Microstory 2650: There and Back Again

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Mandica awakens again, but not in a morgue drawer this time. She’s lying on her back in a beautifully pleasant meadow. She has never felt so calm in her life. Oh, that’s right. This isn’t life at all, but death. It feels oddly familiar, even though she has certainly never been here before. Except perhaps she has, after Morgana killed her a few months ago. That must be it. This is where you go when you die, even if you die twice. It’s nice...a bit boring, but at least she maintains a continuity of consciousness. “Oh, God,” she says out loud. “This is exactly what the transhumanists are talking about.” It’s probably not because they want to keep living. It’s because they want to keep thinking. They don’t want their selves to end. And who would? Her family was wrong. It—they had to be. There was no way they could have known there was a legitimate afterlife. They took too much of a gamble, and got incredibly lucky. No, she shouldn’t be so hasty in her presumptions. She doesn’t know anything. This might not be an afterlife at all. She absorbed Elysia’s powers, and while consciousness streaming isn’t technically a special ability, she might have absorbed that trait too. Who knows? She sure as shit doesn’t.

There’s rustling in the grass. A pair of bare feet are walking towards her. They’re attached to bare legs. It’s a woman in a very short white tunic with floral embellishments on the hem, just like Mandica’s. She’s smiling down at her. “Welcome back.”

Mandica sits up. “I’ve been here before, but don’t remember.”

“It is rare that we have the opportunity to return someone to base reality,” the kind woman begins, “but when we do, it is important to clear their minds. The truth of what happens following death should not be revealed to the still living. We could not handle the mass suicide which might ensue.”

Mandica stands now. “Will I be returning again? To...base reality?”

“There is no way for us to know. The technology that you use to resurrect has nothing to do with us. We will facilitate the transition back if it’s necessary. If this world did not exist, we believe you would still come back to life. Pardon, I should reintroduce myself. My name is Ellie Underhill, and this is the afterlife simulation.”

“Another simulation?” Mandica questions. “Like Underbelly?”

“Not like Underbelly. Walk with me.” She starts to wade through the tall grass, smiling up at the sun with her eyes closed. “This is a virtual construct. Years ago, I had the idea to eradicate death. I had not considered the ramifications of the plan yet. I was not given the time to explore the model before someone stole my idea, and implemented it himself. Meeting you last time has sort of opened my eyes, but it cannot be undone. I’m not going to shut it down now. True death has always been an option, for the truly terrible and irredeemable, or for people like you, who disagree with the artificiality on a philosophical level. You were digitized from birth, and I understand now that this robbed you of consent. I suppose that’s why Tamerlane stole my idea, because he knew I wouldn’t go through with it after I thought about it for much longer. He took the responsibility for the questionable ethics for himself, so I never had to shoulder the burden. The choice is still yours. If that’s what you still want, I’ll zero you out, and—”

“I’m not sure I want that anymore,” Mandica admits. “I’m starting to see things in a new light. If this is a manmade simulation, that means there is no real afterlife.”

“It does not mean that,” Ellie contends. “No one yet knows. It is that uncertainty that led to the creation of this place. Those who choose Black Oblivion do so at the risk of total consciousness cessation. We inform them of the risks. It hasn’t happened in a long time. But before you try to make a decision that may or may not be permanent, there are two people who would like to speak with you.”

“Someone wants to meet me?” Mandica questions. Who could that be?

“Yes. It took a lot, getting them here. You can’t hug them, but I made the executive decision to create a window to the other side. I am glad that we have this opportunity this time. We weren’t prepared before.” Why would she want to hug them?

They’ve come across a giant tree. It is impossibly large. She only even knows that it is a tree because of the bark, but from here, it appears only as a wall, it’s so wide. How did she not see it before? It towers all the way up into the clouds. A fog or cloud begins to swirl right before them, against the face of the trunk. Once it settles, it does appear as a window. Two people are on the other side of it. They are Mandica’s mother, and her father. She runs up to them, but remembers what Ellie said. “When you said I couldn’t hug them, was that a procedural rule, or a physical impossibility?”

“The second one,” Ellie answers. “I would let you if I could, but they are not in the simulation. This is kind of like a long-distance video call. I won’t clarify the mechanism.”

Mandica turns back to her parents. “I’ve missed you. It’s been so long.”

“Longer for us,” her mother says. Oh, yeah, they died nearly 120 years ago.

Mandica places her hand upon the window. It just feels like bark. “I’m sorry you’ve been waiting. I never wavered in my convictions.” She tilts her chin away in shame. “Until recently. I think I might be immortal now, but not by choice. I promise, I always planned on dying. I just...wanted to live a different life before I did.”

