Microstory 2495: Kingdom of Aksum

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I won’t get into too many historical details, because if you’re interested in such information, you would probably prefer to hear it on the tour, and if this stuff bores you, I doubt there’s anything I could say to change your mind. The Kingdom of Aksum existed between the first and seventh centuries in the common era. It was a powerful and meaningful region of international trade at the time. In fact, they relied so heavily on being in the center of everything that, when power shifted to other cultures, Aksum couldn’t keep up. Spoiler alert, they ultimately collapsed over the course of many years due to emigration to more fertile lands, war, and plague. All the usual suspects. Unlike other civilizations, however, you can’t really point to a single event, or even a short period of time, which served as the turning point. It just gradually declined in importance. Its ancestors are still alive today, whether or not they are aware of, or place any significant emphasis, on this long-forgotten heritage. There is a lot that we don’t know about life in the Kingdom, and of course, it changed over the centuries. The lands where it once stood are still there, and I believe there are a few arcologies in the region still. The memory of it, however, has unfortunately faded, and that’s thanks to a much stronger focus on European culture and history. For many of our ancestors, the nations of Africa were backwards, uncultured, and irrelevant. How many were there who didn’t know—or couldn’t admit—that various regions of Africa served as both the seed of human life, and the heart of civilization? We’re all from there, and so I would argue that the Kingdom of Aksum is everyone’s story. In the spirit of this reality, I urge you to educate yourself on its history, even if it doesn’t mean going to visit this dome. I still definitely recommend coming here. It’s a great replica of what the region would have looked like back then. You can’t find it in the simulations. Trust me, I checked the virtual stacks. It’s not that it wouldn’t be possible, but people are more concerned with replicating the Firefly / Serenity star system, and The Flying Forest, which is just a regular forest where you feel intoxicated. I shouldn’t judge. I should just be grateful that it exists in any form. I learned so much here, and I know you will too if you just give it a chance.

Microstory 2382: Earth, October 31, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

I’m sure that my son has already informed you, but I was recently on a trip to Eastern Seaboard, which if you don’t know, is a city-state in the former United States of America. I was taking part in very early negotiations for future possible trade deals. The platform is still circumnavigating the continent of Australia, even though our initial required proximity period has passed. We ended up extending that another four months after some people from other Australian domes began to express interest in moving here. We currently don’t know where we’ll go after this, but it’s always good to have your options open, and it’s not like we have to float over to a trading partner in order to trade with them. That’s what jets are for. So I went out there for my work, but I was also doing something else. After investigating my own past, and reaching out to my contacts, I discovered that an old friend of ours from before the collapse of society—or, I guess it was kind of during it—was living there. I couldn’t pinpoint his exact location remotely, or find his contact information, so I decided to fly up there to look for him myself. And wouldn’t you know it, I found him. I told you that I wouldn’t send you another message until I had a solid update for you, so I hope this qualifies. I confronted Gunnar about his motivations back then after we started catching up, and felt like he was being rather evasive. He seemed to have mixed feelings about seeing me again, like he was happy, but also pretty worried. In my head, I thought for sure this was the guy. He knew something. He was part of it. He was Condor’s secret observer. As it turns out, not exactly. When we met, he was genuinely trying to be my friend. He didn’t even like sports or outdoorsy stuff either; he just figured that I did, because they were very common hobbies, and he was desperately trying to connect. The reason he approached me in the first place was because he had social anxiety, and his therapist recommended he intentionally step out of his comfort zone, and try his hand at small talk, explaining that the worst that could happen was an awkward conversation that ended quickly. I felt really bad about accusing him of something nefarious but then he admitted that he was once contacted by a mysterious someone, asking him to keep tabs on us; Condor in particular. Out of fear, he actually agreed to do it, but he fed this stranger false information. He would just straight up lie about how Condor was doing, and how his personality was developing. He didn’t know if this was the right thing to do, or if he should have refused entirely. He wasn’t sure if he should have told me what was going on either. He always regretted not speaking up, though, and was grateful for the opportunity recently. Except for the first one, Gunnar recorded every conversation he had with this other man, who never gave him his name. Gunnar kept these recordings all this time, so he was able to give me copies of them. I’ve put in a request to the forensics specialists to have them analyzed, and will update you again if and when they find something. We’re getting closer, Cori. We’re gonna find out who did this to you. To us.

