The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 31, 2513

« < » > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3

Come midnight central, Leona, Angela, and Romana didn’t jump forwards to the future, proving that they were no longer on their time patterns. That was a week ago. Mateo never did come through the lake. Something was terribly wrong on his end. Nerakali said that she would look into it, but communicating with the afterlife simulation was tricky. It still existed in another universe, and getting through that Angry Fifth Divisioner’s thick quintessence membrane wasn’t easy. They took a suite in the Crest Hotel, and had sort of been lounging about, trying to wrap their brains around their new reality. Mateo was dead, and probably never coming back, and they were stuck in the present for the rest of their lives. It made them feel uncomfortable, even Romana, who should have been more used to it.

Leona had fallen asleep on the couch in the middle of the day, but something woke her up. “What’s that noise?” she groaned, not even opening her eyes.

“Sorry, I’m just watching TV,” Romana said, turning it down. “I didn’t know it would get so loud at this part.”

Bleary-eyed, Leona propped herself up on one shoulder, and tried to focus on the screen. “Is this SG Multiverse?”

“Yeah, did you watch it way back when?”

Leona chuckled and pointed. “That happened to me.”

“What?”

“What she’s doing right now. I did that. I had to cut my legs off. It was based off this show.”

Romana looked at her funny. “Are you messing with me?”

Angela walked in from the other room. “Mister Stark,” she began. “I don’t feel so good.” Dark particles swarmed around her, and she disappeared.

Leona barely reacted. She just looked over at her daughter. “Well. Boyd better have a damn good reason for this.” They both disappeared through dark particles too.

“The thing you have to understand about sling travel is that it’s not as quick as everyone thinks. It’s more like you leave time, and your mind can’t comprehend that. It can’t reconcile existing without time. It may be impossible for a human consciousness to interpret anything beyond four dimensions as anything but instant. Then again, we’ve been to the outer bulk before, and time has passed—can you hand me that drewscriver?” That wasn’t only a spoonerism. The drewscriver was a fanciful embossing tool invented in the late 21st century that could pull ferromagnetic metals and metamaterials upwards at precision scale. It was typically used to stamp industrial coding, but could also just be used to create texture for aesthetics. “Time has passed,” he repeated, “so I don’t know what that’s about. What I do know is that the way the slingdrives work, you actually spend a lot of time in the universal membrane, but you don’t remember it. It might even essentially be an eternity, but if thought stops, and metabolism stops, it’s like it never happened. You feel me?”

“I just push these buttons and tell machines to build domes,” Hrockas replied as if he were an idiot. It was obviously a lot more complicated than that, and he had to have a certain level of intelligence to even get this far, but point taken.

Ramses finished his finishing touches, and set the box back down. “There it is. The escape module.”

“That’s not big enough for a person,” Hrockas pointed out.

“No, I told you, that’s not—oh, you’re joking.”

“So. If what happened to you in the future happens again, all of your supplies will automatically be spit out of these pocket dimension things through this thing.”

“Not all of the supplies, just the essentials,” Ramses clarified. “Which I guess is pretty much everything. What else are we gonna put in there?” Ramses tapped on his wrist interface and whistled for effect. The escape module disappeared, tucked away safely in its dedicated pocket. “Oo, I feel heavier,” he quipped.

“Does that mean you’re finally ready to go?”

“No time like the present, even if 2396 isn’t my present.” Ramses engaged his new EmergentSuit, and walked towards the slingdrive, which was already programmed to send him back to the future. “Hey, man. Thanks for letting me use this dome for my new-slash-old lab. I didn’t want it to interfere with the lab that I end up building in my past-slash-future.”

“Mi Dome Eleven is su Dome Eleven. It’s been a hell of a year, Rambo.”

Ramses smiled as he stepped into the chamber, and turned back around. “Did you ever decide what you’re gonna do with it once I’m gone? I don’t remember what it ends up being in the future. You stop using numbers when you come up with names.”

