Microstory 2397: Earth, May 5, 2182

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Dear Corinthia,

I regret to inform you that my son, Condor Sloane has been missing since January 4, 2180. I was made aware that he was hired for a new job working with a global outfit that has since been defunct. They were trying to restore this planet to its original health before the toxins, and while they were moderately successful, they have since lost all steam, and talent. Condor could have been a great asset to them, but he never made it to their rendezvous point in the North Queensland Dome. The initial suspicion was that his truck broke down on his way out there, and he succumbed to the environment after life support ran out, or that he crashed, and lost life support right away. I spent weeks combing the desert, looking for any sign of him. I searched the road, I searched off the road, I searched detours, I searched everywhere. And once I had finished searching everywhere I thought he could possibly be, I began to search everywhere else. I heard reports of someone spotting him somewhere near Bowen Orbital Spaceport, but when I went to investigate there, I couldn’t corroborate the witness’ story, and when I tried to reach out, this witness was nowhere to be found either. I’m sure it was just a prank. For the last two years, though, I’ve kept searching. I’ve run down every lead. He didn’t just disappear into thin air. I thought maybe my old neighbor had gotten to him, or Condor’s old nurse. They have both lied, and maybe there was more to the study that Condor was on the verge of discovering, and they had to shut him up. Or maybe they just wanted to study him again. Maybe us asking all these questions only served to renew their interests in the endeavor. I found nothing. I found no evidence of anything. My best guess at this point is that he ended up in the water, somewhere along Australia’s eastern coast. It would be impossible to find him under these conditions. It could have happened anywhere from Old Brisbane to the Blackbraes dome. I wish that I had better news, and I wish I could keep going, but I buried my son. I held a funeral for him, and everything. I’m an old man now, and can’t keep traveling like I used to. I’ve recently settled in a region that was once called Ecuador. The poisonous gases are still here, and it’s still deadly to go outside, however, this close to the equator, the sunshine is able to break through. You can see the sky from the ground during the day, and shortly after nightfall, you can even make out a few stars before the particles recongregate, and it fogs over once more. It’s a highly coveted place to live, and a great place to retire. Condor would say that I’ve earned it, and I’m trying to honor him that way. I’m sorry. I know he meant a lot to you. It was a lovely service, you deserved to be there. I should have recorded it for you. I just wasn’t thinking. I’ve attached the program, though, so you can imagine having been there.

Bittersweet to hear from you again after all this time,

Pascal

Microstory 2394: Earth, January 2, 2180

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Dear Corinthia,

I hope this message finds you well. Remember that? That’s the first thing you ever said to me. I remember reading that a year and a half ago. It’s such an old-timey thing to say, but I was immediately hooked. And then you told me who you were, and who we were to each other. I’m so grateful to you for having the courage to reach out. You really are the bravest person I know; going for it with Bray despite the obstacles, confronting Velia’s dad, just living your life the way you want. You’ve inspired me. I’m sure Velia has told you by now that I quit my job, and I’m leaving the platform. I’m actually boarding the transition boat in a couple of hours. I want to send Velia one last letter, but not until she gets back to me first. It’s going to be tight, but I think I’ll make it. I was just going to wander in Australia for a little bit, but word spread that I was on the market, and I started getting job offers. One in particular intrigued me. I won’t necessarily be doing anything very glamorous myself, but there’s a newish group of people who are trying to find a way to bring the Earth back to its former glory. They have their hands in all sorts of pies: detoxifying the atmosphere, developing plants that can withstand the noxious gases, making peak settlements more comfortable to live in. They’re even considering bolstering interplanetary travel, possibly for mass exodus efforts way in the future. It sounds like really exciting stuff, and my experience all over the world has gotten them interested in my expertise. I’m still not sure what I’ll be doing for them, but they’re calling me a consultant. They keep using that word. I think it’s vague enough for them to not worry about being clear on my role and responsibilities. I’m telling you all this, not only because I want to update you on my life, but also so you’ll understand that I may be incommunicado from my end for a while. I really just don’t know, but the Valkyries may not be the only thing standing in our way. I will always be thinking of you, and all the Vacuans, and I’ll reach out when I can. Hopefully, there will come a time soonly when you and I are both on the same frequency, so to speak. Until then, find your bliss. That’s all the advice I can really give. I wanted this letter to be epic, but that’s not really our style. We will speak to one another again. It may not be in the way that we’re used to, but this isn’t the last you hear from me. I love you more than anything. You take care of yourself.

See you on the other side,

Condor

Microstory 2369: Earth, September 6, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

