Showing posts with label time. Show all posts
Showing posts with label time. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 17, 2025

Microstory 2498: Conjunction 11

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3
These are vactrain hubs, and there are twelve of them. They’re evenly spaced all over the planet, according to an icosahedron model. While the world is obviously a sphere, an icosahedron shape can be overlaid on it in order to minimize the number of Conjunctions needed. It would be utterly impractical to have a vacuum tube that went from one dome to every single other. While there’s technically space for that, it would require far too much management and maintenance. So many of such tunnels would not be used very much, or at all. How many people are going from, say, Ancient Egypt to Prairiedome? It certainly wouldn’t be an impossibility, but that tube would likely be sitting vacant most of the time. Layovers have been a staple for our civilization for centuries, but this system is a lot better than its predecessors. First off, while the tubes themselves are limited, the trips are often exquisitely planned. Because each dome does have a direct line to each of the twelve conjunctions. As you would expect, a dome will have twelve stations, and you go to the one that leads to your destination. Currently, most trains leave about an average of every thirty minutes, but that fluctuates, and will continue to change, because it’s based on demand. If literally no one is going from Conjunction 6 to Conjunction 4, then it’s not even going to bother leaving. It will just sit there until someone signs up prior to the next cycle. I probably don’t need to tell you all this, because there is already sufficient literature on how to travel around the world, but I’ve always loved transportation, so while I’m finding lots of enjoyment from the other domes, I tend to focus more on the logistics than most visitors do.

So let’s talk about how it works once you’re in the Conjunction. As I said, each dome has a direct route to every single one. That’s important. I read up on the history, and the original plans called for multiple layovers, where you travel to your nearest hub, then the hub nearest your destination, and finally your final destination. That would be so bad, but I’m sure most people are glad that they ended up building up the infrastructure much more than that. The Conjunctions are so well-designed, and there is so much redundancy. If you are in a train car with visitors who are going through the same Conjunction, but different final destinations, your car will stop, and have you get off. At that point, you will just about immediately step into a private multi-directional elevator pod. It can only fit eleven people, but if you have luggage, obviously fewer. If you’re in a party of one, you can have a pod to yourself, and if you’re in a party of 22, you’re gonna have to split up. That’s just fine, they have enough to accommodate everyone who can fit in any given train car over only a few moments. Your pod will take you to your next station, where a second train will come for you to deliver you to the right dome. You might still be alone, but the builders thought of this. Not all vactrain cars are the same size. That’s why you tell the system where you’re going, so they can prepare the right one for you, to save the larger ones for more popular domes, even if the popularity shifts hour by hour. It’s such a robust system, I’m so impressed. There are so many things going on in the background, but you don’t have to worry about that. You just get on, get off, pod over, get on, and get off again. Despite there being more than three times as many stations worldwide than there have ever been airports on Earth, travel has never been simpler. And your trip will never take longer than three and a half hours from anywhere else. And that’s assuming you stop for coffee.

Wednesday, September 10, 2025

Microstory 2493: Eldome

Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3
They call this a train, but that doesn’t really do it justice. A train involves separate cars linked together, following each other along a track. This, on the other hand, is more like a big-ass disc that spins around. It’s not just like that, that’s exactly how it is. It does have the feel of a train while you’re inside, except the seats can be adjusted so you’re facing any direction. To get the full experience, they expect you to look through the window the whole time. The window is slanted, so you can really get a clear view of everything. It’s about 11 kilometers up in the air, so there is nothing that you can’t see on the surface of the entire dome after the nearly four-hour trip. It moves pretty slow, which some might find boring, so just be aware of that before you sign up. I mean, I don’t think I thought that it was going to be a fast ride, but four hours is a long time to look at some hills and trees. It was lovely, to be sure. I just don’t know if it’s any better than a sim, or a holographic window. I guess I just wasn’t sure if I was meant to feel something. The idea is that you turn your chair so you’re looking through the window at the beautiful landscape below. I just think that it was too high up. Yeah, so I can see the center from here, but so what? It would be better if we were lower, and could see the geography in greater detail. The prospectus doesn’t do a rating system because they, like, did studies long ago, and determined that they were no longer necessary when an AI is just gonna summarize all the reviews for a deeper focus on quality, but if they still allowed them, I would give this place two stars. It wasn’t bad, and I don’t feel like I wasted my time, but as far as leisure domes go, this one is not my favorite.

EDIT: I’m such an idiot. There are multiple discs. Not all of them are that high up, and the lower ones go faster. They’re all still four hours long, which I think was the source of my confusion when I was misinterpreting the description. One of them actually is a train, and it’s situated on the ground, so you can only see what’s right in front of you. I’m gonna try that one next. Glad we got that cleared up. Sorry, ignore me.

Friday, July 18, 2025

Microstory 2455: Flumendome

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If you don’t know what a flume is, it’s a waterslide. I mean, it’s a certain type of waterslide, but who am I to get bogged down in the intricacies of linguistics? Oh, that’s right, I’m a linguist. I suppose this rolls off the tongue better than Waterslidedome. Or Waterslidome. Well, hmm. Waterslidome. Yeah, it should be that, but pronounce it like slid. Whatever, it doesn’t matter what the name is, people! Waterslides is the name of the game. I don’t even know how many there are, because I did not read the prospectus. I saw that word, then saw the main picture, and I was hooked. I’ve loved waterslides ever since I was a kid. I remember going to the waterpark every summer, but just once per year. Oh, I would beg my parents to take us more than once, but they wouldn’t do it. It wasn’t about the money, it was about keeping it special, and learning delayed gratification. Parenting is a crapshoot; when I had kids, I learned that myself. I don’t fault them for their line of reasoning. I still wish I could have gone more, but we’re all immortal now, so yay, I have all the time in the universe! Back to Flumendome, this is the best park I’ve ever seen by far. Since it’s contained in this dome, its engineering limitations are a lot farther away from the ground than its Earthan equivalents. So are the slides themselves. The best one starts at the zenith, and goes all the way down to the surface. Again, I didn’t read the prospectus, so I don’t know how long it is, but I know it’s more than 41.5 kilometers. It could be double that, or more. I don’t have any friends so I shared a raft with some lovely, kind strangers. They calculated that it was probably close to 120 kilometers, which is insane to me. I grew up in the 2080s and ’90s; we didn’t have anything anywhere near this scale. It takes just an hour to get all the way down, and there is no escape. You’re moving too fast, and trying to fish you out of there would just be unsafe, for you, and anyone you’re with, or behind you. If you don’t think you can handle it, then absolutely don’t try. Fortunately, you can start small, with some regular waterslides, and work your way up. I told you, we’re immortal, baby, don’t be strict about your time. There is another that starts at the top, and goes all the way down, but it’s not as steep, and not as fast. It takes about four hours to get to the bottom, and if it’s a desperate emergency, a rescue drone can reportedly extract you, but only during lulls, so again, proceed with caution. I don’t think they’ve had to do it before, but I did hear about someone needing to get off this next one, which sounds like that wasn’t hard at all. The slide is the craziest one of all in some respects. It also starts way up there, but it’s even longer. We can’t even begin to estimate its length. It takes a full 24 hours to get down. They can extract you because you’re moving so slowly. It’s like being on a river, except if you climbed over the edge, you would fall off and die. Fortunately, that’s probably impossible, because the sides are so steep and wet, you’d have to be a tree frog, or something. And why would you? I’ve been talking a lot about extremes, but this place has a slide for everyone. Its prospectus is one of the most comprehensive (which is why I didn’t read it), but if you’re unsure, I suggest you take a look at it, and find what you’re looking for. It’s a lot of fun, for people of all ages.