Your distant but doting father,

Pascal

Microstory 2377: Earth, October 20, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

I have indeed been appreciating the health updates. You’ll notice that I started sending you mine too. If you would rather not receive them, though, just let me know. I can’t remember if you get charged for incoming messages, or what. Speaking of which, I did send one to Velia. I’m sure she’s told you about that, though. I talked a lot about clothes, because that’s all I really know about her. It’s nice to know that she’s been there for you since I can’t, and never could. I’m glad that you’re back to your normal self. Our conversations have been pretty negative lately because of it, and that’s all my fault. If you want to be more positive, we can move on to lighter topics. I still want to make sure that you’re doing okay, but I’ve let go of some of my anger about the whole thing, and I won’t harp on it anymore. I’ll let you take the lead on it. I will tell you that dad is going on a trip. He says that it’s for his job, but what he doesn’t realize is that, as his assistant, I have access to his travel forms. He used the code for new trade opportunities. He really shouldn’t be looking for those since we’re preoccupied with Australia at the moment, and it wouldn’t make any sense for him to fly all the way to Eastern Seaboard, U.S.A. while we’re down under. He’s obviously on the hunt for our old neighbor, and while he hasn’t admitted that he’s found the guy’s current location, I’m sure that that’s where he’s going. I guess we’ll know eventually whether he uncovered new information about our pasts, or didn’t. Don’t worry, he’s not breaking any laws or policies by traveling for personal reasons. As long as he does some work out there—talking to producers, vendors, and other domes—he’ll be fine. This isn’t the first time he’s caught up with old contacts, and our superiors are fully aware of how it works. It’s all about networking, so almost nothing is off limits unless he just lounges on a beach, or something. Last bit of news, I received a message—not from my nurse from when I was a kid—but her office manager. He said that she’s presently incommunicado in a really dangerous territory, trying to save lives. He hasn’t relayed my letter yet, but once she returns, he’s sure that she’ll want to talk to me. If this were an emergency, he would try to get through to her, but this isn’t a rush, so I’m just going to have to be patient.

Home alone,

Condor

Microstory 2375: Vacuus, October 13, 2179

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Dear Condor,

I trust that you’ve been getting my daily health updates. I think that’s all I’m going to do, just forward my morning vital stats. It’s a lot easier, and the system is already set up for it. Of course, the feature is typically meant for patients to update their doctors, but if it makes you feel better, then I can do it. Yes, I do have other people to help me when I’m having trouble, be it with my health, or anything else. Like I was saying, it takes a village, and we’re a tight-knit group here. Some are closer than others. Some have more friends than me, but overall, I feel like I could count on just about anyone on this base. I’ve been reading about it, and other colonies are facing similar issues, living in these controlled environments. People don’t ever get just a little sick, so when something happens, it runs rampant. No one knows what the solution might be, though I’m guessing that your domes make things a little safer. If you have plant life growing in them, you have bacteria growing on them. All those variables are making illness a real concern, but hopefully, a manageable one. I have been taking vitamins my whole life, which include more than one immunity booster, so that’s always helped me. It’s probably part of what staved the disease off for as long as it had been. Anyway, I’m okay now. Bray has been great, and if you don’t know how to interpret vital sign trends, I’m back to the way I used to be before all this. It was a scare, but I think I can safely say that I’m out of the woods now. You’re right, testing twins for this sort of thing could be a good idea if it weren’t horrific, and we probably weren’t the first to think of it. I’m sure our observers did too. I bet they were indeed studying the physiological differences between us, living in vastly  different environments, or at least they were trying to. We’ve mentioned that it makes little sense, trying to study anything in fraternal twins, but whatever. It’s over now, and we don’t have to worry about those people anymore. I hope you took my advice, and sent a message to Velia. I know that she’s looking forward to it.

Ta-ta for now,

Corinthia

Microstory 2374: Earth, October 7, 2179

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Dear Velia,

My twin sister, Corinthia gave me your contact card. She’s talked about you a little. You’re the one who made the matching outfits that we all wore to our interplanetary birthday party, right? I know you read my open letter to the base, but if you want to talk and get to know each other personally, here’s how you can reach me. Tell me about yourself. I don’t have that much experience with what you do, and have never met anyone with your job. Things are a little different here on Earth these days, but I think they’re becoming more like they are on Vacuus, now that society is coming back. We have garment fabricators like you here, but it was a change for me, wearing new clothes. In the past, when we needed replacements, we had to trade for them at whatever market we came across, or even scavenge them from the ruins of the old world. It’s not really something I thought about a whole lot growing up. We were just trying to survive, and as long as you were protected from the elements, that would have to be good enough. If you were in the midst of the toxic fumes, it really didn’t matter what you were wearing unless it was a hazmat suit, because you weren’t going to make it out there for long. Also, when we were busy traveling the world, we were limited to how much we could carry, which was par for the course for a lot of people at the time, certainly everyone we were dealing with. In some instances, it was a rule based on who you were with, and in others, it was a practical necessity to stay light and unburdened by too many belongings. I’ve only recently begun to collect personal possessions. It just wasn’t worth it before, when I was on the road, and in the air. Before we came to this platform, I only had a few shirts and a couple of pairs of pants. Socks and undergarments were the most precious due to their heavy impact on hygiene. I’m sure there’s more to you than your job. You may not even like clothes. Not everyone gets to work in their preferred field. In case you are into fashion, though, here’s a picture of what I’m wearing today. What do you think?