I was trying to decide how to send this to you. I didn’t want it getting mixed up with the open letter I wrote to the whole base. I really should have sent this first, and the open letter the next day. So, sorry for the delay, and I’m sorry you’re feeling bad. I’m really hoping that you feel better by the time you get this. Actually, I’m hoping you felt better by the time I got your letter about it. I might know of a way to help. When I was still young—so young that I can’t entirely trust my memories of those days. The poisons had not yet destroyed the environment, but things were pretty bad already. I guess I’ve never really gotten into it, but the gases were kind of a breaking point for preexisting struggles all over the world. They were nowhere near the beginning of conflict. That was a hard time for us, but I was oblivious, because I was too young to understand. I was a little hungry some of the time, but not starving, and definitely not neglected. Dad did the best he could to provide for us during a difficult period in history, and that often meant spending time away from me to make money. Since he had to be away so much, a babysitter cared for me. We couldn’t afford much of course, but she must have been willing to do a lot for not very much money. She was so kind to me, I always thought she just enjoyed my company since I was a pretty cute kid. Thinking on it now, though, maybe there was something between them. Maybe she was never a babysitter at all, but a girlfriend. They didn’t tell me her last name, so I can’t look her up, and I’m afraid to ask. I have never otherwise known him to date. I don’t know why I’m telling you this. It’s just that, I was having my own troubles during all that where I was getting sick kind of regularly, and in different ways. Man, maybe I really should ask dad about that to see what was going on. Was I terribly ill, with something concrete and diagnosable? No matter what was wrong, one thing that my caretaker did for me every single time was make me chicken noodle soup. Also looking back at that, I doubt it was even real chicken. However, I still have the recipe, and I’ve attached it here in case you have the right ingredients to supplement what isn’t available. Maybe you have nothing that works. Or maybe you have chicken noodle soup all the time, and I sound like a patronizing doofus. Just...I hope you’re feeling better, and that things are going okay with you, okay? How’s Bray? How was my letter received by your friends? When are you coming down to Earth for a visit?

Take care of yourself,

Condor

Microstory 2368: Earth, September 5, 2179

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Dear Vacuus Base,

My name is Condor Sloane. You may know my twin sister, Corinthia Sloane. When we were still infants, Corinthia and her mother left Earth on a daring mission to explore the unknown darkness that lies beyond the orbits of the sunstruck planets. Corinthia taught me that term to refer to the eight other planets, including Earth. I suppose it still technically fits, because the sun’s rays do technically hit our planet, and our sky is technically illuminated by it. Unfortunately, however, after you left, society broke down as greed overpowered all forms of civil fairness. Corporate espionage was rampant, leading to no one company gaining any innovative advantage over any other. In the past, a fair market encouraged healthy competition—which ideally makes things better for consumers—but certain legislative changes led to loopholes in regulatory oversight. They weren’t competing anymore, they were fighting. They were killing. These Corporate Wars turned blood red, and then a sickly pale green as researchers developed weaponized noxious chemicals to use against their boss’ enemies. No more is the sky as blue and beautiful as you’ve probably seen in images. The surface has been engulfed in a toxic cocktail of poisonous gases. We live in domes, or on the rare mountaintops that rise above the toxin line, frozen but habitable. The good news is that the wars are over. Most of the aggressors from those days are either dead or imprisoned. There are definitely still some out there in hiding, and there is definitely a job that involves bringing them to justice. My father and I came across these bounty hunters from time to time. We were transport coordinators, facilitating relocations between safe zones, across the lethal no-man’s lands that litter most of the world. We helped people find work, and reunite with their families. We met all sorts of interesting folk, and kept up with the goingson of the new society that has bloomed in the wake of the terrible devastation. Now, we live on the ocean. They built one of the domes on top of a giant floating platform. Since the platform has to be so large to accommodate the dome, it’s livable as well, and that’s where our cabin is. We have recently taken on immigrants from a dome in Australia. I managed to snap a photo of it from the outside while we were stopped on the road for some brief maintenance, and attached it here. I think that’s just about all I have to say about that. There are so many details missing, and I’m sure you’ll have questions. Corinthia has agreed to accept them from you, and will compile what she can’t answer herself for me. If necessary, I can write a second letter. Thank you for taking the time to hear a little bit about myself and my world. Stay safe up there, and don’t forget to close the door behind you when you go in or out!

Regards,

Condor

Microstory 2362: Earth, August 6, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

It’s true, I don’t need to hear certain details about your love life, but I want you to feel comfortable telling me what’s going on with you. I guess it’s a little strange that we’ve never brought it up before. Ya know, when we talk about the population decline on this planet, people often cite the poisoned atmosphere as the primary cause of it, but the truth is a lot more nuanced. Yes, obviously people died from it, and not just from the gases themselves—there were a lot of related effects, like failures in infrastructure maintenance that made the old cities less safe—but there were less overt repercussions too. The biggest consequence of the end of the old world was how isolated it made us from each other. You used to be able to take a bus to the airport, get on a flight, and be on the other side of the world in a matter of hours. You could travel just about anywhere with hardly any time to plan. Our jets are faster than ever, but the preparation for these flights takes so much more effort. If you want to go somewhere, you better damn well be sure that that’s where you wanna be, because there is no guarantee that you’re gonna be back. Because of all these limitations, and more, it’s much harder for some of us to meet someone. People are having fewer kids than they did in the past, because they have a hard time finding suitable partners. I won’t even get into population control mandates, but the only things keeping us from bursting at the seams are the people who do the transportation jobs like we used to have, and those building new settlements, or expanding preexisting habitats. This is all to say that I’ve not had much luck on the relationship front myself. I’ve moved around more than most. Our clients had to move too, but once we placed them at their new homes, they were free to settle down, and develop bonds within their respective communities. We just kept moving. I’ve gone on a few dates here under this ocean dome, but none of them has led to anything special. I’m not opposed to it, but we’re not getting any younger, so I’ve kind of learned to not get my hopes up about it anymore. I’m glad that you’ve found someone with the potential to last. I don’t think your age gap is all that big of a deal. And what are ya gonna do, let it get in your way? I say, love is love. As long as you’re consenting adults, and neither one is exerting any unfair power over the other, you should be allowed to do whatever feels right. But I’ll warn you, so you can warn him, if he hurts you, no interplanetary void is wide enough to keep him safe from my wrath. Okay, I’m done being overprotective again. Hey, dad didn’t tell me what he put in his latest letter to you, but I hope you’re pleased with it, and feeling okay. Tell me however much you want.