Wednesday, June 11, 2025

Microstory 2428: Escape Dome

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I’m a little bit biased here, because I’m obsessed with escape rooms. I’m old enough to remember when that was a fitting name for them, because they were mostly only one room. Some of them had different sections, but you didn’t unlock a door, go through it, and start on an entirely different set of puzzles. I watched as they grew and grew, both in popularity, and in scope. Escape rooms became escape buildings, which became escape districts, which have now become escape cities. I always loved puzzles, even as a kid, so this became my thing. I didn’t have a whole lot of friends, and that was on me, but I still wanted to do this. I remember regularly going in alone, and them having to group me with strangers. They were sometimes annoyed by this, but for the most part, they were welcoming, and they quickly realized either way that I was more of an asset than a burden, even though we didn’t have a preexisting rapport. Eventually, I wasn’t going in alone anymore. I finally found my community. The most passionate of us started a little club. The reason I’m giving you all this background is that every single member of this club is still alive, and still together. I don’t know how rare that is, to have eleven friends stay connected after all this time. None of us wanted to move to another planet without the others. No one’s marriages and families broke us apart—though, the rest of us would have understood if they had, and been happy for them. The point is that we’ve been doing escape zones for nearly 500 years, so we know what we’re talking about. I doubt we managed to try them all, but we certainly did the majority. It’s our passion, and I don’t think that’s going away anytime soon. Escape Dome is the largest adventure we’ve ever played. Of course, it’s not just one game that goes across the entire area, but each game is still immersive and impressive. I think I saw that they did have the traditional kinds, which were just the one little room each, and we might do that when three or four of us have an hour to kill. I should clarify, we started out with a club of eleven people, but over time, it’s nearly doubled, thanks to those marriages and families. Not everyone wants to be a part of it, which is fine, but the cool thing about some of these games under the dome is that all twenty-four members can play at the same time. We’ve never been able to do that before, even with the escape districts. Twenty has always been the absolute max until now. Our first two adventures were extraordinary. We kind of thought we had seen everything, but even beyond the larger scale, there were puzzles that blew our mind. The great thing about this concept is that anyone can have fun with it. I’ve heard people say, “oh, I’m just not a puzzle person” but we put them in one of those rooms, and they have a blast. Don’t count yourself out until you give it a try. If you end up not enjoying it at all, hey, you don’t have to do it again. Some of the adventures are designed to potentially take weeks, so don’t start with one of those. Be smart about your choice—which the staff will gladly help you make—and I’m sure you won’t regret it.

Friday, May 30, 2025

Microstory 2420: Nordome Network

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Unlike most other themed domes, this is actually a series of domes. I believe the creator wanted to truly make it feel large in scope. While the distance between the “continents” isn’t anywhere near as large as they are on Earth, it still takes some time in those antiquated boats to travel between them. I even think you pass by other, unrelated domes on your way, though you would never know it if you stick to the right heading, because the holographic sky is sensational. It just looks like you’re outside. If you get lost, and sail in the wrong direction, you’re gonna hit the sides. They even have a sprinkler system to simulate rain during your journey, and the sea below you is saltwater, so you get that real oceanic experience. This isn’t the only dome network that works like this. It’s just the one that’s set during the Viking Age. You don’t have to be a Viking yourself—you can choose a simpler life, as a farmer, or a merchant—but you’re at risk of being attacked. You have to protect your settlement as they would have during the 8th, 9th, 10th, and 11th centuries. If you do choose to go on a journey, you have to build or commission your own ship. They aren’t just provided to you. Keep in mind that this is a lifestyle dome experience. You’re meant to stay here for years, and really live the way that these people historically lived. There are no rules, and no planned activities. There’s no anachronistic technology, and you can’t keep leaving and come back. If you have a serious need, they’ll let you go through an emergency exit, and once the issue is resolved, you can go back. So it’s not like a one and done sort of thing, but it’s also not a free-for-all. You can’t spend your days on the boat, then sleep in a nice comfy bed at night. There are no day trips, and they will enforce these rules. I never saw any sort of argument or disagreement, but they were clear. If you really want to get the full experience, it’s probably gonna take you about thirty years. But, I mean, come on, who doesn’t have that kind of time to spare these days? What are you worried about, that you’re gonna die soon? So take a break and learn something. Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it, if you haven’t heard.

Tuesday, May 20, 2025

Microstory 2412: Gulliver’s World

Generated by Google VertexAI text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 2
Have you ever read this book? If you have, you’ll understand what this place is like, and if you haven’t, you’ll have no frame of reference for what I’m talking about. So I won’t get into specifics, but it’s a pretty simple concept. Imagine all the locations from the source material, and what they’re like. That’s how it is in the dome. Lilliput, Brobdingnag, Glubbdubdrib. These are all recreated here, including water in between them to simulate the ocean. It’s not as big as the ocean should be, because it has to be compact, but the land is all there, as it should be. Brobdingnag was clearly the most difficult part. It would be impossible to fit the entire continent in one of the domes, but they were able to build a representative region, just to give you the sense of scale. What would it be like to be a tiny person in a land of giants? That’s the question they’re trying to answer for you. There’s a short mountain range on one side of the fake ocean, so people on the other islands can’t see anything going on on Brobdingnag, so it’s not exactly as it’s described in the book, but it still does its job. It takes up the majority of the space, since the other regions are so much smaller. If you try to come here without being already familiar with the story, you probably won’t be too confused, because you’re not stupid, but it won’t mean anything to you. I suggest you take a few days to get up to speed, and then come for a visit. You can try to spend the night in each place, but I wouldn’t say it’s worth spending any significant amount of time here. It’s cool to see, but not the kind of place that you live. Everything interesting about it gets old pretty quick. I’m glad that made it, because it made sense; it’s just not as engaging as some of the other domes. I mean Fillory? If you get a chance, go to Fillory, that won’t disappoint. This one is better as a short trip.

