The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 15, 2399

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Imani didn’t say much more about her religious faith, and how much she thinks it does, or doesn’t, have to do with time travelers. By the sound of it, some of the Word of Dalton is drawn from real life, and some of it is ripped straight out of pop culture from the main sequence. For instance, he tells a story that Leona recalls from an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation, as if it were real. Similarly, this reality never had a version of Adolf Hitler, so Dalton apparently felt totally comfortable using hitler as an adjective to describe someone evil, or literal daemons from the bad place. Yes, he stole IP from The Good Place too. They probably should have read over the prooftext months ago, since it could have clues. Leona would do that now, but she’s busy.

Imani wanted a tour of the Superscraper, but didn’t have enough time for it, and still doesn’t today, which is good, because Leona scheduled an unrelated meeting. If she wants to turn the building into a refugee sanctuary, then she needs to get help from people who already work with refugees, and actually know what the hell they’re doing. They seemed amenable to the possibility of collaborating on the phone, but it was audio only, and they could have just been being polite. Been being? She needs to make sure she doesn’t talk like that during the meeting. She’s entering their offices now. Game face, Leona. Wait, stop! She didn’t mean that literally, but her ability interpreted it that way. That’s not her game face. That is Chief’s tight end and four-time Super Bowl champion, Travis Kelce. Leona face, Leona. There we go. Okay, now open the door, and if anyone saw,  pretend that it was just an optical illusion.

“Hello. Welcome to Homes for Humankind. Do you have an appointment, or would you like to volunteer?”

“I have a meeting scheduled with Yulian Văduva.” She checks her watch. “I’m about ten minutes early.

The receptionist blinks. “Hold on, I know who you are.”

“Yes.” Leona ran into a celebrity once, and she’s not talking about Juan Ponce de Leon, or the time she was on a fake cooking show with James Van Der Beek. In the reality where she didn’t meet Mateo until later in life, she found herself in front of comedian and actor, Heidi Gardner in line at Richard and Allen’s restaurant in the Plaza. There was no one else there at the time, and that was before that version of her found out that it was a hangout spot for time travelers. Heidi shook her hand politely and said hello, but Leona didn’t ask for a selfie, or anything like that, and Heidi didn’t offer. She seemed to want to be left alone, and Leona respected that. She was very nice to Richard when he took her order, and ate quickly, surely because she had to return to her busy life. Leona didn’t think that she would ever have to deal with anything like that. She’s famous in certain circles, like the planet of Dardius, but she’s never felt every eye in the world on her; not when the people whose eyes they belong to don’t know about time travel. This is so surreal. She’s being bashful about it.

“And you’re meeting with the big kahuna. Lucky you. A word of advice, don’t say anything about the Daltomist who visited your country yesterday. He’s not a fan of organized religion.”

“Don’t worry,” Leona said. “Neither am I.”

He nods. “I’ll let him know that you’ve arrived. You can have a seat over there.”

Leona barely has time to sit down before Mr. Yulian comes down from on high. “Mrs. Matic? It’s nice to meet you. Right this way, we’re in the big conference room today.”

“Okay,” Leona said. She follows him to the room, which she expects to be entirely empty. She thought it had something to do with the other rooms being booked, but nope, it’s completely full of people. They all look up at her when she stops in the doorway, some having to spin their chairs around to see. “Hi. Forgive me, I wasn’t prepared for this. It seems that our wires were crossed. I was under the impression that it would just be us, and maybe one associate of yours.”

“Wires were crossed,” he echoes. “Heh, I like that. I’m gonna steal it from you. Why don’t you have a seat? Yeah, right there at the head. Go on. Are you thirsty? We have water or tea.”

“I’m fine, thanks.” She sits down awkwardly in the incredibly comfortable chair. A conference room chair has no business being this soft. This is a place of business.

Yulian walks to the other side of the room, and flips on the TV. “Before we get to the pitch, I would like to show you something.” He presses a button that reveals the feed from the front door security camera.

Leona’s heart sinks. She really needs to get a handle on her new illusion power.

“Before every meeting with a potential partner or donor, we like to have a little internal pre-meeting. We leave the feed up to play in the background so we know when someone shows up. We never expected to see this.” He prepares to press another button.

“You don’t have to show it. I know what you saw.”