Love ya,

Condor

Microstory 2359: Earth, July 23, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

Thank you for reminding me about the whole study aspect of our separation. I did ask dad about this, and didn’t let him leave the room until he explained everything. At least that’s what I said when the conversation began; he never actually tried to escape. He doesn’t know what happened after you and your mother left. They deliberately withheld information from him. The way we’ve understood it thus far, it seemed like this twisted, nefarious conspiracy with a cabal of evildoers who don’t care about ethics. Dad painted it in a new light, even though I’m not sure he realized it. In reality, it kind of sounds more like an amateur job. They weren’t very well-organized, and they didn’t have much of a plan beyond separate twins, study behavior. Imagine that in a caveman voice, because the more he talked about his limited involvement, the dumber the researchers sounded. After the atmosphere started to become toxic, the only constant in my life was him. No one else was around for any meaningful length of time. There was no one studying me, up close, or from a distance. They couldn’t have. Society was breaking down, and had yet to rebuild itself in a new way. Whoever was assigned to keep tabs on me would have either lost me, or given up. Or, I suppose they could have died. Not everyone made it through that dark period in our history. Dad says he doesn’t have names, and I believe him on that part. I mean, you can look through your own databases on Vacuus, but I can’t find a single study that has anything to do with observing twins across two planets. I think you said it early on, we’re not identical, and we’re two different genders, so right there, the study was already bizarre. There are too many relevant variables to account for, so unless it’s part of a larger case study, you’re not going to gain any significant insights into how twins develop in terms of nature versus nurture. My guess is that they realized as much before too long, and eventually just gave up, leaving us to live our lives however we were going to. I don’t think we’ll ever really know who was responsible for this, or what they were thinking. Some information has been lost on my world, but I do have access to quite a bit of it. A small group of brave people during the toxic buildup dedicated their lives to preserving humanity’s knowledge. Some regions have information that others don’t, but only due to oversights and lapses, not a concerted effort to hide the truth from us. At least not when it comes to this stuff. The people who poisoned the air in the first place? Sure, they hid as much as they could from the people they were hurting, and still do, but they really would not care what happened to the two of us specifically. On the lighter side, I’m glad that you’ve worked things out with this Bray fellow. Let me know if he gives you any more trouble, though, and I’ll beat him up for you.

Enjoying my private life,

Condor

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

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

Microstory 2347: Earth, April 23, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

Yes, some people live above the toxin line, on top of mountains, but it’s not like every sufficiently tall mountain is inhabited, because not every one is habitable. The really tall ones are too high and too steep. I mean, you might find a cavern to survive in with your family somewhere lower down on a given mountain, but you couldn’t build a civilization there. I should clarify too that the air on top of Mauna Kea isn’t great either, it’s just not fogged enough to stop them from using the telescopes. They don’t have domes, since that would interfere with the views from the telescopes, so they built compartmentalized vestibules to keep the fumes from getting inside the buildings, always keep the doors closed, and only go outside in hazmat suits. All told, I think there are about forty mountain top safe zones, which take varying degrees of precautions. Some of them still require that people wear filtered masks, and on some of the higher ones, they wear oxygen masks because it would be hard to breathe whether the apocalypse had happened or not. Yes, we had a number of jobs that took us to these mountaintops. In fact, earlier ones involved us transporting people to ones at lower elevations, then later having to evacuate those same people, because the toxins started rising. No one really knew how the gases would settle, since the poisoning of our air was a gradual development, not a sudden burst. There was a lot of chaos in those days. I’m sorry to say that we lost people because there wasn’t enough room, nor enough time. Or we just weren’t there, because we were busy somewhere else. I would say that we settled into some stability about five years ago? It’s not perfect, and obviously things are always changing—as we’ve talked about, we just picked up some new friends from Australia—but it wasn’t an urgent need. We’re now in a place where we’ve mostly accepted how things are, and are doing our best with the cards that we’ve been dealt. Observatory access is one aspect of that. Earlier this decade, there was no registering for viewing. No one was concerned with granting people access to information. It was only about survival. That’s all anyone had the bandwidth for. I wouldn’t say that things are great nowadays, but they have certainly been worse. Anyway, I don’t want to get too depressing here. Attached is the file for the outfit that we could wear for our imaginary joint birthday party. Well, it’s a collection with a few options. We can keep talking about it, but we don’t have much time before the date rolls around. Let me know when you’ll have access to your telescope so we know when to schedule our own festivities.

