Microstory 2492: Mythodome

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This is a very complex dome, and it’s due to the interconnectedness of world mythology. As I’m sure you’re aware, Earth is home to many a myth, which people once believed, or at least found value in the stories that described them. Since there have been so many cultures in our history, these myths often contradict each other. Lots of them, for instance, came up with a god of the sun, but they could never all be true. That’s where this dome takes liberties, because they are all “true” insomuch as they coexist here. There are indeed multiple sun gods, and they operate as a sort of council. Don’t ask me what they do, though, because as I’m sure you’re also aware, this is all made up. In real life, God doesn’t exist, elves don’t exist, trolls don’t exist. This is an immersive world where such creatures and beings have been engineered out of the specifications presented in the various source materials. It can be hard to track. Some myths even contradict themselves, as told by different authors, and diverging translations. So, Mythodome does its best, but the interesting result—which I’ve been trying to drive at this whole time—is that it is more than the sum of its parts. It has spawned a new mythology, which includes that sun-god council I mentioned, and various factional alliances that never existed in the original stories, because they weren’t culturally related. Part of the experience is learning the new story that has come out of this, which could have hypothetically been its own franchise in traditional media, if someone had thought to be quite this comprehensive before. There are different kinds of elves, for instance, because there have been different interpretations in the stories, and these elves are aware of each other, and have developed complicated relationships with each other naturally. That’s my understanding anyway, which is that their dynamics have taken on a life of their own to form this fresh society, and I think they were doing it before any Earthans came to visit. That alone is interesting enough, not just that these mythical creatures can be genetically engineered, but that we end up with unpredictable consequences as a result of so many variables. I’m rambling now, but suffice it to say that it would not be difficult to spend years here. You could even spend an entire lifetime, making your own way, and finding your purpose. Because very little about this place was prewritten. It’s all been developing on its own, and who knows where it will take us next?

Microstory 1655: Linsetol Revealed

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Bulk traveler Joseph Jacobson came to me recently with a story about his adventures in Linsetolverse. He corrected some assumptions I made about the universe. It’s hard for me to get a good look at it from so far away, so it was nice to hear some details about the way they lived. He arrived, as he always does, as a human, shocking the Linsetol, who had never seen anything like him before. They knew it was best to keep this alien a secret, because they didn’t want to cause any confusion or panic. Joseph has the ability to navigate the bulkverse. That’s kind of his whole deal, so he could have made a deliberate effort to avoid showing up where his presence could negatively impact the development of the locals, but he usually just spins a metaphorical wheel, and takes his chances. He’s immortal, so he doesn’t concern himself with preparation, or vigilance. Anyway, things seemed to work out fine, and Joseph spent a few years there, learning about their culture. The language was the hardest part. As they were evolved from dinosaurs, the Linsetol have different vocal physiology, and produce sounds that are impossible for a human to replicate. With the aid of some engineers, Joseph actually managed to build a device that would translate his thoughts into a digital voice. It was not a linguistic translator, though. Joseph still had to understand the language in order for the device to not simply come out as English. He probably could have done it differently, but just didn’t feel the need. It worked both ways, allowing a Linsetol to speak in English, should the need ever arise, but this wasn’t something that Joseph needed of them. Once he was able to communicate with them effectively, he started learning their customs, because that was his favorite part about traveling. He was usually just going to a different version of Earth, so it wasn’t like the topography was particularly exciting. Understanding other people was the entire point.

As it turns out, the Linsetol are quite like humans. I was wrong about them being foreign. I think the language barrier was clouding my vision. They’re just as diverse, just as curious, and just as capable of doing terrible things. They measure time in the same way, though it’s different on prehistoric Earth, because the celestial bodies are moving differently. Shorter days, longer years. They developed fairly advanced technology, which I can see from my perspective, but they never got very far into space. Upon realizing how bad for their environment nonrenewable energy sources were, they outlawed them. They outlawed them across the globe, and pursued renewables like solar and wind power. Unfortunately, such things are not conducive to sending rockets up into space, so space exploration was pretty much off the table without fusion or antimatter rockets, which weren’t destined to be developed for many decades. They didn’t make it that far, because of their isolationistic habits. That’s one thing that I was right about. They were capable of demanding universal laws for the protection of their world, but they didn’t possess a spirit of cooperation, which stifled ingenuity, and slowed progress. They couldn’t last forever this way. They didn’t die out because they destroyed their planet, or succumbed to some pandemic. It was a population growth problem. Their drive to propagate the species was much lower than it is for humans. It was never zero, but it wasn’t enough, and over time, they just couldn’t maintain the species. Each generation was less inclined to bear children on the individual level, and that eventually caught up to them.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: Tuesday, October 15, 2222

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With Angela’s help, Mateo was able to chill out a bit, and not be so focused on figuring out how to destroy The Superintendent by reaching out to his God. For the record, my God is named Sophia Dimo, and she’s a very lovely girl who doesn’t take sides, so his idea would not have borne fruit. Now they needed to focus on their next mission, which was taking them to what they would call Italy in the main sequence. Of course, in both realities, humans were living in tall arcologies, so they were in the middle of nowhere, in a rocky field. The AR flickers showed a man sitting at a desk, studying some papers. When the transition completed, he fell on his ass, but he was okay. Like they all did, he looked around, confused. He didn’t appear to be shocked to be in a completely different setting, though, like he had done it before. He noticed the transition team around him. “Are we still speaking English?” he asked. He said all the right words, but he seemed to be struggling with it.

“Yes,” Leona replied. “What language are you more comfortable with?” She started tapping on her Cassidy cuff.

“I was birth to speak Classical Latin, but I know other Latins. I now learning English modern.”

“We can speak Classical Latin for you,” she explained. She started to speak into her cuff. “Does this sound better?” All the other cuffs started translating her words in real time. It was Latin, but it sounded like her real voice.

Angela handed the man one of the extra cuffs, which he just held in his hand. “Yes, that’s much better,” the translation returned.

“What’s your name?” Leona asked.

“I’m Statius. I was born on the first day of what you would call Year One, A.D. On the day I turned eleven, I jumped forward eleven years, and a year after that, it happened again. It was year 22, year 33, year 44, and so on. It was just the year 2222, and I should not have yet jumped again.”

“You haven’t jumped forward,” Leona clarified. “It’s still 2222, but in a different reality.”

Statius crooked his neck. That didn’t seem to translate well.

“A different world,” she said, hoping that made more sense.

Time travel, he seemed to have a grasp of now, but any scifi nonsense beyond that was probably out of reach. He likely hadn’t met any other time travelers before. “Why am I here?”

“Were you in danger?” Jeremy asked through his own cuff. “We help people in danger.” He was always the one to explain that.

“Not that I know of,” Statius said. “The people here have been very friendly. They didn’t get mad at me for not understanding their magic boxes, and have been letting me learn the language using real paper, which is apparently rare in this time.”

“Yes, we no longer need it,” Leona agreed.

“We need to figure out why he’s here, why Nerakali chose him to transition,” Jeremy mused, not into his cuff.

“No, we don’t.” Mateo argued. He spoke into the cuff, “what do you want to do? Do you like being a time jumper?”

“I would like to go home,” Statius replied. “I wish this had never happened to me. I just want things to be how they were.”

“That’s not something we can do,” Jeremy said apologetically.

“Now, hold on,” Mateo said. “Let us discuss your situation. We may come up with a solution yet.” He spoke to the group without the cuff. “I may have an idea, but we should speak alone.”

“You can discuss it,” Angela said. “I’ll stay with him. I speak Classical Latin anyway.”

Mateo led Leona, Jeremy, and Olimpia back to stand next to the AOC. “What’s this idea of yours?” Leona questioned.

“We’ve been looking at these missions the wrong way. Jeremy keeps saying that we’re saving people, but we’re not saving them, we’re freeing them. He’s not in danger of being crushed by boulders falling down a landslide, or from being pursued by an evil serial killer. He just wants to go home, and I propose that we do that for him.”

“How?” Olimpia asked. “We can keep him in The Parallel to protect him from the powers that be, but his life was in the main sequence. They won’t let us put him back. I guess I don’t really know that, but I imagine they’ll be upset. He’s supposed to jump to the year 3333 in a few months.”

“No, we can’t take him back to where he was,” Mateo agreed, “but we can make him think he’s there. We can even make him think he never left. We can erase the last...”

“Twenty,” Leona helped.

“...twenty years of his life,” Mateo finished. “Make him think he’s a regular eleven year old in Ancient Rome, or wherever he was.”

“How would we make him think that?” Olimpia pressed.

“Virtual reality,” Mateo offered. “Put him in a simulation. Let him die there when it’s his time.”

“Mateo, that’s a...” Leona trailed off for a second. “The ethics for something like that are very unclear. You really think that’s what Nerakali had in mind.”

“I don’t care what Nerakali wants. This is what he wants.”

“You don’t know that,” Jeremy pointed out. “He wouldn’t understand it, even if we told him.”

“We don’t have to tell him,” Mateo contended. “We jack him into the Matrix, and make it look like it did when he left. I know the Parallel natives have the ability to reconstruct the past using a subject’s memories. Hell, they may even have data on what the world looked like at that time anyway.”

Leona was shaking her head. “It would all be a lie. He would literally be the only person in the world. He may not know it, but he could feel it. He could sense that everyone else is different, even without realizing that they were NPCs. If he ever did find out, it could drive him insane.”

Mateo wasn’t so worried about that. A well-respected scientific theory hypothesized that people were indeed living in a simulation already, and it didn’t make most people crazy. Hell, today was the day Leona went off to another universe to learn that it was kind of true, but she was fine. When he pointed this fact out to here, she disagreed.

“I did go crazy. I was in therapy with Eight Point Seven for a long time because of this revelation. I mean, we already knew that The Superintendent was playing around with our lives, but to learn it was literally a game that a bunch of children were playing to entertain themselves, was too much.”

“Well, we’re talking about the worst case scenario,” Mateo reasoned. “I trust the natives to know how to program a flawless simulation. Coupled with the fact that he’ll have his memories erased, it should be fine. Eleven-A.D. is too far in the past to have an inkling that the world around you is just zeroes and ones.”

“He has a right to consent,” Olimpia tried to defuse the situation before the Matics could get into a real argument about this. “We can’t erase his memories unless this version of him agrees to it. If we’re confident that he understands it won’t be real, but he won’t remember that it’s not real, then I’m all right with this plan.”

Leona seemed to be off the topic, and onto a more general problem. “We used to be a team. Mateo, I don’t know you anymore. I never know if you’re going to be your original naïve self, your new and improved zen self, or an explosive, vengeful asshole who frightens me. Whatever you and Angela are doing, it’s not working. You are too unpredictable, and you’re too dangerous. We’ll do whatever Statius wants, but after that, I don’t want you part of this team. You can keep the cuff on, but while the rest of us are handling the transitions, I want you to be off doing something else. It doesn’t have to be therapy, but you can’t come back until you can make me feel safe to be around you again. You need time to recover from whatever it is you’re going through.”

“Are you really doing this?” Mateo questioned, mortified and confused.

“I’m really doing this.”

“We need to talk.”

“No, I’m done talking,” she said angrily. “I can’t talk to you. I don’t even wanna look at you anymore. I’ve been trying to stay patient, but that’s not working either. You have options; don’t think you don’t. You can do what I asked, which I think is best, or you can take off the cuff permanently, and fuck off. Or we can get divorced, and you can still fuck off. I won’t have you on this team until you can prove you deserve it.”

“Why don’t you have to prove anything?” Mateo fought.

“Do you two think I have anything to prove?” she posed to the others.

They didn’t say anything.

Leona went on, “I’ve made mistakes, I admit that. I’ve always been me, though. You always know what you’re getting. You can’t say the same anymore, so I’m giving you a choice. What will it be?” She checked her cuff. “You have two minutes.”

Mateo set a timer, and waited the full two minutes. The other three remained silent the whole time. “I’m leaving, but I’m keeping the cuff. I want you to think about something, though. I want you to ask yourself whether you should take off the cuff instead, not because you’re not good for this team, but maybe you’re misunderstanding the situation. This is me now, this is who I am. You can’t understand what it’s like to lose your soul unless it happens to you. That’s not a thing that people can just...learn about second-hand. It was...it wasn’t the scariest time in my life as it was happening, but it gives me shivers now. Am I different? Yes. But I won’t apologize for that, and how dare you demand that I do. I don’t need time to figure myself out. I think you need time to figure me out. So maybe you should take off the cuff, and not come back for another, uhh...”

“Three years, goddammit!” Leona screamed. “The math is not that hard. The next jump is three years, and then another three years, and then nineteen years, and then three years again!”

Mateo stayed calm so as not to lose what he believed to be the upper hand. “Who’s unpredictable now?” He tapped on his cuff, and requested authorization to teleport to Nerakali’s location, which was the only place that he could teleport. Walking away in real time would not have gotten him away from his wife fast enough. Nerakali accepted immediately, probably after having been eavesdropping on their fight.

Once he was gone, Leona fell to her knees, and sat down. She was breathing heavily, and pressing her knuckles against her forehead. She was having a panic attack. “What did I do? What did I just do?”

Olimpia knelt down and wrapped Leona in her arms. “You can’t be around a man who doesn’t make you feel safe. You did what you had to in this moment.”

“Was it even me? Or is this just another twist for the Superintendent to capture his audience?”

No. This was an inevitable development, and a long time coming.

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 22, 2016

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The Insulator of Life was one of those things that always did what it was meant to do, theoretically through psychic commands. It didn’t have any buttons or switches, or some kind of computer screen. Leona simply placed it on Mateo’s chest, like she had years ago. Instead of returning his own life to his body, though, she was this time extracting two extraneous lives, with the intention of housing them in the Insulator itself. She knew this was possible, because it had once worked on Brooke and Sharice Prieto. It was a painful process, but it didn’t last forever. Once it was over, Mateo was feeling lighter than ever. He was back to his normal, dumb self.