“Okay,” Yulian says with a smile. “Then I’ll show you this archive footage instead.” He changes the screen to a different camera. It’s high up on the roof, and showing the New York City skyline. “Wait for it...wait for it...” The Superscraper appears out of nowhere. “I assume what you did at the front door has something to do with what made this thing suddenly spring into existence?”

“It’s...maybe.”

“So there are others who can do the same thing?”

“...maybe,” she repeats.

He widens his smile. “We’re prepared to defect to your nation, and maybe even expand its borders. Did you know that you could do that? The original owner once owned a modest apartment complex in that spot where he provided a different kind of sanctuary; one that was designed to protect the worst criminals the U.S. has ever seen. He bought more land so he could spread his bullshit message to the masses, and now that it’s yours, you could do it again. But you could do it for the right reasons.”

“I can’t build another building like that,” Leona says. “I didn’t build this one.” She paused, and bobbed her head indecisively. “Or I did.”

“What does that mean? Do you have memory issues?”

“Actually, I think I’ll take that water now.”

The woman next to her slides her own glass over. “It’s clean. I didn’t take a sip of it yet.”

Leona took the glass, and downed it.

“Are you okay now?”

She clears her throat. “I don’t have memory problems. I’m a time traveler, and it’s not outside the realm of possibility that Future!Me constructed that building.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 22, 2398

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Mateo, Winona, and Tarboda arrived on Rapa Nui yesterday, but they were required to wait in a facility during a 24-hour quarantine period. They came out with a clean bill of health, and are presently arriving at the volcano on the southern end of Easter Island, Ranu Kao. The last time Mateo was here, it was in the main sequence, and things were a lot different. For him, this island is famous for the mysterious humanoid sculptures that are located in a different region. For the people of The Third Rail, this is a nice resort with a rich history that the people who visit here don’t care all that much about. The island has beautiful landscapes, unique flora, and tame fauna, and is considered one of the best places to go if you want to get away from civilization, since it’s so far from the mainland. The statues Mateo remembers were never built here, though. He can’t recall exactly what they’re called, and since they don’t exist, no one can tell him. Perhaps this island doesn’t have any special temporal properties here. It would explain why the crater lake that’s meant to be here is completely dry.

“Is that bad?” Winona asks. “What does that mean?”

“I have no idea,” Mateo answers. “Leona should be here.”

“She’s quite busy.”

“Because your father is trying to take over the world with fusion power!” he argues, but he knows that he shouldn’t be too mad about it. Of course the government would want to mass produce the greatest breakthrough in energy production thus far. Leona knew it would happen, she just didn’t realize how little they cared about the rocket they built, which started it all.

“You said there was a secret passageway under the water,” Winona says, taking no offense to his words. “Maybe it’s still down there.”

He just frowns and kicks at the dirt.

“Come on. Let’s go on down. Tarboda, stay up here and keep a lookout.” The pilot nods respectfully. He’s been pretty cool about all this. He doesn’t seem to have ever belonged in that amoral group of mercenaries they met in Bermuda.

They carefully climb down the steep sides of the crater, and head for the bottom. As it was indeed underwater, and pretty dark, Mateo can’t remember exactly where the cave was, but it was somewhere on the opposite side as the ocean. His instinct is that it’s precisely the opposite, so that’s where they start looking. At a quick glance, there is no opening, which makes sense, or someone would have found it forever ago. Still, it can’t require a key, or a map, or an incantation. He also won’t accept the possibility that, like the moai—oh yeah, that’s what they’re called—it just doesn’t exist at all. It has to be here somewhere. All of the other significant places they’ve been to have been at least a little significant in this reality too. He starts running his hands along the walls, looking for anything unusual. “Go that way, please,” he asks her.

She does as he asks, but her heart’s not in it. Neither is his, but even so, they keep working at it. She has one little collapsible shovel, and one machete. She gives him the former to look for unstable spots. There’s so much ground to cover, and they don’t know where it might be on the z-axis, so Tarboda drops ropes down, and manages them from the top of the crater. No one comes to find them doing this. It’s apparently not that popular of a tourist destination, probably because it’s dried up, and they’re approaching the off-season. They work at this for hours. Ramses sent a bottle of Existence water in case he needed to do an emergency teleport, but it’s probably not going to come up, so he just drinks it once his regular canteen runs out. Once that container runs out, he decides that there is no point in going on. “Stop, just stop. There’s nothing here.”

“I know,” Winona agrees. “I’m sorry that this was such a disappointing trip.”

“What’s that you say!” Tarboda asks from above.