Trying to find Vacuus through the smog,

Condor

Microstory 2346: Vacuus, April 16, 2179

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Dear Condor,

I think it’s a lovely idea for us to celebrate “together” and to be looking at the same stars at the same time. From where I’m standing, Libra is as good of a selection as any. I don’t otherwise have any favorite stars or constellations, and it sounds like you don’t either. I do like to look at them, and didn’t even think about the fact that you can’t unless someone gives you access. So I guess the toxic gases in your atmosphere sit low enough that there are pockets of clean air above it. According to my research that I just did ten minutes ago, Mauna Kea isn’t even the highest peak in the world, so there must be a decent number of these undomed safe zones. Did you and your father transport people to and from these places too, or just the domes? To answer your question, we do have our own observatory that I can access through a tunnel. If we time it right, I won’t have to worry about registering for remote viewing, or anything. There will be a sliver of time where no one’s using it, and I’m sure I could ask for permission. It was one of the first things they built, so they could track the Valkyries, but it’s not as good as the one you’ll be seeing through, and isn’t all that important anymore. I never said, but our settlement is not the ideal location for a large telescope, so our main one was built at an outpost several kilometers away. A small team operates there in person while researchers use the data as needed, and allowed, remotely. Since our local observatory doesn’t serve that much purpose, I doubt I would have much resistance if I just ask to set up my little one-person birthday party there. As far as the clothing goes, send me the design for the outfit, and I’ll have it made. I’m in need of some new clothes anyway, so it won’t break my budget to buy something. In fact, I usually get myself something special around my birthday anyway. I obviously get a discount if I return material for recycling, and I’m done with some of my old stuff.

Searching for Australia through the telescope,

Corinthia

Microstory 2340: Vacuus, March 4, 2179

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Dear Condor,

It’s okay that Pascal won’t be able to write for a while. Honestly—and you don’t need to tell him this—it’s a little awkward. These are just letters, but I still felt like I was on a blind double date, which I know is a weird way to look at it. I suppose we could always speak through you if we really needed to. That’s great news about reaching your rendezvous point. How long will/did it take? By the time you read this letter, you may be well on your way back out into sea. Make sure you choose the right path, though. It sounds like the weather is pretty dangerous out there. I never thought about that, about how the toxins in the atmosphere could make things even more dangerous. We learned about climate breakdown in school. Things were already not as safe as they were a couple hundred years prior. Humans were evidently damaging Earth before they started to do it intentionally to harm each other! I just hope your leaders always exercise caution. Vacuus does have weather. It’s not nearly as bad as it is for you guys, it’s just different. We experience infrequent, and rather weak, dust storms. These can still damage our instrumentation, though, and our permanently outdoors equipment needs constant cleaning. Or rather, they don’t. We’ve incorporated state-of-the-art onboard self-cleaning technology into nearly everything. You have windshield wipers on your cars with wiper fluid? We do too, but for cameras and other sensors. Instead of going out to clean every day, our field maintenance workers go out periodically to refill the fluid, or maybe repair or replace a blade. It’s much easier, and the infrequency of the task lowers the risk of something happening to them while they’re exposed like that. They’re also at risk of running into electrical storms. These things happen all the time. Our habitats are riddled with lightning rods. They both protect us from the strikes, and help power our habitats. That’s something else we’ve developed out of necessity, ultracapacitors which capture the short, energetic burst of raw power, and store it safely for future use. I keep using words like we, but I obviously had no hand in any of this. As I’ve said, I’m not cut out for field work, and I have no interest in it. I didn’t choose where to break ground on our settlement either, which was not chosen at random. Other parts of the planet experience volcanic activity. Some of these are even cryovolcanoes, which release nasty chemicals like ammonia and methane. Thankfully, we’re really far from those things, but I have a friend who operates a drone array which studies the nearest spots. So yeah, it’s dangerous here, but not worse than Earth. At least no one did it on purpose.

Again, stay safe,

Corinthia

Microstory 2339: Earth, February 24, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

Here’s a little bit of bad news. We’ve reached our destination to begin welcoming the new immigrants from their overcrowded dome. They’re not here quite yet, because we couldn’t have them waiting for us in limbo until we hit the shore, but they’re on their way as I’m writing this. That’s not the bad news, though. A consequence of this situation is that my dad won’t be able to send or receive any letters for a while. It’s a security thing, since he knows so much information about our new allies. Obviously, I know that he would never abuse his power, or put the population at risk, and no one seriously thinks that he would, but the moratorium is a necessary precaution just the same. I’m still okay. Even though I work in the office, I’m not privy to enough of the data, and am not considered a threat to security. I don’t know if you were hoping to hear from him again. I’m sure he’ll reach out once more when he’s allowed to, but we don’t know how long it will take. Such is the life of a diplomat. The good news is, of course, that we’re finally here in beautiful Australia. It took us a lot longer than we wanted, but as you’ve suspected, the platform doesn’t move all that fast. Plus, there were some tropical storms that we had to detour around. That reminds me, we have not talked about the strange weather we have here thanks to our toxic air that didn’t exist when we were young. The toxic cocktail in our atmosphere makes these events really dangerous. We end up with some bizarre localized particle densities and temperature fluctuations, which make the weather—not entirely unpredictable—but less so than it was just a couple decades ago. As you would imagine, they’re really bad for your health too, even after they’ve dissipated, more so than the air in the area is when it’s just at its regular level of toxicity. Fortunately, we knew what we were up against while we were on our way here, but the environment can change on a dime these days, and we may not be so lucky on our way back out into the open water. We typically stick to very specific regions and routes when we don’t have anywhere particular to be, like we are right now. I know that your atmosphere isn’t breathable, but with a celestial body as large as Vacuus is, you must experience weather of some kind. Could you tell me about that? Do you have emergency protocols, like lockdowns, or escapes into a basement? I guess I don’t even know where your habitat was built, if it’s in a lava tube, or a crater, or what.

Hoping you stay in range forever,

Condor

Microstory 2332: Earth, January 7, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

Yes, Happy New Year, welcome to 2179. I have some good news. The diplomatic discussions that my father was engaged in have finally proven fruitful. They’ve finalized a trade deal. We’re going to get the resources we need to stay afloat (pun intended), which is good, because we’re gonna need them to accommodate the influx of immigrants that we’ll be receiving from the land. We’re headed to Australia right now to pick them up. They didn’t build their dome right by the coastline, since it would have been susceptible to attack there, but it’s not too terribly far away. The roads that they made in the old world are still there, so the trip shouldn’t be too difficult. They have these giant vacuum sealed vehicles that can fit many dozens of people. They’re not amphibious, but we have our own solution here, so people won’t ever have to step foot out into the toxic air. We can drive our boats right up to the shore, and extend the plastic tunnels, which we’ll seal around the entrance of the cars so people can walk right on through without being exposed to the toxic air around them. Right now, we’re on our way across the ocean to reach them. It will take us a few weeks. We couldn’t head that direction until the deal was done, though, or it could have been seen as an act of aggression. For us to assume that they would inevitably agree—and to be ready to act on it immediately—would have been rude, and placed us at an unfair advantage when it comes to future talks. It would be like suggesting that they need us more than we need them. So yeah, that’s where we are. It’s unclear how involved dad and I will be during the immigration period, but we won’t be doing nothing. I may end up going on land to visit the dome there. I hope everything is going well with you in the first two weeks of the year. He needs to know whether he can contact you first, or if you’re going to reach out. Let me know what you would prefer, it’s super your decision. His personal contact card is attached to this message. You can open it, or ignore it and just tell me that you want me to send yours to him instead.

Sincerely,

Condor

Microstory 2324: Vacuus, November 2, 2178

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Dear Condor,

I know that I don’t know you very well, but please don’t try to travel out of your dome. I hope I’m not stepping over the line by asking this of you. It sounds like it’s safe enough in there, and that it’s super dangerous on most of the world. As far as I’m concerned, the answers can wait. I would probably be okay if we never knew what happened between our parents, or why they thought it would be a good idea to separate us at birth. We can’t go back in time to undo it. All we can do now is try to move forward, and become siblings from here on out. That being said, please do keep me updated on his situation. It sounds like his work comes with a lot of risks, not only from traveling through toxic zones, but from dealing with all sorts of different people who are living in different environments, and have different agendas, which may be difficult to parse. As far as what to call him goes, I’ve not even noticed, but I think I’ve used both your and our as well. You can say whatever makes you comfortable. We’re not a hundred percent sure that he’s even our birth father, are we? He may only be the one who raised you, but didn’t make you, in which case, I would hardly call him my dad at all. I think we have to get more information before we can make any judgments on that. I mean, he clearly knows something, or he would have been, like, what the hell are you talking about? when you first asked him about all this stuff. So yeah, I think it probably makes more sense if we think of him as your dad for now. I think that we can safely assume that the woman who raised me is mother to both of us in the biological sense. She has to be my mother, or some protocols here would be different. The infirmary has to have an accurate understanding of my medical history in order to treat me properly, and there would be questions about inheritance and access control. I would know if she had I weren’t related, so she must be related to you too. Unless you’re not related to either of us. You could be catfishing me, for all I know! I’m just joking. I don’t want to get into this whole epistemological argument over what we know, and what we can’t possibly know, because the answer to the second question is literally a profound nothing. What a great way to end a letter.

Happy November,

Corinthia

Microstory 2315: Earth, August 21, 2178

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Dear Corinthia,

I was so pleased to hear from you, I had to write back to you right away. Unfortunately, my father is out of town at the moment, and unreachable. As soon as he gets back online, I’ll write again with a full report on his involvement in this unforgivable betrayal. I don’t want to dismiss your struggles on Vacuus, but things are not all that great here either. I don’t know what kind of updates you receive from Earth, but it has become a harsh and uninviting place in its own right. The air has become poisoned with a cocktail of chemicals created by a number of competing corporations in their attempt to monopolize the world’s food supply. Some were trying to develop perfect environments for their own crops, while others were attacking their competitors, or they were hedging their bets, and doing both. This has left us with a toxic atmosphere that could take decades to clear up, and that’s only assuming the corporations don’t push on, and make things worse. I live in a giant floating dome on the ocean, which is both sealed off from the noxious fumes, and isolated from the Corporate Wars, which have been raging for 18 years now. That is why father is away at the moment. He and the ambassador are trying to negotiate a trade deal with a nearby land dome. They are running out of space, but we are running out of resources. We’re relatively new, and healthy, but I have not always lived here, and I have seen how bad things can get on the outside. So, sister, I’m not so sure that I should count myself the lucky one. We would both die by opening our respective doors, but at least no one did it to you on purpose. Even so, with all that I have been through over the course of the 36 years that you and I have been alive, I know that I am more fortunate than most people here. There are those who do not even have access to one of the domes. They found pockets of technically survivable air in the deepest corners of the planet, so they don’t die in a matter of hours, but their lifespans are quite short when compared to ours. On a personal note, I would like to thank you for reaching out to me. I never would have known that you existed. Father is not the kind of person who would confess something like that, even on his deathbed. He will be taking a number of grudges and secrets to his grave. Again, I’ll write again once I learn more from him. There also might be others here who know what happened, and exactly why.

Your other half,

Condor Sloane

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 23, 2444

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Now that they had tested the refurbished reframe engine from a safe distance, it was time to test it while on board. They would continue to monitor the machine to make sure it held up, but that was something that they did every time they used it. They were just paying extra close attention in case there was a temporal component to the repairs. Perhaps ongoing stress would cause the nanofractures to reopen. They would never be completely safe, but then again, they never were at all in this line of business.

The speed of a ship equipped with this kind of technology was limited to roughly 707 times the speed of light, which means that they would always be able to travel a distance of 707 light years during their interim year. Making it back to the stellar neighborhood would take them 23 years, which for the team, was about three weeks. That was doable, but they were too busy for that. For one, they had to find a place to drop off Korali, and the rest of the staff of Ex-467, who nearly died due to their interference, and would have without their intervention. They needed a new place to live. It had to be nice and safe, but also had the chance of returning them to whatever worlds they originally came from, or just wanted to go to now. Korali said that the space station had a manifest, but she didn’t have a copy of it, because why would she? Perhaps someone in the Subdimensional Crucible happened to have it on them, but they could not interact with those people yet. Not until they were released would that be possible.

“Well, I’m not sure if I should say,” Korali began cryptically.

“Why wouldn’t you say it?”

“It’s dangerous,” Korali answered. “Well, I don’t mean there are monsters running around, or something, but as enemies of the state, you would not be welcomed there.”

“They don’t know who we are,” Ramses reminded them. He transformed himself into the likeness of 20th and 21st century actor, Misha Collins.

“That’s true,” Korali admitted, but she was still reluctant.

“It’s just an idea,” Leona said encouragingly. “We don’t have to take it, but we need to know what it is, so we have our options.”

“It’s Ex-18118,” Korali said.

“That’s not on my list,” Ramses said, pulling his handheld device out to check. “Plus, it breaks the three-digit convention.”

“You probably don’t have Ex-403 or Ex-404 on your list either,” Korali explained. “Wherever you got your intel it was probably from an ordinary citizen. Loyalists like I was have special knowledge. Ex-18118 is for Rest and Relaxation. On the occasion that we’re given leave from our duties, like between assignments, we can take it on Ex-18118. Regular people live there to support our needs, like vendors and sex workers, but the majority of the population are people like me who need a little time off to recharge.”

“So everyone there would hate us if they found out who we were,” Mateo figured.

“Then it’s the perfect place,” Leona decided. “No one will be looking for us. Everyone will literally have their guards down, and if it’s a hub for loyalists, they probably come from all over the Corridor, which means that we shouldn’t have to worry about people wondering why they don’t recognize us.”

“They still may ask you where you’re from,” Korali clarified. “You’ll need to know how to answer that question.” She sighed. “I would recommend Ex-420 or Ex-69. No one will ask any more questions if you say that, not even people who have worked at either of those places. It’s just not something you talk about. You’ll need to know what to wear, and how to act, though.”

Korali showed Ramses where Ex-18118 was. It actually wasn’t too far from Ex-42, which again, no longer mattered. They could cross the span of the entire Goldilocks Corridor in a day from their perspective. Still, they were considering going there next. Before they engaged reframe speeds, she described the Ex-420 uniforms, which literally had an image of a marijuana leaf on them, so that was fun to program into the industrial synthesizers. While those were working, she taught them how 420 staff members behaved, which was odd, to say the least. They were hardened and imposing, but also high all the time, because they were around so much smoke? It was confusing to learn, but it sounded easier than figuring out how to pretend to be Ex-69ers, who were also overserious, but at the same time, too horny to be professional.

While the smart people were discussing the plan with the dimensional box, Mateo pulled Korali aside for a personal conversation. “How do you feel?”

“I’m okay,” Korali answered. “I don’t have any problems with stasis. Some people do, but you use better technology anyway.”

“I don’t mean that, though that is nice to hear. I mean, you’ve been behind enemy lines for a while now. Going down to this planet is your chance to return to your life, but it’s also a chance to...screw us over. If you were planning on doing that, I wouldn’t expect you to warn me, but I feel I would be remiss if I didn’t attempt to ask.”

She smiled softly, and kept looking forward. “In December of 1943, during what your people refer to as World War II, two enemy pilots named Charlie Brown and Franz Stigler encountered each other on the battlefield. Brown’s aircraft was too damaged to continue fighting, but instead of destroying him, Stigler escorted him to safety. Decades later, long after the animosities from the war had passed, the two of them reunited, and became true friends. I don’t know if you and I are going to reunite in 47 years, but I know that I’m going to show you compassion now. You saved those people on the space station when you didn’t have to. I still believe that the Oaksent is a good man, but I no longer believe that you’re not. For now, that’s just going to have to be enough.”

Mateo smiled back. “I understand, and appreciate it.”

Leona came up to them. “We’re ready. Korali, you need to get in your stasis pod. It’s going to be longer than half a day for you this time, and you won’t be allowed out until we let you.”

“I get it,” Korali replied respectfully.

Once the Vellani Ambassador arrived at the outer edge of the system, it turned invisible, and parked itself on a long-period comet. Ramses had programmed the exterior hologram to make them look like a standard recreational shuttle from Ex-420, but they didn’t want anyone to find it during their interim year, regardless of what it looked like. When they returned to the timestream in 2444, they released Korali from her stasis pod to go over the plan one more time, and then they got dressed, and began to cover the rest of the distance at subfractional speeds.

Their reputation preceded them, even though no one knew who they were. Just dropping down to the surface of the planet with those three big numbers on the side of their hull practically parted the sea for them. No one asked them for verification, or to register with an intake officer. They could presumably do whatever they wanted here, and no one would try to stop them. One thing they apparently weren’t allowed to do, however, was land in a remote area of the planet. There were satellites and ground stations positioned all around the globe. This was to ensure that no one tried to stay here for the rest of the lives when they were supposed to go back to their work eventually. Besides, that wouldn’t do them any good, because the whole point was to help the survivors of Ex-467 return to those lives. The team was just going to be really far away when that happened. So they did need to be away from the population centers, just not too far away. They couldn’t teleport, though, because that could be tracked.

They stopped at the hotel to check in, which basically involved them showing those three special numbers on the shoulders of their uniforms, and providing the clerk with false names. They spent a couple hours in their suite before claiming to be going on a leisurely stroll in the arboretum. That’s exactly what they did, except that there was nothing leisurely about it. They walked as fast as they could, and even ran a little, though Korali found it difficult to keep up, since her body was not enhanced. Mateo actually carried her part of the way, because they wanted to get really far from anyone else. The survivors would eventually make their way back, but not too quickly.

Several hours later, they were roughly forty kilometers away. They were far enough away, in fact, that no one who suddenly woke up here would have any particular reason to suspect that their best hope of finding civilization lay in the east. This was a good place to drop them off, even though they could have gone farther. The weather was calm here, and the environment felt safe. A beautiful clear pond provided them with a source of freshwater, and Korali said that a lot of these plants were edible. They were looking for a cave to sort of maybe encourage the survivors to dig in for the night, but they were liable to do that either way, which was why they chose to land the Vellani on this side of the planet, because night was falling soon anyway.

“Do you have your story straight?” Leona asked Korali.

“Yes. I managed to get into an escape pod as soon as I heard the alarm go off in the warehouse. I left so quickly that I didn’t even hear the announcement to head for the mess hall. The blastwave of a secondary explosion that the Lucius bomb triggered struck my pod, and knocked me unconscious. I’ve been surviving in stasis ever since until the Oaksent dispatched a rescue team to search for survivors. They ordered me to come here to Ex-18118 to give the survivors one year to rest and recuperate. I then decided that it was best to let them out of the Subdimensional Crucible away from the nearest hotel to avoid inundating them with questions right after they were released.”

“Are you okay with lying?” Marie asked.

“It won’t be my first time,” Korali acknowledged, obviously never intending to elaborate. She carefully took the Crucible from Ramses. It was still in the giant suitcase that they used to conceal it from others. She set it on the ground and opened it up to use the microscope. “They’re all right. They’ll be all right.” She stood back up. “Who knows what’s happened to them, though? They’ve had years to form a new society. Your supply drops have surely helped, but they could be anybody.”

“You know how to contact us,” Leona reminded her.

Korali tapped the comms device secretly implanted behind her ear.

“We’ll see each other again, Mateo said confidently.” He took her in a hug. “Hopefully we won’t have to wait a whole 47 years for it.”

“Agreed. I’ll probably be dead by then.”

They left her alone, and made their way towards the hotel. Running at full speed this time, they were back in less than four hours. They relaunched just before midnight.

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 22, 2443

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With their advanced substrates, the team was capable of surviving any number of harsh environments, but that wasn’t something that they were going to seek out on purpose. It was really only something they should use when they had no other choice, and this wasn’t such a case; it was a test. The reframe engine was ready, but there was still a chance that it would vaporize the whole ship upon initiation of reframe speeds. So they didn’t want to be anywhere near it when they first turned it on. Ramses created an interfacing computer, which would allow him to operate the Vellani Ambassador from Ex-382, where it was safer. It wasn’t safe, per se, because the world itself was dangerous in its own special way, but it was manageable for a period of time since they were staying within the self-contained atmosphere of their pocket dimension, and because they had vacuum suits for excursions.

The entire surface of Ex-382 was a toxic wasteland. No one lived here, and hopefully they never did. They at least didn’t detect any signs of civilization here, except for the piles and piles of garbage. It was all over the place, randomly strewn about. The smell was unbearable, even here at the South Pole, where there wasn’t as much as there was elsewhere. This wasn’t just a planet-wide landfill. They dumped truly dangerous materials here, namely radioactive waste. By the time the ship Extremus was built, fusion power was ubiquitous and unremarkable, which meant that Bronach Oaksent would have been able to utilize it as soon as he went back in time, and began to build his empire in the Goldilocks Corridor. There should be no real reason for him to make any plans that included nuclear fission power plants. It was a perfectly fine alternative for Earth during its developmental years, but when one was starting from scratch, it just didn’t make much sense.

One of the hardest obstacles to overcome when pursuing fusion and antimatter solutions to energy needs was manufacturing the stuff. It didn’t exactly grow on trees. That was why it took so long for these both to be adopted, even when power generation techniques were perfected. Mining fissile elements was not easy, but it was relatively straightforward. Hydrogen was the lightest element in the universe, which was why it literally floated away, making it difficult to capture, and even to store. Still, Oaksent was an immortal who came from the future, and had untold time to formulate his new civilization. Using resources to maintain the infrastructure for nuclear fission production was probably only done as yet another form of control over his people. He didn’t have to use it, but making people labor away in the mines, in the plants, and on the ships that brought all the waste here, was keeping everyone reliant on him, and not letting them be too happy. He didn’t like happy people. That much was clear from whatever psychological profile they could cook up in their collective headcanons. He wasn’t dumping the waste on the planets where people lived at least. That should also be in his profile, that he didn’t want his people to die; not prematurely anyway.

