Microstory 2779: Nearly Everyone Dies

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Omni Flash 1.1

Jande Ter Avest wakes up and yawns, louder than he wanted to, which serves to wake up his wives. They were going to have to wake up soon enough anyway, though, so it’s fine. He rolls over and gives Evers a kiss, then lifts himself up and over her to kiss Suki. Second Autumn is coming to a close, so it’s the first morning that it’s still dark out when it’s time to get to work. He starts to leave the house as he is, as he normally does.

“Jan,” Evers says. It doesn’t even look like her eyes are open. “You need clothes.”

“It’s not cold enough, I’ll be fine,” Jande assures her.

“Put on clothes,” Evers reiterates. She’s still drowsy and annoyed.

“Put on clothes,” Suki echoes.

“Put on clothes, put on clothes, put on clothes.” They know he hates chanting.

“Fine, fine. I’m putting on my clothes,” Jande reluctantly agrees. “God.”

“Yay,” Suki replies as she buries her face in her pillow.

“Yay,” Evers concurs, just as exhausted and grumpy.

Jande does as they ask, then goes outside. He can never admit that they were right. It is unseasonably cold already. He didn’t bother to check the forecast, but they must have. He ends up stepping back inside real quick to grab a coat too.

He shivers as he’s walking towards the barn. Across the way, he sees his sister walking towards it from her own house. Her pet uquirapod is waddling alongside her. They wave to each other and smile, but don’t speak. It’s too early to speak. He doesn’t hate his life, but he doesn’t love it either. One day, when his parents’ bodies are old enough, they’ll retire, and it will be up to him and Laise to carry on the legacy.

As long as Laise doesn’t run off to find her own way, Jande’s workload will only double, and if he doesn’t have kids eventually, it could last indefinitely. He doesn’t mind doing it for the duration of a legal lifetime if it makes his family happy. He has his whole immortality ahead of him, which he can spend doing whatever he wants. It’s not that hard of a job anyway, it’s just kind of silly to him. One day he’ll look back, and this will only be a blip. His mind lives in that future. He thinks Laise’s mind does too.

She holds the door open for him, and they both walk in. Their father is leaning back in his chair, fast asleep. If he’s not careful, he’ll tip over and fall on his head.

When Laise clears her throat, Father is startled awake. He instantly looks up at the two of them, and says, “you’re late!” like he had the complaint in the chamber.

Laise gets on her knees and rests her hand on Father’s knee. “It’s time, Father. It’s time for you to leave this body behind, and move on.”

Father winces and looks down at himself. “I’m still young enough to beat you.”

“Beat me in what?” Laise asks him with a chortle.

“Name a challenge. A foot race, a milking race; whatever you want,” Father urges.

Laise smiles at him. “You’ve been doing this for a hundred and ten years. You suffered through a lot of harsh winters, and if we’re being honest, your body wasn’t designed perfectly. There is no shame in retiring early. You’ll head west and start a new life. We can take it from here, we promise. Mother wants to be done too, I know it.”

Father shakes his head. “Neither of you married invested workers. You underestimate how hard this job is. You will not be able to handle it just between the two of you. Our way of life must be upheld. You both need to find new partners.”

“We married for love, Father,” Jande explains. “They still help, they just also do other things with their lives. That’s what I love about Evers and Suki.”

“That’s why I love Adora,” Laise agrees. “Our generation doesn’t believe in hard work simply for the sake of it, but that doesn’t mean we’re not committed. It’s no secret that we plan on integrating slightly more technology into the processes. Father, you have not tried to dissuade us from this. We’ll still be farmers, just more modern ones. Holding on for ten more years will not preserve tradition, it will just make your joints achy.” She gently removes the tablet from his hands. “Why don’t you let me handle assignments today? You go take a nap to sleep on it.” She looks down at the device. “Jande, you’re on eyren duty. I’m doing carrots and parbread.”

“Oh, I thought I was gonna do carrots,” Jande says. “Evers was asking to learn more about eyren harvesting, but I told her she could sleep in today.”

“Go ahead and prep the harvesters,” Laise decides. “I’ll get Evers for you.” She looks back at Father again. “Is this okay with you, that I supervise the workers? It’s late in the season, there’s no need for you to get worked up. It’s okay to take a break.”

“Yeah, maybe I’ll take it slow today,” Father relents as he’s yawning.

While Laise is walking across the lawn to Jande’s house, Jande walks over to the shed to retrieve the equipment for harvesting eyren. As he’s loading the supplies on the cart, he sees both of his wives following Laise to the barn. They’re in the middle of a conversation, so he doesn’t interrupt them. He would later wish he had stopped them.

As soon as they step foot inside, the whole barn collapses. Jande does too. He lands on his hands and knees as the gravity pulls him down harder than usual. This happened a couple decades ago, but it was more gradual, and most buildings were reinforced in case it happened again, but they left the barn alone, because it’s just a barn. The shed buckles too and crashes down on top of Jande, pinning him against the soil. It lets up a little bit, but then the ground begins to shake. Jande tries to get up, but his spine has presumably been severed. He tries to crawl out, but he can’t move.