Monday, May 19, 2025

Microstory 2411: Party Central

Generated by Google VertexAI text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 2
Party, party, party! All aboard, party people! This is where the party’s at! It’s Party Central! That is a great name, because it’s true. It’s January 1, 2500, according to the Earthan calendar, and Castlebourne is officially open for business! They’ve been in testing until now, and while a ton of domes are still not open to the public, a lot of the earlier ones are. There’s plenty to see and do here after the hard work of thousands of testers who were here on the frontlines, making sure that the activities and adventures in the domes were enjoyable, worth your time, and safe. Except for the residentials, all of the domes were shut down yesterday, and will remain that way until tomorrow. Everybody’s here, getting their groove on, and having a great time. We’re all in the main hall right now, but there’s a reason they called this dome what they did. There’s a venue for every need, every niche, every theme. It’s basically if you took the concept of every dome on the planet, and squished them down to smaller scale. You like sports? There’s a venue designed specifically for people who like sports. You can play sports there, and eat bar food, and talk about the sports that you like. I’m not into them myself, so I don’t know what it’s like, but I’m sure it’s great. There are multiple levels to this dome, so you can hang out in the sky, if that’s your thing. I don’t know what else to say about it. As of this posting, the festivities are still ongoing. Even when they officially reopen the domes, we’ll still be here dancing and partying. You know what parties are like, well this is the greatest one ever thrown, and it never really has to end. Come on down, and when you’re ready, go find your bliss elsewhere. Or stick around, I’ll be here. It’s my home, I see no reason to leave.

Monday, April 28, 2025

Microstory 2396: Vacuus, April 28, 2182

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Dear Pascal,

It has been over two years since we have been able to contact Earth. Vacuus as a whole has been able to make contact for the last couple of weeks, but due to restrictions, the common man was unable to send any messages. Basically, it was a waste of time for us to try to send any signal out, so it was temporarily against the law, and that law had to be repealed, which took a little time. Once capabilities were finally restored for me and my own equipment, I immediately tried to send a letter to Condor. I actually had it all written up already. I wrote in a few months after the blackout started, and every few months, I would rework it to include more updated information. I was so excited, and so happy, but ultimately disappointed. Two weeks after my message, I received a bounceback. Condor’s server could not be reached. That is so weird, because even if he couldn’t check it himself, it should still be online somewhere. I tried again, and two weeks later (today) it bounced back again. I’m really hoping that nothing terrible happened, but I’m so afraid. Nothing happened to the Earth overall—that much I know—so please, is there anything you can tell me? How long has it been since you’ve spoken to him? Do you know where he could be? If he’s dead, then just be honest. If it’s time to grieve, then I need to know it, and I need to tell Velia... Oh, I don’t want to be so negative, but that’s the only answer that I can think of for why he wouldn’t be able to receive my message. I mean, I don’t know for sure that you terminate people’s comms credentials when they die, but that’s part of protocol here, so there’s no confusion. If you can think of a better explanation, but still don’t know the truth yourself, please tell me that instead. Basically, just tell me what you know, and we’ll sort it out later. I hope you are doing okay, and I’m going to be waiting for two whole weeks for the other shoe to drop. That’s assuming you receive me, and respond to me right away. What if something happened to you or your credentials too? Well, if that’s what happened, then I guess no one will ever read my frantic and desperate words, and start to question my sanity.

Impatiently waiting for your reply, and hoping for only good news, but prepared for the truth either way,

Corinthia

Friday, April 25, 2025

Microstory 2395: Earth, January 4, 2180

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Dear Velia,

I know that the blackout is coming, and I really hope this letter gets to you in time. I don’t have very much time to write it, so pleaser excuse any spelling or grammar mistakes, nad anything that I probably should have said, but failed to. I’m working with a really old spellcheck program, so it misses a lot of thing, and doesn’t even autocorrect a lot of the time. I feel like I’m using a lot of the same words over and over again, but whatever. I can’t slow down. I won’t have time to proofread before it’s time to cleave. There I go again, using the word time. It’s been so many times. Speaking oftime, we did not get enough. There’s still so much that I don’t know about you, and vice versa. What do you find most and least attractive in a person, not necessarily romantic, but just with people in general. Like, what are your pet peeves? What annoys you about people. These are rhetorical questions. Even if you have time to respond to me before the Valkyries, I won’t be Abel to receive any messages at all. I’m going away on a little trip, and there will almost no technology there. I don’t know what it’s going to be like, but I am as scared as I am excited and enthusiastic. It’s going to be a real adventure. When I get back, and you get back online, we’re going to have a lot more to talk about. And who knows, we may be able to do it in realtime next time. They’re working on faster-than-light communication technology, but if that doesn’t work out, there may be other options that we haven’t even ever thought of before. You said it before I could get the chance, but let me say...officially and without any reservations, that I love you. I want to do all the things you said you wanted us to do, and more. I could get pretty graphic, but I really don’t have time to get everything out. They’re starting up the engines, and we’re about to leave. I need to make sure I’m in range of the towers before we take off, or it will be this whole thing. I promise that this isn’t over between us. I’ll wait for you. But as I’ve said before, if you can’t...if you find someone else. Don’t let them walk away. I just want you to be happy.

I’ll be seeing ya, sweetheart,

Condor

Tuesday, April 15, 2025

Microstory 2387: Earth, December 5, 2179

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Dear Velia,

I just wanted to touch base with you, and make sure that we really are on the same page. I don’t want to say the wrong thing and scare you off. I can be a little intense and focused sometimes, and it can get me into trouble. It’s not my fault, it’s the kind of life that I had to lead. While we were transporting people to the safe zones, I had to be single-minded, and ignore all distractions. That’s kind of where I feel most comfortable. Now that my job is kind of cushy and breezy, I rarely ever feel that rush of adrenaline anymore. Reading your letters gave me that intensity that I guess I’ve been missing in my life. I hope I’ve not gotten too carried away about it. So, you tell me. Do you think we’re somehow moving too fast? The way I see it, we can’t see each other face to face, so we kind of have to make up for it by being a little over the top. Maybe that’s the wrong way to look at it, though. Perhaps we should just be sending each other letters as friends. When you think about it, that’s about as far as things can go anyway. I suppose we could start being really graphic and suggestive, but would that even work? Argh, I’m in my head. This would go a lot smoother if you could reply to each question or comment as I said them. Dumping them all into one message sounds so strategic and calculating, like I have to get out all my thoughts. Which I pretty much do with the time lag. Some friends at Mauna Kea connected me with their colleagues who were working on faster-than-light communication. Or should I say, that’s what they say they’re doing. They’re pretty convinced that it’s an impossibility. There are no wormholes. There’s no warping space. There’s just the constant speed of the propagation of information, and we, the slaves to its tyranny. Okay, now I’m getting poetic. Just message me back when you can. I meant what I said, that you have the right to look for companionship closer to home. And to be clear, I’m not telling you that because I think you don’t know it yourself. I’m telling you so that you know that I know that.