“Ugh, I can still smell it,” Marie noted.

“Switch off your olfactory receptors,” Ramses instructed. He was tweaking the interface system, making sure that he was linked to every single system on board the Ambassador, no matter how small or seemingly inconsequential.

“That...what? That’s something we can do?” she questioned.

“Did no one read the manual?” Ramses asked with a sigh.

“Be careful,” Leona warned Marie, and the rest of the team currently present. Smell is highly linked to breathing, and also serves the evolutionary purpose of alerting you to smells that could lead to death. Don’t keep it off all the time. You may still get sick, and just not know it.”

“So...” Marie pressed.

“You can shut it off right now because of the smell,” Leona allowed. “I would lock up our suits, but we have to keep them close and accessible in case of emergency. Just remember to turn it back on once we live. I’ll remember to clean and disinfect the suits thoroughly later.”

“I’ll do that,” Mateo volunteered. “You have more important concerns to worry over, Captain.”

“Did you guys know that Earth is 70% water? I’ve never seen that much water in my life.” Korali was still reading about Earth from the central archives, and had come to the conclusion that all of these simple facts were not likely to be lies that the team made up in order to brainwash her, but that it was the other way around. They were trying to show her what the galaxy was really like, and even though she had by no means switched sides already, she was starting to accept that some of the things that she was brought up to believe were not entirely—or maybe not at all—accurate.

“Hmm. You’re right,” Mateo realized. “The worlds that we’ve gone to have been mostly barren, with fairly little water. The resort world had the most, but they were nowhere near the levels of Earth from the orbital images that I’m remembering.”

“More control,” Leona guessed. She was spraying an air purifier on their suits to mask some of the terrible smell until they could be fully detailed.

“I’m ready,” Ramses announced. “What about the backup?” Leona asked him.

“It’s been coded, and will only take a year to manufacture,” he answered.”

“The pod is fueled?”

Ramses laughed. “It’s fine. It’ll get us into space. I wouldn’t let us go into this half-prepared.” The dimensional generator was attached to one of the personal pods. These were capable of traveling through a star system in a matter of months, and landing on an orbital, maybe to refuel hydrogen levels, or to manufacture other structures, or just to wait for rescue. They weren’t really designed to launch from the surface of a massive terrestrial planet, but they were technically capable of it. It would use nearly its entire reserve of isotopes to make it happen, but it was better than staying here if the Vellani Ambassador was destroyed during the test. Ramses planned to install teleporters on them, but that would also require temporal batteries or something, because they didn’t use any less fusion power than the rocket equation demanded for a regular launch, so it wasn’t like that solved the problem. Hopefully, the test of the reframe engine would go perfectly, and none of this would matter.

“I appreciate all of your hard work,” Leona told him. “It does not go unnoticed. Go ahead and start the countdown.”

Ramses switched on all of the camera feeds, including the satellite that they had dropped out to watch the event from the outside. He started counting down from eleven, hovering his hand over the button. Everyone held their breath, including Korali, who managed to peel herself away from her studies long enough to bear witness. “Three, two, one, max.”

The ship disappeared in a flash of light. They all looked at the other views now, which were coming in from the interior. The bridge looked perfectly normal, and was completely intact. The corridors and rooms were all still fine. The camera from the engine room was a problem at first, which prevented everyone from exhaling. It was showing them snow for the first several seconds until the spatio-temporal distortion resettled, and the image returned to normal. The engine was holding as it was meant to. It was vibrating at an incredibly high frequency; so high, in fact, that it was imperceptible to human vision, even with these advanced eyes that they had. If the ship was going to vaporize, it should have done it by now due to the immense stress that these intense oscillations were causing the machine to experience. Still, they wanted to be sure that the nanosealant was permanent, and not merely holding temporarily.

For the next three hours, the Ambassador flew away from them, managing to make it out about 15,000 astronomical units. The engine then shut off for an hour while an army of microbots spread all over the engine to check for nanofractures. Leona knew exactly where the original ruptures were. If the bots found these to have returned, the smart ones here would know that the sealant hadn’t fully worked. If they found new ruptures, that would tell them that there was some kind of systemic issue that might not be repairable by what they had, or by any efforts at all. By this time, most of the group had begun to breathe again. Mateo and Marie occupied their time teaching Korali how to play RPS 101 Plus. Ramses worked on other projects while he kept an eye on the quantum data coming through from the diagnostics. Leona proverbially held her breath the whole time as she focused on nothing but the data. It was her only concern. If this wasn’t successful, they could build a new ship, but their plan to free the people of the Corridor from its despot would have to be placed on hold indefinitely until they regathered resources.

“How’s it lookin’?” Marie asked after their game was over, and Mateo’s sponge was finally too bigged by her wall.

“I think we’ll be safe. We’ll know in another four hours,” Leona answered. The ship would make the three-hour trip back here, and then go through the whole diagnostic process all over again. Only then could they leave for their next stop.

“Good,” Mateo decided, still bitter about losing the game. “I’m ready to go.”

“Did y’all know that something called a cow has four stomachs?” Korali asked.

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