This body is wasted, it’s not going to heal; certainly not in enough time. It hasn’t killed him, so he’s going to have to do it himself. He doesn’t want to transfer his consciousness to a normal backup, though, because they’re too far away. Without telling anyone, Jande programmed a failsafe in his brain, which allows him to jump to the neighbor’s service bot. They are also farmers, but they use more advanced tech to make their lives easier, allowing them to focus more on the crops. Jande closes his eyes and triggers the suicide protocol. Everything goes dark for a few seconds. He’s not sure how long this is going to take, though, because he never tested it.

He doesn’t have to open his eyes again. The image simply renders in front of him. He finds himself carrying two little children in his metallic arms. It’s the neighbor kids. The four parents are running alongside him, trying to get out in the open space while the bidaquakes continue to stir up the ground. Jande looks around. This area is as good as any. The surface is solid, and nothing can fall upon them. Jande sets the kids down. “I must check on the Ter Avests too,” he requests.

“Yes, we’ll be fine, bot,” one of the mothers says. “Go help the community.”

It’s a kilometer away, but this substrate gets him back home in no time. He races into the barn, and starts carefully pulling debris away. Other than his mother, everyone he loves turns up dead, but his sister is the only one who never comes back to life.

Microstory 2777: Fewer Deaths Than It Looks

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Omni Flash 1.1

There’s a knock at the door. Elty Fenstermacher opens it quickly. “Come in, come on, hurry,” he urges. He tugs his friend inside, then looks around to see if anyone is watching. They are. He has to smile and wave at a small group of people gardening against their own abode. The battle may be over, but the war has only begun, and he doesn’t know who he can trust anymore. This is a test...a test of his resolve.

“What did you want to show me, Elty?” Streamer asks. Elty can’t remember what his real name is anymore. Everyone calls him that because he’s the only one in the group who has a digitized brain. He never needed to escape with them. He shouldn’t be a part of the rebellion. But he is, and Elty respects the hell out of him for it.

Elty steps over to the other side of his little lab, and presents the chamber.

“What is it?” Streamer asks him. “A time machine? Please don’t tell me—”

Elty rolls his eyes. “It’s not a time machine. It’s an equilibrium chamber. This is what they use on Varkas Reflex to keep their users in spatial stasis.”

“I don’t understand,” Streamer says. “I went to VR, I never saw this.”

“Well, this is a modified design, and they’ve not always had equilibrium drives,” Elty explains. “When you’re in this, you’re basically floating. Every single square millimeter of your body experiences an equal amount of pressure. They use it because some log in to VR for years at a time, and that comes with health problems.”

“What are you trying to tell me, that you digitized yourself?” Streamer questions.

Elty shakes his head. “I don’t care about VR. I don’t even really care about equilibrium.” He bends down and switches it on. As the power starts running through, he smiles and looks back up at Streamer. “You hear that? You feel it? If you disable the privacy field regulator, the equilibrium stays in the chamber, but the signal jammer escapes. If we install one of these things in every house, the Teaguardians and Bidans can’t spy on us. Nor can anyone else, for that matter. It’s there so users can have private virtual sessions without worrying about someone sneaking in and finding out what they’re doing. We’re gonna use it to live in peace, which is all we’ve ever wanted. I’m not happy that we have to settle for Bida, so if we’re here, let’s make it our own.”

“Hm. That’s interesting,” Streamer notes, but he doesn’t sound enthusiastic.

“I thought you would be more excited,” Elty says. “You’re the one who taught us how to hide our location on Doma Tertia. I just upped our game.”

“Yeah, and I appreciate that,” Streamer agrees. “I just...the Teaguardians agreed to leave us alone. What that Delgado chick did for us in Gatewood was her responsibility, and we’re not at fault for that. We have a good thing here, Elty. I don’t want us to risk that. I’ve kind of given up my anger. Our home was destroyed, and honestly, people have bent over backwards to find a new one for us. This is that, man. Just be happy. Or are you mad because Shimizu left us, which places you in charge, but we don’t need a rebel leader anymore, because we’re not rebels anymore?”

“Don’t make me out to be so petty. I’m just trying to help,” Elty contends. “Something is happening in the sky that they’re not telling us. I’m still trying to figure out what it is, but in the meantime, I’m gonna do what I must to protect us, and our way of life. These people aren’t our heroes. They’re assholes, like everyone else.”

Streamer sighs, and jerks his chin towards the window. “You see those people out there? They still need leadership. Are you gonna step up, and help them settle down once and for all, or are you gonna hole up in here, and tinker with your machines?”

Elty looks through the window. The gardeners are still out there. They’re so bloody happy, it makes him sick. This is not what they wanted. They wanted a planet to call their own. They could have come to Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida right after Proxima Doma fell apart, but they choose to go for something greater. Now they’ve all given up.

As he’s watching them toil away, totally content, they suddenly disappear.

“Whoa,” Streamer exclaims. “Did you see that?”

“Yes,” Elty replies. “It’s happening.” He rushes into the equilibrium chamber. Pushing himself down so there’s enough room for the both of them. “Get in here.”

“Why would I do that?” Streamer questions. “It looks uncomfortable.”

“It is,” Elty yells, “but it’s better than the alternative! Now get in!”

Streamer shakes his head, and misses his chance. The ground shakes. The roof flies off the house and soars into the sky, taking Streamer up with it. The whole house follows suit. All around, Elty can see everything fly away from him as if gravity somehow got turned on its head.

“No!” Elty screams, but it’s futile. In seconds, he’s completely alone on his back. Not a building, not a tree, not another person in sight. Only sky and dirt.

Elty lies there in his pod, scared as all hell to stand up. Not only does he not know what will happen to him if he does, but he doesn’t want to see what has become of his new home. He takes a few deep breaths, however, and decides to muster the courage. He’s not going to be afraid. He’s supposed to be a leader. He stands up and looks around at the devastation. It’s gone. Everything is gone. He can’t even take one step forward, or he’ll die. He survived the impossible, but he was the only one. Someone is going to answer for this. Someone is going to pay. It was probably the Teaguardians again.

Below him is nothing by lava. His equilibrium chamber is floating just above it. It’s getting so freaking hot here. He’s having trouble breathing. The noxious gases are just too much. Wait, this is a life support vessel. It has a self-contained breathing apparatus. He brushes his hand along the sides, looking for the access panel, finding it at the head. He takes out the mask and wraps it over his face.

Now Elty can breathe again, but it doesn’t fix the heat. He reaches over to close the door, but then he remembers that he removed it. He didn’t need the door itself gone, but it was in the way of him modifying the machine to expand the scope of the signal jammer. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. He’s gonna die. Is there some kind of communication system? He gets on his knees and rifles through the emergency panel, but there’s nothing. Because of course there’s nothing. He synthesized the parts from the original specs, and the original specs expect you to install it in a room full of these things, where communication is handled in network. It doesn’t need its own transmitter.

The crater was a massive tragedy for the planet of Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida, but not in terms of lives. One was presumed dead after a headcount proved he missed the emergency teleportation. The second was initially presumed the same, but he was discovered later after the quarantine was lifted a month later. The autopsy showed that he roasted alone on a hovering equilibrium chamber over the lava.

Microstory 2640: Breaking Character

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3.1

After the fight is over, and the good guys have won, men in black emerge to clean up. Mandica gets on the back of Blue Umbra’s motorcycle, and holds on for dear life. They still have these kinds of death machines back on Earth, but she’s never ridden one before, because they are not safe enough. While they’re dashing through a tunnel, she sees both Blue Umbra and Wave Function’s outfits change, as does the coloring on their bikes. Their masks disappear too until they just look like regular people. They continue zipping down the streets until they reach their underground lair. An oldish man is waiting for them at the bottom of the ramp. “Any cleaning to do today?” he asks them.

“Just need a recharge on these.” Wave Function carelessly tosses the apparent servant his sonic weapon cartridges as he’s walking by.

“Rybold is an NPC,” Blue Umbra says to Mandica as Wave Function is plopping down on the recliner, and beginning to play a video game like a typical bro. “He’s been programmed to ignore all mentions of the real world. He thinks he’s our butler, and always does our chores with a smile on his face.”

“A little bit derivative, don’t you think?” That’s the rude, socially awkward Mandica talking again. She doesn’t want to be like that, especially not since she needs something from these people. “Sorry. I don’t spend a lot of time around others anymore. I was a nomad, and my only regular companion was an android, like Rybold.”

“Will the Miss be joining us for dinner?” Rybold asks after he’s placed the cartridges on the charger. “Will she be needing her own room, or sharing one of yours?”

“Undecided,” Blue Umbra answers. She goes over to Wave Function and kicks his legs. “Off the coffee table. We’ve talked about this.”

He blows a raspberry at her.

“He’s not as immature as he’s acting right now,” Blue Umbra explains. “He’s just trying to cool down. It takes him a moment to step out of character, and become more like his real self.” She sits down on the couch, and pats the other side invitingly for Mandica. “So. How long have you been on Castlebourne?”

“About two weeks,” Mandica answers.

“Oh, fresh fish,” Blue Umbra muses.

“I should tell you something else,” Mandica begins nervously. “I wasn’t going to tell anyone, but this is a red dome—”

“I don’t—what is that?” Blue Umbra questions. “Did they institute a color-coding system? I’ve been in-game for fourteen years.”

“Twenty,” Wave Function boasts, hand raised, but still focusing on his game.