Hrockas smiled back. “I’m thinking that it’s going to be a scavenger hunt, or something. The terrain has lots of natural corners.”

“Interesting. See ya in a hundred and sixteen years.”

“Apparently, I’ll see you in seventy-nine.”

“True. Hey, Thistle...” Before Ramses could execute a command, dark particles started to swirl around him.

“Is it supposed to look like that?” Hrockas questioned.

“No, this isn’t right! I don’t know what’s happening! Thistle, lock down the la—!” He disappeared.

Marie and Olimpia appeared from their swarm of dark particles and landed somewhat roughly on the ground next to the rest of Team Matic. They were surprised, and a little embarrassed, having been wearing their pajamas when it happened. Well, Olimpia was in her pajamas. Marie looked like she was auditioning for a jungle porno.

“Yoink!” Mateo exclaimed. “Nailed it.”

Everyone steadied themselves. They had all traveled through dark particles before, but this time was more turbulent. “You did this?” Leona asked.

“I stole his power,” Mateo said with a shrug. “NBD.”

“You can have it,” Boyd said sincerely.

“At least someone can still do it. We’ve been off our pattern for a week,” Romana lamented.

“It’s been a year for me,” Ramses one-upped.

“Boyd,” Mateo scolded.

“This isn’t my fault,” Boyd insisted. “I told you, work backwards to find him in the timestream, then once you do, go back further to see how long he’s been there. I told you that,” he reiterated.

“Oh, yeah, you did say that.”

“It’s fine, I was working on something. New upgrades. I even built a new lab. Actually, since I was in the past, it’s older than the last one, so... We can check it out if you want.”

“We need to make a decision first,” Mateo explained. “Boyd has something to say. Boyd?” he prompted.

Boyd looked at the ground abashedly for a moment. He then reached up to squeeze the collar of his shirt. A hologram over his face flickered before collapsing entirely to reveal his true face underneath. He still looked like himself, but crystal shards were embedded in his skin. It looked very painful.

“Ooo, that’s gotta hurt,” Leona noted with nurse-level concern.

“It’s not that bad.”

“He came out like this when we came back from the afterlife simulation,” Mateo explained. “I tried to kind of...remove them with dark particles, but I still don’t understand what they can do, and what they can’t.”

“It’s not something you learn,” Boyd said as he was putting the holographic illusion back up. “You build your intuition around it.”

Mateo nodded. “He is a living temporal energy crystal now. He believes that he can restore your powers, but that he would have to restore them all. You can’t just get back the teleportation and Alyssa’s lightbending. It’s all or nothing. You would be back on the pattern.”

“Is that even a choice?” Leona asked.

“We’ve been through this before, but this is another opportunity to leave. You probably can’t get Alyssa’s powers back, but Ramses could just build you new bodies with teleportation capabilities, and isn’t that really all you need? You don’t have to skip time. We got used to it, but it’s also been really annoying at times.”

“Can he...remove it from you?” Romana asked him.

“I don’t think so,” Mateo replied with a shake of his head. “I was already dead when the crystal was destroyed. I wasn’t affected by it. This is more of a reversal of what was done as a result of the lemon juice explosion, and it was only done to the six of you. And Octavia, I guess, but who cares about her?”

“We’re not gonna leave you behind,” Olimpia argued, stepping closer to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’m not done with you yet.”

“Let’s put it to a vote,” Marie suggested. “Raise your hand if you want to stay off the pattern.”

No one raised their hand.

“Boyd?” Leona asked. “Could you put yourself back on the pattern? I’m just asking. You decide whatever you want...”

“I don’t know, but I doubt it. I’ll explain why later, but I think it would be like trying to get a lighter to light itself on fire. It don’t bend that way.”

“Are you upset by that?” Marie pressed.

“It is what it is. I’m the one who poured the lemon juice. Good or bad, these are the consequences, and I’ll live with them.” Then he chuckled for some reason.

“How does it work?” Angela asked. “Do you just...stare at us with your crystal face?”

