the Fifth Key.”
“What does that mean?” Tarboda presses. “What are the keys? “What do you do?”
Cheyenne ignores his question. “Did you find The Arc yet?”
“If you mean the weird building thing that’s actually a ship, then yes.”
“Good, you’re on schedule.”
“We’re using it to house refugees,” Tarboda explains. “If you have plans for some other group of—”
“No,” Cheyenne interrupts, “that’s who it’s for. Whoever needs it can live there.”
“What happens to those who don’t get on it? Does everyone on this world die?”
“Heavens, no. It’s a...bellwether. They built it for the Third Railers to show them what wonders are possible, to give them a technological boost.”
“Against the other realities in the war,” Mateo guesses.
“That’s Aldona’s job,” she says. “The Arc is a message of peace.”
“From who?”
Cheyenne smiles. “From you.”
Mateo sighs. “Don’t say anything else about my future, please.”
She keeps smiling, and nods in agreement.
Mateo takes a beat. “What about Dalton Hawk?”
She looks somewhat uncomfortable. “What about him?”
He eyes the magic door. “Is he in there somewhere?”
“I don’t know where he is now. He and we came to an understanding. We get to live here with no risk of running out of temporal energy, safe until it’s time to come back out. In exchange, we don’t interfere with his plans.”
“Are his plans...”
“Noble? Good?” Cheyenne thinks about it. “They’re not bad. They’re also irrelevant. If I were you, I wouldn’t waste your time with him. The Reconvergence is coming, the Keys will be turned, and the Reality Wars will begin. They can’t be stopped, and nothing he’s tried to do with his little religion is gonna make one goddamn bit of difference. Eight billion people live on this planet, and even less in the Fourth Quadrant. That is a rounding error compared to the vast populations of the other three parallel realities. People will one day know who he truly is, and they’ll stop following him, because others will show their own power, and they won’t be dicks about it. He only has so many followers because he’s the only one on stage right now.”
“You know a hell of a lot more about this than you let on before. When Danica and I first happened upon you—”
“That was not a coincidence. I was told to find my future there. I’ve learned a lot more about it since then, but the only lies I ever told were to protect everyone’s future.”
“Okay. Just tell me, who are the other keys?”
She frowns at the lost puppy. “Very well. Iris Blume of the Parallel, Summit Ebora of the Fifth Division, Kyra Torosia of the Fourth Quadrant, Cheyenne Duvall of the Third Rail.” She bows gracefully, then pauses. “Cedar Duvall of the Sixth Key.”
Cedar is not surprising. “Wait, you skipped one. Who’s from the main sequence?”
Cheyenne hesitates, but is preparing to answer. “Vearden Haywood.”

