Showing posts with label tyranny. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tyranny. Show all posts

Sunday, June 5, 2022

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 8, 2397

Leona was frustrated to have to leave the blue dwarf, but one of their friends was out there, and they may really need their help right now. Besides, it would seem that traveling across realities could be easier than they thought before, so perhaps one day, they could return for her to study it. The truth was that she didn’t really need to study anything. Information on it was probably in a database somewhere, having been discovered long ago. She just wanted to live around it because of how crazy it was. The time to dwell on it was past, though. They were about to jump to another reality.
“We’re all synced up,” Ramses said, checking his Cassidy cuff. “Everybody ready?”
“Yeah.”
“Good to go.”
They jumped. It was as jolting as the last two times, but they knew what to expect this time, so they all landed on their feet. They were in a dark room. Men with suits immediately took them by the arms. “Sir, there’s more,” one of them said.
A man who was trying to walk out of the room turned around and sneered at them. “Bring ‘em too,” he instructed in a graveled voice.
“By order of Captain Waldemar Kristiansen, Eighth of Eight, you are being detained for questioning. You will be escorted to primary hock, where you will await further direction. Resistance will be met with fatal violence. Please, please...” he begged, “resist.”
While the members of the team were not capable of psychic communication, they could feel each other’s emotions, and there were other practical applications to this. When one of them began to teleport, the rest could feel that too. Ramses did this, not to escape, but to see everyone else’s reactions. Leona’s emotions indicated that they should not try to jump. They were presumably on a moving vessel, and they were unfamiliar with its layout. These substrates were designed to survive, so even if they ended up in the vacuum of space, it wouldn’t kill them. But unless they retained momentum, they would quickly fall out of range, and wouldn’t be able to return, so just for now, they would do as they were asked. The good news was that they could feel Angela. When the men dragged them out into the hallway, they could see her too, also being dragged towards hock.
The men carelessly pushed them into the cell. “Sorry for the poor accommodations,” one of them said after the others had walked away without a second thought. He used a sarcastic tone at first, but then he made sure his compatriots were out of earshot. “We’re just...kind of full right now. The ship wasn’t designed to hold so many political prisoners. Whoever you are, you have to find out how to get out of here. If even one more person gets arrested, they’re going to kill them. Or maybe they’ll kill the oldest prisoner, I don’t know. We just don’t have the space anymore, and no one wants to spend the resources keeping people like you alive. So tell them what they want to know, and be good. It will probably take them a week to get to your interrogation, so hopefully no one else will screw up.”
“Thank you,” Mateo said to the boy.
“Our cuffs,” Leona said simply.
The boy shook his head. “You’re not getting your devices back. Teleportation is illegal, and they’re going to assume that they contain subversive media.” He closed the door and left without another word.
“He may sound nice,” came the voice of a stranger in the cell with them, “but...he still works for him, and that was his choice.”
Leona stepped forward. “Captain Leona Matic of the Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez.”
“I know who you are. Those morons would have recognized you too if they spent a little more time in history class. My name is Kaison Summerling.”
“What are ya in for?” Ramses asked.
“Possession of subversive media,” Kaison explained. “I was once Captain. I stepped down due to accusations of nepotism, but now I wish I hadn’t, because I would not have selected Kristiansen as my successor. And he’s aware of that, so I’m public enemy number one.”
“This is Extremus, isn’t it?” Leona asked.
“It is,” Kaison confirmed.
“That ship from Gatewood that Omega created?” Mateo asked.
“He didn’t create it, but yes,” Leona said, “we were there when he showed up at the lounge to plant the seed of this idea. It wasn’t supposed to go down like this.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Kaison agreed. “Things are only going to get worse. Did they call the current captain Eighth of Eight in front of you?”
“They did,” Angela answered, not thinking much of it.
By the end of this mission, there are supposed to be eleven total—rest in peace, mother. Kristiansen doesn’t ever plan on stepping down. Of course, nobody knows that, or they would get rid of him. There’s only one reason they let you hear that that’s the plan.”
“They’re going to kill us anyway,” Mateo figured, having seen a movie in his life.
Kaison nodded. “This isn’t a hock; it’s a morgue.”
Leona began to pace. She pushed her feelings to the other three. They were just as unsure as her. “We might be able to help.”
Kaison sighed. “Oh, you definitely can. You could teleport us right out of here since it’s part of your biology, and not something that can be switched off by central control. Then you could rescue all the other prisoners, and help begin our revolution.”
“But you’re not going to let us do that,” Angela realized.
“It would only fuel their hate. A revolution is nothing without the people in revolt. If we all break out of here, he’ll argue that that’s all the more reason he should just kill every seditious actor. You’ll give him the best excuse ever to wipe us out.”
“We have to escape either way,” Mateo pointed out.
Kaison understood. “The four of you do, yep. I don’t know what you got going on, but I’m sure it has something to do with the fact that your roster isn’t complete.”
“How do we leave without causing you problems?” Leona asked.
Kaison crossed his arms, and thought about it. “How strong are you?”
“Pretty strong.”
“Strong enough to break down that door?” Kaison questioned.
They all looked to Ramses, the engineer of their bodies. He stepped over to the door, and tested out its integrity. “Yeah, with a little time. I mean, no one here is as strong as Superman, but it could be done. Why would we, though, if we can teleport?”
“That would cause us problems,” Kaison said. “I’m brewing a plan, but...”
“But we’re not gonna like it?” Mateo guessed.
“I don’t know you well enough to answer that, but I wouldn’t call it foolproof, and I sure wouldn’t say it’s safe.”
They waited until it was closer to midnight central before making their move, using the time to get a little rest, and fill Angela in on what she missed. Mateo and Angela started punching and kicking the door, occasionally looking out the little food opening to make sure no one was coming to stop them. As much as these security guys loved to arrest people, they weren’t very careful with them once it was done.
Leona was regarding Kaison as he watched them slowly break down the door. “You’re coming with, right?”
“I’m afraid I can’t.”
“If you tell us where on this ship is safe, we’ll get you there.”
“No. I either die a martyr, or I live long enough to help the cause. Running isn’t going to save my people. The former would be better than anything, but my guess is Kristiansen would keep my death quiet, as he’ll keep what happens today quiet. It’ll be too much of an embarrassment. The upside for us is he can’t use it as a justification to round up every dissenting voice.”
“Okay,” Leona said, knowing there was no point in trying to convince him.
“In fact, if you could knock me out cold, that would be great. I’ll make something up about trying to stop you. He won’t let me go, of course, but it could earn me a few brownie points. They might even let me have an e-reader.”
“Thank you...Captain Summerling.”
He laughed. “Not a captain. Maybe I’ll start going by General.”
“We’re out,” Mateo announced. They were one kick from breaking the latch.
Leona turned her head, and frowned. “Good luck with your revolution.” She reached back, and punched him in the jaw. Then she strode over to the door, and gave it the final kick before leading her team towards freedom.
According to Kaison, the hock was equipped with an airlock in the floor. It wasn’t a very good escape option for normal people, because there weren’t any spacesuits anywhere around here, but that was fine with them. They just needed to make it look good. He didn’t have anything to write with, so he did his best to describe the layout of Extremus, and told them where they could go.
They weren’t going to have much time. At reframe speeds, jumping out of an airlock was indeed going to do what they feared before. They would pretty much stay put while the ship continued on its journey faster than light. They weren’t exactly in hyperspace, but it did kind of operate like that. The warp bubble was wrapped tightly around the vessel. Leaving it meant losing momentum. Since they weren’t wearing their Cassidy cuffs anymore, they couldn’t sync up as they normally would. Leona was going to be in charge. She would control the teleportation, and the others would surrender to her mind’s decision, using their empathy to link their simultaneous jumps.
When the outer doors of the airlock opened, the air disappeared, but it didn’t suck them out. They were still standing above the opening, preparing themselves. Their nanites automatically placed themselves at action stations to keep their hosts alive. When Leona was ready, she pulled them all downwards, and out into the cold. Mateo smiled and waved at the camera recording them from the corner. Just as space was trying to sweep them away, Leona engaged teleportation, and delivered them to the safehouse.
It wasn’t so much a house as another darkened room. There wasn’t anything in it except for a bench along the wall, and an extraction mirror in the middle of the room. “Did he tell you this was in here?” Angela asked as she was admiring it.
“He said it was an extra bridge that they used to use to pilot the ship,” Leona answered. “I don’t think this is that. Like I said, teleportation is hard to navigate in an unfamiliar place. Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Mateo said. “There’s no one else here, we’re fine.”
“We still need to get our devices back,” Ramses pointed out, “but...I like this as our exit strategy.”
“Okay,” Mateo said. “You all stay here. I’m going to retrieve them for us.”
“No, we go together,” Leona demanded. “We promised each other.”
“It’s irrational for us all to get caught,” Mateo reasoned. “If anyone tries to get through that door, you go through that mirror. Can you do that for me? Can you save yourselves? Can you...not argue with me about it?”
Leona stared at her husband. “You heard where the evidence room is?”
“Yes.”
“Hurry back. And be quiet.”
“Stealthy is my favorite of the eight dwarves,” Mateo revealed.
He jumped, and to his surprise, he was exactly where he wanted to be. He was in the narrow aisle between two shelves. They were filled with tons of stuff, but mostly personal teleporters. He looked around for some semblance of organization, but could find nothing of the sort. Nothing was labeled, nothing was grouped. Everytime they confiscated something, they obviously just threw it wherever they found space. So he just started walking up and down. Nothing. He passed by another door, where he could see a woman sitting at a table. The dimensional traverser was sitting open on the table, and she was preparing to do the same thing to the friend detector. He opened the door. “Stop! What are you doing?”
“They asked me to figure out how these things work,” the woman answered.
Mateo picked up the lasso device. Wires and other parts were hanging out of it, and he knew he could never fix it himself. He shook it in her face. “I need to make sure every single miniscule part is here, whether it’s attached where it’s meant to be, or what.”
“It’s all there. Just...sorry.”
He peered over, and saw a chain around her ankle. “You’re a prisoner too.”
“Yes.”
“Do you know who I am?”
“Yes.”
“Then you know that I’m a survivor, and I can get you out.”
She stared at him a moment. She grabbed a toolbag, dumped out the tools, and swept all the parts of their devices into it. She reached out to him. “Let’s go.”
“You’re not leaving anyone you love behind?”
“No, he...he’s gone.”
Mateo reached down, and yanked the chain away from the table leg. Then he accepted the woman’s hand, and transported back to the extraction room.
“What the hell is this?” Ramses asked after Mateo handed him the bag.
“Can you fix it?” Mateo asked.
“In the next few minutes? No. Everything’s fine, it just...”
“It just what?” Angela asked.
“I could send a message across the dimensional barriers, but we won’t be able to cross over,” Ramses replied.
“What happens if we just wait a year?” Angela suggested.
“They’ll be waiting,” the woman contended. “They’ll have plenty of time to realize who you were, track your movements, and just be waiting for your return.”
“Besides,” Leona began, “we don’t have a cuff for her. Do you know where those are, by the way?”
“I didn’t see any cuffs,” the woman said apologetically. “I work on what they give me.”
“Don’t we have to wait until the next window opens up anyway?” Angela thought.
“Not technically,” Ramses said. “Before being taken apart, this thing could go whenever we wanted it to. We just wouldn’t necessarily be heading for a friend. It has to connect with the detector to accomplish that objective.”
“There’s a workaround,” Leona decided, looking at the mangled remnants of their device over Ramses’ shoulder. “Link it to the mirror. All you need is a portal, and that’s got one. Then you’ll have time to fix it permanently. Then we’ll go get the other two.”
“You can’t promise that,” Ramses said. “This ship has resources. We don’t know what we would be walking into.”
“We have to risk it.” Mateo placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
Ramses exhaled. “Okay, I’ll need your help, Lee-Lee.”
Mateo and Angela stood by while the other three got to work. The woman was just as smart and experienced as they were, and she noticed something. “Is this supposed to look like this?”
“Crap, that’s what I was afraid of. We’re running out of power.”
“By how much?” Mateo asked.
“We have one more jump,” Ramses determined. That was unacceptable. They had two friends missing. One more jump was not going to be enough. They had to find some kind of power source here, because there was no way to know whether they would be able to find one tomorrow. There had to be something on this ship...somewhere. Before anyone could come up with a solution, they were surrounded by a team of teleporting security officers.
“Uhhh...we don’t have time,” Mateo warned them. “Let’s just go through the mirror to any old place.”
“We don’t have time for that either,” Leona said.
“We can hear you.” It was the leader security guard from before; the one who sounded like he smoked. “You’re not going anywhere, except back to hock.”
They stood there frozen, not wanting to comply. The others could feel Ramses’ feelings, implying to them that they only needed to wait for midnight. It was all ready to go. They couldn’t just walk through the portal, though. These guys would shoot them as soon as they moved an inch. Except they never got the chance. One turned against the others, and shot them all dead before they could react. Then he took off his mask.
“Omega!” the woman cried, relieved.
“Come on, Valencia. Let’s let the nice people go home.”

Wednesday, June 9, 2021

Microstory 1643: Fighting Fire With Accelerant

Like a lot of human cultures that manage to evolve, and survive past their early Great Filters, the people on one version of Earth figured out how to defeat death. They did it both biologically, and technologically, which is standard. The outcome wasn’t as favorable as it is for others. While inventing immortality is in no way inevitable, it’s pretty hard to miss unless you’re deliberately trying to avoid it. If you do, there is every chance that you will run up against your next Great Filter, and die out as a species, so be careful. Still, some people don’t think that death is something that should be overcome, and this side of the argument wins about as often as it loses. This is about an Earth where that didn’t happen initially, but it became that way after they already started to walk up the path of immortality, and actually go pretty far along it. Right around the time that scientists and engineers were coming up with the right solutions, the world was suffering sociopolitically. Leaders were being elected in multiple countries who did not have the best interests of the public at heart. Fascists, is what they were, but unlike their predecessors, they were a lot less obvious about it, and a lot more insidious. They started manipulating laws slowly and quietly, so as not to sound any alarms. While they were doing that, they instigated social unrest, which led voters to believe that the secret fascists were their only hope. Eventually, they just did away with voting altogether, first by postponing it due to extenuating circumstances, and then simply refusing to let go of their power. Meanwhile, longevity researchers were allowed to keep working, but when their work was sufficiently complete, there were significant downsides to releasing it.

Once the rich took notice of the new technology, they took control. The wealth disparity increased drastically, raising the richest of people to almost godlike status, and dropping everyone else to ants. It was bad before, where tyrants could pass their unearned power on to the next generation of tyrants, but now the threat was insurmountable, for the original tyrants could conceivably be able to maintain their power literally forever. A great war began, and nearly resulted in the destruction of the human race. They survived, but everything changed. Instead of finally making longevity treatments and upgrades free for public use, the victors simply made all such enhancements illegal. The standard lifespan was eighty years, and it was against the law to live past it, even if one managed to be healthy enough to surpass it. All seventy-nine-year-olds were executed, and many people were executed before that if the new government felt threatened by them in some other way. They weren’t about to let a fascist plutocracy rule the lands again, and their anger clouded them to the fact that the only way to enforce their will was to become the fascists. Anyone who attempted to show them this reality was—you guessed it—executed. Of course, once a given technology exists, you can’t put that toothpaste back in the tube. Another resistance rose up in response to the consequences of the first one. They lost, and were wiped out, but this only served to galvanize a third resistance to try again. They won this time, and were able to make immortality free for all. Unfortunately, when they looked around, they realized that almost everyone was dead, and it didn’t really matter anymore. Most of the few immortals left standing would later find ways to let themselves die, and leave the uninhabitable world behind.

Saturday, July 18, 2020

Varkas Reflex: Identity (Part VII)

First order of business as Superintendent of Varkas Reflex was to figure out what it meant to be the Superintendent of Varkas Reflex. Hokusai knew she needed help, and the best place to get it was from someone with experience. Even better than that one person with experience was an entire council of them. Several people had held the position on Earth, while each of the colony planets only had one, with the exception of Sujo. Its first superintendent couldn’t handle the responsibility, and fled into the void with a stolen interstellar vessel, never to be heard from again. Of course, that wasn’t much help, because Hokusai would not be able to communicate with him, which was sad, because understanding what went wrong could have resulted in invaluable advice. Not everyone agreed to become part of Hokusai’s council, which was fine. She wasn’t looking to run a survey about them with a large sample size, but gain insight and guidance. There were eleven of them, ready to help in any way they could.
Hokusai built quantum surrogate substrates for the visitors, so they could arrive much faster. The former superintendent of Teagarden was unable to use one, since she never installed the necessary transhumanistic upgrades to accomplish this, so she appeared as a hologram. Hokusai wasn’t sure what she was expecting out of these people. Were they going to be helpful and supportive, or balk at her inexperience and naivety. They had all dedicated their lives to public service, and were presently serving in other ways. She was just a scientist, living on a planet that elected her because she was cool, and there wasn’t anyone else. Would the council believe that was enough? As it turned out, some did, while others were not so convinced. They weren’t nasty or pretentious about it, though. They applauded her for having the wisdom to form the council in the first place, and recognized that Varkas was unlike any of the planets they had dealt with themselves. Their formal approach wasn’t going to work well in this case, and they would all have to tap into their creative side in order to make this work.
After months of discussions, they decided that they had come up with something reasonable, and appropriate for this world. Hokusai realized on her own that she was never the only superintendent at all. By forming the council, she had outsourced a lot of the decisions. It went swimmingly, and if it could work for this, it could work with the actual government. So there would be no congress, no delegators, no advisors, and no administrators. This world’s government was going to be a council democracy. Councils would be formed as needed, and disbanded when the problem they were trying to solve was over, which could potentially mean never. If the council wasn’t trying to solve anything, but was there to maintain harmony, then that council would simply continue on. The question then was how to form any given council in the first place.
Would they be elected? Selected? Earned? Completely open? Yes, all of those things. Hokusai decided that the people had the right to decide how any new council was formed—making the entire populace one gigantic council in its own right—and they didn’t have to do it in the same way previous councils were done. Some councils may require particular expertise, and would only be available to certain people, who exemplified certain criteria. Others could impact the entire population, and didn’t necessitate specific competencies, so anyone who wanted to could join. If this resulted in an unmanageably large council, then it could be broken apart into smaller subcouncils. This flexibility made things really complex, but it also prevented the system from getting bogged down by its own procedural regulations. The technocracy that the majority of the stellar neighborhood used was great. Everyone had a role, and the only people allowed to make decisions were those that knew what the hell they were talking about. But it was also a slow process—often slower than the highly bureaucratic democratic republics that dominated Earth in the 20th and 21st centuries. Councils got things done, and they did it efficiently, as long as they were supervised by someone who could make sure the councilors weren’t getting sidetracked, or wasting time. This was the problem that Hokusai needed to solve now, and Pribadium thought she had the solution.
“Here me out,” Pribadium said, “we upload your mind to multiple substrates.”
“Why would we do that?” Hokusai asked.
“You say these councils need leaders. In fact, you say that each council needs one leader. This crowdsourcing is good and all, but it won’t work if they spend so long discussing the possibilities, that they can’t ever come to a conclusion. Someone needs to protect them from themselves, and who better than you?”
“First of all,” Hokusai began, “lots of people. Secondly, why would we have to upload anyone’s mind to multiple bodies? All you’re asking for is a singular entity that oversees the proceedings.”
“Eh, no one has time to be in more than one place at once.”
“Right, but why can’t each council just have its own leader.”
“Because the profusion of leaders is just going to lead to the same problem. I’m not sure if you’ve thought this all the way through. You think councils can be fast-acting, but they could be slower than republics. At least the technocracy is efficient. Most consequences to any action are predicted at some point down the assembly line. With a council, everyone might have some great idea, but they won’t say anything, because no one else is, so they may think it’s actually not that good.”
“What are you saying, that this should be a monarchy?”
Pribadium knew that Hokusai didn’t actually think that’s what she was saying. “A real democracy is perfect when you have a few dozen people. It doesn’t work in the thousands, millions, or, God forbid, billions. That’s why most healthy governments operate under representation, to varying degrees of success and moral honesty. People hate to think about it, but power must be consolidated. That’s just the way it has to be. It’s your job to make sure that consolidation is fair and reasonable. A soviet democra—”
“Don’t call it that. It has negative historical connotations that predate your birth.”
“Very well. A council democracy is fair, but it is not reasonable. You’re gonna run into problems, and in order to fix them, you’re going to form more councils, and that’s just going to add to the problem, and it will never end. The councils need a single voice. And when I say single, I mean single; not one each.”
“So, you are kind of promoting a monarchy.”
“All monarchs are tyrants, so no. I was using you as an example of the voice, but perhaps that is how it should remain, as an example. This overseer can take any number of forms. It can be elected any way you want, and remain in control however long you want. You worried about checks and balances? They’re built right in. Let’s say the overseer poses some existential threat to the planet. No problem, form a council to get rid of them. The overseer doesn’t have to run every single meeting for every single council, but they have to have the potential to be involved in any council, except for ones that would come with a conflict of interest. That’s why I suggested you copy yourself—or rather, whoever we choose for this—so each one gradually loses identity. You see, what we need is a good leader with a good history, but that’s only necessary as a foundation. Once that’s established, the copies can go off and start living other lives, but at least they all came from the same place.”
Hokusai was shaking her head. “I think you’re looking at it the wrong way. Good governments are based on diversity. Each leader should be separate, and have always been separate. Then they can serve to check and balance each other.”
Loa stepped into the room, having been listening from the hallway for most of the conversation. “Why don’t you take the best of both worlds?”
“How so?” Pribadium asked.
“Mind-uploading, councils, single voice. Put them together, what do you have?”
Neither of them answered for a while, not sure if it was a rhetorical question, or a sincere inquiry.
“Amalgamated consciousness,” Loa answered herself.
“Where did you hear that term?” Hokusai asked her.
“My mind-brain,” Loa replied. “You want fast government, but you want the people to have a say. So. Upload their minds into a system, but don’t just keep them isolated, like we normally do. Merge them together. Create a new entity. This entity won’t have to discuss how to deal with the issue. They’ll immediately know what that council would have said about it. The answers will just be right there. That’s how a normal brain works. If I asked you how to keep this door from being opened, you’ll have an answer right away. You’ll say we should install a lock on it. If I asked Pribadium, she would say let’s drag a bookcase in front of it. Ask someone else, they’ll say we should murder everyone who might try to open it. But if we put these brains together, the council-entity would say we should install a lock, plus a deadbolt, and then ask everyone who might want to open it to not do so, so we don’t have to kill them.”
“Amalgamated consciousness,” Hokusai echoed, thinking it over. “That’s a pretty big departure from how we decided to do it.”
Loa brushed this away. “The superintendent council is not the superintendent of Varkas Reflex; you are. You don’t have to consult them. You were just using them for advice, never forget that. It is still your responsibility.”
Pribadium didn’t approve. “I’ve seen this show. This is The Borg. You will be assimilated.”
“Assimilators in fiction are evil. We won’t do this to anyone who does not wish for it, and we won’t be neurosponging them. These will be copies, which leave the original contributors both independent, and intact.”
“The only reason we would do this,” Hokusai began to explain, “would be to increase the speed of decision-making. It doesn’t actually help with proving the sensibility of the decisions themselves.”
Loa disagreed. “No, it’s like Pribadium said. People might be afraid to speak up. If we copy their perspective—which is really what we’re after; not people’s episodic memories—they won’t have to worry about sounding foolish. They will have good ideas.”
“There are a hell of a lot of ethical considerations no one thought they would have to make. If we were to do this, we would be the only government to do so. All eyes will be on us, and we will have to make sure we don’t screw it up. Like, what happens to the entity we create when we amalgamated the council? Is that a person in their own right? Do we dissolve this creature later? Do we keep them on retainer for later decisions? Do we let them run off to lead their own lives? Do we let them leave the planet?”
“Now you’re getting into science that you know I don’t understand,” Loa said. “And ethics isn’t my forte either. This is an idea, which I came up with after hearing your ideas. I can’t be expected to have it all figured out.”
She was right. This was just the start. They spent the next year working on the new plan. And then they instituted it.