It’s nice to kind of meet you,

Condor

Microstory 2333: Vacuus, January 15, 2179

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Dear Condor,

That’s great news about the trade deal going through. I would be interested to know more about your floating dome, and how it’s navigated through the waters. It seems like something large enough to fit as many people as you seem to have in your population would move really slowly. As far as dad is concerned, you can give him my contact information. The way I see it, he has to take the first steps to building a relationship with me, not the other way around. If he never sends me a message, then so be it. But I’m not going to write the first letter, and then sit here in anticipation of a reply. Thank you for asking, it was very thoughtful of you, and of him. So yes, go ahead and tell him how to get a hold of me. I don’t know how, uhh, smart he is, but explain the light lag to him too if he doesn’t understand. That may make you laugh, but there are some older people here who don’t get how it works. Which is ridiculous, because they all volunteered for this mission, having been told how difficult it would be to call back to Earth. I mean, even if you’re only a geologist, you’re still an astronaut, and you still need a basic foundation of space science. I dunno. I was a baby when our ship launched. It was a passenger transport, unlike the ships of old, which were only for a crew. That is to say, technically, anyone could have flown on it, with no training whatsoever. That’s how I was, being too young to learn anything. Still, you would think an adult going on the mission would expect themselves to be  better prepared. Sorry, I’m rambling again. I’m just a little nervous. I just know that, after I send this message, the next one could be coming from you, or from our father. Don’t take that as hesitation, I’ve made my decision, but that’s not going to stop the anxiety. How about this? Why don’t you respond to me first, and then give him my number. That way, I can be a little more prepared. Again, he may not want to reach out at all. You never know what’s going on in someone else’s head. It just might be easier to at least have one last buffer. I would appreciate it.

Congratulations on your new immigrant friends,

Corinthia

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 2316: Earth, August 23, 2178

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Dear Corinthia,

My father had to extend his diplomatic mission, which happens all the time—he had already extended it twice before this—but he calls every time, so I was able to confront him about his involvement in our separation. I would have preferred to speak with him in person, but I didn’t want to waste any more time, because there’s no telling how long this will take. We really need that food and the medical supplies, and they just can’t come to an agreement with our neighbors. I believe that he will make every effort to return as soon as possible, though, as delaying a real talk will only give me more time to hear the truth from you instead. He would have rather gotten ahead of the narrative, but of course, we both know that he had every opportunity to fess up, and never did. In the meantime, I’ve been trying to find anyone who may have known our parents back then, but he and I came to this habitat alone a year ago. So far, no one here has been of much help. I did meet a rather old woman who believes that such awful practices were not unheard of four decades ago, and there’s apparently precedent that goes back even further. Back in the early days of space exploration, there were two famous sets of twins who were studied for comparison. One would go up into space, while the other stayed on the ground. That’s how they learned that low gravity changed the immune system, and even genes. There were other twin studies throughout history, such as when one turned out to be really intelligent, and the other not so much. This old woman thinks that these experiments became more ethical over time, but started to backslide as governments lost control of society, and corporations started being able to make up their own rules. It’s hard to know for sure what I can trust about what this woman says, though, as she’s made some more outrageous claims, like that aliens walk among us, or that she once met an immortal mystic man who was born in the nineteenth century. Anyway, I’m quite curious to know more about how Vacuus works. I know that it’s quite dangerous to live on an airless world, but what does that do to people? What kind of laws do you have? Would you call them fair and reasonable? I should think that a mission that included a kidnapped baby would be rife with corruption and amorality, but I truly hope that things have changed since then, and you at least feel safe and happy with the people around you. Write back when you can.

Love (I hope it’s okay to say that),

Condor Sloane

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: November 21, 2398

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In the main sequence, the concept of international waters was determined by a bunch of people a long time ago who talked about it for a long time, and used math to make clear and mostly unequivocal calculations. In The Third Rail, things went a little bit differently. For much of human history, if one could see land using a normal handheld spyglass, they were floating within territorial waters, and subject to that state’s laws and customs. When two or more states could be viewed from the same point, those states had to come to some kind of agreement, not subject to any outsider’s opinion or authority on the matter. World War I in the 1850s predominantly concerned how boundaries were divided, and who was entitled to what land resources. Each dispute inspired two more fronts to pop up elsewhere, and settle their own grievances. Pretty soon, the whole planet was on fire. The end of The Terrible War—as it was known colloquially, especially at the time—was when all of the major disagreements had been resolved. It was also when a new definition of transboundary waters was established. Basically, if you could defend it with a naval or coastal force, you could have it.