Saturday, May 27, 2023

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 24, 2399

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During World War VI, Captain Tarboda Hobson was an active member of the air force, serving by dropping supplies into quarantine camps so no one would actually have to go inside. When a new vaccine was released, he would drop that in too. Of course, a new strain—or an entirely new pathogen—was coming into power seemingly every day back then, so he never took any time off. Even that seems like nothing compared to what he’s doing now. He’s taking advantage of his new chance on life, and trying to help as many people as possible. What he’s been doing is technically against global law, but it’s a gray area when it comes to Leona’s nation. Of course, he’s utilizing resources from the U.S. government, but he’s just pretending that that’s not really happening. It’s not his job to be concerned with the politics anyway. He and his new team have one objective, which is to rescue people who are being trafficked all over the world, and to relocate them to Leona’s magical new building. He forgot how much he loved doing this, not worrying about making the decisions. He flies, that’s what he does. It’s all he does. Well, he sometimes pilots in boat mode.
Today is different. He’s being temporarily reassigned to a new mission. While Leona does whatever it is she’es doing stateside, he’s on his way to the Island of Madagascar. The religion of Daltomism supposedly originated here. According to Mateo, who’s here with him, this might not be completely random. If you drew a line from Kansas straight through the center of the Earth, and came out the other side, Madagascar would be the nearest landmass. These are called antipodes, though the place where they’re going is not the exact opposite point. The exact opposite would be in the middle of the ocean, as it usually is, since the Earth is mostly water. This was close enough, and it is Leona’s belief that Dalton chose this region because it was the farthest from The Constant in what is now Kansas. That’s where all the mysterious immortal people live that Tarboda hasn’t dealt with directly yet.
“Don’t we think this is all happening a little too quick? Word around the government water cooler is that Leona’s about to announce something big.”
“It has to happen fast,” Mateo explains. “The Reality Wars are starting early next month. Dalton Hawke is the last piece of the puzzle. If this is where he founded his religion, we have to know about it.”
“How did you find this place specifically?”
“Our new friend, Imani gave us a copy of Word of Dalton, Book II, which she can evidently get in a lot of trouble for. Vearden was researching it for us before his...” Mateo trails off. “He thinks it describes this part of the jungle.”
“What do we think, there’s a hidden temple somewhere around here?”
“Maybe.”
“Well, we may find out soon.” Tarboda slows down, and shifts into hover mode. “We’re at the coordinates you gave me.”
“Is there, like, a camera on the bottom of this thing?” Mateo asks, looking at the floor. “I would like to see what’s directly below us.”
“Is there a camera?” Tarboda echoes with a laugh. “Ha!” He engages erasure mode, removing the floor entirely, showing them what it would look like if it didn’t exist, and they could just float in the air.
“Whoa. I’ve seen stuff like this before. I have an idea of how it works, but it’s still trippy to stand here. Can you scan for structures, or whatever?”
“Uhhh...” Tarboda taps through the manual on the built-in screen. “Scan. Here we go.” He presses the button. Nothing happens that they can see, but the computer says that it’s scanning. “It didn’t find anything. No ruins.”
“That’s not surprising, or someone would have found it a long time ago. I’ve always wanted to do that thing where we—”
“Wait.” He looks at the screen. It’s detecting radiation from that body of water.”
“Bad radiation?”
Slight radiation.”
Mateo has to duck his head down to see the lake through the floor. “Does that mean we can’t do the thing?”
“What thing?”
“Sliding down to the ground on ropes hanging from the helicopter.”
“No, we definitely can’t do that.”
Mateo hangs his head.
Tarboda smirks. “Because this is not a helicopter. I’ll get the gear. That button over there will open the center floor hatch.”
Mateo goes over to open it. The floor reappears, but only in that spot. The hatch drops a little, then slides under like a pocket door. Tarboda drops the lines, and starts to get himself fitted with the climbing gear. He looks over the edge to see that the lake is closer than it was before. “What the hell? The jet has been moving on its own.”
“It has? You didn’t move it?”
Tarboda drops the gear, and runs back over to the cockpit and looks at the screen. The scanner didn’t find much before, but it’s found something now. All sorts of debris and wreckage is down in that water. It’s much deeper than it looks from a distance. “Close the hatch!”
Mateo slams on the button again. The floor starts closing back up. Just as it does, the jet tips over, sending him slamming against the back wall.
“You okay?” He asks.
“I’m all right!”
“I’m tryin’ to get us out of here!”
“Something’s pulling us down?”
“Yeah,” Tarboda calls back. “Hold on, we’re gonna start pullin’ some Gs!” He engages the thrusters, but whatever invisible force is tugging at them is reacting in kind. It won’t let them go, and it’s stronger than his beautiful new plane is. They gave this to him to please the team. They’re not going to give him a second one. “Try to climb back up here! I can’t get us out!”
“No! Jump, Tarboda!”
“What!”
“Jump down here! Trust me!”
These people brought him back to life; he has to do whatever they say. He undoes his belt, hangs between the seats, then lets go. They’re not perfectly vertical, so he slides on the floor, heading right for Mateo, who has his wrist up to his face. Suddenly, the jet is gone, and he’s tumbling on the ground. He gets himself to his feet and looks up to see the jet being sucked into the water, but not before it implodes.
Alyssa’s here with them. “Crushed it.”