| Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3.1 |
It wasn’t really accurate to say that the slingdrive explosion sent the
space station to somewhere else in the universe. They were actually not
in the universe at all anymore, and in fact may not have even really
moved, in the three-dimensional sense. The totality of the cosmos include a
seemingly infinite bulk of universes called branes, floating around,
occasionally colliding with each other. The stuff that the bulk was
made out of was known as bulk energy, but it went by other names. When bulk
energy would leak into a brane, it essentially created a tiny new pocket of
space, and this phenomenon was once known as dark energy, because scientists
couldn’t explain why it was a thing. After settling into a more stable
quantum state, it became known as your average, everyday vacuum energy. Each
of these leaks caused the universe to expand, which stretched the brane out,
which caused it to thin, which caused more leaks. That was why the universe
was not only expanding, but why this expansion was accelerating. But if the
outside of a brane was bulk energy, and the inside was vacuum energy, and
these two things were virtually the same, what was the difference? What was
the barrier? What was the membrane part of the brane? Well, it used
to be called dark matter, but it was now known to be quintessence. As the
fifth fundamental force, quintessence was repulsive, and served as the
mirror image to the attractive force of gravity.
Quintessence was there to hold everything together. It didn’t like to touch
anything else, but it liked to touch other quintessence. So it naturally
formed clumps, like two raindrops sliding down a window, ultimately
coalescing into a single, larger drop. This was why 3D space existed,
because it was being contained. Without it, matter and energy would just be
floating around that bulk as formless blobs at best, inherently at its own
equilibrium, and having no reason to make anything of itself. You owe your
entire existence to quintessence. But was still dangerous and unforgiving,
and despite being so repulsive to baryonic matter, it wasn’t a
one-dimensional sheet, but a massive clump with thickness. This was how the
slingdrives worked, not by escaping the universe, and then returning to it,
but by only piercing one layer of the membrane, and sliding alongside it to
a new destination. And if it was possible to get into it, and get out later,
it was possible to succeed at the first thing, but fail at the second. It
was possible to get stuck. Team Matic, and a few opposing individuals, were
stuck. To make matters worse, they weren’t all stuck together. To make
matters even worse, they weren’t all stuck with friends.
They were alive, and had been for about a year, but divided, and
communication was difficult. The space station was supposed to be a sphere,
but it wasn’t like that anymore. It had become unraveled, as if God herself
had come by with a grapefruit peeler, and spiraled it out to slurp it up
like linguine. Lots of metaphors here, but when there was nothing to do,
they came up with such things to occupy their time. When this happened, all
pocket dimensions, and other temporal anomalies, burst apart. Reserve water
flooded the chambers, dayfruit smoothie spilled out, and slingdrive
components broke apart. Everyone had the basics, like carbon scrubbers, food
synthesizers, and the power to run them, but they weren’t left with ways to
retain their sanity. No inter-sector talking, and no teleportation. Not even
their team empathy could penetrate the barrier.
Romana and Franka were alone together in one sector, having to figure out
how to be civil with each other, if not sisters. Mateo and A.F. were in
another sector, and it took everything they had not to tear each other
apart. Marie was all right as she was with Dutch. They met Dutch years ago
in another universe. They didn’t really know how he ended up here, but in
order to survive, he ended up having to go into stasis with Romana during
the period where half the team was in the Goldilocks Corridor, and the other
half was on Castlebourne, which had been physically moved to another region
of space. Truthfully, they had kind of forgotten about him, and just sort of
left him there in his pod. He didn’t seem upset, because no time had passed
for him, and he was a pretty easygoing guy. The sector with the most number
of people contained Ramses, Angela, and Octavia. They weren’t hostile with
one another, but it was rather awkward, and the two members of Team Matic
had to learn to get along with this stranger whose alternate selves they
didn’t even know very well. Leona and Miracle were trapped in the fifth
sector, and that was weird too, but unlike with Mateo and A.F., they weren’t
too worried about killing each other. Fittingly, Olimpia was alone again in
the final sector. When was this girl gonna catch a break?