Since then, smaller wars have been fought over further discord, but they were mostly not tied together, and World War II didn’t begin for another 140 years, which finalized a lot of the lingering border ambiguity through treaties and trade agreements. Much of World War III in the 2040s involved starting the argument over again, but this time regarding airspace, as that was the innovation at the time. These laws have not technically changed over the centuries, but the boundaries have naturally become standardized for the majority of nations. It is strikingly similar to the figure used in the main sequence. There, it’s 370 kilometers. Here, it’s 350 kilometers. Unless you’re talking about Panama, where it’s closer to 900 kilometers.

Jamaica, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, Colombia, and Ecuador do not have international waters to speak of. They only have a small sliver of internal waters, which essentially come down to how far out a small fishing boat can go for a day of work, and still make it back to shore by nightfall. The wars, the peace negotiations, and the trade policies that led to this interesting situation are impossible to explain on a single page, but the details are irrelevant. Marie, Leona, and their SD6 team need to get into Panama, but none of those other countries listed is willing to host them. The closest they can get is a small island chain straddling the equator called Xeros. Overlaying the correspondence map that Leona created onto this reality’s map makes it obvious that in the main sequence, they’re called the Galápagos Islands. There, they were named for the tortoises that call it home. Here, they’re named for the fact that nothing lives here. The fauna, and much of the flora, was decimated so long ago that the history books don’t remember who was responsible, but they did such a good job of it that these are mostly just made of rocks, sand, and a few shrubs here and there. Tourism does not exist. At all. So at least they have some privacy while the diplo team gets their diplomacy on.

“Hey. Hey look.” Doric has been playing games on his tablet in between scanner updates. “I was right. The dot is definitely in the water now, and closer than last time.”

Marie takes it from him. She looks out over the water, even though the dot is still hundreds of kilometers away. “This looks like an escape pattern. Our target is trying to get out of Panama. Piss and gear up. We’re going in.”

Microstory 1567: An Assassin’s City

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Prompt

All of my friends are dead now, and I’m the only assassin left. I’m just waiting to be taken out next.

Botner

I have a high view of the city, and I like to spend time out of my window. However, in this case, I didn’t even see a thing... A nice breeze is blowing by as a gust of wind... There are no screams or fire or anything, yet...I glance around and notice that my balcony door is open, and the light is on in my room. I think to myself for a moment and rush over to my room... I see that my body has disappeared. I sense something of course, but I had never suspected this... I race through the dark building into the grass field where everyone has been getting slaughtered. I throw up all the bodies I see... Bodies of the villagers who have been stabbed, stoned, burned, and who have been eaten alive. And some other stuff. I walk towards the stone monument and begin building a city, and for the first time I do it without killing anyone. In the end, I have an entire town, and have even created an army... This is going to be fun! All it takes is one round to read it, but I took my time to enjoy it. It sounds a little bland but it is a fun read anyway. It is quite a tale and I look forward to the next installment. This is a different style of writing than anything I have...

Conclusion

...seen before, and it’s slowly becoming my favorite. Still, I have so much work to do, so I put the book down, and get back to it. I crawl back into my body, and head for the town square. The city is holding a parade in honor of me, to thank me for building their city without killing people. I don’t want to go, because that’s not my kind of thing, but I’m obligated, because this is actually more about them than me. I sit there waving, and pretend to smile, and let them applaud me. When the celebration is over, I decide that my time here is as well. I must leave now, and let these people thrive on their own. I am designer and creator; not god and ruler. Perhaps I shall make a new city after this, which can trade with my first one, and they can teach each other new ways of living happy. I did this to protect myself against the rival assassin team, but that was centuries ago, and I don’t think I have to worry about them anymore. I slip away without telling anyone, and hope that my people do not feel abandoned. I hope they understand that this is what’s best for them now. As I’m crossing the outer border, I take one last look at what I have created, and smile for real, full of love and peace. A paralytic arrow comes out of nowhere, and strikes me in the back. I’m about to fall, but my archnemesis catches me, and forces me to watch as his sons and daughters burn my beloved city to the ground. Then, and only then...does he cut off my head, and let me die.