“Same as when it was a regular crystal on its own,” Boyd corrected. “You’ll touch my face, and I’ll transfer the energy to you. At least that’s what my intuition says. I’ve obviously never done this before.”

“There’s something else,” Mateo started. “It might change your mind, so just give me one last chance.” They all agreed nonverbally, so he led them down the hill, and then down the trail. They were in Canyondome, which was just a naturally-formed canyon on Castlebourne. It wasn’t even the largest one. It was only the largest one that still fit within the radius of a standard-sized dome. It was particularly deep, though. They were standing just over 14.5 kilometers below the edge of the canyon, which meant that they were 56 kilometers from the top of the dome.

They came ‘round the bend to find a man chained to a stake in the ground. He was sitting quite comfortably in a lounger, and seemed none too bothered by it, though he apparently couldn’t leave. “Is that...?” Olimpia began to ask.

“What’s Old Man Bronach doing here?” Leona questioned.

“I resurrected him,” Mateo answered. “We’re gonna help him regain power in the Goldilocks Corridor from his quantum duplicate.”

“Why the hell would we do that?” Marie asked.

“Because he’s the lesser of two evils,” Mateo claimed. “Some people in the Exin Empire don’t want an Oaksent to be in power, and we’ve helped them escape. Some, however, are true believers, and we’ll probably never be able to change their minds. So we compromise. We install this version on the throne, and in exchange, he doesn’t actively stop the rescue efforts of the Vellani Ambassador.”

Leona looked down at the Oaksent. “Is this true? Can you be trusted with this?”

Bronach grinned. “There’s a catch.”

Mateo sighed. “Anyone who wants to leave is welcome to leave, but he is free to...repopulate his worlds the way he did it the first time.”

“We’re allowing him to breed a new generation of sycophants?” Leona was disgusted.

“We can’t stop him unless we kill him,” Mateo argued. “But if we kill him, his most loyal subjects will just do it anyway, and the ensuing war could be devastating for the whole galaxy. We’re trying to end the Ex Wars, not make them worse. As I said, it’s a compromise. I don’t like it, but it’s the best I could do. There’s a loophole, though. He’ll accept your counsel, but only while you’re in the timestream. If you get back on my pattern, we only have influence on his decisions once per year.”

“Whose influence?” Leona asked. “Anyone on Team Matic.”

Mateo nodded. “The offer extends to anyone currently on Team Matic, including Boyd. It’s not the team itself. I had him sign an itemized list. We’re all on it.”

A lightbulb clicked on over Leona’s head. “Ramses is on the list?”

“Of course he is,” Mateo replied.

Ramses was hurt. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“No reason,” Leona answered. “I accept these terms.” She spun around, and placed both hands on Boyd’s cheeks. She then pulled his head down to her level, and planted a kiss on his lips, no tongue. Those standing at the right angle saw technicolors transmit from his crystalline face to hers before quickly dissipating.

“I never said we had to kiss,” Boyd reminded her once she let go.

“Just something to remember me by. I mean, something for me to remember you,” she said solemnly. After a beat, she spun back around. “Who’s next?”

They all took their turns, not even knowing what Leona had in mind to keep Bronach in line. They each gave Boyd a kiss, because monkey see, monkey do. Most of them were pecks. Romana’s was more than that. She only stopped when her father cleared his throat suggestively. Ramses was last, still nervous about Leona singling him out regarding the Bronach contract. He evidently got his powers back just in time. Because shortly afterwards...Boyd fell down and died again.

« < » > Table of Contents

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 27, 2509

« < » > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3

Boyd managed to convince the group to stay one more day so he could shore things up with his people. It wasn’t that tall of an order, and they figured it was the least they could do. This was some kind of alternate version of Castlebourne, and once they were gone, what would become of it? Would Pacey make an effort to keep it running, or would these AI androids just start to degrade and wither away? Ethics demanded them to do what they could while they were still around to try.