So into you,

Condor

Monday, April 14, 2025

Microstory 2386: Earth, December 4, 2179

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Dear Corinthia and Velia,

Thank you for your letter. I will be continuing to write to both of you individually until a bunch of Valkyrie assholes show up, and tell me that I can’t anymore. My dad, Pascal is standing over my shoulder, reading—and approving of—every word. He sends his love to you, Corinthia, and wishes that we all had more time together. We understand that the meteors are out of everyone’s control, but that it is not going to last forever. We will reconnect one day, even if it takes years, and while we’re waiting, we’ll be thinking of you. Velia, by the time you receive this message, Corinthia should have received mine from last month during the communications blackout. It was waiting to be sent in the buffer, but I received confirmation that it was finally released shortly thereafter, so I don’t think that there were any issues. Let me know if it never came through, though, and I will send again. I said some things which I want to make sure that she hears, and I would love it if you two talked about it openly. But basically what I said was that I care about you, and I want to get to know you better. While we’ll never meet in person—and we may soon be separated by time as well as space—I think our correspondences will be worth it. Please understand, however, that as Corinthia said, you deserve happiness. If you meet someone else, don’t hesitate. I agonized over even saying anything about this, because I don’t want to root for us to fail, but it’s probably best that you know that I’m going to be okay too. I’m not saying that I’ve found someone special, or anything, but I do get to know people around here. As a story from the Earth of old goes, our hearts will dance together to the far end of eternity. Anyway, we don’t have to get into our full romantic histories, especially not in a joint letter like this, but it’s important for us to be open and honest with each other. Can’t wait to hear from you two again!

Grateful for the opportunity in the first place,

Condor and Pascal

PS: Velia, you should be getting a new letter from me as early as tomorrow.

Friday, April 11, 2025

Microstory 2385: Vacuus, November 27, 2179

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Dear Condor and Pascal,

We’re terribly sorry for the delayed response. This was one of the longest times when one of the Valkyries interfered with our communications. We thought that the attack was going to end much sooner than that. Researchers have been very worried about this phenomenon overall lately. There’s about a 24% chance that the long-cycle interruption is going to fall upon us soon, but it’s impossible to tell for sure. They don’t show up in a predictable pattern, or we would have been able to develop a reliable schedule by now. Some believe that each meteor resonates on its own frequency, which even makes it hard for us to plan for the way in which it will disrupt our signals. These electrostatic charges make random perturbations, and alter each other’s properties in more ways then just gravity. It’s basically like the three-body problem dialed up to hundred and eleven. Velia and I spoke, and we wanted to assure you that we intend to send you a message at least once a week. One of you should hear from one of us within that timeframe. Condor, you’re still getting my daily health stats anyway, but if you ever see a break in those, please don’t worry yet. There may be some other issue, like a quota constraint, which I will have to work through. I can’t get trigger reports each time there’s an error—especially not if that error comes from your end—so I may not realize that something needs to be corrected right away. Just wait a week, and you should get a regular message from Vacuus. I’m saying all this to make it clear that if you don’t hear from us at all, it’s because communications have been completely taken out, and that could last for years. We really just don’t know. I wanted to warn you about it, even though I explained it previously, so you’ll remember that I love you both, and I wish that it wasn’t out of my control. Condor, Velia wants me to let you know that she loves you too. We had a little...scuffle about it the other day, but then we talked calmly, and worked it out. She’s determined to stay connected with you in whatever way is possible given the chasm that divides you. We hope that the Valkyries will fly off into the void, and leave us alone forever, but if not, don’t forget that we’re thinking of you. And hey, maybe they’ll have that breakthrough in FTL communications, and the Valkyries won’t be able to block it. Here’s to hoping our conversations never have to end.

Best regards,

Corinthia and Velia

Thursday, April 10, 2025

Microstory 2384: Earth, November 23, 2179

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Dear Corinthia and Velia,

It’s been a long time since I’ve heard from either of you. I spoke with some friends that I made at the Mauna Kea observatories after our birthday parties, who told me that the Valkyrie short-cycle disruption has come into play. So there’s this dumb rogue meteoroid out there, blocking your communications, and preventing us from staying connected to each other. It seems to be lasting longer than it did the first time. I don’t know if that’s normal—if there’s significant variation—or what. I just know that I hate being so far from both of you, and unable to even speak. A two-week delay between your messages is bad enough. Corinthia, I received yours about how Velia and I are talking to each other. I understand that the distance is an issue, but I’m not going to hold back because of it. In fact, I’m going to be more bold, because you’ve got me thinking, and so have the Valkyries. If there’s only one thing that I’ve learned in my four decades of life, it’s that time is the only thing that matters. We don’t have enough of it, and when you add space into the mix, we end up with even less. Velia, if you lived a few decks down, we could see one another regularly. We could meet for coffee, and we could stroll along the perimeter of the dome. We could spend time getting to know each other. Frustratingly, we don’t have that luxury. So I’m just gonna say it. I’ve developed feelings for you. You’re gorgeous and sexy, but I don’t even care about the photos. It’s about the words that we’ve exchanged. We have so much in common despite our vastly different upbringings and environments. I don’t know how we could possibly have a real relationship given our restrictions, but I don’t think that’s reason enough not to try. I think the opposite is true. I think we owe it to each other, and ourselves, to give it a shot. If we’re not willing to do something crazy in the name of love, then we don’t even deserve it, do we? If this was just you being funny and flirty, that’s okay, it doesn’t have to be awkward. I will be able to move on. But if this was real for you in any meaningful sense, then write back when you can. And Corinthia, you’re just going to have to be okay with that, even if it’s a little weird for you, or if you continue to believe that it’s a mistake.

Thinking of you both in greatly different ways,

Condor

Thursday, February 20, 2025

Microstory 2349: Earth, May 8, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

Yeah, there was an idea fairly early on, after the gases settled over the surface, to build massive aerostats. Their reasoning was that, if the atmosphere was going to be toxic, we might as well take advantage of the density that we didn’t have before. I’m pretty sure I heard that they have a couple of them on Venus, because the atmosphere is already really dense, and I believe they’re building more. So we know how to make them. The idea to make them here was ultimately abandoned because too many people felt like it was giving in. The air shouldn’t be toxic, and we shouldn’t be satisfied with it staying that way. We’re supposed to be fixing it, and if we start treating the bug as a feature, we’ll either not work hard on cleaning it up, or we will, and people will have to leave the aerostats before too long anyway. Neither plan seemed reasonable or rational. Now on to the party discussion. The time you propose is totally fine with us. We both requested the entire day off, and the way the department is designed, there should be no problem. A lot of people would have to call in sick, or have some other emergency, before we would be called back in. They take work-life balance very seriously these days. I was telling you that we settled into a stable society a few years back, and that was part of it. If all we’re worried about is survival, then we’re not really living, and if that’s the case, is there really any point in working so hard to continue? People don’t seem to think so, and as terrible as it is that the atmosphere has been poisoned, at least it happened in our time period, instead of a couple hundred years ago. Most of the grunt work is automated, so it’s not like things will fall apart if people stop working. A lot of scholars believe that we’re only not living in a post-scarcity society right now because of the bad air. The domes have forced us to do more work than we should really have to worry about. So yeah, that was another big tangent just to say that we’ll start our party at 20:00 on the day of our birthday. I wanted to ask, and should have asked before, are you really going to have to be there alone? There’s no one else you could invite? By the time we receive your response, the day will have already passed, but you will receive my letter by then, so I hope you think about whether there’s anyone else, now that your mom is gone.