Microstory 1442: The Interstitial Chaos

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The world was in ruins after the end of the war with the monsters. Not very many people died when you really do the math, and consider all the destruction that occurred. Still, the government was gone, and their protectors were gone. No one knew what ever happened to the source mages. Many believed they were locked away safely in their hidden pocket dimension, but no one had the ability to go up there and check. The majority of the town mages were still around, but they no longer had powers. Jayde Kovac had successfully sucked up nearly all temporal energy, and used it to defeat the time monsters. Had she not succeeded, all would have been lost, because though some of the monsters did manage to survive, they were few and far between, and it seemed they kind of now understood that there was nothing more they could do. They attacked every once in a while over the course of the next several decades, but for the most part, they remained in the remotest parts of the planet, and didn’t bother anyone. For four years, the Durune humans survived, but they were no longer a cohesive civilization. While it would come to be known as the Interstitial Chaos, the survivors didn’t initially call it anything. It wasn’t considered chaos until later, when history reflected on how life was at the time. In reality, it was a recovery period, where there was no government, but people still worked to rebuild, and find their purpose in a world without monsters or mages. Besides the military establishments, which once sat closest to the monster portal ring, none of the towns were completely destroyed. Enough of each was left standing to justify repairing the buildings, but they would never return to their former glory. People stuck to their respective towns for the most part—excepting those who couldn’t—though they did conduct the occasional trading. Hidden Depths had good mushrooms, and Hardtland good fruits, for instance. Not every town could survive, though. Distante Remoto was left almost completely standing, but they had relied on time powers for their resources, which no longer existed. The people from there headed out, and found homes elsewhere, but they brought a lot of their building material with them, so they were at least contributing something. Peak Valley also fared pretty well, because they too were harder to access, and their enemies simply never had enough time for more than one attack. Their pipeline was damaged, but not beyond repair. There were no internal conflicts, really; at least nothing major. If someone took something from you, you either took it back, or took from someone else. This sounds like it would only lead to true chaos, but the chain always eventually broke, as soon as someone was robbed who just didn’t care anymore. What the people living during this time didn’t realize was that things could indeed get worse from here. They were absolutely not at their lowest. That wouldn’t come until their greatest hope became their worst nightmare.

Microstory 1430: Hidden Depths

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If Fort Frontline was designed to protect the Durune humans from the monsters by standing before them, Hidden Depths was designed to hide themselves away. Watershed was a fairly difficult place to navigate. It was the only place with fresh water, but getting to it required climbing over rocks, and negotiating other impediments. While Parade was built as close to it as a surface town could be, while still on dry land, it wasn’t technically the closest place, full stop. Watershed was located at the bottom of a foothill that was up against a small mountain range. On the other side of the hill was a valley. This valley received none of the water from Watershed, and none of the seeds that were still being randomly transported there from Earth. So it was a lifeless place, rocky and dirty, and unfit for settlement. Unless that was exactly what you wanted. With a little bit of tunneling, water could be sent to this location. People had just never thought to do it before, because there was little point, but when the sixth town was first being conceived, they decided it was time to change that. They figured that the time monsters would not be able to find them there, precisely because it was so remote. Just because it didn’t look like a logical place to find humans to attack, didn’t mean they couldn’t be there. The workers dug that tunnel from Watershed to pipe water directly to them, and they built more tunnels for living spaces. They used their water source to irrigate hydroponic gardens, and slept in their underground bunkers. They were like a true group of survivalists. Other people thought they were weird for wanting to do this, but it made perfect sense to them. Doomsday preppers on Earth were all waiting for the world to end, and the residents of Hidden Depths determined that this was exactly what had happened. They were trapped on a mostly dead planet, faced relentless attackers daily, and technological advancement had all but been halted. If that wasn’t an apocalypse, they didn’t know what everyone else was waiting for.

Travel to and from was restricted. They had no reason to believe monsters were capable of surveilling them, but if the people living there wanted to stay hidden, it seemed a little weird to make that more difficult. Visitors weren’t illegal, just limited. If someone did want to see what Hidden Depths looked like, they had to go there with a very specific mage, who was capable of camouflaging a small area with his time powers. Basically, what she did was show any outside observer what a given spot looked like when she and her group weren’t standing there. That made them effectively invisible, so if a monster ever did try to find the location of the sixth town, they wouldn’t be able to follow anyone there. Hidden Depths was completely self-sustainable, and did not interact much with the other towns. They didn’t hate the others, and the others didn’t hate them, but their values were too misaligned to justify taking part in a lot of trade, or the same celebratory events. Mages protected this new town, but there were fewer of them, and since the word border had to be replaced with the term above ground in their case, they didn’t really patrol. They just kept themselves available, in case anything went wrong. They were more successful than anyone else in their mission. In the three decades they were around before the Monster War finally ended, they were not attacked even once. And when the Mage Protectorate fell immediately afterwards, they were the only ones truly prepared to thrive during the Interstitial Chaos that followed.

