Microstory 1217: Brian Hiddy

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Brian Hiddy was a regular human. He didn’t have any time powers, and he didn’t have any salmon of choosers as friends. He was close with a classmate named Lincoln in a different reality, but the former forged a new path in the new timeline, so Brian never got a chance to know him that well. There are some that say these alternate timelines can impact each other in greater ways than what the time travelers who created them have done. Certain people are known to find each other again, or develop particular skills, even when enough about history has changed to make it unlikely. It’s unclear whether Brian picked up on the idea that there was something missing in his life; that an alternate version of him once helped Lincoln through his temporal troubles. Maybe destiny wanted him part of the world of time travelers, regardless of what role he was playing. Or maybe it’s just a big coincidence. Either way, he found his way into that world on his own. Brian always wanted to be part of something big. He knew that there must be some secret about the universe that few people were aware of. He didn’t see anything weird, or get tipped off in any way. He just sought out the truth. And he found it. He didn’t know exactly what he should be looking for; signs of a hitherto unverified macroorganism roaming the lands of South Los Angeles, aliens in the outfield, werewolves running a blood bank. He looked into nearly everything. He started out by collecting all the articles about absurd claims he could find, and searching for patterns. That didn’t really turn up much, ‘cause people be crazy. He tried to engage in conspiracy theory chat rooms, but it was just as difficult to sift through the crazy, and find the legitimate stories, if they even existed at all. He decided to go old school, spending a lot of time in the library, reading up on all the lore he could find, trying to see if anything stood out. One interesting fact about vampires he noticed was that multiple disparate ancient cultures had made eerily similar claims, suggesting that the species was real, pervasive, and consistent. He had a hard time tracing the mythology together, both to see if the stories had simply been passed from one culture to the next, or to see if they were consistent enough to be real. Again, this labor yielded no fruit. He was about to give up when he came up with another idea. He made himself go crazy.

He made a lot of noise; in public, like on the news when a field reporter was trying to talk about a newly laid pavers at the community college, or the weather. He was spouting all sorts of nonsense about ghosts, interdimensional invaders, and people from the future. That last one got him noticed. People came to his house, asking what he knew, and how he knew it. He had taken some acting classes, especially ones geared towards improvisation, so he did a pretty good job of keeping the lie going, and making it seem like he wasn’t bluffing, which he was. Well, they eventually figured him out, but not before he pressed the little red button on his old phone, which he had set up on the bookcase during the interview. He recorded their whole meeting, and the next day, was able to watch them erase his memories. This was it; his one opportunity. He took a screenshot of the mysterious people, and started hunting for them. He reached out to everyone he knew, trying to get in touch with law enforcement, or the NSA, or anyone with resources. This was how he found a small group of people who had interacted with temporal manipulators, one of which was an agent in the FBI. One of the others had also once seen the people from the screenshot, and together, they figured it all out. Their investigations caused a lot of problems for them, and they wouldn’t end up agreeing with each other, or staying together. Brian sort of broke off on his own, and decided that the best use of his time was to search for people like him. He continued to look through tabloids and conspiracy boards, for anyone claiming to have seen something they couldn’t explain. Once he found someone who fit the description, he would reach out to them, and help them in any way he could, even if that meant stopping them from exposing this truth to others.

Microstory 1032: Riley

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Hello. This is your president speaking. I know you weren’t around to vote for me, but I’d like to think you would have had you gone to this school at the time. Today, I’m going to talk about a dear, dear friend of mine named Viola Woods. We didn’t always see eye to eye politically, but we were a lot alike. We both care and cared about this school, and ran for office to see it reach greatness. We both like and liked to help people; even strangers, and we both consider and considered our peers to be our best assets. I’m sure you’ve heard a lot of things about me since you started these interviews, but I think you would have a different perspective right now if you had spoken to me first. We could have combined our minds, and coordinated a strategy to tackle this series. First and foremost, I am absolutely, one hundred percent, behind our police force. I believe that justice has been served, and the right person has been found guilty of this terrible crime. I know that the trial has not yet commenced, but I have complete faith that the truth is exactly what we were shown. I know people are spinning tales about some religious cult, and are filling your head with ideas about what really went down by the river that day. I just want you to be careful about who you listen to, and who you trust. This is a small town, and though I love it terribly, I recognize that it’s fairly pleasant and uneventful. This murder has made the news statewide, and with that comes the crazies. People like conspiracy theories, because they take comfort in the possibility that not everything is as it seems. They don’t actually care who killed Miss Woods, but the idea that there’s something stranger going on than the public is aware of makes them think there could be other things they don’t know about. Why, if a demon possessed an impressionable young girl, and forced her to kill her best friend, or a ghost drowned Viola in revenge for some crime carried out by someone else, what else might there be? The fangirls can hold onto hope that vampires are real, and out there, and just waiting to seduce them. Nerdy young boys might actually get the girl, because hey, crazier things have happened, right? Conspiracies are just believable enough that they could technically be true, but insane enough that they open us up to other—perhaps more fantastical—possibilities. In philosophy class, we learned about something called hokum’s razor [sic]. Basically, if you haven’t heard of it, it means that life is really simple, and if something is too complicated to explain, it’s probably a bad explanation. Viola’s death was a tragedy; one that could have been avoided, but the investigation came to a legitimate conclusion. All the pieces fit, and if anyone tells you they have evidence to the contrary, they’re most likely trying to feed you a bunch of hokum. Thank you, and God bless America, and Blast City. Go Miners!