Come midnight central, everyone jumped forward to the future, including Romana and Boyd. They immediately made their way back down to the vactrain, and navigated it to Castledome. Unlike last time, nothing went wrong, and they actually reached their intended destination. It wasn’t flooded or on fire. They just stepped out, and waited for Octavia to find what she was looking for. The way she was feeling around on the tiles of the train station made it seem like a platform nine and three-quarters type of situation. If there was a way to cross back and forth between these two versions of Castlebourne, it couldn’t be something that any rando could stumble upon accidentally. She couldn’t seem to find the right tile, though, so she started tapping on every one of them one by one. Perhaps the special sequence was different on either side.

While they were waiting, Mateo, Leona, and Olimpia wandered over to the other side of the ring, and fully into the dome. Mateo hoped to have a personal conversation about their relationship, but Leona tilted her head clear down to her shoulder, struck by something surprising. “What is it?” he asked.

She kept staring at the castle in the distance. Finally, she said, “it’s a mirror.”

“What’s a mirror, honey?” Olimpia asked.

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice it in any of the other domes. Look at the castle. It’s flipped.” Leona pointed. “That spire should be on the other side.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right.”

Leona’s eyes widened. She powerwalked right back through the ring, and into the station where Octavia was still trying to find the secret entrance. She went over to the opposite wall, and tapped the tiles in the same order that Octavia had when she made her first attempt.

The tube sealed up, and they heard the rush of wind indicating the train that they had taken here was now gone. Then the weird part happened. With more rushing wind, the two halves of the vacuum tube separated from each other, split down the middle where the doors once met. As a cloud of gas filled the space left behind, a second set of doors materialized, identical to the first. They then opened, triggering the rematerialization of the tube as well. Inside the pod—which was much smaller than the usual train car—was Pacey, standing there as cool as an autumn day.

“Can we go?” Mateo asked Pacey.

Pacey smirked. “I dunno. Can they?” he posed to Octavia.

She separated herself from the group, and stepped closer to Pacey, but did not step into the vacpod. “I think we’ve made our main point, but they’re not done learning.”

“Ah, crap. Really?” Mateo questioned. “Friends become enemies? What the hell did we ever do to you?”

Octavia smirked now too. “It’s not about friends becoming enemies, Matt. It’s about enemies becoming friends.” She nodded ever so slightly towards Boyd.

Mateo turned his head towards Boyd quite dramatically. “This whole thing has been about this guy?”

“You need him,” Pacey explained. “Bronach is too powerful to defeat without someone equally powerful.”

“But him?” Mateo pressed. “I mean...maybe Arcadia, or something.”

“Arcadia is not that big of a deal,” Octavia contended. “She gets most of her power by conscripting others, and keeping them behind the proverbial curtain, so it looks like it’s all her. Boyd operates on his own.”

“That’s the problem,” Leona countered. “He’s not a team player.”

“I know hundreds of homo floresiensis bots who would beg to differ,” Pacey reasoned.

“I was being tested too,” Boyd realized.

“Did it teach him to stop being such a pervert?” Mateo asked.

“Oh,” Octavia said dismissively. “Your daughter’s hot. Stop acting like everyone should pretend that they don’t see that. Plus, she’s well into adulthood. She just aged, like two years, right before your eyes. She makes her own choices.”

“Paige would never do this,” Leona said. “Who are you?”

“I am Paige,” Octavia insisted. “I’m just one who’s been through some shit. You’ve led multiple lives. You know what I’m talking about. I did this for you, so you could end it. Soon enough, the Exin Army is going to find their way to Castlebourne, and everything that Team Kadiar worked for will be wiped out in an afternoon, along with millions of totally unsuspecting visitors from Earth, and the rest of the stellar neighborhood. You can’t stop their advance, but you can end the Oaksent regime. The empire is a mess of factions, not because they disagree with each other, but because it’s designed to be compartmentalized. Use that to your advantage. Confuse them, and neutralize them.” She took a breath, and glanced around at the station. “This world is a playground. Some of the domes that we mirrored from the original are dumb, like Heavendome. Others are for relaxation, like Raindome, so you can take your breaks there. The rest are training facilities. That crystal goes both ways. Instead of putting someone else on your pattern, it can take you off. Stay here, keep practicing. Prepare yourselves for the Ex Wars. The train will still be waiting for you when you’re ready.”