“We’re calling it quits!” Mateo explains.

“Oh, okay! I’ll pull you up!”

“No! I’m gonna do one more thing!” He removes his harness, and drops a meter down to the ground. Then he runs over to as close to the center of the crater as he can find. Here, while flipping off the world beyond, he pees. “Now who’s too dry?” he asks the island. Once he’s finished, he turns around, and gives the other two a thumbs up.

“Real classy!” Winona shouts at him.

He pumps his fist in the air. “Yeah!” Yeah, is right, assuming the question is if he’s tired, hungry, and closer to dehydration than he probably should be for as much as he drank. He tries to start walking back towards his rope when the ground trembles; just a little, but enough to throw him off balance.

“You better come on back!” Winona advises.

“I’ll get right on it!” Mateo replies. He starts again, but the ground shakes again, this time much harder. Each time he stops, the shaking stops, and each time he tries to move again, it moves too. Either it’s a coincidence, or some wibbly-wobbly shit is going on down here.

“Run!” Winona yells at him.

He takes her advice, but doesn’t get very far. The ground caves in under him, starting from the center, and expanding out, but not uniformly. It becomes impossible for him to stay ahead of it when the ground between him and Winona disappears early. Before he can see if enough of the Existence water is still in his system for him to teleport, he falls, and loses consciousness.

He awakens in the tall grass, wet from the morning dew. He’s not aching anywhere, but he’s dizzy and confused, and he can’t see well. His short term memory is gone at first, and has to come back to him in waves as he’s looking around and blinking, trying to fix his vision. The fuzziness subsides, and reveals an open grassy area, and some nearby trees. Winona and Tarboda are both lying there too. He crawls over to confirm their pulses and steady breaths. This is enough to wake them up, and they seem to be experiencing the same symptoms as they work to wake themselves up more.

“Where are we?” Tarboda asks.

“Unknown,” Mateo answers. We fell down into a cave, though, and now we’re back on the surface. Either someone moved us, or...”

“Or what?”

“Or we traveled. Can you both walk?” Mateo asks.

“Yes,” they answer simultaneously.

The three of them struggle to their feet, then struggle some more, like a newborn calf. Once they feel comfortable enough, they pick a random direction, and begin walking. It’s not long before they come upon something that Mateo recognizes. “Whoa.”

“What the hell is that?” Winona asks.

“That is Stonehenge, and these...are the missing British Isles.”

“The whatnow?”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 10, 2398

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They’re not sure why there was a time limit to literally get through the door to get processed out of Birket, but it turned out fine. They all made it through, and walked across the desert to the Israeli border. It was there that they waited for almost the entire day before transport to Cairo came for them. People obviously weren’t in any hurry to help them. They weren’t on the road for long before darkness fell, and their driver had to stop and check into a motel for the night. He didn’t secure any rooms for them, of course, and clearly didn’t care, so they were forced to sleep under the stars on the beach in a coastal town called Taba, Egypt. Fortunately, it was pretty nice weather, and they were all glad to be free at least. So far, there was no indication of how exactly they were going to get back to the states. Their devices were confiscated from them, and never returned—wiped clean upon any attempt at unauthorized access—and no one in Taba was willing to let them use a phone.

They woke up this morning, all reporting having slept well enough, and made their way back to the motel. Neither the driver nor his bus could be found. Amir asked the front desk about it in Arabic, and learned that he checked out early, and took off. That’s very weird. It’s his job to get them to a special final processing center in Cairo, not just to help them make it all the way home. They’re expected to exit the region according to policy, which entails either meeting their sponsor, or an approved representative, in country. Now it’s going to be much more difficult to do that, and might even get them sent back to Birket. Maybe that’s what someone has wanted all along, and is driving these obstacles. Still, no one lends them a phone.

“How long will it take us to walk?” Kivi asks.

Amir laughs. “At least a week. That’s if we walk for several hours each day, which we won’t be able to do, especially not without any water.”

“Why won’t anyone help us? Do they not have any taksis, or anything around here?” Leona asks.

“I tried asking,” Amir begins, “but just because we speak the same language, doesn’t mean they like me. They know what we are, and while Egyptians don’t have any particular distaste for colonists—or freed colonists, like ourselves—there is some local annoyance that they’re being used as a waypoint for us. Their government struck a deal to make it happen after Israel and Jordan both refused, but regular citizens don’t like it. It’s not the only deal that Egypt has regarding refugees. It’s a huge political issue.”

“Is that why the driver abandoned us?” Marie asks him.

“Probably, yes, but it doesn’t make much sense. He could still get in trouble for it, because now it’s worse. The only thing Egyptians hate more than processing refugees is wayward refugees who are stuck here, and can’t be processed out.”

“What about Saudi Arabia?” Kivi presses. “How do they feel about us?”

Amir looks to the south. “You’re not getting across the Red Sea, and you’re not getting through the two borders between you and Saudi Arabia on land.”

“It was just a thought,” Kivi says, shrugging.

“Keeves, maybe you could find someone to help us?” Leona asks her.

“I’ve already asked,” Amir protests.

“Keeve?” Leona urges, not wanting to explain what makes her method different.

“I can try,” Kivi replies, uncertain of her own skills. She steps away from the group, as before, trying to seek an ally. Her stride is wider than normal, reminiscent of a wedding party gracefully drifting down the aisle. She periodically alters direction, hoping to catch a scent, for lack of a better term.

“What is she doing?” Amir asks Heath in a whisper.

“Honestly, I don’t really know,” Heath answers him, probably not lying.

It feels like she walks all over town, encountering each one of the 10,000 people who live here. She doesn’t get the sense that any of them would tell them the time, let alone help get them out of the country. Amir talks to a few more people himself, and receives the same cold welcome. They’re starting to think that they really should get themselves out of the area as fast as possible. If they tried to walk to the next town over, it might only take them two days. Of course, water and food is still a problem. If only Birket gave them small samples of Energy water as parting gifts, they would be able to survive just a little bit longer. As it stands, they may die here like a flower in drought.

They don’t end up walking anywhere. They just go back to the beach, and sit to watch the waves come in. Marie suggests that they fish for food, which she surely learned how to do at the master level in the afterlife simulation. Amir informs them that he saw a sign back there, forbidding all shore fishing. Hours later, a fleet of helicopters roar towards them from the horizon. “Those are American,” Amir exclaims.

“We better go,” Leona determines.

Once more, they head for downtown, where they find a bunch of soldiers spread out, trying to take control of the populace. People are scared, but cooperating, and it doesn’t look like things are going to escalate to true violence. A woman who looks in charge spots them coming towards the crowd. She orders a group of her soldiers to escort us over. “Agent Matic?” she asks when they meet her halfway.

“That’s me,” Leona responds reluctantly. She doesn’t want anyone to know that she’s a secret agent, and only partially because she isn’t really.

“Miller Dennard. Why didn’t you call?” she demands to know.

 “We don’t have phones,” Leona explains. “No one would let us borrow theirs.”

She’s fuming, but not at them. She’s staring daggers at all the locals. “Follow me. We’re taking you straight to Frankfurt, where you’ll board your connection, like you were always supposed to.”

Leona nods to the others that they should accept the ride. “What prompted you to come for us?” she asks the Miller.

The Miller puts on her sunglasses. “Orders from high.”

“How high?”

Miller Dennard turns away to head for the helicopters herself. “All the way up!”

Leona sighs, recognizing that while this looks life a gift, it only makes things more comfortable. Every person who knows that they’re special makes their lives that much more complicated. Still, they have to get back home if they have any chance of getting back to their real home, so she runs over, and gets in the aircraft too.

Miller Dennard places her headset on as their launching, and turns towards one of the other helicopters. “Put an A-bomb in that water!” she orders.

Horrified, they watch as an object slides out of the other helicopter, and drops into the Gulf of Aqaba. Stillness until the water shudders and ripples all at once, as if a powerful electrical charge had been sent through it. They fly away.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 24, 2398

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Mateo wakes up woozy, tied up and rocking on the metal floor. It was the heat that woke him, frying him from above, and scorching him from below. It’s probably the hottest part of the day, and he can’t move to find shelter. He immediately finds that he’s tied up, his hands together, and tightly bound to a railing of some kind. A salty breeze slips in between the bars, enough to burn his eyes, but not enough to cool him down. He’s on a boat. He pulls himself into a sitting position, but he can’t hold it for long. Whoever did this didn’t care how hard it would be for him to get comfortable, didn’t realize, or did it on purpose.

Two feet approach him, which are presumably attached to a body, but he can barely see above the ankle. He just can’t turn his head enough to get a good look, and even so, the sun would probably blind him. He hears two claps, and then the feet walk away, only to be replaced with two new feet. A voice he recognizes says, “afternoon, soldier.”

“I’m not a soldier,” Mateo groans back. It’s hard to talk, he’s so thirsty.

“Oh, we know,” Ebraim replies.

“Are you gonna kill me?” Mateo asks him. “It’s okay if you are. It wouldn’t be the first time I died. I always manage to come back, I’m sure I’ll figure it out again.”

Ebraim gets on his hands and knees to cut the zip ties. He clears his throat authoritatively as he’s pulling Mateo up and over into a more tenable sitting position. “The way you say that, you almost sound like one of us.” He nods and breathes loudly through his nose, looking over toward the other side of the boat. “Every man here has died at least once.”

“I’m not a soldier,” Mateo begins, “but I am a fighter.”

He coughs involuntarily. “I believe you. That’s why you’re here.”

Mateo looks around. “It’s why I’m where, and doing what?”

“We’re presently in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle, traveling at eleven knots, bearing Southeast deeper into the middle of nowhere, and you’re with us, because our mission happens to be a six man operation, and until you came along, we only numbered five.”

“But you know that I’m not one of you.” Mateo is still struggling to enunciate.

“We don’t need you to have any experience,” Ebraim explains. “We just need another warm body.”

“You mean you need a human sacrifice,” Mateo guesses.

Ebraim chuckles. “You’re so smart, why are you lying about who you are?”

He adjusts his position a little, and smacks his lips. “Water.”

Ebraim doesn’t break eye contact as he lifts his left hand, and snaps his fingers twice. A man Mateo doesn’t know yet places a bottle in it, which he transfers to Mateo.

“I just needed a new life.” When in doubt, be honest, but maybe not too honest. He does not intend to throw the forger under the bus, or say one word about his own team. It just needs to be believable, and only moderately close to the truth. He also shouldn’t add too many details. “I needed a new identity. The forger asked me if I wanted military credentials. I was in a pretty bad way at the time, and it seemed like an all right idea. I didn’t really think through the consequences. He gave me this little card that said I’m blah, blah, blah. I tucked it away, and didn’t worry about it. I didn’t think it would actually come up, because what I didn’t realize is that he also put my name in the system. It actually looks like I bear rank, and have a record. It’s only recently come back to bite me in the ass, I’m really sorry.”

Ebraim laughs again. “Ah, hell, we don’t give a shit about that. Way I see it, if the military doesn’t kill you, it screws up your life. The only way out is to lie, steal, and cheat. I’d be a hypocrite if I thought only people like me deserved to break the rules. I’m not a good man, but I’m not a hypocrite.”

“This isn’t a sanctioned mission?”

He helps Mateo to his feat, and starts to lead him into the inside part of the boat, whatever it’s called. “It’s sanctioned by the five of us. I suppose that’ll hafta be good enough. You don’t mind, do ya?”

“Why are you talking differently now?”

“My mama’s southern side comes out every now and then,” Ebraim replies. “I don’t work as hard to suppress it among friends.”

Now Mateo laughs. “I reckon we ain’t friends.”

Ebraim smiles. “Well, we’ll see. Let’s start small. Allow me to introduce you to the rest of the team.”

Microstory 1704: Aquarius

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This is it, it’s finally happened. Out of all contenders, I have been chosen to succeed my predecessor in the highest rank possible for someone of my station. Today, I become the Sovereign Supreme’s Aquarius, and I could not be more honored. I’m too excited to fall asleep naturally the night before, but I need to be well-rested and alert, so I ask my friend to sneak me some polpenroot. It’s not illegal, but the Sovereign Supreme doesn’t like his personal staff using drugs, even for medicinal purposes. When I awaken, I rush up to the palace, eager to begin my duties. The current aquarius is waiting for me at the reservoir, perhaps remembering how impatient he was when it was his turn. In the meantime, he gives me a tour, even though I’ve been here a million times to train. Water is sacred, and I know everything about how we conserve and utilize it wisely. It will soon be my job to collect, transport, and protect the Sovereign’s personal water rations. Of course he deserves the most out of anybody, but he never takes too much. He’s trained his body to survive on less, as we all have. Still, people are envious of his power, and they attempt to steal rations from him more than anywhere else, not only to make their own lives a little easier, but to make it harder on him. I won’t let that happen. No one has managed to steal from the Supreme in over thirty years, and I’m not about to end that trend. My predecessor finishes the tour, and instructs me to go to the Great Hall, where a breakfast banquet is being set up. It’s not just in recognition of me. Many other positions on the royal staff are being backfilled today, and I am only one. I believe mine is the most important job, but I imagine all of the others say the same about their own.