Microstory 1006: Ralph

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Hey. I heard it through the bovine that you have this crazy idea to interview everyone in the senior class, to get their reactions to Viola’s death. Do you have any battle plans laid out, or do you intend to just run around blind. I have this school wired. I know who is who and who they do. You should start with the kid here who knew her the least. Let’s see, we have a few contenders, but I’m gonna have to go with Edna. She’s the newest student after you, so she doesn’t know much of anyone yet. In a town this small—so tight-knit—it’s hard to break in if you’re an outsider. Next, you’ll want to get the Vance interview out of the way. He’s kind of a douchebag, and he rejects everything about Blast City, so he’ll have little to contribute to your investigation. Blanche should technically come after that, because she’s a sociopath, and doesn’t care about anyone. But I worry if you talk to her, she’ll depress you so much, that you’ll just give up. Louise was overprescribed anxiety medication—but you didn’t hear it from me—so she’ll lift your spirits high enough to handle the Blanche storm. After that, you got Giorgia. She’s a lovely girl, ultimately from Italy. She had a lot of problems when she moved to town a few years ago. We don’t get a lot of visitors, you see, and people can be quite insensitive and ignorant. We’re all a lot more woke now, but she’s kind of been soured on us. She and Viola weren’t close, but she’ll have nice things to say about her, which you’ll need, again, after the Blanche storm. I know this is a lot of information, and I’ll write it all down for you. Maybe I could help on a more permanent basis. I can set up microphones, and transcribe your notes, or whatever you need. I don’t work for the newspaper, but like I said, nothin’ happens in this school I don’t know about. Oh, a little more about me? Well, I’m pretty quiet, and almost invisible, like the janitor. I talk to a few people sometimes, but only because they think I have some weird secret, like I’m a vampire, or a narc. Mostly I just observe, which is easy when nobody notices you’re there. Don’t worry about me, though, I’m totally fine. I’ve never tried very hard, and was always just biding my time until college. Viola’s death showed me that this is part of real life too—that the stakes are real—and I will always be waiting for the future if I don’t start living in the present. Anyway, I wish I had realized that before, and put myself out there. As much as I know about this place, there’s still a lot that I’m not privy to. If I had just been more open, she and I might have been friends. I got to get to class, but I’m looking forward to working with you. I’ll have that list ready for you tomorrow morning.

The Advancement of Leona Matic: Prime

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Vito and Khuweka split the group in half, and teleported everyone back to the Prototype. Kallias tried to hand the goggles over to Leona, but she figured it would be best to keep all their ingredients separate, for now. She possessed the Compass of Disturbance, and Kivi was in charge of the Book of Hogarth, because Hogarth herself didn’t want nothing to do with it. Vitalie kept the Incorruptible Astrolabe in her bag, Hogarth had the Rothko Torch, Khuweka kept the Jayde Spyglass, and now Kallias could hold onto the HG Goggles. Once everyone was inside, Leona interfaced her tattoo with the machine once more, and started up the engines.

“How long will it take to get there?” Kivi asked, increasing her volume with every word, as the engines grew louder and louder. “Some of us won’t live forever!”

“We’re here,” Khuweka said, interpreting the screens. It was one thing to speak Maramon conversationally. Reading the script, and understanding the monitor outputs, were entirely different skills, so they still needed her to operate this thing.

“Really? Wow,” Vitalie said. “Why did the last one take months?”

“The Composite Universe, and Universe Prime are quantum entangled with one another,” Khuweka began to explain. “As far as hyperdimensional relativity goes, they’re right next to each other. When the original Prototype exploration crew found what we call the biverse, they decided to stay away from both of them. Most human civilizations die out before growing too technologically advanced to become a threat to us. The residents of the biverse are exceedingly more powerful than anything you’ve ever seen. The only reason we were safe in the Composite was because that world, at that time, was largely abandoned. When we step out to Earth here, there’s no telling what we’ll find. Tread lightly, I will probably go invisible.”

“This is Earth, though,” Hogarth asked.

“Yes,” Khuweka said. “Though it is a very different than your own, much is the same. Technology, for instance, has advanced at about the same rate, according to a strikingly similar arbitrary calendar.”

“What year is it right now?” Leona asked as she was looking at a very underdeveloped village a couple hundred meters from their position.

“Sixteen-ninety-nine,” Khuweka answered, looking at the monitor again. She turned away from it, but did a double-take. “Oh, sorry. Negative sixteen-ninety-nine; about seventeen hundred years before the common area, and the birth of some random guy named Jesus.”

Though she was strictly atheist, Leona’s husband was born and raised Catholic. Fortunately, Mateo didn’t exist in the timestream, and no one else here seemed to be offended by Khuweka’s remark. The way Leona understood it, disparate universes were completely unrelated entities, and quite unlike alternate realities. Even Earths that began with the same start values would have developed under radically different conditions, resulting in not a single individual from one having an alternate version in another. Still, there seemed to be some exceptions to this rule, in some cases; apparently people whose lives so profoundly impacted history. Donald Trump, Adolf Hitler, and Jesus of Mary and Joseph, appeared to exist in multiple branes, which they shouldn’t, suggesting some level of quantum entanglement that permeated the bulkverse. What about these few people led to multiple versions of them having been born? Then again, human beings themselves ought to be extremely rare in their familiar form, due to minor differences in the environment in which life evolved. Perhaps these constants were simply quirky extensions of whatever principle allowed humans to be so unrealistically pervasive.

“There’s someone at the door,” Kivi pointed out as she was looking at the view monitor. Her comment was quickly followed by a knock on that very door.

Vito set down his drink, and walked over to the entrance with a strut. “I will protect you from harm,” he said, embracing his immense power. “Can I help you?” he asked, out of sight of either the camera, and blocked by the antechamber.

“Step aside,” came a reply.

Leona recognized that voice. She ran over, and tackled Missy Atterberry as she tried to round the corner. “Oh my God, you’re here. It’s been so long!”

Missy hugged her back, but with only one arm. The other was missing.

“What happened?” Leona asked.

“Occupational hazard,” Missy replied after Leona finally let her go. “I’m the one what caused the Crossover to explode. My arm didn’t survive.”

“I can build you a prosthetic,” Hogarth said. “Hell, you come with us back to our universe, I could regrow your limb.”

Missy shook her head. “Not possible. The most advanced scientists in the biverse have attempted. There’s a neurological block between my brain, and the nerve-endings. A lot of people experience something called phantom limb, which causes them to feel pain from appendages they’ve lost. I have the opposite condition, where my brain is indissolubly aware that my arm is no longer there. I can’t even trick it. I’ve survived, though.”

“I’m so sorry,” Leona said.

“No,” Khuweka said. “I’m sorry. I’m the one what did this to you. You wouldn’t have been in the machine had I not dropped the canister of Serif nanites.”

Missy smiled lovingly. “That was millennia ago, I’m totally over it. I’m a doctor now. I can diagnose absolutely any illness.”

“How did you know we were coming?” Leona asked her. “You couldn’t have just happened to be living in the area?”