Microstory 1281: The Little Fish and the Big Net

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There was a fisherman who was proud of his work. He did not care to go to the market and purchase the tools he needed for his trade. When the seas were too dangerous, or when he just wasn’t up for going out on the water, he liked to sit in his cabin, and create his own tools. He carved his own fishing rods, strung his own fishing lines, and even weaved his own net. He was so proud of his net that he couldn’t wait to go back out there, and give it a try. He dropped it in the water, and dragged it along to pick up as many fish as he possibly could. Now, the fish he caught were large, which were great, but he noticed that a great many smaller fish escaped his clutches. He was not happy with this. He wanted to get all the fish he possibly could, so he went back home, and started weaving a new net. He made it as tight as he possibly could, so barely a drop of water could pass through. “No fish will escape me now,” the fisherman said after months and months of working on it tirelessly. He dropped it in the water, and scooped up a hefty haul. When he took his catch to the market, he noticed that people were still only buying the larger fish from him. “Why don’t you take some of these instead?” he would ask. They always answered the same, that there was not enough meat for them to get anything out of those tiny little fish. “But I worked so much harder to get these ones,” he complained. It didn’t matter. His efforts were not just pointless, but counterproductive. Had he only focused on gathering the fish he would be able to sell, he would have been able to catch more than one school. No one cared how much effort he put into his profession; only the results of those efforts. They would have been just as happy with the larger net.

This story was inspired by, and revised from, an Aesop Fable called The Fisherman and His Nets.

Microstory 958: The Spirit of Exploration

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A few years ago, my parents sat me down with my sister and asked if we would be okay if we all stopped giving gifts to each other for things like birthdays and Christmas. They argued that we valued experiences over material objects. This was something I had sort of been lobbying for for years. I tried asking for presents when I was younger, but as I matured, it started making me feel not so good. They ended up having to guess what I might want, and it took them quite a while to really catch onto the fact that I legitimately didn’t want anything. An unfortunate side effect to this is that I’m terrible at giving gifts to others, because those aren’t the kinds of things I think about. My computer and phone are important to me, because they give me access to the world, and the only thing better than that is the actual world. Besides my family itself, travel is the most important thing to me, and I wish terribly that I could do it more. I want to go to all the places, and see all the things. I want to visit every country, and every continent, and every planet in the solar system, and beyond. This urge to explore is not a unique trait of mine. It’s human nature to be curious and exploratory. Perhaps there is an evolutionary reason for this. For the majority of human history, we have been nomadic. Even after beginning to domesticate animals, and build farms, a lot of cultures were still exhausting resources in one location, and moving onto the next. Even centuries after developing settled civilizations, we continued to reach out and search for other places. Sure, we were looking for better trade routes, and  foods or medicines we didn’t know about, or maybe even the fountain of youth, but that isn’t all. We wanted to see what was out there, and we continue this tradition today. We built vessels that go into space, and then ones that could land on the moon. Then we went turned our eyes to the inner planets, and the solar system as a whole. Now we’re trying to figure out how we could send a probe to another star, which would be a massive achievement. But while space may be the final frontier, it is not the only one we’ve not checked off on our list. Other scientists are researching the depths of the oceans. Others are studying the brain; some on a neurological level, others on a psychological and emotion one. We’re looking back at our history, and planning for the future, and that is all part of the spirit of exploration. All this is because the true purpose of exploration is learning. We crave to know the unknown, and I believe strongly that this sentiment is far more powerful than our fear of it. So raise a glass of a nonalcoholic drink, and let’s make a toast. To Ida Reyer and Stephen Hawking. Jacques Cousteau and Marie Curie. Alan Turing, Gregor Mendel, Rachel Carson, Simone de Beauvoir, Cheryl Strayed, Grace Hopper, Katherine Goble Johnson, Dorothy Vaughan, Mary Jackson, and Sally Ride.

Microstory 886: Fish Out of Water

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I’ve always been fascinated with the past. History was, by far, my favorite subject in school, and I never really liked learning about anything else, except in the context of history. I even taught myself Old English, just for the hell of it. I guess someone upstairs was paying attention, because I woke up one morning on the ground, and it was the middle ages. At first, I thought I was the victim of a practical joke. I couldn’t have known right away that I had traveled through time. I thought I was just left in the middle of the woods. Then I thought maybe I was at some weird renaissance faire without the Renaissance. I eventually realized that this had to be the past, because the kind of architectural structures I was seeing just didn’t exist anymore in my time, and to recreate them would have been prohibitively expensive. The more I walked around, the more I could remember about where I was the last time I was in my own time period. I wasn’t asleep at all, but walking back from the store. This left me with a few provisions, including some healthy snacks, and a vitamin-enhanced flavored water that I drink, because I don’t like regular water, and I don’t drink high fructose corn syrup any more. I would have expected people to look at me funny, because of my modern backpack, and strange garb. They didn’t care, though, because their lives were total crap, and they didn’t have the energy to worry about anyone else. They just kept going with their chores as I passed by, looking for shelter. I found an inn that gave me a room for a few nights in exchange for a box of gluten-free cookies.