“We’re not mad,” her father assures her. “In fact, it is you who should be mad at us.” He pauses, appearing to feel his own shame. “We are the ones who summoned you to Castlebourne. The world we are in now, it—”

“Careful,” Ellie warns. What the hell?

Mandica’s father sighs. “We were able to communicate back to base reality. We regret our decisions to die. It worked out, but...we still don’t want that for you. We should have held onto life so much tighter. We thought it was only precious because it ended, but we were wrong. It’s precious only for as long as you have. Once you lose it, it doesn’t mean anything. We wanted you to transmit your mind to Castlebourne, and begin to stream your consciousness, like most everyone else, not travel there physically.”

“But it obviously doesn’t matter,” Mandica argues. She gestures towards Ellie. “Even the undigitized are evidently digitized.” She shakes her head. “If this stone makes me go back, it will be tearing me away from you. Why would I want that?”

“Because that’s where you belong,” her mother insists. “Where we are is not hell, but it’s not exactly living either. We wish we could go back too. You are an adult. You can find happiness on your own, and should. Whatever stone you’re talking about is a gift. Don’t disrespect that. Let it do what it does, and I hope you can forgive us for manipulating you. We just didn’t want you to share our regret.”

Mandica’s back feels knotted. “I think it’s pulling me back. If you want me to stay alive, I’m a dutiful daughter, so I will, but I’ll find a way to see you again too. I love you.”

“We love you,” they say simultaneously. Then they disappear. It all disappears.

Mandica resurrects in Reagan’s lair. She doesn’t know how or why, but she has made a decision. She will accept her newfound immortality, and live a life of adventure.

Microstory 2635: Taking Out the Trash

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It’s 2532 now. Mandica doesn’t know the exact date. She won’t connect to the local network until she’s off of the arkship. It has entered orbit around the planet of Castlebourne, and is beginning to transport cargo down to the surface using the primary space elevator. The rest of the trip went fine, and she didn’t run into any more problems. There was a weird lurch about a week ago, and she must have lost track of the relativity, because the whole thing took slightly longer than she was told, but it’s obviously all right now. The system didn’t tell her anything about another impact event, so she’s not going to worry about it. The only issue now is sneaking down without being detected. Every cargo container is being scanned and inspected. They have to do that to make sure that all the plants and animals are still alive. Unlike last time, when there was a certain level of trust that they didn’t load dead specimens, they’re gonna notice if Mandica is hiding amongst her timber wolf friends.

She didn’t join their pack, but they didn’t bother her while she was living amongst them either. She didn’t know if they were engineered to be more docile, evolved to be that way on their own, or if she just straight up didn’t understand the wolf-human relationship. They were pretty cool. She might even call some of them her friends. The bots never came by. Lab-grown raw meat occasionally appeared from strategically placed feeding bins. The wolves didn’t mind when she took a little bit for herself, and cooked it up. She thought she would be fine with the dayfruit, but she failed to grab a vital component for programming the flavor, so she was stuck with banana the whole time. The craziest part is that the fire detection system didn’t ever respond to her fires. She didn’t even think about that until her first one was already built and burning. She was so used to doing this out in the wild, it was second nature to her, so to speak.

Mandica has a plan now, and it’s time to execute it. She pats each one of her friends on the head to say goodbye. It’s not all of the wolves, just the ones she met when she first came here, but the other packs never paid any attention to her, and don’t feel left out. She felt safe in the timber wolf section, so she never ventured too far, but she did sneak out a time or two to plan her escape route. She knows exactly where to go. This ship really is apparently fully automated, but they could have commissioned a human crew, and they would have had everything they needed, including trashcans. More importantly, it’s equipped with trashbots. They’re meant to go around on their own, cleaning up people’s refuse, but this universe is full of redundancy. No high tier intelligence has to work unless they want the energy credits to travel or develop impactful projects, but if anyone ever does want a more conventional job, they can do just about anything they want. The automated systems meant to do it in their absence will be sidelined for them. The trashbot can be operated. Normally, the janitor would stay outside of the can, but the remote interface works just as well from the inside too.

Fortunately, since she appears to be the only living, breathing person here, the trashbot has never been used before, and is totally clean. It’s cramped, but she’ll only have to be in here for a few hours if she times it right. Animals need an elevator ride that goes slow so their eyeballs don’t pop out of their heads, but plants and equipment are a lot more forgiving. They can’t drop at maximum speed, but they don’t have to wait the full fifteen hours for a safer trip either. She’s watching the hallway on her remote, using the trashbot’s cameras. She passes a few other bots on her way to the gangway, and then also on the other side, on the elevator platform, but they completely ignore her. She was worried that they would be thrown off by an unscheduled trashbot wandering around on its own, but none of them was programmed to see it as a threat. She rolls onto the elevator just in time before the doors close.