“I don’t like to be tricked,” Ramses said to her.

“A necessary component of the lesson,” Octavia claimed.

“A faulty one,” Ramses argued. “We didn’t go looking for Boyd because we wanted him on our team. We went there because your boyfriend told us that we had to. So what’s the real lesson? That you’re the powerful ones here? If that’s true, then okay, but...I’m not sure how that would help us end a war.”

Octavia and Pacey seemed decidedly stumped. “However flawed our plan might have been,” Pacey said, “he’s here now, and I don’t see you ringing his neck.”

Ramses winced. “Well, we can be civil; we’re not savage animals.”

“That’s all it is?” Octavia asked. “You don’t see any good in him, even now?”

“I didn’t say that,” Ramses replied.

“All right, all right, all right. Your pitch is over,” Leona determined. She turned to address the team. “We’re gonna vote on what we wanna do. Will we stay here and train?” she asked with airquotes. “Or will we get our powers and patterns back, and go back out to do whatever we want in normal space?” She looked over her shoulder at Pacey. “Including everything we need to use our tandem slingdrives.”

Pacey shrugged his shoulders, closed his eyes, and nodded.

Leona went on, “all in favor of staying here for an indeterminate amount of time?”

No one raised their hands.

“All in favor of leaving this place behind with our respective toolboxes.”

Everyone raised their hands, except one.

“Boyd, are you abstaining?” Leona asked him.

He’s surprised that she even said his name. “I get a vote?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Yeah, I—I wanna go. I don’t need to stay any longer.”

“Okay, cool.” Leona clapped her hands. She bent over to take the crystal out of her bag, then held it out between herself and Pacey. “I don’t care how this thing works. Just undo what you did. Put us back the way we belong.”

Neither Pacey nor Octavia made a move.

“Are you still holding onto our agency?” Leona questioned.

“No,” Pacey said, disappointed. “But it can’t be done here. Turning off the crystal is fairly simple, though not necessarily obvious. It holds a tremendous amount of temporal energy. You need to block that energy. What do you know blocks that?”

“Lemons?” Olimpia suggested.

A few of them kind of laughed.

Pacey smiled. “She’s right. Dunking it in a bowl of citrus juice would do it. But if you want to exercise some control over what it does—and you don’t want an explosion—you need the harmonic equivalent to citrus.”

“The sound of lemons?” Olimpia pressed.

“Yeah, in a way. Boyd knows what I’m talkin’ ’bout.”

They all looked at Boyd who was a little awkward about it. “There was music involved in one scenario when I was trying to find a way to transport the Buddha’s hand citron to the future. It’s hard to explain, but they converted the genome sequence to sound, and that allowed it to be...it doesn’t matter. All DNA can be translated to music. You just need to pick a reasonable method, and be consistent with it. There are multiple methods, though. Dave had to find the right one for—Pacey, do you want us to use the same method, or what?”

“That’s up to you to decide,” Pacey answered.

“Does that mean that any method will do,” Angela pressed, “or is this another challenge?”

“That’s up to you to decide,” Pacey repeated.

“Great. Boyd, you’ll be our expert,” Leona said. “These two are no help.”

Boyd scoffed. “I wasn’t actually involved in generating the music,” Boyd started to clarify. “I was the boss. Making someone else figure it out for me was part of the thrill. I just heard the highlights afterwards. Which is how I know that playing the entire piece from start to finish will take something like two years.”

“You mean...two days?” Marie asked with a smile.

“Let’s just get back to the real world, and then we’ll make a plan,” