Microstory 2275: Now I Can’t Remember What

< > Table of Contents

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

This is finally Nick again. Kelly is typing this for me, but it’s my words. I’m really struggling to keep my eyes open. It’s not even that I’m falling asleep. It just kind of feels really uncomfortable to hold up my eyelids. They feel like huge weights on my face. I do occasionally fall asleep when I don’t want to, though, so it may take us a long time for us to finish this post. I would tell you to be patient, but this isn’t live, so by the time you read this, you’ll have known how long it took us to finish. I’m still in the hospital, as you can imagine, and I’m in quite a bit of pain. I’ve limited myself to regular OTC stuff because I don’t like how narcs make me feel. Before I could advocate for my own healthcare needs—back when I was on the brink of death, and totally out of it—they had me on morphine, or something or other. They continued to give this to me after my surgeries, because that was protocol, and I couldn’t tell them otherwise. It was probably for the best during this period, however, because the pain would have been unbearable, and the hallucinations were worth it if I could remember them. I started being able to remember them before I was lucid, though, so I can tell you about them, if you’re curious. The most common one was that every time I tried to shut my eyes to sleep, a cacophony of unintelligible voices would start to talk over one another in the hallway. I asked them to be quiet, but I think in the real world, I wasn’t saying anything at all. These people obviously didn’t exist. The scariest hallucination was when—sorry, I actually did fall asleep in the middle of this sentence, and now I can’t remember what I was gonna say. Maybe I’ll recall for a future update. I would have written it down earlier if I could have. I can barely move. I’ve not gotten out of this bed since they brought me in. Kelly has had to do things for me, even though she doesn’t work here. I’m hoping I’ll be able to stand up by tomorrow, and then shower on my own shortly thereafter.

Microstory 2205: I Really Need It

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2, and by Pixlr AI image editor

I don’t have much to say. I mean, I do, but it’s hard for me to say it. I got to work okay, but then I started stiffening up while I was just sitting in my chair, and my whole body hurt. Not all at once, but it was rather persistent. I think maybe we underestimated how much my body was damaged from my stair tumble the other day. I had no choice but to go home, and stop working. I literally almost can’t move around. I’m dictating everything here for you, but it is not easy. I probably shouldn’t even be trying to write this post, but now that I’ve begun, I can’t just give up. My voice is starting to feel a little difficult. It’s growing more difficult to speak, that is. I’m sure that it will all be back to normal by morning. I just need to get some extra rest. Jasmine et al. think that I should go to the doctor, but we’re not there yet. Really, let’s just see what things are like tomorrow. I promise, I’ll seek medical attention if I really need it. It’s not another infection. It doesn’t fit with any of the typical signs or symptoms. Okay, the autocorrect is working really hard to fix my slurred speech so I better go.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 6, 2458

« < » > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2, and by Pixlr AI image editor

There was a scuffle in the hock section of whatever this ship was called. A.F. immediately went after Leona, but he never made it all the way. True to her promise to protect her, Marie stepped between them, and started fighting with him instead. It didn’t last very long. Either one of them could have won, and it could have ended in death, and Leona couldn’t take the chance. She unlocked the hock cell door again, and threw him inside by the shoulders. Once she slammed the door closed in his face, she discovered her mistake. She hadn’t patted him down, or knocked him unconscious. All he had to do was send a quick message to his security team that there was a breach. Their plan to sneak around quietly while no one was the wiser was no longer a viable option. They ran out of the room, and into the next so they could change. They chose faces from their pasts again, who no one here would recognize, because pretending to be A.F. himself wasn’t going to work anymore. As for their clothes, they made them look like the standard uniform of the crew, and just hoped that there were enough of them roaming around here—or enough chaos after the alarms started going off—that they wouldn’t stick out for being unauthorized strangers.

They quickly, but not too quickly, ran back down to the room where their stuff had been held, and retrieved Leona’s gear. She got dressed as fast as possible, and then reestablished her holographic disguise, just in time for a team of three to open the door in search of two hot lady criminals. “Secure this area!” one of them ordered. “The fugitives will come here in search of their belongings.”

“Understood, sir,” Leona replied, looking like a boy she had a crush on in college. He was a film student, on the same track as her for a few semesters before he switched to some other major, and she never saw him again. She always thought he would make a great enlisted soldier. He just had that Starship Troopers look about him.

“Stay here with them, Bartok,” the commander barked before running off with his partner. That was an annoying complication.

Now, for the most part, the IMS did not come with weapons, and as a rule, the team didn’t carry them either. They were a mostly nonviolent crowd, made up of people who would rather sneak in with surgical strikes, and leave without anyone knowing that anything had happened. Even the two of them, who possessed years of combat training, preferred peaceful solutions. Much like one could theoretically hit someone over the head with a frying pan, even though the pan was not designed as a weapon, there was a way to use a built-in nonviolent feature of the suit as an impromptu weapon.

It was called a static discharge, and it was meant to protect the wearer from dust and debris in dusty and debris-filled environments. A very low charge was keeping the outer layer clean at all times while medium intensity charges could repel foreign objects when the area was particularly harsh. Safety mechanisms usually prevented extreme discharges, but these safeguards could be subverted in emergency situations. It might be enough to shield the wearer from a fallen or thrown rock, but it had to be done on purpose by concentrating the energy in one spot. This was no emergency, and she didn’t want to have to use it, but it appeared that they had no choice. Leona rubbed her forearms together to build up and focus the charge. Then she released it into Bartok’s back without a word. He slumped towards the floor, but she caught him before that, and laid him down gently.

“What do we do,” Marie asked, “wait for midnight central?”

Leona shook her head. “A.F. will be free by then. He probably is already. He’s quite familiar with our pattern, and will be expecting that gambit. Our only choice is to get off of this ship, and away from the teleportation dampening field. Fortunately, they’re drifting, so it shouldn’t be too rough of a ride.”

“Are we sure that our suits can handle the equilibrium?”

“No, but we can’t steal a shuttle, or they’ll find it.”

“Maybe we do steal a shuttle,” Marie suggested. “Maybe we let them find it.”