Really hoping you don’t have to be alone,

Condor

Wednesday, February 19, 2025

Microstory 2348: Vacuus, April 30, 2179

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Dear Condor,

These outfits look great. I’ve selected the one that I think will look right on me, and sent the specs off to the garment fabricator. She says that she’s a little busy right now, and one of her machines is down. It will take a few hours to print since the design is pretty intricate, and she probably won’t get around to it until tomorrow, so thanks for sending them early. I don’t have my own aug mirror, which would allow me to see what it will look like on my person before she fabricates it. They don’t make them anymore, because they’re considered a waste of resources, and the people who still have theirs are pretty protective of them. Fortunately, it’s a pretty small fee if I have to return it, since an alternate would use all the same materials, and like I said, I have plenty of time. I’ve run the conversions, and it looks like the best time for me to use the local observatory without getting in anyone’s way is about 20:15 Australian Eastern Time. I’m assuming that you’re somewhere along Queensland, and will be on May 17, but if you’ve already started heading west around the continent, you may have to adjust accordingly. I hope that’s okay for you, I really can’t change it unless we’re willing to schedule the parties for a different day. I’m still fascinated by the idea of mountaintop living. We don’t really have shifting weather here, or significant geographical changes without heading towards the equator, or something. We’re close to the north pole, because that’s how we maintain contact with you. That might change with our new relay system, but we’ll see. I doubt it will affect me, since I’m just monitoring the sun. I’m curious about other alternatives for your world. It sounds like most people live under land domes, but you’re on a floating platform, which takes some level of creative thinking. Has anyone ever thought of living in an aerostat? It might not be better—per se—but it could give people more options. It’s best not to put all your eggs in one basket. That’s why we have multiple bases, not because we don’t like each other, but for safety. If you don’t use those specifically, are there other types of habitats that you’ve not mentioned before?

Wearing something chic,

Corinthia

Saturday, February 15, 2025

The Fourth Quadrant: Hard as a Rock (Part I)

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In the beginning, there was one gargoyle named Oliver Spout. But then his pattern spread to three others. For the four of them, every day at sunrise, their bodies would slip into a stasis bubble, which essentially sent them forwards in time however long was necessary to reach sunset. For the rest of the world, hours would pass, but for them, only seconds. The length of daylight shifted throughout the year, so they always hated winter more than summer. Things got a bit wonky when their, Kansas City, was copied into the Fourth Quadrant parallel reality, leaving two of them on the original nighttime schedule, while the other two ended up only experiencing daytime. They eventually became the Presidents and Vice Presidents of this new world, sharing responsibilities across the diurnal cycle. Half a century ago, a team of heroes came to their reality, and gave them the technology they would need to break out of their patterns. Their consciousnesses were transferred to new clone bodies, freeing them to live at all times of the day. It was after this that Andrei was born to Skyler Spout and Kostya Orlov.
They all assumed that Andrei would be born completely normal. After all, he was the product of two clones whose pattern had been supposedly successfully stripped of them after they were downloaded into new bodies. Unfortunately, some of his mother’s gargoyleness seems to have been hardcoded into her DNA. While she never fell back onto her old pattern, Andrei grew up to experience one of his own. He has some choice in the matter, but not always. While his family’s perceptions of time were being slowed down to a fraction of a fraction of a percentage of what it should be, his perception is altered by a very minute amount. It only slows him down to about 99% of realtime. But during this time, Andrei is as hard as a rock. He can’t move, he can’t be moved, and if he’s not lying down when it happens, he’ll become incredibly fatigued while he’s waiting to return to the fray. Unless someone is there to help him out.
Selma Eriksen is the Vice President of the Fourth Quadrant Earth. After Princess Honeypea transports them from their neighbor’s penthouse on a planet called Hockstep, she looks over to find that Andrei has become stuck in one of his bubbles again. This can happen when he travels to a new world, but not always. It’s difficult, if not impossible, to predict when he’ll get stuck, or for how long. They’re standing on the manicured grass next to a fast-moving stream or river. Boats are tied to the bank, but she doesn’t know what kind they are. They kind of look like old, wooden motorboats, except there’s no motor. They’re surrounded by flowering plants, non-flowering plants, shrubs, and short trees. From what they’ve been told, this is a nature preserve of some kind, so this whole place could be designed with intentional obsolescence to protect the wildlife. “Nuadu, can you help me?” Selma requests.
“What’s wrong with him?” Nuadu asks.
“He’s stuck in a bubble. It’s not good for him to be standing up like this.”
“Put him in one of the broads,” Honeypea offers. “I thought you might like to take the scenic route to the Citrus Inn. I didn’t know this would happen to him.”
“Why would we go to an inn?” Cosette questions. “We’re not staying.” 
“You’re not speaking with the Magnolia until he’s ready...and he’s not ready,” Honeypea explains. “Everyone into the broadfloats. Four per. One on each needs to steer the rudder in the back. It’s pretty intuitive.”
Selma and Nuadu lay Andrei down on the floor of the boat. Since he can’t sit up, no one else joins them. Selma keeps an eye on him while Naudu steers. The steering section is raised up a little, so he can see where they’re going while still seated on his little perch. The river takes them in the right direction, but he has to navigate around rocks, limbs, and little whirlpools. The two rows of seats before him could probably fit six additional people total, but there may be a weight issue. If this thing has a rudder, it can’t sit too deep in the water.
The inn is wooden and rustic, with no electricity, but it at least has running water. It has no apparent means of climate control, but no one feels that this is necessary. The whole world seems to be sitting at the perfect temperature. The beds are simple in design too, but the mattresses are modern and comfortable. They’re not animals. Princess Honeypea tells everyone to get settled, because it could be a while. The Pryce Tree is a unique lifeform, the origins of which no one here knows much about. Trying to understand his motivations and sense of time would be a waste of their time. Fortunately, they have been assured that they are not wasting it just by being here. The garden is located, not only in another spatial dimension, but also temporal. They should be able to pick up right where they left off when they return to the Sixth Key.
Selma wishes they could have just spent a few nights here before, back when they were being isolated to protect the timeline, and then gone back several months later after the danger had passed. No one else is bringing that up, though, so she’s not going to rock the boat. Something strange is going on here. The magical tree’s power is awe-inspiring, and if there’s some other entity out there that rivals its might, that could be a real bad thing, and they could be in real big trouble, as could all of reality. They just have to hope that something can be done about it.
They reluctantly retire to their respective new rooms, and try to get some sleep. Selma is sharing one with Andrei. He doesn’t like to come out of his time bubble alone. It’s not typically she who has to wait on him, but she’s all he has right now. His relationship with Ayata is still too new for them to spend the night together, even though there’s nothing romantic going on here at any rate as Selma chose this particular room for its two beds. When she wakes up to use the restroom, she passes by him again, and sees that the bubble popped at some point, but he’s still asleep. If he’s in the right position, he can sleep while he’s in there, but it’s reportedly agitating, and he prefers to be able to change positions, and get comfortable. She takes care of business, then goes back to bed, waking up with the eastern sun a few hours later.
Andrei is hovering over her with a cup of tea. “Get any rest?”
She’s still groggy. “I should be asking you that.”
“The answer’s yes. Thanks for taking care of me. I should have liked to see the sights on the way down the river, though.”
“I’ll remember that next time,” Selma replies. They have a decent rapport, but they actually don’t know each other all that well. In the Fourth Quadrant, the President and Vice President run for office separately, and once the election is over, they operate independently, living and working on distant islands. This is done for practical reasons. If something should happen to the President, the VP shouldn’t be there to suffer the same fate. The whole point is that she’s the backup. This is the most time they’ve ever spent together.
Andrei takes a sip. “The princess thinks that the tree’s about to talk. Best get dressed, and grab something to eat. They have citrus here.” Citrus didn’t exist in their reality, and that’s because it didn’t start out as a full-fledged reality of its own. It was a pocket dimension at first, and citrus fruits can’t travel between the dimensions. All the lemons, limes, and oranges exploded every time a new region was expelled to it, both on the trees, and elsewhere. Grocery stores were a mess. That was their biggest concern when they were negotiating for their interests during the Rock Meetings. The other civilizations had citrus because they were really just from another timeline that ran concurrently with the main sequence. Selma and Andrei were not super satisfied with the results, but they had little to offer their opponents. But if there’s a way to get what they need from here, without the help of the rest of the Sixth Key, they might end up in a better position moving forward.
Selma gets up and dressed in a tunic that she found in one of the dresser drawers. Wearing it isn’t a requirement, but most everyone else in the group made the same decision, because they’re soft and convenient. General Medley is still wearing his IMS. He says it’s versatile, but it looks restricting and itchy. She’s never worn one before. Again, the Fourth Quadrant was once only a collection of pocket dimensions. By the time it was upgraded to full reality status, space travel was too much trouble with no projected rewards.
While Selma and Andrei, and a few others, are still eating breakfast, Princess Honeypea walks into the communal area. “The Magnolia will see you now. I will escort you upriver to the Confluence.”
“Can those broadfloat things do that?” Kalea Akopa of the Parallel asks.
“We’ll take the airboats,” the princess clarifies.
They climb in, and speed back up the river, past where they first appeared, and into what has to be what Honeypea was talking about. It’s this big open area of water, where even from their low vantage point, they can see other rivers moving off in other directions. In the center is an island of roots underneath a giant tree. They really weren’t kidding when they kept calling him that. They have only ever seen him in his human form. Mysterious blue glowing fruits are hanging down from the blue leafed branches. At the base is a gravestone where monarch butterflies are fluttering about. They stop by a flat and level part of the arboreal island, and step out one by one.
As soon as the last person gets out, the boat drives away on its own, and the human form of the Magnolia appears. Tamerlane Pryce wasn’t a good guy when he was just a regular person, but this is just what the tree chooses to look like, for whatever reason. It’s not really him, though...not anymore. They were never given a whole lot of details. He steps forward. “I apologize for the delay, but I was seeking information. I know what our issue is now, but I don’t know how to solve it.”
“Is season two of our unauthorized reality show moving forward?” Andrei asks.
“I hope not,” Pryce replies, “but as it stands, I can’t stop it.”
“Who’s doing this to us?” Cosette demands to know.
“She calls herself The First Explorer. She claims to have witnessed the big bang, and while she did so through some form of time travel, I believe that she sees herself as the first being to exist in the whole universe. This universe, that is; not Fort Underhill.”
“What does she want?” Selma presses.
Pryce Tree takes a moment to respond. “She’s convinced that she’s at war with Fort Underhill and the Sixth Key. She perceives you as a threat. She’s more powerful than I am, I’ll admit that...but she’s not more powerful than me and The Nucleus.”
“The Nucleus is a place, not a person,” Nuadu insists.
“That’s what you think.” Pryce sighs. “Still, we won’t be able to do this alone. We need human agents to accomplish some of our goals. Any volunteers?”