“I planned my travels accordingly,” Missy explained. “A friend of mine predicted your arrival. If he’s not busy, you may meet him. Come. It’ll be easier to turn this thing invisible if you’re already outside of it.”

“You knew you could turn things invisible?” Khuweka asked Missy.

Missy laughed as she ushered everyone out, one by one. “Of course. I just diagnosed my own time powers.”

“Damn, I should have thought of that,” Khuweka said.

“You’ve spent your whole life as an immortal,” Vito said comfortingly. “You probably never had reason to wonder how your body works, because it never breaks down.”

Once everyone was outside, Missy turned the Prototype invisible, and synced up her teleportation coordinates with Vito and Khuweka, so they could all jump at once.

Leona looked around with wonder. They were standing in the middle of a bustling city. There weren’t any skyscrapers, but there were streets, and electricity. “I thought this was the second millennium BCE. Did you jump us through time?”

“No,” Missy said. “This island was founded by aliens from a different universe, just like us. They call it...Atlantis.”

“Atlantis?” Vitalie asked. “I’ve heard of that from other choosers. The powers that be supposedly live here.”

“It’s a different Atlantis,” Hogarth tried to explain. “Remember?”

Missy laughed again as she walked up to a door, and rang the bell. “No, it’s not. There is only one Atlantis in the whole bulkverse.”

A man opened the door before anyone could ask Missy what the actual hell she was even bloody talking about.

“Meino, these are the ones you foretold would come; my friends from my homeverse.”

Meino looked them over, not with suspicion, but curiosity. “Have the council responded to your requisition?”

“They’ve not,” Missy responded. “I was hoping you could put in a good word.”

“They’re not just going to hand a weapon of mass destruction over to a bunch of random travelers.”

“Yes,” Missy agreed, “they’re travelers...from the universe of origin, which means it belongs to them more than anyone.”

“That doesn’t mean it belongs to them,” Meino said. “Now, if they had some sort of family claim to the artifact, I might be able to convince the council. Otherwise, I doubt my words would hold much sway.”

“We have a family claim,” Hogarth said. When everyone looked at her, she lowered her head in embarrassment. “My wife is the mother-in-law of the lighter’s original owner, Lubomir Resnik.”

“L.R.,” Meino said as he stared at Hogarth. “It’s engraved on the bottom of it. The museum always suspected it was a personal item.”

“It was a gift from a mage who fancied him,” Hogarth continued. “Rumor has it they were having an affair, but that was never confirmed. He had the power to form a mental map of everyone on the planet, and communicate with them telepathically. Well, it was more like hypnotism.”

“That makes sense, based on what the muster lighter can do. Very well, I will call in as many favors as I need to make this happen for you.”

“Thank you, Meino,” Missy said. “You are a good witch.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said nonchalantly as he stepped out of his house, and let the door close behind him. He then jumped up, and flew away like superhero.”

“What kind of time power lets you fly?” Kivi asked, eyes wider then a dinner plate.

“He doesn’t have a time power,” Missy said. “I just said it, he’s a witch. He has telekinesis.”

While the group waited for word on whether they would be allowed to take the Muster Lighter out of this universe, they had a beachview picnic. Those most concerned with how the powers that be maintained control over salmon pressed Missy for details on the matter. Leona, specifically, wanted to request audience with them, assuming this council of leaders were the ones responsible. Missy was clear that the council had nothing to do with it, and in fact, could do nothing to stop it. What was happening to Leona and the other salmon in their universe would not come to pass in this universe for many, many years. There was simply nothing they could do at the moment to affect any change. It was out of the question for them to somehow jump forward in time, and do something about it then, because that could prevent Leona from getting Mateo back. She resolved to come back later, hopefully further in the timeline of Universe Prime.

Meino contacted them about an hour later, and informed them the council was still considering their request, but would need to hear a plea from the family. When Hogarth stood up to go with him, she exploded.

“That seems like something the powers that be would do,” Kivi noted. “Why does she keep disappearing, if they don’t have control over us anymore?”

“She’s not salmon,” Kallias answered her. “Nor was she born a choosing one. She’s hypothesized that she was infected with temporal energy when the machine that she built exploded. Though the explosions seem random, she believes time is aware of itself, and is reacting to something in the timestream. We’ll probably never know what triggers them, if anything.”

“If she can’t speak,” Meino said, “the council will need someone to speak on her behalf. Or you can come back later, it doesn’t matter to them. No one else is asking for the muster lighter. Could you do it?” he asked of Kallias.

“I will,” Leona said. “The lighter may belong to her by way of family, but I’m the one who’s here to use it. I should explain to them why.”

“Very well,” Meino said. “One of your friends can teleport you, or I can let you fly.”

“Oo, fly,” Kivi said excitedly. “My mama always said, if someone asks you if you want to fly, always say yes.”

“She always said that?” Vitalie questioned. “She ever said that?”

“I wouldn’t mind the experience,” Leona said to Meino.

After becoming a time traveler, Leona saw and did a lot of things. She met famous historical figures, battled super powerful villains, and even died a few times. Nothing could compare to the feeling of flying through the open air. Her only regret was how small the island was, though it seemed like Meino was taking the long way around to give her more time. They flew onto the balcony of the top floor of a highrise, and walked right into the council room. A group of people were carrying on with their own conversations, and only passively acknowledged their arrival. They were an eclectic bunch. One of them was drinking what was either a bloody mary, or just blood. It did look like she had fangs, and her eyes were a vibrant shade of violet, so Leona was inclined to assume she was a vampire.

Once they were finished, the council leader spoke, “is this the relative of the original owner?”

“I am not,” Leona replied. “She is indisposed.”

“She’s lost somewhere else in time,” Meino clarified when the council leader looked to him.

Leona continued, “She was here to help me, however. I require the muster lighter in order to bring my husband bank from nonexistence.”

The council looked amongst each other. “How do you remember him if he no longer exists?” one of them asked her.

Leona rubbed her belly deliberately. “I’ve felt the evidence.”

They nodded, understanding her situation better than she would have expected. “We accept this change,” the leader said. “I am Council Leader Erica Phoenix. How will you use the artifact to retrieve your husband? How does it have this power?”

“It alone does not seem to,” Leona said. “My source indicates it will be working in tandem with several other objects, each with their own power. This source is designed to give information piecemeal, so I couldn’t tell you exactly how it will work, if at all.”