The spirals of the space station were not uniform, which meant that some of
them were able to see each other some of the time. They didn’t understand
why at first, but there were some theories floating around about passing
suns, which they tried to share with each other during optimal times. While
it didn’t feel like they were moving, they maybe were. It was dark the
majority of the time, so the windows showed them absolutely nothing but the
black. Periodically, however, light from some unknown source would bounce
off of them, allowing them to peak into other sectors. They would leave
messages for each other by gluing pieces of paper together into shapes,
mostly letters. If they were lucky, they would happen to be there at the
right time, and could use hand gestures to convey information. There was no
quantum communication, nor even radio signals. These brief moments of
connection were the only way for them to know that everyone was still alive
and well enough, albeit depressed and pessimistic. The smarties worked
through the problem, though they couldn’t do it together, so it was
slow-going. They finally thought they had a solution, but it would take
coordination.
“Do you have any idea what the hell you’re doing?” A.F. questioned.
Mateo sighed. “My wife was clear on how to do it. I wrote it down.”
“You’re the worst person to be responsible for this.”
“Yes, well, Ramses is in the cargo bay, and Leona is basically in a
bathroom.” That was the worst part of all of this. The other sectors had the
means to access the sewage lines, but not officially or...pleasantly. Leona
and Miracle weren’t actually in a bathroom either, but the stasis chamber
was equipped with better access.
“I’m saying that I should do it,” A.F. reasoned.
“I’m not trusting you with it, and I’m taller.”
“Oh, by, like, a centimeter.”
They had done something similar to this before. When trying to escape the
kasma—from A.F. and his army—the quintessence was trying to crush them too,
or let them crash into it. Olimpia used her magical Sangster Canopy to
create extra space in front of them, cutting through the membrane until they
were free, and in the greater bulk again. They would come to realize now
that she was channeling bulk energy. It wasn’t easy back then, but even
harder now. Olimpia’s window appeared visibly the least often, and she
reported issues with her umbrella. As it turned out, it needed some power.
She had to tap into the fuel cells of the station, which was not something
she knew how to do right away. All these little studies, experiments, and
instructions were why it had taken months to solidify the plan. It was now
finally time to implement it.
Olimpia’s would be the toughest job, but Mateo’s was not voluntary either.
Right now, a magnetic field was the only thing preventing the quintessence
from crushing them into what Leona was calling proton soup, and that was
keeping Mateo up at night. While the field was great, it was also what was
trapping them in the membrane. What they needed was to make it spit
them out, and that was a delicate and nuanced procedure that he didn’t know
if he was prepared for. The field couldn’t simply be switched off. It had to
be oscillated and directed, matching progress with Olimpia’s work at
creating an opening for them, because there was no way to steer. They still
couldn’t talk, so Leona and Ramses came up with a very tight schedule, and
taught it to both of them beforehand. If they both started at the right
time, and followed the plan correctly, they shouldn’t need to communicate.
He was standing on a ladder, staring at his watch, waiting for the right
moment. There was a very small margin of error here. He could start
adjusting the field generator a few seconds early, or a few seconds late,
but no more than that. He was breathing deliberately now; in through his
nose, out through his mouth. He noticed A.F. copying him, but didn’t say
anything. Six, five, four, three, two, one, go. Mateo reached up, and tried
to connect the wires together. A paralyzing sensation spread throughout his
whole body, and sent him flying backwards, onto the hard surface of the
floor, but not before slamming his head against the edge of the counter.
Meanwhile, Olimpia was having her own troubles. The blasted umbrella
wouldn’t open. There wasn’t a problem with the mechanism, it was just that
her hands were sweaty, and she was incredibly nervous. Oh, no. She was late.
She was too late! No, she had to just start. If she didn’t get on it, there
was no going back. They couldn’t just wait until the next communication
window, and try to coordinate again at a later date. There was no way for
Mateo to know that she had given up. And if he made his adjustments thinking
that she was creating space when she wasn’t, they would all die.
Proton soup, she didn’t like the sound of that. Open,
open, OPEN! It opened. NOW!