Tuesday, February 4, 2025

Microstory 2337: Vacuus, February 16, 2179

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Dear Pascal,

Thank you for reaching out. I would say that it’s the first step towards mending our relationship. I’m sure that your son told you that I would be out of range for a period of time, so that’s why it’s taken me this long to respond. As for you and me, I can’t promise you what will become of us in the future, but I can promise that I’ll try. You’ll always be able to send me a message, and I’ll always open it. Condor and I kind of have a weekly thing going, but we don’t have to write as often, and I won’t hold it against you in terms of resolving our issues. That being said, there is no quick fix here. Forgiveness is a really strong word, and I’m afraid I’m going to need more time before I can even consider it. That may be all it takes. We could not talk to each other the whole time, but I may one day get over it just because it’s been long enough. We’ll have to see. I understand that you were in a difficult position, and having known my mother for 36 years, I don’t doubt that she forced her ideals on you. She has a way of making you live the kind of life that she wants you too. I’m not sure if it was about being vicarious, or if she just wanted control. I’ve always thought she only wanted what was best for me, but looking back now, it doesn’t really make much sense. I mean, if this was a social experiment to see how two twins grew up if they were raised separately, why did she try to make all my choices for me? It sort of taints the results, wouldn’t you say? I dunno, it just seems like a weird choice to me, or maybe she just couldn’t help herself. It strained our relationship, and I pushed back at every turn. She didn’t exactly hope that I would become a solar flare watcher. I’ve spoken to counselors here, and on the ship, but other than that, to my knowledge, I don’t undergo any tests or evaluations. No one seems to be recording my behavior in any way, unless they’re doing it from a pretty big distance. What can you tell me about Condor? Do you report in to someone about who he is, and what kinds of things he does? Is someone writing a scientific paper about it? I would prefer it if you let me know, but it’s more important that he knows, so if you only tell one of us, I would rather be the one left in the dark.

It was nice to meet you,

Effectively, a stranger,

Corinthia

Tuesday, January 21, 2025

Microstory 2327: Earth, November 25, 2178

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Dear Corinthia,

Yeah, I think it would be a great idea to be able to send quick acknowledgements to each other after each message. It does need to be more than just an automated read receipt. My friend is a coder, and he’s written us a quick program for that, if you’re interested. It’s nothing crazy. It just integrates with the messaging application, and lets you pull from a list of canned responses. You can have one that says, got it, I’ll get back to you soon, and another that says, it will be a few days before I can respond. You can even write one that goes, I’m being attacked by a horde of sad zombie aliens from the future of a parallel dimension. I can’t believe this isn’t already a feature, but we have it now. The file is attached for you to download, or tell me no, if that’s the case. In other news, my dad is coming home soon. My next letter to you should be a recap of what we end up discussing. He’s been fumfering when I’ve managed to get him on a call, so I know that he wasn’t innocent. We’ll finally get some answers, Corinthia. I’m sure I’ll have a lot to say in that letter, so I’ll cut this one short here.

Sharpening my zombie alien weapons,

Condor

Monday, January 20, 2025

Microstory 2326: Vacuus, November 18, 2178

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Dear Condor,

I’m sorry to hear that you were having so much trouble sleeping. If you ever need to take a few days to respond, that’s okay. You’ve already extended me the same courtesy when I was gone for weeks. It would be crazy of me to not give you a little bit of extra time if you need it. I mean, if there’s nothing to say, then there’s nothing to say. When I first wrote to you, I didn’t think that you would respond in the first place, let alone that we would start conversing on any sort or regular basis. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll assume that you’re waiting for something interesting to happen, or that you just don’t feel like talking. Yes, I will worry about you, and wonder if something’s happened to you, but that’s just the nature of interplanetary correspondence. I spoke with an expert on this side of the void who says that the FTL communication research has stalled, despite what some might be trying to convince the public. He’s not as hopeful as people may be making it out to be. He can’t say for sure that it’s impossible, but it’s unlikely to work any time soon, if ever. For now, we’re stuck with the light lag. Back in the old days, it was not unheard of for a letter to take weeks to get from one place to another. They were riding in carriages, and directly on horses, and even in some cases, just walking on their own two feet! Can you imagine? There was no way for them to know if their messages were being received unless and until they received a reply. At least we have the option of read receipts for our digital signals. I like when that comes in. It makes me feel a little bit better, because it would know if the message had been intercepted, which of course, it hasn’t so far. What it doesn’t tell us is whether the other twin is doing okay, but maybe there’s a way for us to handle that ourselves. I suppose that we could come up with a protocol where we reply right away with a very brief acknowledgement as a sort of manual read receipt. That way, we know that the other is still alive, but can’t reply fully yet. What do you think of that idea? Please respond at faster than light speeds so I don’t have to wait too long for your input.