“How do you feel?” Ramses asked.

“I’m a little nauseated from the experience, but my mind feels amazing.”

“Good, good,” Leona said. “I’m no doctor, but I imagine the nausea will pass. You probably just need a good night’s rest. You’ve been through a lot.”

“I’m sorry, Leona.”

“No more apologies, but my ultimatum remains, even in light of the revelation that you were under the influence. If you leave once more, I don’t ever want to see you again.”

“I understand.”

“Declan,” Ramses began, “could you help me help him upstairs? I assume you have guest quarters somewhere?”

“We just call it a guest bedroom,” Declan said, “and yes.”

Mateo slept the rest of the morning away. When he woke up, he made his way downstairs, and found the rest of his friends sitting in the living room. Leona was wearing the HG Goggles again. “Hey, honey.”

“What are you doing with those?” he asked.

“Here,” she said, removing them, and handing them over.

He put them on, and looked around. Arcadia was pretending to be sitting in one of the chairs. Erlendr was nowhere to be found, though. “Is your father here too?”

“He refuses to come out,” Arcadia answered. “I’m sure it’s for the best.”

“Can he hear you talking about him now?”

“Our consciousnesses are both in here, and we can communicate with each other, but we retain our individuality. He’s pouting alone, and doesn’t know what we’re talking about.”

“What are we talking about?” Mateo asked.

“Could you please translate for us?” Declan requested. “We can’t hear her without the goggles.”

“Sorry,” Mateo said. He started regurgitating what Arcadia was saying for the group.

“We’re discussing what to do with her,” Ramses explained. “We can’t just leave her in there forever. I mean, we technically probably could, but we’re hoping for a solution.”

“We could go back to the future,” Arcadia said. “They would be able to build me a synthetic body of some kind. In this time period, however, there’s nothing.”

“I still think it would work to place you in someone who’s already in a coma, or a vegetative state,” Leona said, kind of out of character. “Your consciousness would mend any physical damage to their brain, and then you would be able to walk around.”

“That’s not ethical,” Ramses said. “It’s the kind of thing I would suggest. What if the person we chose was destined to wake up?”

“I won’t let you do it anyway,” Declan declared. “If I want to be a superhero one day, I can’t let things like this slide.”

Nerakali suddenly walked into the room. “There is another way.”

“Sister!” Arcadia exclaimed.

“Hello, sister,” Nerakali said back to her.

“Wait, you can see her?” Leona questioned.

“All the Prestons have psychic abilities, to varying degrees. Zeferino was the worst. Erlendr was the best. I’m just okay, but I’m good enough to carry on a conversation.”

“Well, what’s the other way?” Arcadia asked her.

“I know of a body that no one else is using, and they never will. It’s up for grabs, if you want it.”

“Why is it not in use?” Declan asked. This was his time period, so he was going to be particularly protective of the other people living in it.

“Jesimula Utkin,” Nerakali said. “She went back in time using a homestone, and stopped her younger self from developing time powers.”

“Wait, you can develop time powers?” Declan was very interested in this.

“You can if you’re one of the Springfield Nine, yes. Anyway, there were now two versions of her in the timeline, so she decided to quantum assimilate with each other. Normally, the body they don’t use is scattered throughout space and time, but Jesi decided to keep the other one. I don’t really know why; I didn’t talk to her about it. I just know where it is.”

“That was over twenty years ago,” Mateo pointed out. “Isn’t it a desiccated corpse by now?”

“It’s not a corpse,” Nerakali replied. “It’s still technically alive. It just can’t think or do anything. It’s been in the hospital this whole time. It can breathe, pump blood, swallow, and digest. It wears a diaper, though, and orderlies have to hand feed it.”

“That’s kind of...gross,” Ramses decided.

Nerakali shrugged. “It was her choice. I try not to judge.”

“I’m willing to do it,” Arcadia said, “but I’ll need Jesimula’s permission. We can’t just take it.”

“Aww,” Mateo couldn’t help but say. “You’re growing.”

“Shut up,” she said with a psychic blush.

“I know where the real Jesi is as well,” Nerakali said. “Who’s up for a field trip?”

They found Jesimula Utkin in her lab. She was apparently a pretty big deal here, but she didn’t run the place, like she had in her old life. She no longer had the advantage of temporal powers.

“So. What do you do here?” he asked.

“I’m trying to find a way to replicate the 2025 pathogen.”

“What!” Leona exclaimed.

“Well,” Jesi began, “in an old timeline, I forced Paige Turner to go to the future, so she could become infected with the pathogen. When she went back to her own time period, she spread it more slowly then before, which served to inoculate the entire human race. But then Ace Reaver forced me to go back in time, where I altered the course of history. Now none of that is going to happen, so I have to do it in some other way. Again.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” Nerakali contradicted.

“This is really important to me,” Jesi said. “I kind of based my whole life around saving the species.”

“No, it’s taken care of,” Nerakali added. “The Stitcher handled it.”

Jesi was surprised by this. “She did?”

“Wait, what does that mean?” Leona asked. “What did Tonya do?”

“She folded the two realities together,” Nerakali said. “All that Jesi did when she sent Paige to the 32nd century; that all happened in this timeline, even though her later actions in the past should have prevented it. It’s a stable paradox.”

“My mother died as a result of that disease!” Leona shouted.

Everyone was silent for a moment.

“I mean, it’s the trolley problem,” Nerakali finally said.

“Oh, bullshit! Why did my mother have to be the one who dies? It’s so arbitrary!”

“It’s not arbitrary,” Arcadia said. “It’s fate. I made it so.”

“You agree with her, Mateo?” Leona cried. “She was your mother too!”

“I remember. I’m the one who killed her in the timeline before that.”

“I can’t look at any of you right now.” Leona activated her emergency teleporter, and returned to Declan’s house, where he and Ramses had stayed.

Jesi melted all the bones in her body. “My life’s purpose is pointless. I’ve been wasting my time in this lab.”

“No, you haven’t,” Mateo consoled her. “You’ve contributed to science, and now you can move on to some other project. You might cure cancer. Just because you don’t have a time traveling building doesn’t mean you can’t make things better.”

“Thanks,” Jesi said. “You didn’t come here just to drop that bombshell on me, did you?”

“We need your permission for something,” Nerakali said to her. “We would like to give your other body to someone else.”

Jesi hadn’t seen this request coming. “For who?”

Nerakali gestured towards Mateo. “For the invisible person he’s been translating for.”

“Here,” he said. He took off the HG Goggles, and handed them to Jesi.

“Come on,” Nerakali said to him. “Let’s give them some privacy.” She set the Insulator on the table, and they both walked out of the room.

Jesi and Arcadia didn’t talk too long before the former agreed to give her alternate body to the latter. She never explained why it was she was keeping it around in the first place, but they were grateful it was available. She gave them directions to the hospital where the body was being cared for, and said she would call ahead about her so-called twin sister being transferred to another facility. Obviously, the hospital didn’t really know the truth about the person they were being paid to take care of. The administrators were fully expecting their arrival, and gave them no trouble at the door. Trouble was waiting for them in the body’s room, though. Someone was already trying to remove the vacant Jesi body from the premises.

“Allen?” Mateo asked. He was loading the Jesi body into a wheelchair. “Jul—Saxon? What are you doing?”

“Oh,” Allen said. “This is why she wanted us to come to this exact date. She wanted a confrontation.”

“Who wanted a confrontation?” Nerakali asked, arms folded. “Jesi?”

“No,” Saxon said. “Volpsidia.”

“She wants this body?” Nerakali asked.

“She doesn’t have one of her own anymore. The prison cremated it when they found it empty of a consciousness.”

“Who the hell are we talking about?” Mateo questioned earnestly.

“She’s a psychic,” Nerakali answered. “Like, a damn good. Probably the best within the bounds of the universe. She must have jumped into someone else’s body, so she could escape Beaver Haven. I don’t know what her ultimate plan was, but it was stupid. Cremation is standard protocol for a dead body found in the prison.”

“She doesn’t have her old body in anymore, so she’s going to steal Jesi’s?”

“She told us it was extra,” Saxon explained.

“It is,” Mateo agreed arguably, “but we need it.”

“Well, so do we,” Allen said, “so what do we do? If we try to go back empty handed, she’s going to kill my husband; his brother.

Mateo sighed, but then he felt a burning sensation in his pocket. “Ackey!” He pulled out the Insulator of Life, and let it fall onto the Jesi’s body’s bed. “Why is it so hot? Are they dying?”

“My sister’s probably just trying to get your attention,” Nerakali said.

He put the HG Goggles back on.

“Give them the body,” Arcadia said. “They’re right, they need it more. I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life. Richard is a good person, though.”

“It sounds like Volpsidia isn’t,” Mateo said to her.

“Who is he talking to?” Allen questioned.

“Don’t worry about it,” Nerakali answered him.

“This is a ransom,” Arcadia reasoned, “and I’m paying the ransom. Let them have the body.”

Mateo looked over to Nerakali for guidance. She couldn’t hear what her sister was saying, but she was wise enough to guess. She just shrugged. He sighed again, and stepped to the side. 

“Thank you,” Allen said.

“Thanks,” Saxon echoed.

“Well, what the hell are we gonna do now?” Mateo asked as they left the room behind the other two, walking at a respectful distance behind them.

“I don’t know. I don’t have any other ideas,” a defeated Nerakali said.

“What’s that light up ahead?” The doorway to one of the rooms was glowing.

“It’s probably just some tear in the spacetime continuum,” she said dismissively. “Who cares?”

Mateo felt himself drawn to it. He stepped inside to find out what it was. A woman was sitting in her own wheelchair. It wasn’t just any woman, though. It was Arcadia. She was nearly completely motionless and nonreactive. Drool was dribbling down her cheek.

“Holy shit,” Nerakali said. She snapped her fingers in the physical Arcadia’s face. “She’s unresponsive. She’s a vegetable too.”

“How did this happen?” Mateo asked. “When in your timeline are you like this?” he asked the psychic projection of Arcadia.

“That is not me,” she said, almost defensively.

“There’s something glowing on the desk too,” Mateo noticed.

Nerakali stepped over, and picked it up. “It’s The Artist’s chisel.” She started working through it in her head. “This isn’t Arcadia. This is a recreation of her. The Artist went back in time, and made one, almost certainly for this very purpose. We place the Insulator on the body, and tap her forehead with this chisel, she’ll come to life.”

“Really? Well, let’s do it. Are you all right with that?” he asked Arcadia, but he knew what her answer would be.

“Hell yeah.”

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Microstory 490: Crafter

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The Crafter is the resident computer expert. His mind can process massive amounts of data, which are exceedingly difficult for him to forget. Furthermore, he understands the concept of causality so well that it borders on precognition. He is extremely quiet and speaks only when contributing something he feels is important. In fact, he has spent entire strings of days not saying a single thing to anyone else. He often forgets how much smarter he is than others, which frequently leads to a gap in communication. He sometimes has trouble knowing what is important to say, because he assumes others have already came to the same conclusion. He regularly speaks in half-sentences that are either setting up—or finishing—a thought he had in his own mind. Whenever he finds himself in a new group of people, he usually attaches to one particular person. Most of the time, there is at least someone around who can sort of translate his thoughts for the rest. He doesn’t even always have to speak to that person for them to understand what he’s going for. In this latest situation, that person happens to be The Architect, whom he grows closer to than anyone he’s met before, including his family. Though he appreciates efficiency, he is flexible, and willing to accommodate other people’s needs. Rather, even when he has an idea of how to proceed, and can’t fathom doing it any other way, he can at least acknowledge other people’s perspectives. He works incredibly hard to make sure everyone around him is on the same page, even if it doesn’t seem that way to people who don’t “get” him. He has magnus degrees in data management, computational systematics, cognitive science, and linguistics. He has a sub-magnus degree in network security.

Microstory 469: Floor 17 (Part 2)

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Engineer 1: What are you talking about? How did I have anything to do with the construction of the elevators.

Engineer 2: You were the lead engineer for this building project, which means you’re responsible for all construction aspects of it!

Engineer 1: First of all, that is not what that means! Where did you go to school? That’s not what my job entails! I’m not responsible for everything! Secondly, the elevators were created, and installed, by outside contractors, like they always are! And two, I don’t like your tone!

Engineer 2: I don’t like your tone!

Engineer 1: Screw you!

Engineer 2: Screw you!

Engineer 1: You were the head engineer, which means that it was your job to contract the elevator...uh, contractors! This is still your fault!

Engineer 2: It is absolutely not my fault! This was group project! Oh, you think I built this whole building myself? Yep, that’s what I did! Derpa deepity doody doo! I’m just gonna set this brick here, and lay some cement on top of it, and boom! A goddamn building is born! Isn’t she PRECIOUS!

Engineer 1: That’s not what I was saying!

Engineer 2: You’re an idiot is what you’re saying! Words come out, but all I hear is “blah, blah, blah, la, la, la, I’m an idiot! I got my degree from, like, Wyoming...or something!”

Engineer 1: Yeah, that sounds JUST like me, jackass!

Engineer 2: What did you call me?!

Engineer 1: I sorry. English not so good. Perhaps a better translation is the biggest douche in the universe!

Engineer 2: Oh, you’re one to talk!

Engineer 1: What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Engineer 2: Just that maybe you could use a douche once in awhile!

Engineer 1: Oh my God, that is so sexist, and completely ignorant about the female body! I can’t believe you said that to me!

Engineer 2: I can’t believe you’re trying to blame me for an elevator crash! This is just like Tulsa Trip!

Engineer 1: That was a completely different situation! And I thought you didn’t want me to bring that up again, but here you are, trying to use it in an argument against me? As if.

Engineer 2: The 90s called, they don’t want their catchphrase back, because even they know how retarded you sound!

Engineer 1: What did I say about using that word!

Engineer 2: I have no idea! When you talk, I usually just tune out and hope you’ll eventually get bored, and WALK AWAY!

Engineer 1: Oh I’m walkin’ away!

Engineer 2: Good!

Engineer 1: Fine!

Engineer 2: Great!

Engineer 1: Perfect!

Engineer 2: Wouldn’t have it any other way!

Engineer 1: I’ll see you at home!

Engineer 2: I’m cooking chicken tetrazzini!

Microstory 357: Freedom from War

Click here for a list of every step.
Latitude for Mistakes

Now we’re getting into some human needs that we don’t actually have. We’re also moving away from individual needs, and discussing primarily the happiness of society, and the world as a whole. It’s very easy to claim that you’re interested in world peace. Beauty pageant contestants do it all the time. Politicians do it to win elections. I’m doing it right now to build my website, hoping to get famous. Uh...I mean, for art. First off, y’all need to stop being so angry all the time; fighting over a bit of sand. Who gives a crap? It’s just land, and if you spent more time building a productive society, and less time throwing rocks, guess what you would have? Money. And money gets you land. I know, it’s easy for me to reduce the problem to its primary components and lay it all out in its most simplistic form, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong. So many people fight for their God, but I refuse to believe in a deity who would want us to be so violent. Make no mistake (even though, if you do, I’ll give you the latitude for it) but humans are not the only ones keeping us in a constant of conflict. Technology has not yet progressed enough to aid our lives enough to protect us from ourselves. In a future with sustainable energy, agricultural cloning, nanofabrication, nanomedicine, telepresence, and instant translation, people will not be in so much need. I believe, with my optimistic heart, that the richest of us will own spaceships, while the poorest will own houses. There will still be an economic divide, but everyone will have what they need to live comfortably. As the workweek shrinks, our psychological and physiological health will increase. As cost of living decreases, free time will become more fulfilling. Eventually, we’ll do away with money altogether. Some will choose to live in virtual worlds. Some will modify our bodies to reach a certain type of immortality. We’ll look back and laugh-cry at all our petty wars. This may sound like sci-fi or fantasy to you. But trust me, the singularity is coming...

Safety from Political Corruption

Second Stage of Something Started: Loaners (Part X)

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After Mateo Matic was pulled into the timestream in the replica of the Colosseum, he was escorted down to a staging area. Makarion returned shortly thereafter with bad news. “Okay, so I told you that everything would be over once you built the Colosseum, but I can’t necessarily deliver on that one hundred percent.”

“What does that mean?” Vearden asked with a scowl.

“The Cleanser is going to keep using you,” Makarion began, “as long as the powers that be have you loaned out to us.”

“We’re on loan?”

“Yes, that’s what makes you The Freelancers. If the powers want you to go somewhere else, they will, which is why you, Saga worked with The Doctor for six perspective years. If you walk through the stargate now, and you end up anywhere other than Stonehenge, that means you’re still on retainer for us.”

Vearden breathed in deeply out of exasperation, but it ended up making him yawn. When was the last time he slept? “Why are the powers that be helping the Cleanser? They seem to be...” He couldn’t find the words.

Saga finished his sentence, “at odds.”

“I am not privy to that information,” Makarion said.

Dropping it, Saga said, “so we just keep walking through portals, waiting to find out who we work for next, assuming the current job is done.”

“That is how I understand it.”

She looked to Vearden. “Well, I guess that explains our nickname.”

“Yeah,” he responded. “Makes a level of sense now.”

“But you don’t know what’s on the other side of our portal?” she asked of Makarion.

“No,” he said honestly.

“Very well.”

Saga and Vearden once more walked through the stargate to find themselves in some kind of encampment. “When and where the hell are we?” Vearden asked.

“I recognize these kinds of tents,” Saga said. “I think I’m back in World War II.”

“Why would they bring you back here?”

“I don’t know, but I worry about crossing my own timestream.”

A man Saga knew from before approached them stealthily from the side and pointed a gun at them. “Who are you?”

While Vearden held up his hands, Saga tried to diffuse the situation. “Sargent, it’s me.”

“Me who?” Sargent shook his gun threateningly. “I don’t know you.”

“We must have not met yet from your perspective,” Saga tried to explain. “We’re both salmon. This is my partner, Vearden.”

“Nice to meet you,” Vearden said, arms still up.

Sargent put down his gun. “Are you here for the battalion, or for Operation Earworm?”

“We don’t...” Saga started to say.

“Operation Earworm,” Vearden answered with confidence. It was a rational guess, because he really didn’t think an entire war battalion was in need of two more soldiers. If the powers that be dropped them off right here right now, it was for a reason.

“Good, because you would otherwise be dreadfully late,” Sargent pointed out “What year are you from?”

“2079.”

“Then you have implanted translators,” he said, nodding.

“No, we’re originally from the 2020s,” Saga clarified. “We have no transhumanistic enhancements.”

“Lucky for you, I have two extra, but we’re still going to need to find you Nazi uniforms.”

“We’re Nazis!” Vearden exclaimed.

“We’re pretending to be,” Sargent said.

But they were doing more than just pretending. The implanted interfaces allowed them to perceive the German language as English. The translator voice that played right inside their ears even sounded like the person who was talking. They only knew they weren’t actually listening to English because people’s mouths didn’t sync up with the words they heard. Visible text even transformed to the English language instantly. This kind of technology existed in Saga and Vearden’s original time, but usually had to be seen through some kind of device, rather than being sent directly to their visual cortex.

Using further incredibly advanced technology, they were provided with forged documents that allowed them to go just about anywhere in Germany. They headed to a place called Berchtesgaden. There they met a man named Hermann Göring who agreed to listen to them after learning of their powerful positions within the Nazi party. Sargent spoke to him in German, “Mr. Göring, tomorrow Karl Koller will arrive to inform you of Hitler’s intentions to appoint you negotiator for peace. The Führer believes the war to be over, and that it is time for us to move on.”

“I am to become leader of the Third Reich.”

“Yes, that is true, which is why you must act now.”

“What do you mean?”

Sargent sighed and paced around, careful to keep the composure and posture fitting for a Nazi officer. “The name Adolf Hitler has, for a long time, been synonymous with Germany. People treat him as a God, and will follow him everywhere. But you and we all know that he is but a man, and the Third Reich was always destined to outlive its creator.”

Göring did not respond, but appeared to be intrigued by what Sargent was saying.

“And you are destined to lead us into our next stage, to protect the sanctity of Germany, and maintain its dominance over Europe.”

“But if the war is over...” Göring started to say, never expecting to end the sentence.

“There are many different kinds of war,” Sargent explained. “Europe has turned its back on the Führer. Even if we were to win the war, the continent would be in great distress. We would be spending vast resources merely on appeasing  and containing the population. The time for trenches and helmets has passed. We need someone new for the party, Germany, and Europe to follow. We need a new voice, one with the strength of a commander, and the eye of a true strategist.”

“But the Battle of Stalingrad...” Göring trailed off again, referring to his failure at that point in history.

“Will be forgotten in a year,” Sargent stated dismissively. “You and the Führer are not on good terms right now, but you must cement your place in the party. Send him a message. Remind him of his plan to appoint you as successor. Germans, we are a proud race, and we do not dance around the issue. We get to the point, and we get things done. No one knows that better than you. So get this done. Show the world what a true Führer looks like.”

Hermann Göring needed little further convincing. He agreed that this course of action was best for the Reich. He really just needed someone to stand up and tell him that was okay. After they left, Saga asked what was really going on.

“We need to encourage discord amongst the top levels of the party. Hitler is under a great deal of pressure now. Germany really has lost the war, and a telegram from his top officer, reminding him of his promise to allow him to take over? Well...whew, that’s not going to go over well.”

“Forgive me, Sargent, but if we’re time travelers, why don’t we just go back further in time and kill Hitler? Wouldn’t that be easier than just rocking the boat with one little telegram?”

“There’s something you should understand about this, Mr. Haywood,” Sargent began. “This is the upteenth time salmon have returned to this time period. They have tried countless permutations. They tried killing Hitler several years ago, they’ve tried killing him as a youth. They’ve tried bombing Berlin like the Americans did against Japan. They even tried meticulously extracting all prisoners from the concentration camps. But none of these worked. Stopping the war, using advanced technology to win the war; it all just ends up turning to shit. The only way history will allow us to move past this time period is if we let most of it happen the way it did. The main thing we’re changing is killing Hitler a couple years before he died of syphilis anyway, but we first need to prevent anyone who took over the party in alternate timelines from having enough respect to accomplish that in this timeline.

“I’ve been traveling Germany, and abroad, for months now. I’ve planted seeds of distrust amongst dozens of bigwigs. You wouldn’t believe how hard it was to convince Felix Steiner that his army detachment could no longer fight. I’ve had more rewarding jobs, though, like passing along certain bits of intelligence to the allied forces that they would otherwise be ignorant of. This, however, was my last mission before I’m sent back in time to join the salmon battalion for some good ol’ fashion guerrilla warfare, so the rest is up to Mateo.”

“Mateo is coming?”

“Well, I don’t think he’ll actually be coming to 1945. I believe Glaston has been assigned to run a merge point for him. Either way, he will have the worst-slash-best job of all of us.”

“What might that be?”

Sargent looked at them like they should have already figured it out. “He’s going to kill Hitler.”

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