Mateo opened his eyes. Well, he opened them as much as he could. His eyelids
were heavy, and were his lashes clinging together like Velcro? His head hurt
and felt sticky. He lifted his hand and reached for his neck. Some kind of
fluid. Was it blood? Red. Yeah, it was blood. He could surely live, in this
superadvanced substrate that Ramses has cloned for him. There was something
else wrong, though. He was meant to be doing something. It felt very urgent
and important. What was it? He shot up at his waist. “Magnets!”
“Yeah, buddy, I got it,” A.F. replied.
Mateo looked over to see A.F. on his ladder, his arms buried in the ceiling
access panel. He didn’t look back over his shoulder, but kept his focus on
the wires. If he wasn’t fulfilling the plan, what else would he have been
doing? “Are you doing it? Are you doing it right?”
“Yes, I’m not an idiot,” A.F. replied, sighing with annoyance.
“I didn’t know you were paying attention to Leona’s messages.”
“Again, not an idiot. If there were nine other people here with us, I would
have expected them to learn the procedure too.”
“Well...I appreciate it.”
“Do you think I wanna die any more than you? You think I wanna kill you so
bad that I would sacrifice my own life to do it? I’m not crazy either. I
doubt there’s an afterlife simulation relay module anywhere near here.”
“No, probably not.” Mateo massaged the back of his head, knowing that he was
risking getting an infection from all the touching, but confident that his
body would survive that too. He paused awkwardly. “So...is it going okay?”
“I’m doing what we were told to do, and we’re still alive. Maybe you can
look through the windshield to make sure we don’t accidentally pass our
turn?”
“I’ll get on it,” Mateo joked back. A.F. wasn’t such a bad guy when he
wasn’t trying to kill all of them. They obviously called a truce because it
was profoundly irrational for them to try to reenact
Hell in the Pacific, but Mateo didn’t know how long that would last
after they got out of this mess.
“Right,” A.F. replied quietly.
Mateo suddenly started to hear something. It was a crunching, crackling
sound, but only in one ear. He stuck his finger in it, and tried to scratch
out the noise. He looked at the tip, worried that blood was pooling in his
ear cavity, but it seemed to be okay. It didn’t even quite sound like it was
in there, but more behind it. Oh, the comms disc. It had been so long since
he had been able to use it. He tried to regulate that instead, standing up,
and wobbling around as he searched for a better signal. Voices began to
emerge, and become clearer. “Hello?”
“Mateo?” Ramses asked.
“Yes, it’s me.”
“That’s my dad, everybody, he’s here too!” Romana said
jovially.
“Is that the whole roster?” Marie asked.
“Yeah, the whole station is out of the membrane. We’re in realspace
now.”
“How is Olimpia?” Mateo asked.
“I’m fine,” Olimpia answered. “I’m still using my umbrella. I’m afraid to let go. I still can’t see
anything.”
“A little extra vacuum energy never hurt anybody,” Leona promised.
“Nonetheless, you can indeed let go. I assure you, we’re free.”
“Are we still a spiral?” Angela questioned.
“Nothing to be done about that,” Franka said. “My station is a spiral now.” When did she get her own comms disc? She responded too quickly to not
have heard it herself.
“I can help you seal up the damaged sectors so the bulkheads open
again,” Ramses offered.
“I’m sure I can figure it out on my own,” Franka said.
“So, uh...” A.F. began. “Since you’re talking to people, can I stop futzing
with these power crystals?”
“Oh, sorry,” Mateo said, embarrassed. “Can confirm, we’re safe now.”
A.F. let go, and climbed back down the ladder. He took a breath, and stared
at his enemy for a moment. Finally, he reached out with a friendly hand.
Mateo looked down at his own. “It’s a little bloody.”
A.F. chuckled. “I’ve been trying to get your blood on my hands for decades.
This will have to be good enough, I guess. Let’s call it a draw.” He shook
Mateo’s hand.
“I would love to not have to run from you anymore.”
“This doesn’t make us friends.”
“I shouldn’t think so,” Mateo agreed. He took a beat. “What happens now?”
“Now...I leave you in her hands.”
“Whose?”
“Proserpina’s. Good luck.” And with that, A.F. disappeared.