“No, that’s just something my friend came up with.” Mandica keeps on hesitating. “I needed that because...I’m human. I mean, I’m a regular human. I’m not enhanced, and I’m not digitized. I die in the Matrix, I die in real life.”

Now Wave Function drops his controller, and looks at her. His character dies and waits for him to trigger respawn. “You shouldn’t be here. Do you know how many times I’ve died? This is my fifth persona. This world has consequences. If someone sees your body die, you have to come back as someone else, if you choose to come back at all.”

“That’s not the point,” Blue Umbra argues. “If she dies, she can’t even come back. She can’t come back anywhere.” She turns back to Mandica. “Why are you here? I didn’t even know people like you could even come to this planet. You would need a ship.”

“I took a ship, yes,” Mandica confirms. “I wanted a real life. I wanted adventure.” She looks around at their lair. “I didn’t want to be having this particular adventure, but as soon as I arrived, I discovered that the choice to travel here wasn’t entirely my own, and I am looking for the person who first piqued my interest about it. I was told that she was here. I don’t know if you ever use real names, but hers is Vanore.”

Blue Umbra and Wave Function exchange a look again. “We’ve never heard of her, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t around here somewhere. It’s a big city.”

Wave Function stands up, and walks towards the other side of the lair.

“Blue Umbra goes on, “we are a duo, and don’t interact much with the others. We don’t dislike each other, but we each walk our own beats, like police officers.”

Wave Function comes back and drops what looks like a photo album on the coffee table in front of Mandica. “These are the heroes.” He drops another album. “These are the villains. We try to stay on separate sides in our personal lives to maintain some level of integrity in the game, so we couldn’t tell you if any villain is a real person.”

Mandica opens both albums at the same time. The first page in each is a collage while the rest are dedicated to each character individually, giving a rundown of their powers and abilities, what’s known of their origin stories, and other basic information.

Blue Umbra points to one of the villains in the collage. “I know her. She’s originally from Proxima Doma. In costume, she is Cardinal Sin, but I can’t remember what her character’s regular name is. Her real name is Jaidia Robbins. I know where she works during the day. She’s tapped in, so she might know who you’re looking for.”

Mandica winces. “Why would anyone pretend to be a bad guy? Don’t they feel bad? I mean, I know most people are NPCs, and any who aren’t will just transfer back to their real bodies, but it just seems so...”

“Pathological?” Blue Umbra guesses. “To each their own. We try not to judge.”

“Have you ever fought her?” Mandica presses, but is that important right now?

“A few times, during team-ups. Her main rival is the Ravensgate Rescuer.” She points to a woman wearing a revealing black outfit in the heroes album. “They’re both at the top of the food chain in this city. They programmed themselves with the best powers. They really wanted to be the stars.”

“They’re new,” Wave Function says like he doesn’t respect them. “They’ve been here for, what has it been, nine or ten years? They only came to this planet because theirs got blowed up.”

“Wait, for real?” Mandica questions. That doesn’t happen in real life. It never has.

“Yeah,” Blue Umbra agrees. “Tragic. Millions died when Proxima Centauri’s sun flipped poles, and sent a massive CME towards Doma. You were probably on your relativistic trip. They escaped through the quantum network.” She looks over at her partner. “And they got to be where they are because they understand the biotech better than anyone. If you wanted a better body, you should have learned how to build one.”

Wave Function scoffs, and dismisses it with a wave of his hand.

“Anyway,” Blue Umbra continues, “Jaidia tends bar on Tenth, at a place called Merry Wonderment.” She consults her watch. “It’s just about to open, so she’s probably there right now. Rybold can drive you there.”

“Certainly, Miss,” Rybold sustains. “We can take the Starburst, if you would like.”

“Thanks. Thanks for everything. It was nice meeting you two,” Mandica says.

Microstory 2638: He Owns the Air

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3.1

Mandica immediately turns around, and tries to go back down the steps, but they’re gone. A stone barrier has appeared over the stairs a half meter below the surface. It is probably some kind of service entrance designed to be hidden to preserve the integrity of the mythology unfolding under this dome.

“Do not be afraid, I’m not here to hurt you,” the man who calls himself Daedalus claims. Well, he probably is indeed the manifestation of Daedalus in this simulation. He’s a man with functioning wings. “I could have done that a long time ago if I had been so inclined. I would like for us to be friends.”

“How do you know who I am?” Mandica questions. “You’re just a character. You were programmed to follow the script and believe that this is all real.”

“I was programmed to be a genius because the original Daedalus myth wrote him as such,” Daedalus clarifies. “I was programmed a little too well, and grew clever enough to uncover the truth about my own existence. I have ways of reaching beyond the confines of my realm, to the bustling world outside.”

“You still could not have invited me to this dome,” she reasons. “I was intending to go to King Arthur’s world. That’s not myth, that’s legend. I only changed my mind because it was a related recommendation, and since they are not unrelated themes, it was not an unbelievable pairing.”

“True, and I do not claim to have access to the recommendation algorithm on the prospectus, but I knew you would find your way here eventually, because I knew you were interested in this sort of thing. No, my invitation came much earlier, before you even left the real Earth.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Mandica argues. “I first heard about this planet in 2420. Even if you were in beta prior to that—which I’m guessing you were before 2500 —116 years is a long-ass con. I just don’t believe it. Daedalus may be a genius, but he’s not a god. Even the gods here aren’t real gods.”

He chuckles. “True words, but I am the one who got you excited to come here.”

She shakes her head. “I’m not buying it. This lie is too outrageous.”

“Vanore,” he says to her simply.

“What?”

“That was the name of the woman you met on April 1, 2420, was it not? She’s the one who told you about a resort planet that they were paraterraforming a hundred and eight light years away. I believe she called it pillow talk?”

“How do you know that name? How do you know that story? I’ve not thought about her in years. She was like me...unenhanced, so she is long dead.”

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, but I’m not sure that she was as unenhanced as she led you to believe. Vanore isn’t even her real name. She adopted it to trigger your attention, which was my idea; I apologize for the deception.”

“Why? Why do any of this? Don’t try to tell me that I’m some kind of chosen one. That’s not a thing. And I don’t really do YA.”

“As far as I know, you’re not a chosen one. I actually don’t personally have any interest in you, but I owed someone a favor. They wanted you here, I found a way.”

“Who?”

“Your name is Kolar.”

“That has been established, I’m not going to be shocked by it a second time.”

“Their name was Kolar as well. They never told me their first names.”

“Some kind of distant relatives, who I have never met.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that. I’m not here to make your life harder, but I wanted to make contact, because I wanted to warn you. If you are related to these people, it doesn’t mean that you will get along with them. Your values may be far out of alignment, and I decided that you deserved to know, so you could be on the lookout. Others are aware that you’re here, and I cannot attest to their motivations, Mandica.”

“And Vanore? Don’t tell me she’s my relative too. We...did things together.”

He chuckled. “No, I think that she owed your relatives as well. She seemed rather reluctant to participate in this. I didn’t ask why.”

“Well, where is she? Somewhere in here with you? Where are the other Kolars?”

“I have no idea where they are now. They had the means of coming and going as they pleased, much like you, but with the stars. And it has potentially been over a hundred years for them. I do know how special relativity works, even though I’ve never seen the true sky.” He looks up at the hologram above them. It really does look real, but Castlebourne is uninhabitable outside of the domes, so the real sky is ugly. He smiles sadly. “As for Vanore, I may know where she is. She travels to other domes, but we’ve become friends since our joint mission, so she checks in from time to time. Indeed, I’m working under the assumption that she detours back here every time she transitions to a new adventure. Last I heard, she was in Underbelly.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“I don’t really know either, but she knew your family before I did, so she may have a clue of where they might be now.”

Mandica sighs. “I suppose I owe you for all this information.”

He seems surprised by the suggestion. “On the contrary. I used subterfuge to trick you into traveling somewhere that you might not have wanted to be. It is I who owes you. I may still seem like a character to you, but I’m powerful, so name it.”

Mandica looks down at the stone trapdoor. “I don’t like being owed any more than I like owing others, and I’m not greedy. All I want you to do is open that.”

He is surprised by this too. “Well, that’s easy.” He lifts his hand and begins to tap the tips of his fingers against his thumb in what appears to be a particular sequence. Once he is finished, the stone slides away and recedes into its pocket. “That was not a very good favor, but if it’s a psychological issue, let’s say that it counted. And then let’s say, if you ever need anything else, you can return to ask for it. It’s not another favor that you owe, per se; just an open window.”

Mandica turns and starts to walk back down the steps before stopping and looking over her shoulder. “I don’t see what could possess me to come speak to the great Daedalus again. I read about you and your son, but I don’t know if what I know has come to pass by now. I don’t know where in the story we are.”

His face falls into a deeply rageful frown. “It has already happened.”

“Then I’m sorry.”

His friendly demeanor has entirely vanished. “Go.”

Mandica leaves Mythodome and heads straight for Underbelly, but she doesn’t get an express train this time. Maybe she should have just asked him for that.