“The lighter is a powerful tool, but also profoundly dangerous. We believe it’s already been reverse engineered for nefarious purposes. Our inhouse seers do not see good things happening with this technology. Their visions, however, cannot reach beyond the biverse. How can we be assured of your good intentions?”

Leona took stock of what she had learned since arriving here. Meino was a witch with telekinesis, that woman was almost certainly a vampire, and the wolf at the end of the table was demonstrating active listening skills. People who could see the future were mentioned on multiple occasions, and technology this island utilized was far beyond anything that should exist in this time period. The leader’s name reminded Leona of an entity she once met named Monster, who referred to itself as a phoenix. She took a stab in the dark, and guessed there were lots of other wonders she had not had the pleasure of encountering. “I would be happy to submit to a telepath, or an empath.”

The council members looked at each other again. Maybe they were all telepaths, and never needed to say anything out loud. “We have decided to trust you. Besides, my great great grandchild vouches for you.” She stood up, prompting the others to do the same. “I’m afraid we must dispense with ceremony, however, as we have run out of time.” She pulled a lighter out of her pocket, and tossed it over to Leona. “Safe travels. It is my understanding you’ll be dealing with the bladapods next. Good luck with that.”

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Microstory 876: Deer to My Heart

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When the first of the monsters started cropping up in the public, a lot of people thought they knew what they were dealing with. They had pale skin, sharp fangs, and drank human blood, presumably to survive. They only came out at night, and they seemed to be multiplying. People reported that their loved ones, who were once perfectly normal, suddenly acted different, and went after them like all the other attackers. Vampires. That was the word people were using to classify these new beings, because that was the one that made the most sense. Naturally, we assumed we understood what that meant, and how to fight them off. We were so wrong. What we discovered the hard way was that they would not be killed by the sun, or by ultraviolet light. They came out at night because their bodies preferred cooler weather, but that didn’t mean heat was deadly to them. They could be killed with fire, or decapitation, but that goes for just about any living creature on the planet. We also thought a vampire could be killed with a wooden stake to the heart, but a great many humans were either killed, or turned, failing to make that work. Though not impossible to kill, vampires were tough, and strong. It took more military prowess than the average civilian could demonstrate, unlike in the movies, where average joes band together, and save the day. It was I who discovered their unusual weakness, and I did it accidentally. Like any good doomsday prepper, I had a plan to escape the city, and just wait this out somewhere remote. Like a good doomsday prepper with no money, my plan was limited to a few ready-to-eat meals saved up, and some camping gear. I couldn’t afford a bunker, or a road tank, so my best bet was to just hope to find some small sliver of land away from the struggle.

I made my way out of town when the first legitimate reports came in, and monitored the situation via crank radio. I drove up to the nearest significant wooded area, which was Aldenroda National Park. Then I just started living off the land, finding food using the knowledge I gained from video tutorials online before this all happened, and supplementing what I never learned with instinct and improvisation. After a couple of weeks, things were getting worse in civilization, but I had still not encountered a single vampire myself. By then, anyone still around knew that wooden stakes and daylight wouldn’t help them, including me. I felt fairly safe where I was, but winter was literally coming, and I would die from good ol’ fashioned hypothermia if I didn’t travel south, or find some better shelter. Fortunately, I happened upon an abandoned cabin that was perfect. It was pretty well insulated, had a nice fireplace, and a good bed. I was doing even better than before when a vampire showed up out of nowhere, looking for some dinner. There weren’t any samurai swords around, and I didn’t think I was clever enough to set the guy on fire, so my options were death, or switching sides. Desperate for door number three, I grabbed the nearest weapon I could find, which was a set of deer antlers the cabin’s real owner evidently never got around to hanging up. They had just left them on the floor, and so had I. The vampire thought he had me cornered, but I got lucky when he accidentally fell onto the antlers, and straight up died. I was shocked and relieved. I had stumbled upon perhaps the easiest way to kill these things, and no one else knew about it. I now had a new pair of choices; continue to use this revelation to my advantage, or go back to the outside world, and spread the word. The choice was obvious. The world had never done anything for me, so screw ‘em. They can all die, for all I care. I’m the only person who matters now, I thought. Yet fifty years later, I’ll be dying soon anyway, and humanity is still here. I impart the secret of the antlers to you, stranger. Use it wisel—what are you doing with that machete?

Microstory 617: Everlasting Sacred Light

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Three days after the Sacred Savior, Sotiren Zahir was buried, perhaps the most miraculous event of all took place. He came back from the dead. Now, at this point in our collective history, humans have had their fair share of resurrections. It is not terribly common, but it’s also not impossible. Vampires were borne of a race of peoples called pseudomortals who had figured out a way to pull themselves back from the death dimension. Ambers were a different race of people with special abilities; a select few of which could bring others from the afterlife as well. Much later, the anomalies rose to power, and a few of them also had some level of control over death. Even if these things had not happened, virtual immortality has been in the galaxy for a long time now, so death is really a non-issue for anyone with enough money to enjoy the right treatments and procedures. But our Savior died in such a unique way that he should not have been able to return at all. This was not by accident, but by holy mandate. One of Sotiren’s final request was that he not be retrieved, cloned, or otherwise replicated. He believed in singular identity, and did not think that anyone other than the actual him could ever hope to be him. His followers tend to agree.

There is one obscure passage in the Book of Light—separate from the taikon passages—that seems to make the aforementioned mandate sound a little more complicated than we thought. Then the Sacrificed will rise, by light in darkness; the darkest and coldest. A new sun will illuminate the sky. It will burn bright and die fast. Many scholars believed this passage to be connected to the scripture regarding the seventeenth taikon, despite no direct reference to each other. The Sacred Light will dim for three days, but be reignited by the juice of peace and joy. Both of these passages have largely been considered metaphorical; independently and collectively meaning that the Lightseed faith cannot be extinguished, that truth will always prevail, even after being snuffed out...or dying. Recent events, however, led scholars and verifiers to reexamine these words to see if they may be more literal. Evidence has pointed to the idea that the seventeenth taikon was reached. And this is how. Within the boundaries of the solar system that houses the planet isolate of Kesliperia, a star suddenly burst into existence. The elite residents of Harrdosa and Yelseten were shocked by its unexpected appearance it in the twilight sky during the Feast of the Fruit of Love. Upon turning back around, however, they discovered a visitor had arrived at the feast. Feeling happy and agreeable from the polbit fruit, they welcomed him to the meal, even though he wasn’t wearing any clothes. A group of verifiers were witnessing the event, however, and immediately recognized this man as Sotiren Zahir. He had been resurrected from death, by no artificial means. Many believe that the text in the Book of Light that refers to the Everlasting Sacred Light was actually in reference to this event. If this was a true miracle, it is one that requires further testing. The other taikon may continue in that time, but cannot be officially recognized until the Savior’s return can be scientifically verified.

Microstory 599: How PROSAIC Took Over the World

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What began as a vampire uprising years ago transformed into something more sinister than anything anyone not involved could have predicted. I write these words knowing that my life is forfeit, but if I can open even two people’s eyes to the truth, than I believe it to be worth it. Besides, I am one of the last remaining people who were alive when the vampire plague hit, so I know what was like before that. And I know that we can find that world once more, but we’ll have to to do it together. Rather, you’ll have to do it. Even if they don’t catch me, I’m old, and won’t be around much longer. First, you’ll need a quick history lesson.

When the first vampire plague hit the shores of a remote island chain, the small group of heroes who quashed it thought that it would be over. What they didn’t realize was that this was merely a test run, and that the instigators of this horror would later tweak their formula using unexpected data from this test, and deploy another wave. The second wave was global, but it spread so gradually that people didn’t think much of it. Sure, it affected nearly the entire vampire population, but the symptoms were minor, and the effects not lasting. A few isolated vampires discovered that following the recovery from this pathogen, they were afforded new abilities. Upon drinking the blood on amber, a vampire could enjoy heightened strength, increased speed, and a deeper resilience to the light and heat. Of course, for most vampires, this was a nice gift, but it wouldn’t make them any more dangerous to the world than they already were. Afterall, if they wanted to hurt someone that bad, they could just use a machine gun. The stringe vampires, however—those with a history of criminal recidivism—saw this as an opportunity, and some began making plans to exploit their new advantages. But still, their uprising was not as violent as it could have been. The stringes wanted to take control of the world’s resources, but they didn’t want to hurt anyone. What they didn’t plan on was a completely unrelated group of people deciding to carry out their own political exploits.

Following the usurpation of many of the world’s leaders by vampire criminals, a secret organization made itself known to the world, and took this power for themselves. They were known as PROSAIC, and up until this point, their existence was only rumored within the confines of conspiracy message boards, and basement units of intelligence agencies. As it turned out, the PROspective Social Adjudication Invocation Contingency was very real, and—as I might point out, since I’m not long for this world—a ridiculously named group more concerned with acronyms than reality. PROSAIC was formed at an unknown period in history, long before the vampire plague ever began, with one purpose: to infiltrate governments, and establish secretly amadesin high members in positions of leadership. They succeeded in this endeavor, but could not have done it without the help of one man. One crazy old man.

Ronald Grump (real name) “served” as the oldest president of Usonia in history. Documents would later reveal that he suffered from severe age-related neurological complications which resulted in a number of poor policy decisions. He won the office due to a division in the country. There were those who wanted to progress and bring the world together, but there was also a group of isolationists who wanted to close the nation’s borders. These were thought to be the bigoted fringes of society, but what Grump’s opponents did not understand, was that about half the country felt this way, if only to a small degree. Ronald Grump wasn’t as odious as his constituents...but he knew he could prey on their stupidity to gain their votes. What the world did not know at the time was that Grump had formed a secret agreement with the amadesin faction that would later take over the world. Though he was not technically one of them—his faith being relegated to the pure accumulation of wealth—he helped them. He allowed them to make decisions for him while he spent most of his time playing golf on the southeastern coast of the country. He set a number of bad precedents, corrupting the office of the presidency by ignoring diplomatic measures. In the end, he was the worst president in history, and would have been even if he hadn’t gotten into bed with the amadesins. To understand what happens next, you’ll have to read Part II of this three-part series, which will be posting next week...if I’m still alive, and my servers remain intact for lon

Microstory 598: Group of Ambers Provide Aid Following Disaster; Form Paramilitary ‘Brigade’

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In the days following the unexpected onslaught of Hurricane 905-11 on the coast of Carolina, a record number of volunteers traveled from all over the country—and even internationally—to provide aid to those in need. Hundreds of people were killed, thousands of people were injured, and millions of people suffered damage to their homes in the most damaging tropical cyclone in recent historical memory. The people who gave up their time and money to help perfect strangers who lived hours away from them are, without question, heroes. Experts believe the high number of volunteer aidsman can be attributed to the invention, and proliferation, of the home radio receiver, but this does not take away their bravery. It has shown the world that humans are probably inherently good, and that those who can help, likely will. But a special group of these people did more by taking this horrendous event, and turning it into something good. The Usonan government and its military were unable to engage in their rescue efforts in a timely manner. We are still so technologically inadvanced that organizing and mobilizing an entire national guard in times of crises is difficult, at best. Fortunately, there were those in the area who could fill in for official rescuers until they could arrive.

Roloff Hopson formed The Amber Brigade two years ago in order to create an amber community in northeastern Georgia. Though ambers have generally felt no hostility from the standard human population, many appreciate having a place they can go, knowing that everyone around them has at least this much in common. The name was meant to be more a joke, with plans to rename it based on suggestions from its then-current members, but this never happened, and they all just agreed to keep it. As it turns out, they couldn’t have picked anything better. Up until now, the Brigade has met two or three times a week at an abandoned theatre that Hopson’s late aunt had bequested to him upon his death. Hopson and his new friends, which numbered a few hundred now, were at one of these meetings when news of Hurricane Eleven broke out. A few of them immediately wanted to spring into action, and do whatever they could for the victims. These few possessed abilities that gave them each an advantage against water, wind, or debris...but they were not the only ones who wanted to take action. Soon, a dozen more followed, then another dozen, and then more...until only children and single parents remained. Nearly all of them caravanned to the most dangerous areas affected by the storm, and began rescuing people. Totals for their rescues have not yet been calculated, but it’s estimated that they saved the lives of at least as many people as they had in their own group.

For the rest of the month, the Amber Brigade continued to support the survivors of Hurricane Eleven, working in shelters, transporting people to families in other regions, and searching for anyone who may be trapped or stranded. Meanwhile, Hopson and the rest of the organization’s leadership began talks for transforming the Brigade into an actual paramilitary agency. Details have not yet been finalized, and they still have a long way to go in order to comply with all national laws, but we already know a few things. This new Amber Brigade will allow membership from anyone; including regular humans, vampirs, and werewolves. Though still to be based in Augusta, it will include chapters in multiple major cities, and be expanded on an as-needed basis. The ultimate goal of the Brigade is to create as many chapters as possible, spread out across as much of the country as possible. While the military branches of the government cannot possibly be stationed in all places, the Brigade will supplement their forces with volunteers. It will also require far less of a commitment than that of an aidsman, and be focused primarily on relief and service, rather than military strategies. In fact, Brigade leadership is currently working with government representatives in order to determine whether any military training should be added in the at all. An official announcement will be held over the radio today from the capital. New information, including the steps necessary to join, is expected to be provided at this time.

Microstory 597: Last Giant Dies

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The shortest-living intelligent species in the world was the giant, and the ultimate consequence of this fact was realized yesterday when the last giant died following a life of heart disease, along with other health complications. Wizards first drew up the plans for giant humans centuries ago, though never actually created them, likely due to the problems they eventually endured. Unfortunately, the fairies ended up getting their hands on this information, and had no problems acting on it. The average human is about 7.5 sheam in height, with the upper limit sitting right around 10 sheam. Species that are related to humans, like elves and veratope, tend to fall within the same range. Meanwhile, werewolves and dwarves are generally shorter. Giants, on the other hand, average twice the size of the standard human, towering over the ground at 20 sheam. Prehistoric avians, of course, could get much larger than that, but they evolved with certain biological characteristics that prevented them from experiencing the same issues as giants did. The first thing to understand is that scaling up a creature does not require a linear formula. Though giants were twice the size of us, they were eight times our mass, which meant that they weighed upwards of two shemratra, which is equal to 2,080 sheamtra. This made them the heaviest beings living on land at the time. Cetaceans only survive as heavy as they are by benefiting from weightlessness perception in the ocean. This is what causes beached whales to die; their organs can’t withstand the weight of each other. Land animals do not possess this advantage, which means that giants were literally unable to move.

Giants were discovered in the Bogs of Linctavia decades ago, having apparently been left there by the fairies, which are notorious for abandoning their experiments and creations. The water and mud of the bog allowed some movement, but not an adequate amount. The giants had somehow managed to develop some kind of symbiotic relationship with the marble fintys in the area. Marble fintys are known for their evolutionary quirk wherein they never learned what their bodies were capable of consuming, which means they eat just about everything, and regurgitate anything that their digestive system can’t handle. These strange birds figured out that they could do this near the giants, and that not only would the giants not harm them, but other predators would avoid the area for fear of them. Sadly, not even this was enough to keep giants alive as their numbers experienced diminishing returns over a few short generations. The last giant was named Kirabo Endison, and his last words were, “take care of my [pet marble finty] Faven.” He was seven years old, and is survived by all of us.

Microstory 595: Atlantis Will Sink

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When our people first came to this world, it was by accident. Our ancestors found themselves trapped in a scary new universe, with primitive technology, and superstitious inhabitants. We wanted to live in peace with them, but this was not possible. We would have to reveal our scientific understanding to them at a time when we felt it would not be appropriate. Or we would have to live like them. Of course, since then, Priority Two has altered our perception of best practices around the rest of the universe, but for this world, the rule remains. We must not come out to the natives, or we will face consequences from several authorities. Long after the first accidental trip, we came upon a large island in the ocean. At the time, the natives were barely venturing out to the sea, so we knew we would be safe so far from the mainland. Over time, more of our people came through the tear in spacetime, sometimes accidentally, but not always. We monitored these crossings, tracked their movements, and read them into the situation. Since then, our established culture has grown on this island, which has been named Atlantis. Unfortunately, the rest of the world has advanced to the point that we are no longer a secret. Already rumors are spreading across two continents, telling of the City of Atlantis, with its powerful magic, and its dangerous army. We know that we remain here in peace, but we’ve found it next to impossible to convince the natives of this. So a choice was made, and soon, it will be realized.

After long deliberations, and input from all current residents, our leaders have decided to hide Atlantis from the rest of the world. This will be the largest project Atlantians have ever attempted, and it will not be easy. A number of plans have been proposed, all of them with their faults. Some want to drop Atlantis into a simplex dimension, but the power requirements would render life inside difficult. We would need to take drastic precautions to protect ourselves from plex radiation. To avoid this, there are those who say we should phase ourselves out of perception, but this is a class of technology we do not possess, and we do not feel it to be in our best interests to ask for it from our allies. Some say we should build a dome that covers the entire island, and then sink it into the ocean, but the construction alone would be noticed by outsiders. This we cannot risk, but the suggestion did give us an idea of what we could do. The new plan incorporates the best aspects of all other ideas, but removes most of the dangers. Make no mistake, this will be dangerous as well, but experts believe it to be the safest choice imaginable. We are going to sink the island, but instead of building a dome, we are going to keep the waters at bay using a series of redundant telekinetic fields. Scientists have begun work designing TK field generators to be placed all along the border, and later on our tallest buildings. To make up for the gaps, and before the buildings can be raised, witches will use their learned telekinetic gifts. The best witches can secure telekinetic fields with little effort, and walk away. Others will have to operate in shifts. They will take turns maintaining the protective barrier until something more permanent can be installed. Scientists are still working on the details of this mission, with no intention to reach our goal for at least another half year. Within one week, our progress will be released to the public. We are asking for help from anyone and everyone. Even if you do not have the educational background to understand the plan from an engineering standpoint, we urge you to speak up with any thoughts. We welcome all perspectives, for if we do not get this right, only the vampires will survive. Instructions will be sent out by email in time.

Microstory 579: Rangers Assure Public ‘Vampire Uprising’ Unlikely

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For the last few weeks, whispers of a “vampire revolt” have been spread across the country, and the world. For as long as history records it, vampires and humans have been living alongside each other with few issues. Amber humans began sporting their special abilities several centuries ago, while werewolves showed up in the 17th century. Other than a few territorial squabbles, this diversity has not created any significant level of violence or oppression. Not a single major war has been fought over race, even while certain extremist hate groups attempt to instigate them. As far as the general public is concerned, we all accept each other. Whether you survive on blood donations, or you can see in the dark, or you are descended from wolves, we’re all just people. Some believe, however, that one of the fringe factions has decided that enough is enough, and that it’s time to make a change to how society operates. In the central west of the Usonian state of Utah lies one of the sunniest regions in the world. With very little natural covering like trees and mountains, the Canary Desert sounds like the last place one would find a vampir. This is exactly why the Utah Militia, which is run exclusively by vampirs, decided to stake its claim there. With seemingly unlimited funds, the UM imports fresh blood from Idaho, the number one exporter of human blood, every day.  They are said to inject themselves with ten times the recommended human blood dosage for the average adult vampir. They train tirelessly when the sun is at its highest, they are built to live amongst humans in even the most dangerous of environments for their ilk, and their manifesto includes the line that “no human is safe”.

The UM started as a frustrated few, tired of relying on humans to provide for them the necessary dietary requirements for basic survival. It has since morphed into a horde of angry vampirs with a goal of human domination, believing them to be nothing more than walking bags of bloodfood. Conspiracy websites have begun disseminating claims that this hate group has shown uncomfortable signs of escalation, and that they may have found a way to infiltrate the mainstream. Conspiracists cite unverified evidence that the Utah Militia has purchased, or stolen, particularly suspicious products. A specially formulated skin dye has recently hit the market—as of now unapproved by the any nation’s health regulatory body—with the potential to hide any vampir’s natural purplish hue. Supposedly, copious amounts of the lotion has been shipped to a small town near Canary Desert. A product not yet on the market at all, that is still in the testing phases, has also gone missing, with trails reportedly leading to the UM. The as of yet unnamed clothing line, nicknamed The Blood Jacket, is a proprietary medical device researchers hope will one day counteract the effects of the infrared radiation to which vampirs are vulnerable. Though the Vampire Rangers generally provide assistance for other law enforcement agencies, they often take it upon themselves to investigate threats that come from vampirs. They have released an official statement, assuring the public that they are taking every lawful precaution when it comes to the Utah Militia, and also that they have found no evidence that any claim of their intentions to “take over the world” is true. Only time will tell, but if it turns out this group has access to this kind of technology, not even the human isolationists along the equator will be safe from their wrath.

Microstory 531: Special Devices Allow Elves to Swim

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While some scientists are working to cure cancer, or send man beyond the solar system, others are working on more practical needs. One thing that makes humans so special when it come to the animal kingdom is that we’re not physically great at anything in particular, but we can display a middling performance in just about everything. Humans are not the fastest, largest, strongest, most agile, or swimmiest. We can’t jump all that high, we don’t always land on our feet, and we definitely can’t fly. Some individuals are more adept at certain skills than others, but in general, we’re all about the same. But what does that mean for human subspecies, like vampirs, dwarves, or the subject of our story today, elves? These other types of humans have their own advantages, but they also have some disadvantages. The most obvious of these is that vampirs have a less efficient oxygen-carrying system in their blood, but one that may be looked over is an elf’s inability to swim. Elves have denser bones, and a disproportionate weight distribution, favoring their upper body. They can’t swim, because just like standard humans, they still need to be able to come up for air, which is something their bodies won’t let them do. There are exceptions, of course. The Ferene Prince, for instance, is known for having succeeded in a sacred and dangerous rite of passage underwater that not even non-elves on their home islands were able to master. Unfortunately, most elves were not able to experience the joy of swimming through the water...until now. An eclectic group of scientists gathered at an old submarine base in Alabama’s Jouri Bay, and remained there for weeks, perfecting a technology the industry had never thought was necessary. Details on the design have not yet been released as patent proceedings are still underway, but these scientists have confirmed that their technology works. Special devices allow a wearer to both move through the water, and surface for breath, when needed. As previously stated, intellectual rights first have to get situated. After that, the device needs to go through rigorous safety standards with the Usonian government, and also with the Confederacy, if they wish to enter the global market. A spokesperson for the group has stated that they expect to put these devices on shelves within the next year.

Microstory 521: Vampir-Human Hybrid Baby Dies

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

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

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 7, 2092

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Mateo raced through the office building. It had been abandoned long ago, having been easily outdated by superior construction materials and techniques. At the same time, the city had also shifted its development focus to other places, meaning that there was never a need to tear this one down. Apparently, it was built with massive design flaws by the very company that chose to utilize it as its new headquarters. After a major catastrophe, it was condemned by the city. Homeless people stayed there sporadically throughout history, but once technology had rendered a state of poverty harder to attain, it began to serve little to no function for society. And so it had stood here alone and unused, the perfect conditions for The Cleanser’s needs.

The floor was littered with broken desks and fallen legacy computers, along with other equipment. A wide circular atrium rose from the center, up through nearly the entire height of the forty-two story tower. The best way to see every square foot of each story was to zigzag from the outside, to the atrium, and back again. Not only did he not know which floor he was supposed to get to, but he wasn’t even allowed to go in a logical order. By the time he got all the way around a floor, the Cleanser had scratched into the door the number of the story he was supposed to go to next. And so he kept running up and around, down and around, and all over. There was no real way to know how many floors Mateo would have to check, but he had now reached the last one. He had seen ever floor, except for the 39th. For some reason, when he went up to reach floor 40, he knew that 39 was completely off limits. The challenge was not in figuring out where Leona was, but in having to expend a great deal of energy in the pursuit of her.

Mateo had been in his anaerobic range pretty much the entire time. There was no specific time limit, but Leona was in physical distress. The Cleanser didn’t tell him exactly what he had done to her, but the implication was that she was losing blood. Every second counted, so he just had to push through his pain and keep going as fast as humanly possible. This would be much easier if Boyce was around to splash some of his blood in Mateo’s face so that he could teleport. Or anyone with the ability to pause time, or generate temporal bubbles, would be able to help by donating their blood to him. He was growing ever fascinated with the possibility of gaining power simply by a blood transfusion. Now that the Cleanser knew Mateo knew of this trick, he would have to be more careful. For if Mateo ever managed to overpower him with a knife or a syringe, this whole thing would be completely over. The original claim was that he could stop being a salmon by killing the power that be who was responsible for his pattern, but this was another option. If he became a choosing one, no one could tell him what to do. If he could just exercise a right to not travel through time, his life with Leona could stabilize.

For now, it was Leona’s life that needed stabilization, so he shook off the fantasy and returned to the business at hand. She had to be here. Somewhere. He had always been concerned that he had neglected a dark corner somewhere, and had missed his chance at saving her. That concern grew with each passing level. She had to be here. She had to. But she wasn’t. He ran around the atrium three times, slowing down with each lap to make sure he hadn’t made a mistake. He was going to go around a fourth time when he noticed it. The Cleanser had scratched the number 28 on the door. He had already been to floor 28, though. Why would the Cleanser want him to start over again? Was it a trick? Was it a riddle?

He stood there watching the door, unsure of what to do, and contemplating the very real possibility that this whole endeavor was pointless. As he was still staring at the number, a new scratch magically appeared underneath it, a straight line to emphasize its importance. Still he did not move. Was it worth it? Was she already dead anyway? Was she waiting for him in their little island abode, none the wiser, just like she had been during his Gulliver’s Travels tribulation? Two more lines appeared under the first one, followed quickly by a circle around the entire thing. “Fine! I’m going!” He started running again.

He went back through about half of the floors for a second time before he felt an eerie presence on the fifteenth story. It felt warmer and deeper, like it had been removed from the spacetime continuum. And maybe it had, but whatever the nature of this floor, it was definitely where Leona was waiting for him. He didn’t even have to see her yet to know that she was there. He took his time with the search here, with the distinct impression that this was what the Cleanser wanted. He feared that, if he started racing through it again, Leona would be spirited away. Perhaps that was how he was meant to do it all along. Perhaps he would have found her in the lobby if he had just taken it slow. Bastard.

He found Leona on the floor behind a now ancient copy machine. He could hear the thin carpet squish with her blood as he knelt down to examine her. Two holes had punctured her in the neck. Her wrists had been tied behind her back and one leg had been cuffed to some kind of exposed pipe. It was no mortal wound on its own, but the fact that she was unable to apply pressure to it, or treat it in any way, was what made it so deadly. She had been consistently losing blood for the last few hours, and it looked like she was nearing the end. He placed one hand on her wound while he tried to tear a strip of cloth from his shirt. It was too strong for him to rip, so he took a strip from her thinner shirt instead. He tied it around her neck like a noose, but it would not be enough. “What is this?” he asked. “Let the Right One In?”

“Nah,” Leona answered in slurs. “It better resembles Generation Alpha; a TV show after your time. In this timeline anyway.”

“Don’t speak. I shouldn’t have asked anything.”

She struggled to speak, but needed to. “I have a way to contact Meliora, but you’ll need a knife.”

Mateo started to look around.

“You have to cut your own hand and draw a symbol on the...on the...” she continued to have trouble getting her words out. “Ya know, the murrrrrrrr.......” and then she slowly drifted to sleep.

“Leona.” Mateo lifted her chin and gently tapped her on the cheek. “Leona, wake up! Were I you! Were I you!” He stood back up, wanting to look for a knife, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t know what Meliora’s summoning symbol was. They were fifteen floors in the air, so there was no way to find an open grave. Paper. He needed paper. Dave probably couldn’t do jack to help Leona, but he could get them to someone who could. He jumped around, pulling out drawers and turning over desks. Nothing. “Everything here is from my time, so why the hell is there no paper? You’re telling me this was a paperless company but they still had copy machines?”

“Mateo?” a voice asked from behind.

He turned around to find himself face to face with someone he knew. “Makarion?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait, are you Makarion or Boyce?”

“What year is this?” Mateo was going to answer, but Boyce stopped him, “no, don’t tell me. I have a feeling that you and I are meeting out of order. I’m surprised it hasn’t happened until now.”

“Leona’s hurt, can you help her?”

Boyce looked down at Leona and then performed his own examination. Then he started to look around. “Did you have to find her first?”

“Yes.”

“Then this is Generation Alpha.”

“That’s what Leona said. I never saw it. What do we do?”

“This is where he turns into the first vampire.”

“So, she needs blood. We can do that. Teleport us to a hospital.”

“No, it can’t just be regular blood. If we want to follow the tribulation, and I’m sure things will be worse if we don’t, it has to be yours.”

“Yeah, of course, I should have known.”

“She’s not a salmon, but...” he didn’t finish his sentence.

“If I give her my blood, she’ll be like me again. But won’t it be temporary? I took on some of Meliora’s blood. It lasted only moments.”

“For as much blood as she needs, it will permanent. She’ll never be human again.”

Mateo considered this. He didn’t want this life for her. Was it moral for him to make that choice for her? Actually, she had recently given him the impression that she did want to become a salmon once more. It would solve their temporal disparity, that much was clear. But was it right? Just because she might want it, and just because it would save her life, didn’t mean he should do it. Perhaps the side of her brain that remembered the timeline without him would disagree with the side of her that knew him. She was currently unable to give him a yes or no, and as the old adage went, unconscious people don’t want tea. But this was a different situation. Medical professionals on TV would provide assistance for people without their explicit consent because of a loss of consciousness. The idea was that the patient would ask for help if they could. Drama series often turned this principle on its head by having a character sue the doctor for malpractice, however, so it was not a perfect system.

Boyce could quite easily sense his hesitation. “It doesn’t matter whether she wants to be a proverbial vampire or not. Whatever you decide to do, you’re choosing something for her. If you turn her into a salmon, she’ll at least live to resent you for it. If you let her die, we will never know.”

That was a good point. “Get me the supplies we need.”

Boyce teleported away but returned quickly with everything they needed, including a key to her handcuffs so that they could make her comfortable. They carefully transferred her to a couch in the lounge area. They laid her head down on Mateo’s lap while he remained in a seated position. After inserting the cannula between them, Boyce disappeared again and came back with orange juice and cookies to keep Mateo’s body in operating condition. Slowly but surely, Leona’s energy grew as Mateo’s decreased. She needed a lot, and it wasn’t like he carried a significantly higher volume than she did.

Mateo found himself feeling loopy and tired. He actually started swinging his head around like a cartoon character. At some point, he fell asleep. And when he awoke, it was June 8, 2092. He was off his pattern.

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