Friday, July 3, 2020

Microstory 1400: Durance Introduction

The history of planet Durus can be broken down into eleven eras, of varying duration, and are mostly based on the forms of government that ran the world in those times. First off, the name itself has complicated origins. It derives from the word endurance, which means lasting, but is often used in the context of prolonged suffering. That’s perfect for this world, because across the decades, its early inhabitants all suffered. No one had it good—even those who had it better—until democracy took hold after nearly two hundred years without it. But still, they endured. The name also comes directly from the root durus, which means hard. This relates to the world’s seemingly insurmountable harshness, and the fact that, when found, the rogue planet was barely more than a lifeless rock, floating through the void. The reason this series is simply called Durance is because that means imprisonment, and many have felt trapped on Durus, what with there being little hope of returning to Earth. The first to become trapped was a three-year-old girl named Savitri, who fell into a portal near her childhood home, and never returned. She spent ten years alone, never knowing her own last name, before the next unsuspecting child experienced a similar trauma. They were then alone together for another ten years until other people started coming through. The first period was retroactively referred to as the Solocracy, which means it was never a form of government at all, but it is said that Savitri commanded the world itself, using her powers to summon supporting life to her proximity. As we’ll discover, that’s not really what happened, but it’s a nice idea. When Escher Bradley appeared at the end of this single-person society, they formed what they called the Twoarchy; a sentiment which remained in historical records, even though the real term should have been Diarchy. Soon after Rothko Ladhiffe showed up, the final era of pre-civilization began, which was called the Triumvirate, though it wasn’t always composed of the same three people.