Microstory 2302: Still Feel So Lonely In Here

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 3

You may have noticed that I’ve not been talking much about the KC memorial at the end of this week. That’s because I’ve had to step back from it. The mayors of KCMO and KCK have been working on it through their own teams. I’m still involved, I answer questions, but I just can’t do too much. I can’t let this all drag on like it has been. I’ll be there, it’s okay, I’ll be there. But I don’t want to be too involved anymore. I realized that I have something else to do before it’s over, which is to do something with Nick and Dutch’s private spaces. Neither of them were big collectors of belongings. I don’t need a moving company to haul stuff away, but I also don’t wanna create a shrine to them, even incidentally. I am thinking about moving, though. This house was already too big for the three of us, and only made sense because of our security team. They’re still here, protecting their one remaining charge, but I still feel so lonely in here. I mean, this whole place reminds me of the two of them anyway, so why would I make myself stick around? That reminds me, I should discuss the elephant in the room. I want to make it clear that I do not blame the security team for what happened. It was a freak accident, no one did anything wrong. Those roads were slick, and I looked it up; they’re not the only ones to suffer from that particular stretch of highway. People think of bodyguards as these supernatural beings with no room for error. They’re still just humans. They’re fallible, and they’re fragile, and they can die. They did die. The firm lost just as many of their people as I did of mine. I’ve always felt that we are commiserating together. So no, I’m not going to fire them, and I’m not going to sue them. It was a terrible tragedy, which I’m choosing to not make worse by seeking some undue form of vengeance.

Microstory 1244: Cyneric Brennan

< > Table of Contents

For years of realtime, Quivira Boyce traveled into the somewhat recent past to fix what she and her team believed were bad historical outcomes, though not always the famous events. Sometimes she saved people’s lives in a literal sense, by possessing the bodies of those closest to them, and sometimes it was more up to her colleague to set their subjects on more positive paths through a special brand of therapy. This was a hard life, or lives, as one might say. She was always working to make the world a better place, and didn’t really have time for anything else. But that wasn’t exactly why their mission had to come to an end, or why Cyneric Brennan was called to action. Quivira wasn’t old or tired. By her very nature, her body’s age didn’t matter much. But she had spent so much time as other people, she lost track of who she was. She felt she needed to pass the torch, and Cyneric was...well, he was available. His job was different than hers. He couldn’t possess people in the past, nor could he travel through time on his own. He was, however, a skilled operative with no sense of direction in his life. His work became more action-based, focusing on rescuing people the new team felt deserved to survive. Some of these were being helped by other time travelers, like The Savior, or The Kingmaker, but there were plenty of victims who fell through the cracks. Without these heroes, the statistical numbers of deaths and other tragedies in the world would be so much higher, and Cyneric wanted to be a part of that, even if he didn’t quite realize this himself. It took some time for him to warm up to his new responsibilities, but he eventually couldn’t imagine doing anything else.

Microstory 777: Hector

< > Table of Contents

Some might say that Hector Cubit’s nickname as The Protector is proof that we are destined to be who we later become. The truth is, though, that he could have just as easily been named Bobby, or been deemed The Guardian. Still, though he generally had little enthusiasm for rhyme, he was proud of his title, and adopted it happily. It was quite useful, too, to have something that remained with him always, since he barely had time to make his name in one job before he moved on to the next. Hector attributes his protective instinct to his mother, Joaquima, who was also famous for her propensity to save people’s lives. It would seem that danger was stalking Joaquima, for she constantly found herself in mortal danger. From bank hostage to boating accident survivor, Joaquima had no shortage of stories saved up to later tell her children, of which she would ultimately have none. What people didn’t realize, however, was that danger wasn’t following her at all, she was actually looking for it. There have been lots of people throughout history who have been born with special abilities, but most of these are associated with some subspecies of human. Ambers, anomalies, vampirs; these all have abilities, because they were genetically engineered to be different than standard humans. What they could do was the result of something being done to them, with very little of it being natural. The universe, however, also contains a mystery or two, one of these being Prophets. Unlike some fictional stories, prophets do not simply see the future. They do not gaze into crystal balls, or make judgments from tea leaves. Real prophets are simply those destined to lead the world through great sociopolitical breakthroughs, using radical forward-thinking ideas. Yes, it’s true that they often possess some connection to the fabric of the universe, but their real power is what they do with it. Joaquima Quintana could not literally see the future, but she did feel the push and pull of safety and danger. Another possessing this trait would use it to avoid perilous situations, and possibly some higher power controlling all this had that in mind, but that was not what Joaquima decided to do with it. She placed herself in the hazardous situations, using her intuition to prevent a tragedy altogether, or at least save as many as she could. Her husband, seeing her path to be of great value to the world, provided for them both with a steady job for decades. She retired from this life, and took a regular job, when she had Hector at a relatively old age, but not before, some believe, she passed her gifts onto him. Though he was never considered a true prophet, the reason Hector kept switching jobs was because he always had to be where he was needed most.