Leona didn’t know what she meant by that.

“We’ll require a distraction. How good are you at those external holograms?”

She was pretty good, having gotten even better since she was first given Alyssa’s powers. She leaned into her knack for creating holograms away from her person. She considered it her specialty. Nearly each one of them had their own specialty. The only one who wasn’t all that great with any of the tricks was Mateo. He would hopefully find his place eventually, but there was no guarantee. Sadly, some people were simply not particularly skilled. Using the nearest workstation, they pulled up schematics of the ship, and made their plan. Leona generated an enemy vessel, which appeared out of nowhere only about a couple hundred meters away. Now, this being made of pure light and all, it wasn’t giving off any energy readings. If someone tried to send a photon torpedo towards it, it would pass right through, and fly off into the aether. The only reason it worked as a distraction was because it was so big and sudden that it freaked everyone out before they could determine that it was fake. While everyone was looking at the port side, Leona and Marie went over to the starboard side.

The two shuttles that they tried to open were locked, but they noticed that the fighters were all completely open, which made sense, because pilots needed to be able to jump into them at a moment’s notice. So they stole one of those instead. But they didn’t get inside of it to do it. Leona programmed it to fly off in one direction, and make basic escape maneuvers when the situation arose. It was vital that it managed to evade capture at least until midnight, or the plan wouldn’t work. With that gone, giving A.F. and his crew the impression that the fugitives were attempting to escape, the two of them turned invisible, and stayed hidden. It was annoying, not being able to use their jump to the future to their advantage, as they had often been able to do in the past, but this slight modification would hopefully get the job done this time.

A year later, they returned to the timestream, still in the hangar bay, but hiding in the corner. Perhaps about every single soldier on this thing was there now, pointing their weapons at the once-stolen fighter jet. Their plan had worked. Everyone thought that that was where Leona and Marie would come back.

“Sir?” one of them asked after several minutes passed, and the jet was still empty.

“I know,” A.F. replied.

“Sir, they must have bailed out. They’re probably floating around out there naked.” He didn’t mean unclothed, but unprotected by a hull.

“I know,” A.F. repeated. “Scan the entire kasma for lifesigns. They can’t get through the membrane without the skeleton key.”

This was a big risk, but there were a lot of people here, and Leona could use that to her advantage. Alyssa’s power gave them the ability to turn invisible, but not to go unheard. Hopefully what she said here would get lost somewhere in the crowd, and A.F. wouldn’t care about who specifically said. “Unless they already stole the key last year!” she suggested in a fake voice.

A.F. did look around to see who had said that, as did others, but no one fessed up. It quickly became unimportant to him, because the voice was right. “Lieutenant,” he said to a woman standing nearby. “Go secure the key. I want two security teams left right here in case we missed something. Everyone else, back to your action stations.”

The thing about being invisible to these people was that they were necessarily also invisible to each other. They didn’t have some additional magic power to see through their own disguises. Leona and Marie had to hold hands the whole time to keep track of one another. The former led the latter down the hallway, following the lieutenant to the place of their prize. It was quite a ways away, down a few corridors, into an elevator, and then down more corridors. The farther they went, the fewer crewmembers they saw around until it felt like an eerie ghost town. Presumably no one was allowed in this area for security reasons. The lieutenant punched in the code, unaware that it was being seen and memorized by two invisible girls. They immediately had more respect for her than they ever could A.F. Her code too was composed of eight digits, but they were all different. It was a good thing that they saw it, because she slipped in so quickly that they were unable to tag along. There wasn’t even a little window for them to see what she was doing in there.

Leona pulled Marie away, and felt her up a bit until she found her ear. “When she comes out, continue to follow her,” she instructed in a whisper. “We don’t know that the key is in the same place as the membrane thickener. We don’t even know that the membrane thickener is on this ship. It could be an entirely separate thing. But the key is in there, so once she confirms that, she might go after the machine itself next, just to be safe. I’ll sneak in here after she leaves. You gather all the intel you can. If you need help, send me the feeling of fear, and if you find the jackpot, send me elation.”

“Understood, captain.”

Leona gave Marie a kiss on the cheek, and then let go of her. When the lieutenant came back out of the room, the two of them accidentally ran into each other in their attempt to begin their separate sub-missions. The sound of the collision caused the lieutenant to turn around in confusion, but she didn’t pursue the issue, instead assuming that she was mistaken. Leona hovered her hand over the keypad, preparing to unlock the door once the coast was clear. She could only hope that Marie was doing okay on her own. A few minutes later, she entered the secret chamber, and started to get a look around, expecting to be alone.

A bespectacled bearded man was sitting at a desk in low-lighting. He stood up, and looked around, but didn’t see anything. This could still work. She could still find the key, and she might even be able to steal it. The name was almost certainly metaphorical, so it could be the size of a semi-truck, but at worst, she should be able to steal the plans for it on the computer. She just needed to wait for this guy to calm down, and maybe go out for a smoke break. He just kept staring into the dimness, before apparently coming to a revelation. “Ah. I get it.” Without looking down, he pulled a drawer open, and reached inside to retrieve a part of HG Goggles. He removed his own glasses, and pressed the goggles against his face without wrapping them around his head. “Mrs. Matic. I heard about what you could do. I came prepared.”

Just in case he was bluffing, Leona waved one hand to her side, waxing on. She waxed off with her other hand.

The man smiled, and mimicked the gesture. “Yes, I’m not lying, I see you there.”

Leona revisiblized herself. “I need that key.”

“I know you do.”

“You do?”

“Everybody needs it. It’s a key.”

“Are you going to give it to me?”

“Doubtful.”

“You don’t look like much of a fighter.”

“You have no idea what kind of weapons I have in my arsenal. Yet I know all about those suits. I helped design them.”

“Did you design the key?”

“Yes.”

“And the membrane thickener?”

“Indeed.”

“Is that here too?”

“It may be.”

“Where do your loyalties lie?”

“They lie with science. She has my heart.”

“Yet A.F. has your soul.”

He chuckled. “I guess. He’s not evil.”

“He’s a dick.”

“Isn’t everybody?”

Leona was done with the banter. “The people of Stoutverse need that key.”

“Oh, it’s for someone else? You’re not just trying to take this one down?”

“Not really. It’s not my concern right now. I’m not certain how vital it is for Salmoverse and Fort Underhill to maintain physical connection to each other. But I know that a race of violent antinatalists are intent on wiping out an entire planet. It’s my responsibility to put a stop to that.”

The man lifted his chin, and studied her face. “You’re not lying.”

“You’re right, A.F. isn’t evil. To my knowledge, he’s only ever hurt me and my friends, and we don’t have much use for grudges. We’ve always only been trying to just get away from him. Any sense of hostility he feels is in service to that end, not any real hatred that we feel. I suppose we may have to deal with him one day, but that day is not today. Please. Give me the plans for the machine, and the key, and then we’ll just leave. I won’t even manufacture them in this universe.”

Now he sighed. “Very well.” He reached into his lab coat pocket, and came back out with a data crystal.

“You just carry that around with you at all times?” she asked, but only after she took it out of his hand.

“The second my boss found you in the kasma six years ago, I knew that this was what you were after. My equipment can detect time travel events. You obviously came back on purpose.”

“You’re too smart to be working for him.”

He cleared his throat, and reached up to the wall. He flipped a switch, and Leona could immediately feel her ability to teleport return to her. “People like me...always work for men like him. Now get off my ship before I sound the alarm.”

« < » > Table of Contents

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 5, 2457

« < » > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2, and by Pixlr AI image editor

Leona and Marie were in hock, and had been for the last five days. They managed to return to their past, in the middle of the kasma, where they hoped to be, but they were immediately scooped up by the Angry Fifth Divisioner’s ship. As he was the one who deployed the technology needed to seal up the membranes of the two sister universes, he could pass through them freely using some kind of temporal skeleton key. They needed that key, as well as the technology itself. They just had to escape first. In the meantime, he was looking for their co-conspirators. He was convinced that the rest of the team members were floating around here somewhere, and had been on the search this whole time. It was only five days for them, but five years for him. He would not listen to reason. Well, to be fair, he had every reason to believe that the others were here too, but after all this time, how could they still be alive?

“Maybe you two had to bail out in your suits, but your friends had personal pods, or an evac shuttle.” He didn’t know that they had come back in time from the future. He assumed that the Transit had managed to escape, but left the team behind for whatever reason. There was no point in correcting him. At best, he wouldn’t believe them, and at worst, it would make things harder for them.

“Well, I think that you would have found them by now,” Leona told him. “They would be emanating heat, and you could detect that heat, right? There’s not much heat in the kasma naturally, is there?” She kept having to baby him, and it was exhausting.

“No, it’s even colder than the vacuum.” He was right about that. Ramses measured the mean temperature to be at 2.16 Kelvin. “So, where are they?”

“We don’t know!” Marie said for the upteenth time. “We got separated.” This was technically true, even though her wording implied that it was not done intentionally.

“So, what do you want me to do, let you out?”

“That would be a start,” Leona replied.

“You realize what you’ve done, right?” A.F. asked. “The only thing that was keeping you alive was the prospect of being able to kill you all at the same time. If no one else is here, I’m just going to cut my losses, and kill the two of you alone. I’ll worry about the others later, I suppose. Your execution will be scheduled for tomorrow morning.” A.F. said with confidence.

“Problem with that,” Marie started to point out.

“We won’t exist tomorrow,” Leona added.

“Right.” A.F. tried to figure a way out of this glaring mistake. “Tomorrow, Greenwich Mean Time. It’ll be later tonight local time.”

That was a dumb answer, but they didn’t push it. “Of course, sir.”

“I’ll go make the preparations. Say your final prayers to your god.”

“Yes, sir!” Marie saluted him sarcastically, but he took it genuinely. She watched him leave. “Okay, your plan hasn’t worked so far, so can we just go with mine now?”

“Yeah,” Leona answered her with a sigh. The original idea that Leona had for their escape plan was to hack into the keypad on the cell door. They heard the beeps when they were first locked in here, so they knew that they were dealing with an eight-digit combination. She was able to covertly stick a brute force strip underneath the pad, but in all this time, it had yet to find the right answer. It was probably something absurd, like 99999999. The strip was programmed to try them in order, so that would be its last guess. Unfortunately, it might take up to another year or more for it to get to that point, and they no longer had the time for that.

Obviously, when A.F.’s people captured them, they removed the outer layers of their integrated multipurpose suits, leaving them only with the biometric base. They stashed the response and armor layers elsewhere on the ship. Ramses upgraded their suits in various ways, but they appeared normal, so anyone here wouldn’t have felt any need to take any special precautions with them. They just stuffed them in a drawer, and forgot about them for the last five years. One special feature was the suit’s ability to become mobile on its own. This was possible to some degree in all standard models, but it would still need a user to be wearing it in order to provide physical support. It was meant to allow the suit to carry its user back to safety if they fell unconscious, or to their gravesite if they were dead. The original engineers didn’t think that the suit would have any need to move around completely on its own, but Ramses being Ramses, he did. It could indeed move while totally empty, like something out of a cartoon. It was less inconspicuous than a hacking strip, but it would work.

Marie placed her sleeve up against her temple to activate the remote neural interface, and began to command the outer layers to climb out of their drawer, and walk down the corridors towards them. The helmet was fully attached as well, so it looked like a real person, but that didn’t mean it had the authorization to go where it was going. If someone decided to stop and ask for its ID badge, or something, the jig would be up. Fortunately, that didn’t happen, but making it to them was the easy part. Dealing with the hock watcher was the real challenge, and it was about to begin.

“Wait,” Leona ordered just before the empty suit could enter the hock section. “This isn’t going to work.”

“It’s all we have, LeeLee.”

“Just give me a second.” Leona tried to concentrate, but she didn’t have the power to see remotely. “Here, let me join.” She grabbed Marie’s free hand, and placed the sleeve against her own temple. She closed her eyes to see through the suit’s point of view. “I can do this. Throw your voice into the helmet, but put a delay on it. For everything you say, make it come out of the speaker ten seconds later.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m changing your plan so it actually works. Throw your voice.”

“It’s not my voice. It’s going to sound like A.F.’s.”

“Even better. Ten second delay,” Leona insisted.

The hock watcher opened the little window in the door when the suit knocked on it. “Can I help you?”

“I need to interrogate the prisoners again,” Marie said through the speaker, modulating her voice to impersonate the leader.

“Sir? You’re back so soon?”

“Yes. Open the door.”

“Why are you wearing one of their suits?”

“Because it makes me feel sexy, now open the goddamn door.”

The hock watcher was unconvinced, but that was okay. That was why Leona was here. “I’m sorry, sir, but this could be fake. I’m going to need you to raise your visor.”

Marie looked to Leona for guidance. Leona nodded confidently. She was ready for it. “I appreciate your dedication to the job,” A.F.’s voice said to the hock watcher. Marie raised the visor. Inside the helmet was A.F.’s face, in holographic form, of course. This was why Leona needed the delay. Every time Marie said something, Leona would need to match the hologram’s lips to it.

“Thank you, sir. I just want to be cautious.”

Of course, they didn’t want to make this any harder on themselves than they had to, so from this point on, short answers only. “I’ll remember that for your next evaluation.” Could’ve been shorter. Leona really struggled with that, but it seemed to work. The hock watcher opened the door, and let the deepfake A.F. in. “Go ahead and open it up.”

“Sir? That’s not protocol. You’re the only one who knows the code.” Shit. Really?

“Uhh...use the master code.” A decent guess?

“Master code?” The hock watcher questioned. “Who are you?” He shook his head. “This is a trick. I’m calling security.”

The suit reached up, and slammed the hock watcher’s head against the cell wall. He was knocked out cold, which would delay the security team’s response time, but someone would find him eventually, or he would wake up on his own, and call them then. The fact was they were still locked in this cell, and didn’t know the code. They were going to have to extend this mission even further, and go find A.F. himself.

“Stuff the body in that cabinet,” Leona ordered.

“He’s not dead.”

“He still has a body. Put it in there, please.”

“You do it...Captain.”

“This is your plan!”

“You’re supposed to be the smart one. You should have come up with both Plan A and Plan B. Now you’re going to have to impersonate someone else for A.F., and he’s going to be a lot less accommodating since he’s apparently the guy in charge.”

“Well, we may have had more options if you hadn’t knocked him unconscious,” Leona reasoned.

“I didn’t do that. You did.”

Leona was taken aback. She decidedly had not. Before they could argue any further, though, the door clicked, and swung halfway open. The stared at it for a moment. “Hm. The strip found the code.” She stepped out, and looked at the keypad. Her guess was close. It was 88888888.

Marie saw it too. “All ones would have been easier on us.”

While Marie was putting her suit on, Leona dragged the hock watcher into the cell, and locked it back up. She removed the hacking strip, and tucked it back into her base layer, in case they ever needed it again. They also didn’t want to let anyone know how they managed to get out of here. Hopefully, they would just blame the hock watcher for the whole thing, and not investigate any deeper. “I still can’t teleport. I think the power blocker works all over the ship.”

“Well, you can obviously make yourself look like anyone, so I’ll continue to be A.F., and you be the hock watcher. We’ll go down to get your suit, and then get to work.”

“No, I don’t want to run into anyone else again. Let’s become invisible instead.”

“That’s Olimpia’s forte.”

“We can all do it. There’s a mirror over there for us to practice with. I’m sure no one will be back too soon.”

The door opened, and A.F. walked back in.

« < » > Table of Contents

Microstory 2089: To Break Me Out

< > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2

I made a mistake. I left a hard copy of my map, and other pertinent information regarding the mysterious slew of missing persons, in my attic room at my landlord’s house. She found it, and called the cops on me. They say that I’m a danger to myself, and possibly to others. I was able to stop today’s disappearance by destroying the Westfall portal, but I don’t know what I’m going to do tomorrow if I can’t get myself the hell out of here. They’ve locked me in this all white room. It’s not padded, but we all know that they think I’m mentally unstable. Fortunately, they never found my emergency social box in my special underpocket. It’s a USB stick-sized computer with a small screen that only works through voice transcription. It takes a really long time to make sure that neither I nor the device has made any mistakes. It has two buttons. One opens up transcription, while the other accepts other commands, like punctuation, and moving the cursor. A wheel on the side scrolls through the text and menu items for file management. Forgive me if I ended up missing something. I bought this at the internet cafe a long time ago. Posting here is a secondary function of the device, but it was mostly invented for protection. If you’re mugged, and they take your regular phone, this will allow you to make a call, or send a text message without all the proverbial bells and whistles. I don’t need to send a message to anyone, though, because everyone I thought I could trust has turned against me. I just need to get my story out, and maybe one of my readers can do something about this total misunderstanding. I’m not crazy. I really am from another universe, and I really do need to stop others from accidentally being spirited away from it. Please, you have to break me out. I’ll do anything; pay anything, even if I have to do it in installments. I don’t belong in this room!

The Edge: Éminence Grises (Part III)

< > Entire Story

Generated by Canva text-to-image AI software

Leona reluctantly returned to Lylla Hall. The audience looked back at her as she was trying to slink down the aisle. She recognized a lot of these looky-loos, but not everyone. The group sitting with Divina and General Medley were probably all from Teagarden. Coronel Zararias from the Third Rail was in his own section with part of the Mozambican Naval Fleet, which was an interesting development. As she scanned the rest, she started to get the sense that everyone was in their special section, according to reality, and then more precisely to world. They were in assigned seats. Her place was up on stage, where the rest of the Shortlist was waiting. “Sorry I’m late.”

“You’re right on time,” Hokusai Gimura explained. “The rest of us were early.”

Leona walked up the stairs and sat down between Kestral and Weaver, though there was still an empty seat between her and Weaver that was meant for Ramses.

“Welcome,” Ishida whispered over Kestral’s lap.

“Thanks,” she whispered back. She turned to eye Weaver and her alternate self, Holly Blue, who was last seen on her way to another universe to reunite with her son.