The fall is rough because she is decidedly not a plant. But her suit is equipped with the right cocktail of drugs to make it easier. She’s on a sedative to keep her loose, a nociceptor inhibitor to chill her nerves, and a few other things she can’t remember right now because she can’t even form a complete sentence in her head. The sedative is precisely tailored to keep her awake enough to react to something bad if it comes up, but she still leans her head back and rests her eyes. It’s not the worst part. The drugs only kept her alive while she was falling. Now that she’s down on the surface, her body needs to be flushed of them so she can stay focused and stay moving. But there have been consequences from the trip that are just kicking in now. She’s dizzy, sluggish, and more than a little confused. She doesn’t really know where she is. This is a planet of domes. Everything is under a dome. There are literally tens of thousands of domes, and each one is unique. This one must be dedicated exclusively to the space elevator.

But she doesn’t know where to go. Shit, she doesn’t know anything. The grand opening was decades ago. People have been living here this whole time. They’ve been oriented, they’ve made some kind of government probably. What did she think, that she would land and immediately get a new life? What if they don’t like how she came to be here? Charter planets aren’t lawless, they’re just free to come up with their own laws, independent of the stellar neighborhood. This could be an oppressive dystopia by now, she really doesn’t know. She doesn’t know a goddamn thing. She’s so tired too. The suit gave her something to reverse the acute effects of the cocktail, but it doesn’t come with a stimulant. Does it have a stimulant? Where’s the stimulant? “Hey, Suit? Give me a stimmy. Stimmy. Is it called a stimmy? Are you called Suit? Answer me.”

Mandica wakes up in a bed, in her bra and panties. A man is sitting at a desk, his back to her. She looks around and spots the only plausible weapon within arms reach. It’s a pair of steampunk goggles. They’re...not going to be very helpful.

He turns. It’s Trilby. He hasn’t aged a day. “Hey. Welcome to Castlebourne.”

“You came with me?” she questions. “You were on the ship this whole time?”

He chuckles. “No. That was 112 years ago. I sent my consciousness here four years ago, looking to greet you. You have no idea what it took to figure out when the arkship would actually arrive. So I went back home, and back to work, and then took another vacation to return here a few months ago to make preparations.”

“Wait, it was only supposed to be 108 years. Why are we so late?”

“They moved,” he replies enigmatically.

“They moved...what?”

“The solar system. They moved the whole solar system. Your arkship was on the wrong vector, and had to be rerouted in the middle of the flight. I’m sure you felt it.”

She realizes that she’s narrowed her eyes at him. “I suppose I did. So it’s 2536?”

“It is,” he confirms. “Again, welcome to Castlebourne.”

She finally decides to relax. She trusts him. He got her here. “What preparations did you make?”

He smiles. “I can turn you invisible.”

Microstory 2531: Accountant

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There’s not much I can say about my job. We all know what accounting is, and we all know it’s boring. Even accountants find it boring. We do it, because we’re good with money and numbers, and the job usually helps you make a lot of money. The starting wage is higher than a lot of people only start making near the end of their careers. That’s not me bragging, it’s me following in my mother’s footsteps, because I was a child of divorce, and lived in two homes growing up. My parents separated when I was five years old, which is when kids really start to pick up on how the people they see live their lives. That is, it’s when you start noticing the difference between your rich friends and your poor friends. It’s when you catch the news out of the corner of your eye, and realize that there’s a lot of pain in the world. It’s basically when you wake up to the harsh realities of life. My mom was an accountant, and my dad was a temp. She lived in a house. He lived in an apartment. He was a good guy, and they maintained a decent relationship. He found a place as close to her as possible, so I was eventually able to walk between them at the end of every week. But like I said, I saw the difference, and it moulded me into the person I am today. They say that becoming an accountant is safe, and for the most part, that’s true, but there’s a caveat. If you’re no good at math, walk away. Walk away now. No career accountant failed a math class in high school, or college. It just doesn’t happen. And that’s okay, there are plenty of great paths for you. I walked down this one, because I knew what was on the other side. That’s always been very important to me, because I was lacking that during the divorce, when I didn’t understand what was going to happen to me. Things have ended up okay, but I hated that uncertainty. Numbers are not uncertain. There is an answer to every equation, even if you don’t know what it is. I take comfort in knowing that if there’s an error in the bookkeeping, it’s possible to find it. It’s not abstract or hidden. You just have to know where to look, and that’s what I do. I make sure there are no errors. I make sure that the right amount of money is coming in, and the right amount is going out. It’s not easy, but it’s not ambiguous.