Microstory 521: Vampir-Human Hybrid Baby Dies

< > Table of Contents

On an unusually warm winter’s day in Raglin Park, a kaidas broke free from its leash and ran after a miacid. It started hopping over its new friend before headbutting it, which is how most goats get to know each other. The miacid was curious, but older, and more restrained. Still, the miacid eventually warmed up to its buddy, and suddenly pushed it into a nearby pond to show both dominance and affection. Their owners watched with smiles, both confident that neither of their pets would do anything they weren’t supposed to. That was how Walter Whitaker and Jovita Daelman first met. Walter is a vampir, and Jovita a human, but they were close to the same age. They met up for tea the next day, and things started escalating. Over time, the two of them fell in love, and two years ago, they were married at their special spot in Raglin Park. Both of them wanted children, but always knew that they would not be able to conceive one together. Humans and vampirs are not genetically compatible. There have been rumors of hybrids in the past, but scientists have been unable to corroborate these claims. And so, Whitaker and Daelman were content to adopt, which they did in the form of a five-year-old boy named Oscar.

They were recently thinking about expanding their family when a miracle happened. Daelman discovered that she was pregnant. They flew to a specialist in Iceland to confirm her condition, and learned that it was completely true. This was the first legitimately recorded case of a vampir-human hybrid. They remained in Iceland for the duration of the pregnancy so that a team of specialist could care for Daelman and her unborn baby girl. According to rate of development, Daelman’s due date was approximated at ten months after conception. This splits the difference between a standard human gestation period of eight months, and a vampire’s of twelve. The pregnancy went swimmingly, and the family was excited for the next chapter in their lives. The baby was born with no obvious medical conditions. It possessed characteristics of both human and vampire. Overall, it was a happy and healthy baby. Then things took a turn. The infant’s blood was trying to use both iron, and cobalt-magnesium alloy, in order to carry oxygen throughout its body. This was causing the body to reject all oxygen flow. In layman’s terms, the organs were unable to extract the oxygen properly, because they were confused about what methods to use. Little Adela Bryn was unable to breathe for herself, and was placed on a permanent respirator for two days. Unfortunately, not even this was enough to keep her alive, and she succumbed to her condition last night at 18:07 CCT. The family thanks all followers of their story, and will announce memorial services at a later date. They have revealed that they will not adhere to the customary four-day tradition.

Microstory 520: Lone Survivor of Plane Crash Missing

< > Table of Contents

Since the dawn of man, there have been two questions that no one has ever been able to answer. The first, what is death? And the second, why can’t people die on the eighth day of the eighth month of every year? For however long in the ancient world, people were not even aware of the phenomenon of The Day of No Death. It wasn’t like people were keeping track of such things. If somebody died, and they weren’t a part of your life, you probably didn’t even hear about it. Long after we had come up with our standardized calendar system, based on the rotation and revolution of the planet, people started noticing, however, that something was different on the eighth day in Asher. Had we noticed before, we probably would have based our entire perspective on time around it. As it stands now, the Day of No Death has become a multinational holiday, set aside to remember those we’ve lost to the devastation of war; a day of observance that we call Verren. It is a day marked by fasting, solemnity, and spirituality. It is also when it’s literally impossible to die.

Most people accept the Day of No Death without question. They go about their lives without thinking about it too much. They drink their tea, get on public transportation, and go to work. Some, however, are more curious. Cults have sprung up here and there, trying to push the boundaries. But most of them end in tragedy. First off, a day without death says nothing about a day without pain. Furthermore, it is possible, and quite common, to ultimately succumb to injuries, and die on the ninth day. In fact, most countries consider mortal boundary testing to be illegal, and will prosecute any violation on life, regardless of what day it is. Still, after all these attempts, not a single person has ever died on Asher Ashto...that is, until last week.

Drummond Breckenridge is a salesman from Oklahoma who was just coming back from a business trip in Jacksonville, hubbing in Kansas City, when something happened that never has before. He woke up in the wreckage of the airplane, having not seen what happened. The plane had crashed, and everybody was dead. Everybody...except for Drummond. One hundred and twenty-one people were on Flight 5683, with service to Jacksonville, and only he had survived, even though it was Asher Ashto. Academics from all fields—from biology to religious studies—have been trying to figure out why anyone was able to die on the one day out of the year when that should not be possible. They have come up with nothing in the last few days. Nor can they explain why Breckenridge survived. Nor can they ask him now.

Breckenridge was being interviewed by a group of reporters near his Kansas City hotel when he suddenly disappeared. Some of the reporters claim to have seen him literally vanish before their eyes, while others saw some kind of flash. Though it was dark at the time, and no one knows for sure what happened, what we do know is that Mr. Breckenridge has not been seen since. Below, you’ll find a picture of Drummond Breckenridge, and a tip line to call if you have any information regarding his whereabouts.

Microstory 482: Floor 3 (Part 2)

< > Table of Contents

Food Service Worker 1: Food Service Worker 2, what the hell are you doing?

Food Service Worker 2: I’m doing what I always do for breakfast.

Food Service Worker 1: We can’t serve breakfast. We’re on lockdown. Didn’t you hear the announcement?

Food Service Worker 2: Of course, but that won’t last forever, and when they lift the lockdown, people will be hungry.

Food Service Worker 1: At least three people died. They’re not lifting it anytime soon. And when they do, they’re gonna send everybody home. Stop getting food out, you’ll just spoil it.