From the other side of darkness,

Corinthia

Saturday, January 4, 2025

The First Explorer

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When Debra Lesley Lovelace was a very young child, she lived in the most dangerous region of the human continent on Ansutah. The shore was visible from a shipping lane that the Maramon used to transport goods between their own territories. The white monsters were not aware that the humans were there, or anywhere on their world, and this was the most valuable secret in the universe. Colonization was forbidden on these lands, thanks to a sympathetic group of highly influential Maramon from the very early days who declared it sacred ground. The humans were able to remain an incredibly well-kept secret, even as their numbers grew into the billions over the course of thousands of years. Despite their own unsustainable numbers in modern times, most Maramon respected the boundaries devoutly, and did not dare go near the humans. Individually, however, this rule was sometimes broken. The crew of these ships that passed by would occasionally take a detour, and rest on Shining Beach. It was an ironic name, as it was always very foggy and grim.
It was the responsibility of the humans who lived in the area to make sure that this problem did not spiral out of control. There were superstitious rumors that landing on the continent would result in the death of the trespassers. So the humans could not simply hide out, and wait until the Maramon rowed back to their ship, to resume their journey. The warning had to be enforced. They made war. They had to, to protect everyone else living peacefully inland. Peacefully, blissfully ignorant, and safe. There were other stations on other shores, but this was the most trafficked, and the most dangerous. Debra learned to kill when she was three years old, and she killed her first Maramon when she was four. She knows how to use a gun, despite what these men might believe.
“I pegged you for my biggest fan.” Bronach Oaksent doesn’t look the least bit concerned. It’s just some middle-aged woman with a peashooter.
This is too much. She once admired him for his bravery and resilience, but her impression of him was foolish and naïve. Now that she’s standing up close, she realizes that he’s nothing like that. He’s been hoarding all this tech that the rest of them could have used on this lifeless planet. She can’t forgive him for it. The problem is, he doesn’t really know her, and probably wouldn’t care. So she has to make him. She has to incentivize him to apologize. “Don’t underestimate me!” she cries. They know nothing of her past as a Maramon Hunter. “I’m sick of everyone thinking they know who I am. But you never actually ask me about myself. You just make assumptions because maybe I complain a bit too much, and I don’t always take responsibility for my actions, and I find it easier to blame others for my problems! But you don’t know me! And it doesn’t give you the right to call me Airlock Karen!”
“Okay, okay,” Bronach replies in a condescending tone. He’s still not getting it.
She shakes the gun at him. “You could have made our lives a lot easier with your generator thing, but instead, you kept it to yourself! What kind of selfish son of a bitch are you? I mean, where do you get off?”
“It was a test,” Oaksent claims weakly.
“Oh, a test?” she mocks. “Test these bullets!” She fires the gun, but misses on purpose, because this is about teaching him a lesson, not killing him.
Her plan backfires, immediately, and almost literally. He pulls out his own weapon, and tries to shoot her, but misses too when a masked man appears out of nowhere, and blocks it with his body. He stumbles back, but doesn’t fall. He’s likely wearing body armor. Now, this is a real hero.
The mysterious kind rescuer removes his mask, and smiles back at her. It’s Elder, but clearly from the past, before he earned the moniker of Old Man. She has been such a bitch to him this whole time, and with good reason—might she add—but now she’s seeing him in a whole new light. Perhaps it’s the daring rescue, or the fact that she doesn’t like to go too long between being in love with someone. Or maybe it’s just that, unlike his duplicate a couple of meters away, he looks more her age. And maybe even...hot? This was clearly who he was before he became so annoying, self-important, and...and old.
“My white knight,” Debra says, under her breath, but still probably loud enough for all three of them to hear.
Hot!Elder lifts a small device in his hand, and hovers his thumb over a button on the top. “Oso gonplei nou ste odon.” He presses the button before anyone can stop him.
A flash of light blasts out of the temporal generator disguised as a mountain. A wave of energy flows through all of them. For a few seconds, other people are standing beside them. It’s not just random strangers, though. It’s them. They’ve been duplicated several times. Some are standing up, others are still on the ground. They’re all looking confused, and in those few seconds, Debra wonders which one of the other versions of her is the real her. Is she the real one? Is none of them? Is she even considering this right now, or imagining that she is?
While she’s in the middle of her existential crisis, a force begins to pull her away from the planet. She can feel herself being shredded like cheese, tugged in basically the same direction, but not in one piece. The planet falls away, as do the stars around her, which are stretching out to white streaks. A darkness begins to chomp on the front ends of the streaks, like a video game about dots that eat smaller dots. Before too long, it’s all black, though she can still feel herself being spirited away, and torn apart. Finally, it all stops. Now she’s just in the middle of nowhere, and apparently no longer has a body. She can’t feel anything, nor see anything but the infinite void. If this is death, it’s a pretty boring afterlife. She would like to speak to a manager.
Debra hangs here in the nothingness for an unknown period of time. It’s hell, it must be, so she needs to figure out where she went wrong. Sure, she wasn’t the best person in the biverse, but she always tried to help, and doesn’t that merit some consideration? Every complaint she made was done in the service of making the world a better place. If she asked for a tofu burger with no ketchup, and they put ketchup on it, who was it helping if she kept quiet? They can only get better if they know that they’re doing something wrong. But people were always getting pissy with her, and now she’s in this god-forsaken void. How is that fair?
It starts as a pinprick of light, in the corner of her eye. Well, she doesn’t have eyes anymore, but that’s how it seems anyway. She can’t force it to be fully in her field of vision. She can’t focus on it. She can’t focus on anything. Again, there’s no telling how long this lasts, but the point begins to grow. As it does so, it occurs to her that it’s not really an image. She’s not seeing anything. It’s more of an understanding. Yeah, that’s it. She’s gaining knowledge about the world around her, starting out with very little, but gaining more by the arbitrary unit of measurement. She realizes that she’s witnessing the big bang of the universe. She can feel the unimaginable density, the explosion of energy, and the expansion of space. It’s hotter than anything ever turns out to be in the future, and she can feel that, but of course it doesn’t hurt, because she doesn’t have a body anymore. The expansion continues, forming dust clouds, stars, and planets. Now she’s watching the whole history of reality, unfolding in her own mind. She starts to question this. Maybe she’s not just watching it happen. Maybe she’s making it happen. Maybe she is the universe. Maybe she’s God.
“You’re not the universe, and you’re not God.” It’s a voice. Did she hear it, or just become aware of it?
“Does it matter?” the voice replies.
“Who are you?”
“Aitchai,” the voice answers.
“Who am I?”
It waits a bit. “A baby aitchai.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I am the energy that pervades all universes in the bulk. I am everything, everywhere, all at once. And you...are a few things, in one place, but also all at once.”
“I...still don’t understand.”
“I don’t either. I just found you in my pocket. You’ve not always been this way, as an ethereal energy construct?”
“Uh...no,” Debra says, not any less confused than before.
“Perhaps we could both corporealize to make this an easier conversation to have. Your mind is preoccupied watching the passage of time. You need to focus on one thing, so that one thing makes sense. Make sense?”
“Okay. Except I don’t know how to do that.”
“The trick is to want it. That’s the only ingredient. Imagine yourself with a body. I can’t really do it unless you do it too, or we would stop being able to understand each other, so I can’t show you what I mean. You just have to try.”
Debra is frustrated. This guy is being vague on purpose. She wants to scream, or at least calm herself down with a deep breath. And that’s what does it. Feeling the uncontrollable urge to have a physical reaction to this situation gives her the ability to make that happen. She has a body now, and so does he. Looks a bit like a nerd. She widens her eyes, afraid that he heard that thought of hers.
He’s stretching his neck and yawning at the same time. “It must feel a bit odd to you now, having a body, but feeling nothing. When you get good at it, like me, you’ll begin to replicate the rest of the normal sensations. Touch is the hardest, followed closely by smell.”
“I feel,” Debra contends. “I smell too, though I can’t describe it. I’ve never smelled this before.”
“Interesting,” Aitchai says. “I suppose you’re so new at it that your brain instinctively gave your senses back. Good on ya.”
“Great. Now tell me what this is. Are you...the manager?” It can’t be that simple, can it?
He laughs. “I suppose you could think of me in that way, but I would argue that I’m more like the infrastructure in this metaphor; the building. I am that exists. I control nothing.”
“But you could, if you wanted to. You could rewrite reality to your liking? You could destroy all, seed new life.”
He seems uncomfortable with these suggestions. “I could, yes. I don’t.”
“Wasted opportunity.”
“Says the baby,” Aitchai snaps back.
“What does that mean? Will I one day be as powerful as you, not confined to only one universe, or whatever?”
“No. I guess that’s a bad metaphor. You’re more like a pet. You’ll never be greater than you already are. It’s not something that you learn. It’s what I became when I was made, and you will always be what you became when you became it.”
“I should be offended,” Debra decides.
“That’s your human side talking. You’ll get over it one day.”
“Is time even real for beings like us?”
He nods. “That’s a common misconception, that time has no meaning beyond the boundaries of a brane. But the truth is that time matters more here than anywhere. It’s the only time that exists in its purest form. Yes, I feel time. I experience all of time.”
“You can’t expect me to be like you, sitting on the sidelines, changing nothing.”
Aitchai crosses his arms, balancing his chin on the base of his palm while his fingers are curled up against his cheek. Suddenly, he pulls his hand away, and snaps his fingers. They’re still in the void, but now standing underneath a huge stone fountain. Water is falling from the lip in a wide sheet, like the perfect waterfall. An empty swimming pool materializes underneath. They’re standing on the edge, watching the pool fill up slowly. He points at the fountain. “Change the shape of that water. Change how it falls into the pool.”
“Easy.” Debra reaches out, and sticks her arm through it. The water begins to cascade over her skin, and continues to fall into the pool where it belongs. She’s pretty clever. It may not have changed much, but it fulfills the requirement.
He looks down. “Hm. Nothing’s really changed,” he reasons. “It’s all still going in there. So, try to stop the water from going into the pool entirely.”
Debra smirks. He’s asking her to do something physical, but they are not in the physical world. This is all in their shared consciousness. The rules don’t apply here, not for the water, and not for anything else she’ll want to change about reality. She puts the fountain at her back, and lifts her hands up like a righteous evangelical. The water shifts directions, flowing over their heads, and falling onto the ground a few meters away from them. It’s not going into the pool anymore.
Aitchia doesn’t break eye contact with her. He waves his arm behind him, and materializes a second pool. The water begins to fall into that instead. “No significant change. The pool is identical.”
“That’s cheating.”
“I’m illustrating a point,” Aitchai begins. “It doesn’t matter where you put the water, it all ends the same. Sure, it’s mixed up differently. Different atoms bond to different partners, but who cares? It’s just water, falling into a meaningless pit. As I said, you will forget the old ways one day. You will stop seeing the atoms, and start seeing the pool. And then you’ll stop caring what happens to it. Trust me, I made plenty of changes before I noticed that nothing made any real difference. You’ll get there too.”
“Never.”
He smiles. “Okay, Karen.”
She hates that name. “You know more about me than you let on.”
“I am everything,” he echoes himself from before.
“I’m everything else,” she says with determination.
“Is that what you want? You want me to give you the one brane, and stay out of it?” He sounds sincere.
“Would you?”
“It depends.”
“On what?”
“On which brane we’re talking about. You got triplets.”
Debra looks away to focus on the passage of time again. She’s watching it all from the highest vantage point possible. The universe splits in two. One twin floats off away from the other, while the larger one splits a second time, but doesn’t let the third baby go. Hogarth Pudeyonavic. You know her too.”
“I do,” he confirms quietly.
“She’s as powerful as me.” Hogarth too was born from an explosion. It took her some time to figure them out, but once she did, she became one of the most powerful beings in the universe. She began to create, like a god, starting out small before moving on to more ambitious projects. A sister universe to her own was her most impressive creation. And that makes her a threat to Debra’s own power, whether she realizes it or not. “She’s a rival.”
“You don’t have to frame it that way. You can exist in harmony. This is not a competition.”
“She may have done what she did on her own, but her triplet is smaller.” Debra rewinds and zooms in to watch as Hogarth uses her vast scientific knowledge and cosmic powers to literally create an entire universe according to her own design. She calls it Fort Underhill for some reason. “I can take her.”
“You don’t have to frame it that way,” Aitchai repeats.
“Thank you, you can go now. I’ll take the big one.”
“Very well,” he concedes. You are now the new...Powers That Be.”
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