Holly Blue smiled, and pointed at the front row. Declan was there with a handful of other kids. “I found him.”

“I’m happy for you,” Leona replied.

“All right,” Hokusai projected, standing up.

“Oh, hold up.” Ellie Underhill trotted in from sidestage, and cupped her hands over Hokusai’s mouth. “Okay, there you go.” It begged the question, if everyone else could be here, why was Leona’s team not allowed to come? It was starting to feel like they were deliberately excluded, but for what reason?

“Thanks, El,” Hokusai said in a normal voice, but the sound replicated around the auditorium for all to hear perfectly. “Hello, all. My name is Hokusai Gimura. I was born in 1985, in the main sequence. I’m a scientist. I’ve made a number of breakthroughs in temporal technology, and I did so without the benefit of time powers of my own. I had to figure it out, and that was dangerous. My friends and I formed this group, not to hoard such technology, but to protect it, and to protect the general population from it, and its risks. We are standing in the year 2400, during what my people refer to as...The Edge. Its properties are hazy, this despite the fact that we’re time travelers, and our ability to know anything is a matter of finding the right moment.

“I can’t tell you how many temporal manipulators there are in the timeline, or even how many of us are not members of the subspecies, but are heavily involved in their affairs. Yes, that’s right; they’re a subspecies, but it’s really complicated. It has more to do with their neurology than their genetics. Most of you know most of this already, but none of you knows everything. None of us knows everything. That’s what this meeting is about. We’re here to get on the same page, with each other, and with you, and to decide the fate of the universe, or at least this particular reality. The meeting will not begin today. It will, in fact, be in two days. We are here in this room to meet, and to greet. Everyone up here...and a couple of others...will introduce themselves. In addition, you have been placed in groups of your own, and we’ll ask you to introduce yourselves as well. No pressure. We’ve never done it like this before; it’s going to be very informal. We all just need to, like I said, get on the same page. I’ll stop here in case anyone has any questions at this time, but only about the schedule?”

A man in the back cleared his throat. Whoever was in charge of lighting shone a spotlight on him. It was Senator Morton. “I was to understand there were eleven of you.”

“Yes, there were. One of us has been...detoured. We all have very busy lives.”

“But you’re time travelers, so that shouldn’t matter,” Morton reasoned.

“Right.”

Leona hung her head. This was her fault. It feels wrong, doing this without Ramses. He made the choice that she wanted to make herself, and she could never thank him enough for it. Even so, there is little reason for him to not be here. Unless his mission went bad. Oh no...the mission went bad.

Hokusai went on, “we will not be discussing any individual lifepaths here. We’re not here to talk about any salmon or choosing one’s specific rules, constraints, patterns, behaviors, choices, or missions. Ramses Abdulrashid cannot be here, and he will never be able to be here. That’s okay, because we never needed a plenum to move forward. We just would have preferred it. But fear not, because there actually are eleven of us. Our final member is simply late...it happens, even in our line of business.” She leaned her head down and whispered something to Pribadium. Not even Leona could hear it, but Pribadium stood and left. Hokusai sighed. “Anything else?”

Someone they didn’t recognize stood up. “Yeah, hi. Captain Waldemar Kristiansen, Eighth of Eight here. I need to get back to my ship. I was told that the amount of time I’m wasting here will be the same amount of time I’ll be missing there. That is unacceptable.”

“I assure you, Captain, the Extremus will be fine without you for a few days.”

“Yeah, but see, you’re not starting the meeting for two days. I don’t understand—”

“Thank you, Captain Kristiansen,” Hokusai said quite dismissively.

He continued to try to speak out, but no one seemed to be able to hear him. That must be Ellie’s doing.

Hokusai went on. “Ah, here we go.” She was looking sidestage.

Pribadium had just come back, and was trying to urge someone else to come forward who was still shrouded in shadow. “Come on. Come on,” she insisted.

Finally, Aldona Calligaris stepped forth, and approached the table. “What am I doing here?” she questioned through gritted teeth.

“You have been invited,” Hokusai said to her, not using Ellie’s projection ability.

“I respectfully decline,” Aldona said.

“Not possible. You’ve proven yourself worthy, so you’re here.”

“All of my work was done in the future in the Sixth Key. It is not relevant—”

“It’s relevant to us. Sit down, please. Ramses’ seat is right there.”

Aldona sighed and plopped down with attitude. Leona took her hand, and squeezed. “Let’s stick together.”

“Okay,” Aldona agreed.

“If there is nothing else, we’ll bring out our guest of honor; our mediator. This is something that the majority of you probably don’t know, our mediator is never a member of the group. We do this intentionally, in order to keep the proceedings fair, and as unbiased as possible, as well as provide us with some insight we may not be able to find in this group of mostly like-minded scientists and researchers. Friends and allies, please welcome this meeting’s mediator, Winona Honeycutt of the Third Rail.”

The audience clapped as Winona came from backstage, and approached her seat in the center of the table. She stood and watched the audience, not smiling, but not frowning, waiting patiently for them to finish paying their respects. “Thank you, Madam Gimura, for the opportunity. And thank you, esteemed guests, for the warm welcome. I am a relative newcomer to the underground. A little bit about me, My father is a lifelong civil servant, who is still in my reality of origin, dealing with our many crises. I’ve worked in the federal government for most of my adult life as well. To be specific, I run—I mean, I ran—a covert operations joint task force that brings together the six major branches of law enforcement for my version of the United States. When temporal manipulation was discovered, I found myself as a...handler of sorts, liaising the time travelers with our corner of the government. I think that’s all I’ll say. Who’s next?”

“I’ll go next,” Hogarth volunteered.

Winona nodded at her, and started to sit down as Hogarth was standing. She then nodded at Leona. She was told that she was an important contributor to the grand mission of the Six Keys and their Keyholders to pull every world in every reality into a new universe, and save them from some mysterious force that would see them destroyed. As it turned out, Winona and the others were merely decoys, so any dissenters would not know the true plan, which was still so secretive, not even Leona knew the truth about it. Apparently, the main sequence was free from having to worry about the Reconvergence, though, which was why this meeting will go on as planned.