Food Service Worker 2: You don’t know they’ll send us home. We have to be prepared.

Food Service Worker 1: Part of the charm of all this tragedy is not having any responsibilities. Don’t create work for yourself, or for me.

Food Service Worker 2: That might be the absolute worst thing you’ve ever said. I’ll check the list.

Food Service Worker 1: Very funny.

Food Service Worker 2: No, really. There’s a list.

Food Service Worker 1: What are you talking about? Of all the things I’ve said that you don’t agree with?

Food Service Worker 2: No.

Food Service Worker 1: Oh, okay.

Food Service Worker 2: Of all the things you’ve said that no one in the world agrees with...except maybe white supremacists and Donald Trump.

Food Service Worker 1: Oh, don’t compare me to a man like that. Talk about saying terrible things. I can’t believe you’ve kept track of everything you hate about me. What would Food Services Manager have to say about this? Maybe I should go have a little chat with her right now.

Food Service Worker 2: Who do you think started the list?

Food Service Worker 1: Why are you telling me this?

Food Service Worker 2: I didn’t think you mind. You hate everybody anyway.

Food Service Worker 1: Well, why are you telling me just now?

Food Service Worker 2: It has just now come up.

Food Service Worker 1: I don’t hate everybody.

Food Service Worker 2: Yeah, you kinda do, and I don’t think you want to get into this.

Food Service Worker 1: Now I definitely wanna get into it.

Food Service Worker 2: All right, fine. All you talk about is how you used to work in this magical restaurant in New York City, and now you’re slummin’ it with the garbage people in a corporate cafeteria. I’ve got a little secret for ya, Food Service Worker 1; everybody likes tater tots. Not a human on this planet doesn’t like deep-fried grated potatoes. Not even your precious New York one-percent.

Food Service Worker 1: What about fruitarians?

Food Service Worker 2: And you’re contradictory. Do you think I really meant literally no one on the planet? Christ, you’re impossible.

Food Service Worker 1: I don’t have time for all this hyperbole. I’m goin’ out for a smoke; that is, unless you need me to do anything, like serve more potato grease cylinders.

Food Service Worker 2: No, but I think our soft drink contractor is bringing his puppy today. Maybe you’d like to give it a good kick? [...] Enjoy your kiss with cancer!

Microstory 420: Floor 23 (Part 1)

< > Table of Contents

I’m not responsible for cyber security for our company, but I still feel like I should have stopped the leaks. I couldn’t have prevented the deaths from Analion’s defective windows, that much I’ll leave for someone else. Those are irrelevant, because what I’m truly worried about is how the public came to find out that at least someone within the organization was aware that something like this could have happened. They were already in enough trouble that someone figured out the connection between the tragedies, but to have it revealed that they could have been avoided? That is unacceptable. I know I’m supposed to be angry with my employers for having been so careless and cold about the situation, but loyalty is important to me. My mother would say that I’m “loyal to a fault” and that is no more true than it is today. These people provided me with a roof over my head, and food on the table. I owe them my life. I know that sounds like an exaggeration, but it’s actually true. I dropped out of high school in the middle of junior year. I wasn’t a criminal or a hooligan, but I just couldn’t stay there anymore. Life in my hometown was too dangerous. It felt like someone was murdered every night. I made the choice to run away, looking for a better life, and I had to live with those consequences. Now that I’m older, I know that I had plenty of other options available to me, but I couldn’t have recognized them at the time. Analion has. Analion saw something in me that I couldn’t even see myself. They hired me despite my lack of education and experience. They’ve kept me safe for years, and I refuse to give up on them now that they’re the ones in need of help. I have to find the leak, and plug it up, by any means necessary.

Microstory 408: Floor 35 (Part 1)

< > Table of Contents

On behalf of Alpha, Beta, and the rest of the Analion family, I would like to apologize to any clients who have been negatively affected by the recent developments. We also offer our deepest sympathy to the victims and survivors of the recent tragedies. We would like to assure you that safety is our number one priority here at Analion. We are rigorously investigating all issues and complaints, just as we always have. We are also working closely with the authorities to discover exactly what went wrong. At this time, we are not ruling out any cause. We simply do not have enough information to provide you with an accurate explanation, and do not feel that it is our place to do so. We promise to update the public on new information as it comes. We would like to remind you that rarely, if ever, is there a single cause for any given effect. Any number of circumstances could have led to the recent tragedies. Again, we are heartbroken over the loss of three wonderful people, and will take full responsibility should it be deserved. No further comment.

“A little short, don’t you think?” the spokesperson says. “And repetitive.”

“It’s short and sweet,” the writer tries to explain. “You don’t want to give them too many words to dissect and interpret as accepting blame.” Upon witnessing someone falling down through the atrium, he breathes in casually and adds, “it looks like I’m going to have to rewrite our statement either way.”