The Sovereign Supreme is pacing back and forth in front of his throne, rehearsing his speech. I watch him in awe. I’ve seen him before, but he looks even more glorious now that I’m a part of his detail. I am humbled in his presence. My predecessor comes in, but he’s not alone. He and a team of reservoir workers are rolling in a tank full of water. It is the most I’ve ever seen in my entire life outside of the reservoirs. These banquets only take place every several years, and attendees can reportedly drink as much as they want, but I’ve never heard confirmation of that. I hope it’s not true, as it would be so wasteful. The people are dying of thirst, and the reason I admire the Sovereign Supreme so much is that he’s fair and just. He understands what his people need, and he does everything in his power to keep us alive. The current aquarius and his team continue rolling the tank to the other side of the hall, and through another set of doors. Curious, I casually follow them in. I’m not sure I’m allowed to be in here, but this will be me in a few hours, so it can’t be that big of a deal. There’s something weird about this room. A beautiful shimmering light dances upon the walls, mesmerizing me, and keeping my eyes from seeing where I’m going. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the tank stop. One of the workers warns me to look out, but I don’t hear her in time. I slip on the edge, and fall down. I don’t hit the stone, though. Instead, I fall right into water. What is this, a secret reservoir? I scramble back to the surface, and struggle to stay up before realizing that my feet can touch the tile floor. I stand and look around. I’ve never seen anything like it before, but I’ve read about the way people lived long ago. This was back when they were frivolous and wasteful, and did not have to ration their water. The current aquarius is laughing. “It’s not time to swim yet! Wait until after breakfast!”

Microstory 1538: Lost at Sea

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I’m lost at ________, and I don’t know how I got ________. The last thing I ________, I was trying to wake ________, only able to catch ________ of a ceiling passing by. ________ must have been wheeling me down the ________ on a gurney. Before that, I was just ________ my own business at the ________ shop across the street from my ________ building. I don’t know if I was ________, or rescued, but whatever these people’s reasons, something seems to have gone ________. I saw fire on the ________, and dark shapes in the darkness. It was hard to tell where the ship ended, and the sky began, if it was a ________ I was seeing at all. I’m sure it was, but what do I ________? I’m dehydrated and starving, but at least I’m not ________, presumably because I slept pretty much all the ________ here. I look ________, and scan the horizon, hoping to catch ________ of land, or some other survivor, if only so we don’t have to ________ out here alone. Even if it’s one of my captors, it would be ________; they might be ________ to give me some answers. There is nothing, and no one. I mean, all I see is ________; not even one piece of debris. It all sank or ____ed away by the time the ________ came up. The ocean is so still, and so ________, I feel like I can see the curvature of ________. I lie ________ and watch the clouds go by ________, like ceiling tiles in a strange ________. I am acutely aware of the passage of ________. My ________ and hunger grow worse with each passing ________. An hour, another hour, two more. Several more after that, and then half a ________. The sun does not disappear. It does not even ________. It’s stuck in the ________ as much as I’m trapped on this ________. I think at any ________ that I should ________ up and discover this is nothing ________ than a ________, but that never happens. Perhaps a ____ulation? The ceiling ________ belonged to a virtual ________ company. Yeah, that must be the ________, right? I call out to the simulation ________, begging them to let me out. I don’t want to ________ anymore, or they’ve made their ________, or they’ve learned something about how people react to their ________. I don’t know, I’m just ________. Desperate for anything that ends this ________. My skin is ________ and peeling, and may even be bubbling. This all feels pretty ________ to me, and the virtual reality angle seems a little unlikely, even though being ________ abducted for no clear reason, and then ________ surviving a sinking ________, also seems unlikely. After another two ________ come and go, with no end to the sun’s harsh death rays, I start to ________ slipping off this ________, and letting the water fill my ________. I recall ________with similar premises. The hero always survives—or at least one of them does, if there’s ________ than one—and they move on with their ________. This is not a ________, and I am not a ________. I don’t die, though. The sun keeps ________ me, and I keep ________ here, and the ________ barely ever moves. After a few weeks of this, I realize that the reason I can’t ________ is because I already have. And I can’t ________ through the water either, because my ________ just won’t go that way. This is just my own ________ hell, and it will never end.