In the year 2016, the final remnants of the once-great city of Springfield, Kansas fell into the portal during something called the Deathfall, and sealed it up. This was when true society formed, and it did not go well. A tyrant named Smith garnered favor with the right people, and struck fear in the hearts of everyone else, forcing the town to follow his law until his disappearance five years later. There were many dangers in this world; monsters with rarely rational reasons for their destructive behavior, so Smith felt he needed to rule with an iron fist, and consolidate all power unto himself. Insurgents call this the Smithtatorship, which the historical documents support, because Smith himself never bothered naming his reign anyway. The next nine years were a mixed-bag of really bad, just normal bad, and not too terribly bad, but still kind of bad. It’s actually composed of a series of experimental governances, which are collectively known as the Adhocracy. It is only when the source mages, who were born in the months after Deathfall, grew old enough to take power, that things started looking up. They formed the Mage Protectorate, and used their abilities to give those they deemed worthy powers of their own, so they could keep watch over the now multiplying towns. This was a relatively peaceful period, as the monsters now that knew they were no match for the mages. Their patience lasted only sixty years, though, at which point a short war broke out, and sent the world into a dark era called the Interstitial Chaos. There was no significant attempt at a unifying governing body of any kind for these four years, but a lot happened, so it is an era in its own right.

Believing women as a whole to be the true agents of chaos and pain, a group of men took over Durus, and developed what they called The Republic. Detractors called it the Phallocracy, and enduring supporters often retroactively call it the First Republic, to distinguish it from the Democratic Republic that finally formed in 2168. In between these two republics were two short-lived transitional periods, known respectively as the Provisional Government, and the Salmon Battalion Military State. The latter came from Earth to keep things in order when some saw the Provisional Government was taking too long getting over its misogynistic ways. Lastly, the Solar Democratic Republic began in the year 2204. After potentially millions of years without a host star of its own, Durus finally found itself orbiting a binary star system. The name change is symbolic, and not reflective of any true change in government, though some debate whether to consider it the twelfth era. Others say Savitri’s period of solitude shouldn’t be treated as an era on its own either way, but no one is confident in this position. We will be examining various stories in chronological order over the course of the next five months. Each of the eleven or twelve Durune eras will be featured, but installments will not be evenly distributed across them. Here we go.

Wednesday, October 30, 2019

Microstory 1223: Lanolin Foley

Until it found its home star to orbit, there was never a time when the planet of Durus was not at war. It was at war when the first of the Springfielders arrived on the Deathfall, and had to battle frightening temporal monsters. It was at war when the Mage Protectorate formed, and started enforcing boundaries against these monsters. It was at war again after those monsters were finally defeated, and a new threat rose to power. In the hunt for votes, a group of small men grew bold, and started making complaints about the women of history. They didn’t start out explicitly stating that women were inferior, but they certainly catered to a demographic that already believed that. They just kept adding more and more outrageous statements to their repertoire, and increasing their numbers, until there was no hope in reasoning with them. They played on the worst fears of some of the least decent people in the world, and that was enough to make dramatic and terrible changes. The war continued as the rebellion against this tyranny did everything it could to put a stop to it. Unfortunately, there weren’t a lot of places to hide on Durus. Sure, only a tiny fraction of the surface was settled, but that was for a very good reason. There was only a single source of water, in a region known as Watershed. It never stopped raining, and it was extremely difficult to get to. A system of pipes had to be constructed to accommodate the population beyond its original several hundred, because there was almost no land within kilometers of the area. The rebels had to find somewhere else to live, and set up a convoluted system of water theft just to survive. They chose a region called the thicket, which was what they themselves came to be called. There was plantlife for minimal cover, which survived on what little moisture the wind carried over to it, but none of it was edible, and conditions were terrible. The Thicket spent so much time just making sure their people didn’t die that they didn’t have any time to actually fight against their oppressors. Lanolin Foley wanted to do things differently. She never planned on becoming the leader, but she knew she could do it when the responsibility fell to her. The cause was important, to her, and to the world at large. This was her chance to effect change in a way her predecessors never could. Though she retained the name, she moved their operations out of the thicket, and into the city. The government hadn’t been spending many resources catching them when they weren’t really doing anything except barely scraping by, and when Lanolin reintegrated the rebels into society, the government still didn’t do anything, because they did not know about it. Gradually, things began to get better. It was easier to find sympathizers than The Thicket ever knew. They had spent so much time in isolation that they didn’t realize things had already been changing, at least for the general population. With help, Lanolin ushered in a new era, and paved the way for people like Ludvig to keep the torches burning, and find peace on Durus.

Tuesday, October 29, 2019

Microstory 1222: Ludvig Portillion

While the end of the phallocracy on Durus was suddenly brought about by a visitor from Earth who refused to accept the status quo, her arrival was not the only thing that brought the system down. Women had been living under oppression for over sixty-five years, and a lot had changed since the new rules were first implemented. For one, everyone responsible for the new world order was dead, leaving their descendants to decide for themselves whether they still agreed with their ways. For the most part, the system held up on its own. Anyone who disagreed with it feared retaliation for voicing their concerns, so they simply kept quiet. Active rebels were few and far between, but there were even more people who secretly supported them, and needed but a push to stand against the injustice. Ludvig Portillion was one of these people. He didn’t see women as inferior, but he also didn’t think he could do anything to help. He was born into a world that not only mistreated over half its population, but also into one that discouraged questioning the government, or coming to one’s own conclusions. It wasn’t tyrannical. Criticism—by men, at least—was usually met with dismissal, rather than explicit punishment, but it certainly wasn’t a democracy, and it wasn’t set up with sufficient change-making procedures. The truth was that Ludvig thought he was doing everything he could when he pursued a relationship with Loa Nielsen. Her father, Anchor was infamous for his understanding of the progressive Earthan culture, and thusly developed empathy for the female condition. Ludvig thought that, by courting a strong and independent woman, he was showing that he wasn’t afraid of female independence, nor would he attempt to take control over her. He also thought that being around both Loa and her father made him a better person. He never considered himself to be a bad guy, and the women who knew him didn’t either. It just took him too long to realize that, since he wasn’t really part of the solution, he was still technically part of the problem. He could have done more. Treating this one woman fairly, was the absolute bare minimum, and wasn’t nearly enough to demonstrate his goodness, let alone make the world a better place. Fortunately, he came to have an opportunity to contribute positively. After Hokusai Gimura came to the planet, and changed everything about it, Ludvig stepped up. He raised his voice, in support of progressive changes, and against any who would see society crumble back down to the way it was. And by his words, along with the words and actions of many others, the world did finally become its best self.

Monday, July 22, 2019

Microstory 1151: Uhyiopa

Many light years from Earth, there is a planet. This planet has slightly lower gravity, and slightly higher tidal forces from an orbiting moon. The planet itself orbits an adolescent main-sequence star, and revolves fast enough to produce a strong magnetosphere, which protects it from solar radiation, and maintains a breathable atmosphere. Though it did not produce evolved life, it is fully capable of supporting it, which is good, because it was chosen as a colony site for, not one, but two separate species. The Orothsew and Gondilak, through some bioengineering, evolved independent of each other on isolated continents. Because of the stronger tides, both species developed quite significantly before they progressed enough in a maritime respect to survive travel across the vast ocean. The Orothsew were more advanced, and quickly overcame the Gondilak, even though the latter were more difficult to kill. But this was carried out by the leadership, and though their laws didn’t allow them to do anything to stop it, the people did not want war. A rebellion formed, composed of both Orothsew and Gondilak, who were seeking a peace. The conquest for land was pointless, as there were plenty of resources to go around, and the differences between their species was irrelevant. One such of these rebels was named Uhyiopa. She did not actively recruit new rebels, but protected battlefield deserters, from both belligerents. These did not fight like most revolutionaries. Their main purpose was to show the world what it would be like if they all lived in harmony. The plan did not work completely, when a tyrant rose up and ended the war simply by declaring himself ruler over both nations. But her efforts, and those of her people, were not wasted. Two humans witnessed her actions, and respected her vision. When they were sent to the deep past to correct the world’s problems before they even began, they used Uhyiopa’s model as a foundation to help build a more productive civilization. She would not be born in this timeline, as much of its history was changed, but her legacy lives on in the billions of people who would come to find peace on Orolak.