The rest of the members of the Shortlist introduced themselves in their own way. Brooke Prieto explained that her temporal specialty was not being able to be manipulated by temporal manipulation. Sharice Prieto talked about her origins as an Unregulated Artificial Intelligence, and Brooke’s daughter. They then continued down the line, letting everyone speak before Leona. It was like they knew that she would not want to say anything, and would rather make it brief. This way, they could argue that they were low on time, and needed to move past introductions anyway once her turn came around, so it wouldn’t be Leona’s fault. At least that was how she reasoned it, trying to give them the benefit of the doubt, rather than it being because of her spite and anger. Though her anger should really have been focused on Pribadium alone, or honestly probably not even exist at all. She was being irrational and emotional.

No, she wasn’t last. That honor would go to Aldona. Leona stood up, and swallowed nervously. Ellie stepped over, and gave her the sonic projection ability. It only took a second, but the audience didn’t know how it worked. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Go on. It’s okay.”

Ellie nodded, and walked back out of the limelight.

Leona scanned the audience again, not for any particular reason, but because she couldn’t think of anything to say. She wanted to participate, as Pribadium had asked. This was her duty. She was a member of this group, and she needed to help figure this all out. But she didn’t want to. Not anymore. She just didn’t care. They could claim all day that they weren’t elitist; that they were necessary...vital, even. But in the end, they were technology hoarders, and she didn’t want to be a part of it anymore, even if that was supposedly ending. “My name is Leona Matic, and I’m outta here.” She grabbed Aldona’s hand again, and pulled her up. Together, they walked off stage.

< > Entire Story

Microstory 1883: Air Band

< > Table of Contents

I was just playing around at a college party once. Somebody put on a record with a song that, in my day, we called my jam. I started pretending I was playing a guitar to the music, and since I knew the track so well, people got really into it. Pretty soon I was up on the coffee table, entertaining everybody. I, by no means, invented the air guitar. I did, however, do it my first time without having seen anyone else do it before, nor even having heard of it. Either way, I had no intention of turning it into a career. It was just for fun. I suppose it snowballed into it when I found myself at party after party, being asked to do it. I started having to bring my own records, so I would be better prepared to make it look real good. Not long after that, I was practicing in my apartment; all for the chance to please a few kids who would laugh about it while it was happening, and then go back home to not give it much thought anymore. During one of my weird and fun performances, a guy jumped up on the counter next to me, and started lip-syncing the vocals. It was a particularly voice-heavy song, which was my bad, so I was relieved he went up there to keep the energy up while the guitar wasn’t going. I would normally just keep dancing on my own, but it felt great to have a partner. After we were done, we left the party together to talk. He told me about his life, and I told him about mine. We both loved music, and were enamored by rockstars, but we weren’t musicians. Like, we were both really bad, there was no hope for us. Or rather there was, because as it turned out, there’s money to be made in pretending to play an instrument on stage. No joke.

This story does not involve a down-on-his-luck talent agent who discovers us at one of our not quite impromptu gigs, and decides to take us under his wing, even though his contemporaries laugh at him for it, but he believes in us, or truthfully, he believes in the cash that’ll be coming to him if he plays this right, so he gets so greedy that it nearly destroys us, but we come back stronger than ever, and go down in history as legends, and eventually end up in a sensationalized documentary. No, none of that happened. But we did start a band. We found ourselves a drummer—who was an actual, real drummer, by the way, so we never totally understood why he walked this path with us when he could have joined a legit band. We even got someone to pretend to play bass. It was my job to dance around and look pretty, while he always stayed lowkey. It sounds kind of stupid, but we made it work, and he was a pretty big draw for some of our crowds. And we did have crowds. Our rise to fame was shockingly parallel to what real bands go through. We started with small audiences, which grew bigger and bigger, until we were nationally famous, and then internationally so. Big in Japan, as my air vocalist liked to say. It still amazes me that any of this went anywhere. I guess it happened during the perfect time period. It was late enough for rock to be loud and showy, but before internet video, which might have saturated the market too much for us to make a name for ourselves. I don’t think we had much of a hand in developing the art form. Plenty of others were doing the same thing as us, though mostly as solo acts. We were just kind of this niche act that only made us enough money to keep doing it, but not do anything else with our lives, at least for as long as it lasted. The novelty wore off within a decade, and we each had to find real jobs. We remained good friends, though, and even played a final reunion gig a year ago before our bassist died. Yep. It was a wild life.

Microstory 1731: The Cygness

< > Table of Contents

We don’t know where it came from, but the disturbing rumor is that someone in our town once lay with a swan. They’re calling it the cygness as a pun. It starts out with a white skin rash. According to reports, scratching it will cause it to grow worse, so family members have bound the arms of their loved ones, hoping to stop the process, but they always fail. It can be slowed, but it can’t be stopped. All succumb to the transformation sooner or later. Once the victim’s skin is completely white, bumps will begin to rise. Out of that, chutes will appear, like seedlings bursting from the ground. These chutes will spread out, and form something that the researchers call powder down. Over time, as this down fills in, the feathers will mature, and eventually become just as beautiful and full as a swan’s real feathers. The victim will not grow wings, nor a beak, nor flat feet, but their shoulders will lock their elbows behind them, limiting movement, their face will blacken, and their toes will become webbed. Lastly, and we still don’t understand how this works—well, we don’t understand any of it, but especially not this—the patient will lose their ability to produce vocal sound. Something about their vocal cords will change, preventing them from not only creating speech, but other sounds as well, like hums or whistles. They’ll still be able to breathe and cough, but that’s just about it. From start to finish, the transformation takes weeks. At times it’s painful, at times it’s uncomfortable. Once it’s complete, however, patients report feeling better than they ever have in their entire lives. Some wish it to never end, but it does. The last stage is death, and it follows the patient’s returned voice. If someone with the cygness begins to talk again, you know that their life is nearly over. I have been fairly lucky thus far, but the condition has recently fallen upon me, so I know that I need to make arrangements.

I experience the same symptoms as anyone else, in the same order, and according to the same timeframe. They place me with all the others who are in the same stage as me, I suppose so we can all die together. As our conditions worsen, I notice something strange about the others. They’re flapping their lips, and moving their laryngeal prominences up and down. It takes a moment for me to realize that they are all trying to speak. Evidently, even though they know that they have become physiologically mute, they cannot help themselves. They don’t even just forget their limitation every once in a while. They appear to be constantly attempting to communicate with each other, hoping that with enough hard work, it will suddenly start working again. I know better. I know that that is not how it works. I sit quietly, and mind my own business. No one else seems to notice that I’m unlike then. I guess I’ve had more practice being quiet, since I wasn’t one to talk much when I was a regular human. One by one, they fall. They make one last call to our people, and then their eyes shut for good. Finally, I’m the only one left. I stay in isolation for a few more weeks, knowing that people are watching me, trying to figure out what makes me different. I can feel that I have my voice back, but I dare not use it, for I remember what happens next. The researchers come in, and demand that I use my voice. They need more data, so they can come up with a treatment, and they don’t care if it kills me. I refuse, but they threaten the lives of my family, so I give in. I speak. Then I sing. And then I survive. I am the human swan.

Sic Transit...Pueritia (Part V)

< > Entire Story

The Transit pierced the membrane, and crossed through to the other side without an issue, but they couldn’t go straight to their destination. Hyperdimensional physics is too complicated to fathom for most people, but thinking in terms of a bunch of universes floating in a vat is good enough for analogy’s sake. Looking at it this way, it’s easy to see that some branes are close to each other, and others are not. Meliora, Limerick, and Treasure can only travel to nearby branes. If they tried to go further, they would probably die in the equilibrium of the outer bulkverse. It is not a hospitable environment, and since there would be nothing protecting them, they wouldn’t last long enough to reach another membrane. Zoey Attar is different in that she wears a special suit that keeps her alive, but the further she wants to travel, the longer it will take. She’s still a little limited, because she can’t get up and move around while she waits. Fortunately, time in the outer bulkverse does not pass the same way it does inside of any given universe. Again, hyperdimensional physics. It does still pass, but people don’t age, and their bodies metabolize chemicals much slower. All that being said, according to clocks inside the ship, about five days passed before they were at the pit stop.

“This universe doesn’t have a name,” Azura started to explain just before they pierced the second membrane. “All I know is that its human inhabitants successfully made it through their Great Filter. Barring Ochivari invasion, they would be virtually impossible to destroy as they have now spread out across their galaxy. Their proper physics are reminiscent of what you might find in the Composite Universe, or your home, Universum Originalis.”

“What’s proper physics?” Gamma asked. “Isn’t all physics proper? Or am I translating that word wrong?”

“Proper physics refers to the set of physical laws specific to a given universe. Some laws are multiversal, like the fact that light moves faster than sound, or temperature usually flows spontaneously from hot to cold. Others can change. Not everyone has plex dimensions that they can use for interstellar travel. Treasure’s mother’s brane doesn’t. Her father’s has a bizarrely slow form of it. This universe has it at full efficiency.” She turned to watch the show. They broke through the barrier, and started flying through the air of whatever planet they were now on. Azura switched on the viewscreens, so they could see the trees before them, and a city off in the middle distance. They were pretty low to the ground. “And they use it well.”

Apparently through an automated subroutine, the Transit’s horn blared for presumably the entire frickin’ solar system to hear. Treasure wasn’t sure why the Maramon would want to announce their arrival, but it confirmed that its shape was no coincidence. They really did design it to be a space train. As they were slowing down to come to a stop, the viewports finally became transparent, and showed them the outside. They saw people stopped on a highway, watching this alien vessel fly by. As they slowed down more, they could make out faces of people who were surprised, but not frightened. They didn’t know this was coming, but they weren’t too worried about it.

Just as planned, they stopped at the entrance to an architectural marvel. It wasn’t designed with any practicality in mind, but to mostly be a giant art piece that people could walk in. If Treasure had to use one word to describe it, she would probably go with palace. As they were exiting the ship, guardsmen filed out, and took position up and down the steps. A woman in fancy attire stepped outside, and walked forward with a strong air of authority.

Azura approached her as nonaggressively as possible. She spoke into Olkan’s tiara, which could evidently amplify sound as well as translate thoughts. “Oh, Wise Leader, we come to you, tails between legs, hearts on sleeves, and as honest as the sun. We were marooned on a foreign world, with only enough energy to make one final jump. We chose to come to you, hoping that you should see fit to aid us in our attempt to return home. We require multiple advanced energy source replacements, and will do anything you ask as payment.”

The leader walked up to a microphone as the lectern rose up from a trap door. She cleared her throat. “We are cognizant of The Transit, and its purpose. And we understand the nonlinear nature of adjusted time. Is this the origin of The Transit Army?”

“We do not know,” Azura replied. “Our current plan is to return home. As for what happens to this vessel after that, we could be part of it, or we might not. We too know what becomes of it, but we are unaware of our level of involvement. Myself and this one here are the most likely to stay on board, we admit.” She indicated Treasure.

The leader chuckled once. “I would like to speak with Miss Hawthorne alone. The rest of you will be escorted to visitor housing.”

Azura didn’t see this coming, and didn’t like to be left out, but she kept her composure, and remained respectful. She nodded, and started to walk away.

“But first,” the leader stopped her, “please give her back her tiara. Her bare head makes me uncomfortable.” That was weird.

“Your future is in their past.” Azura placed the tiara in Treasure’s hand, but didn’t let go right away. “Be careful what you let them tell you. Causality breaks down when you travel the bulk.”

Treasure remembered the warning as she was following the leader into the palace, Quino right at her flank.

“No, no, no,” the leader argued. “Just her.”

“I am her bodyguard,” Quino defied. “She goes, I go.” That wasn’t the truth, but it was probably a good idea, seeing as that Treasure avoided combat training as she was growing up. They made it available to her, if she wanted it, but she never did. She wasn’t a pacifist, but she wasn’t a fighter either.

“Very well.”

“Thank you for the invitation, Wise Leader,” Treasure said once they were in the office, hoping it was the right and polite thing to say. “We appreciate it.”

The leader closed her eyes gently, and nodded slightly. “I am Principa Hoyvanen, and I knew you when I was a little girl. You never told me that I would become Principa one day. You acted like our meeting was an accident, and could have happened to anyone.”

“Perhaps it was,” Treasure acknowledged. “And perhaps, we shouldn’t be talking about this. It could be dangerous.”

Principa Hoyvanen dismissed this. “Have no fear, it is a stable time loop. I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. I’m only here to bring the truth to the surface of your consciousness. That tiara you wear, the man who once owned it no longer needs it. He speaks all the languages he’ll ever need. It is yours now, and you will need it. As you’ve learned, every time you speak, you release a little bit of bulk energy. It disperses from there, spread so thin that it cannot be used. In order to conserve this energy, you must silence yourself. The less you speak, the less you lose, the more you have to power your trips. It is almost worthy of a song.”

“How does the tiara help me with that?” Treasure asked

“It can boost this energy. Well, that’s not the word you used. It was...”

“Sharpen,” Treasure guessed. That was the word she would have used, had she figured all this out herself.

“Yes, sharpen,” the Principa echoed. “It doesn’t let you make any more energy than is already there, but it helps you focus. When you scream, and release all that bulk energy, some of it goes into opening a portal, and delivering you to your destination. Some of it is wasted. The tiara cuts down on that waste. It’ll help you only release as much energy as you need to reach your destination. You’ll still need to learn to control it better, but you will. I know it as fact.”

“Well, thank you. However, that can get me home. You say nothing of The Transit.”

“The Transit is not my problem.” Hoyvanen gestured around her in general. “We have found harmony with our world. The Ochivari will not attack us. When you are ready, you will transport these people back to their respective homes, and then you will move on with your lives.”

“The Transit then stays here.” Treasure realized this was what the people of this world wanted all along.

“Do not concern yourself with the Transit,” she said, hoping her position as leader would prevent Treasure from questioning any further.

Treasure was sixteen Earth years old. She was not quite an adult, and still had a lot to learn about the worlds. She thought she was ready to go out, and make her own choices. She came to the realization while she was brooding in her train car alone that this was the wrong call. She should have trusted her parents, and surrendered to the process. None of that could be undone now, though, and she had no other choice but to act like the adult she once thought she was. This Wise Leader was the ruler of a foreign world, and while she deserved respect, she was not Treasure’s ruler, and she didn’t have to do what she said. “Azura lays claim to it. My mother was seeking it. And I control it. I can leave here right now, with all my crew, and go find another world that will provide us with the tools it needs to keep going. It doesn’t actually need these tools, however, as long as it has me. I won’t leave it behind until I’m sure it can run independently, and that it’s in the right hands. I do not believe yours are those hands.”

“That may be,” Hoyvanen began, “but this is my world, and I am holding all the cards.”

“I have a few cards myself,” Quino revealed. “It’s already been programmed to deliver you to your evacuation planet. The trip will be short.” He removed a sort of kazoo-lookin’ thing from his breast pocket, and slammed it on the ground. An orange light shot out from the larger opening, and overwhelmed Hoyvanen and the two guardsmen behind her. In a flash, they were gone, along with every object and piece of furniture that was on that side of the room. He lifted his wrist, and spoke into his communicator, “Badjob, fall back.” He then took Treasure by the hand, and escorted her out. He didn’t rush, or look panicked. The guards they passed had no idea that their ruler had just been spirited away to another planet, so they just assumed the conversation was over, and the two visitors were on their way somewhere else.

Once they were outside, they moved a little quicker, worried that someone would start to get wise before they retreated into the Transit. Azura and the Verteans were coming out of visitor housing, and on an intercept course. Two of them were carrying something that looked pretty heavy, but it was covered with a tarp. This was what aroused suspicion. The guards took offensive positions, and sought out orders from their superiors. They were too late, though. The crew made it into their ship, and closed the doors before anyone could fire a single shot.

“Problem,” Treasure said simply once they were all safe inside.

“You’ve been talking too much,” Azura guessed. “You don’t have enough bulk energy to get us out of here.

“Based on what little experience I have with this,” Treasure said, “I don’t think so. I could probably get all of us out of this universe, but not the whole Transit. Kind of the whole reason we have to bail is because the Principa was hoping to steal it, so I feel like it would be counterproductive to leave it behind.”

“We’re not doing that,” Azura agreed. “This thing is far too important to hand it over to just one brane. It’s destined to save all of humanity, and the only two people I can confidently say will work towards that goal are myself, and your mother.”

“Can they break through?” Hadron questioned. “Is the bulkhead strong enough to withstand their attacks?”

“Over a prolonged period of time?” Azura assumed. “Probably not. It’s strong, it’s powerful, but it’s not impregnable. They’ll find its weakest spot, and once they’re in, they’re in.”

“Will this help?” Gamma asked as she and Alluvia removed the tarp from the object they stole. Treasure had no idea what it was.

“Fusion reactor.” Azura gave it a quick inspection.

“Take it to Onboard Weapons. “Hopefully we’ll deter retaliation until Treasure is ready to take us out of here. Speaking of which.” She turned to face her.

Treasure mimed zipping her lips shut, and locking them up.

“Good girl. Breathe, though. I think breathing will help. Don’t power up weapons!” Azura called over to the ones taking the fusion reactor away. “I don’t want to make the first move, just get it connected!”

Breathing did help, as Azura predicted, but it wasn’t nearly enough. She had just been talking too much, and it was gonna get them killed. The guardsmen fired the first shot, and while they were frightened by the Transit’s onboard weapons system, they held their ground, and strategized. If Treasure was going to get them out of here before a hull breach, she needed to accelerate the absorption of bulk energy that her body could accept. Her instinct was telling her to cut herself. It was like the opposite of bloodletting, or trepanation. Instead of wanting something out, she wanted to let more of something in, and honestly, if felt amazing. If she wasn’t careful, she could probably become addicted to it.

< > Entire Story