After about a day there, I realized that as much as I enjoyed studying the past, I didn’t really like actually being there. Like I said, these people’s lives sucked. Even though they had never heard of video games, or good hygiene, they could recognize that they lacked basic comforts, and of course, this feeling was more acute in me. I went back to the place I woke up, hoping to find a magic coin, or a rift through time and space, or a wizard, but there was nothing. If there was a way back home, I had little hope of finding it. I was thirsty on my way back to the village, so I started drinking the second to last bottle of my flavored water. The first person to really speak to me was a woman who happened to be hunting for truffles. She immediately saw how odd my plastic bottle was, and wanted to know everything about it. I told her that I came from a land of magic and fairies, who had exiled me for being too tall. It was a dumb lie, but people these days are easy to trick. I could be a god in this world, like the wizard of Oz, if I wanted to. Anyway, she asked to have my last bottle, and I gave it to her. It wasn’t like I would be able to go get any more, so I might as well just end it now forever. A couple weeks later, I was completely out of the food I brought back from the future, which meant I could no longer keep my room. I packed up and left to look for work that was reported to be abundant out East. As I was walking back through the woods, the woman I gave my water to walked up to me, like she had been waiting for me to return. She handed me a jug with a wide smile, and asked me to drink. I was surprised to find that it tasted just like my water. She told me she had studied my bottle, and reverse engineered it. She said if I stayed with her, I could have as much as I wanted, whenever I wanted. I asked her how she did that, and how she knew the term reverse engineering. She smiled again. “I’m from the year 1954, and I’ve also been working on a way to get back.”

Microstory 798: Tax Card

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During the 200-year period of chaos, when the galaxy was being claimed by all sorts of people with enough money to reach new planets, tax rates were unpredictable. If you wanted to leave the homeworld, you had to suffer whatever policies the founder of the planet you chose had decided to impose upon you. When the Astral Military Force was established, however, the planets began to conform to certain principles. As time progressed, it became harder and harder to push laws that were significantly different than competitor worlds, because citizens would simply leave for better lives. Across the next few centuries, competition essentially disappeared, with no world having any real advantage over another. Populations leveled off, and planets began to fall into one of a few classes. The sixteen original colonies became hubs for interstellar trade, and bellwethers for best practice, and though there were generally more people on the surface of the primaries at any one time, their respective permanent populations were not much than any other. Reservations were military installments, but all other worlds—secondary, tertiary, quaternary, quinary, and constellation class systems—maintained relatively constant populations, with only slight decreases down the spectrum. Soon after the primary worlds adopted a tax program based on mandatory AMF levies, other worlds followed suit. Whereas most nations on the homeworld long ago used some kind of income-based tax bracketing system, the new worlds utilized a flat tax method. All citizens of the galaxy were required to pay one hundred points to the Astral Military Force, so that the organization could regulate interstellar travel, and protect everyone from war travesties. One hundred additional points were allocated to each planet’s global government, while another third was designated for local governments. While earlier tax plans only required payment from working adults, it was decided that every living citizen was attached to three hundred tax points. Parents usually took responsibility for this burden for their children, though there have been cases of abandonment in order to absolve these parents of the obligation. It is not technically illegal if certain procedures are followed. All in all, it wasn’t the most perfect system conceivable, but it seemed to work for the galaxy...until the galaxy fell, and the remaining leaders turned towards a more every world for itself mentality.

Microstory 745: Conclusion

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The wandering child removed the last canister from his head, surprised that he did not have to gasp for breath. Though his head had been in the canister for over fifteen minutes, watching this woman’s life story being told, he never ran out of oxygen. The canister had protected him through his faith in the process. It was then he realized what the fish woman did not tell him. The canisters were always meant for him, which explained their size. No one was destined to complete this quest but him. This last one was puzzling, though, and he doubted whether he would get it right. All other stories were that of moral lessons. They taught him to empathize with others, that you get out of life what you put into it. They taught him how to deal with others, to be sensitive to their needs, and to work together towards common goals. They taught him to work hard, and never give up. But this one was different. He used the magic communication cup as a reflector, to see that the water from the last canister had not left on him a brilliant shine, like the others had. Furthermore, the sparkle from the rest of the body was beginning to fade. He knew that if he didn’t figure out the final lesson, he would lose everything, and fail at the quest. So he sat on the ground, and meditated. He went back through all the stories, remembering what had happened. He recalled the farmers learning how to grow their crops right, the criminals who became an independent peoples, business owner trying to find employees, and unskilled laborers looking for work. Again, they all taught him how to improve himself, but the last one was teaching him nothing. The small shop owner lived a horrible life, and died not having accomplished anything remarkable. No one remembered her, and for as hard as she worked to please others, she received nothing. People were never particularly nice to her. Nor did they get their comeuppance once her generosity was gone. All signs pointed to the rational conclusion that her actions were fruitless. But that couldn’t be true...could it? No, that’s not the lesson. The lesson is that it doesn’t matter. It’s irrelevant how others treat you, or how you benefit from your own goodness. The only course of action is to be a pleasant and courteous person. This was the hardest truth to accept, because there is no fulfillment in it. Still, it must be so. If no one else is good, you can at least take comfort that one such person exists. The shop owner was the greatest hero of all, not despite achieving nothing, but because of it. She experienced so much hardship. Nevertheless...she persisted.

Microstory 744: Credos, Convention Fourteen: Courtesy

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The child removed the penultimate canister from his neck, which was more of a ring, and smiled. He was near the end of his quest, and he was feeling good. The final canister was wide and round, perfectly shaped for a head his size. He was about to place his head inside of it when he realized how unusual that is. “The quest should be availed to all, so why is this one so small?” he asked the fish woman through the magic communication cup. “No one has gotten this far,” she answered. “The canisters know when a lesson has been truly learned. You are the first and only to understand what the stories are trying to tell you.” “That does not explain the size of this canister”, the now nearly fully-glowing child said. “The stories are long,” she replied. “You will have to hold your breath for a good while to finish this last one.” “That’s not what I asked,” he complained. “I will not give you what you ask for. You must experience it for yourself.” Seeing that he would not get a straight answer out of her, the wandering child took as deep of a breath as possible, and stuck his head into the canister, hoping this story would be quicker than the previous ones. It opened on a small shop owned by one of the nicest women you’ll ever meet. She barely made enough to stay open, and lived modestly on the second floor. This was a general store that sold a number of items that members of the community would need daily, or weekly. She struggled to maintain the business, but was dedicated to her policy of not refusing any business. If someone came in without the ability to pay full price, she would still sell it to them, at whatever cost they could afford. If someone came in with no money at all, she would give it to them for free. Her reputation was well known in the county, and people took advantage of this kindness, allowing the shopto stay open by the occasional kindness of a rich customer, who paid a little extra, and offset the overhead costs. Still, the shop owner could afford very little for herself. She had bedding that she laid upon the floor, but no bed. She had two chairs, one of which she had to use as a table. She scavenged food from nearby dumpster, and walked far away to bathe herself in a stream, because she did not have running water. Still her business stayed open, but this was about to change. A store opened across the street that ultimately forced her to close for good, because she could not compete. Though people knew they could purchase items from her for cheap, they could find so many more products at this larger store, and that was far more convenient. Eventually, people stopped entering her shop altogether, and that was that. She died just as he was born...with nothing.

Microstory 743: Credos, Convention Thirteen: Compromise, Chapter Two

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Now that the kingdoms have converged into one nation, they were powerful and significant enough to enter the global market. Their technologies advanced enough for them to reach other lands, and people were taking notice. Time continued, and they began to solidify themselves as a major player in the grander economy. They had become incredibly self-sufficient, but the time for that was nearing its end. There were things that they needed from others, and as luck would have it, there were things others needed that only they could supply. One of their more popular exports was a special type of hybrid crop that provided consumers with nutritional value surpassed by no other. So many people wanted this crop that they didn’t have enough to go around. This was causing some problems with their allied nations, for everyone felt they had some entitlement to exclusive, or near-exclusive, pick of the crop. To the leaders of the kingdom nation, they had three choices. They could trade the crops with their most powerful allies; ones that could benefit their own need of certain imports the most, but this threatened war with those who lost out on the opportunities. They could try and spread the wealth across all trading partners, but that would leave everyone in wanting, and no one would be truly content. Their last, and most terrible option, was to simply keep the crops for themselves, and try to deal in only other exports. But a descendant of the queen who first brought all five kingdoms together had another idea. She decided that, instead of simply exporting the crops to the consumers, they should provide the seeds, and teach them the best way to plant them. This came out a far lower price, and they lost their indispensability amongst the other nations, but it had far-reaching implications for the future. They became the most powerful nation in the world, not because they had something others needed, but because they were seen to be trusted. Their willingness to compromise their control over the market actually acted to sustain that control through policy and mediation of global negotiations.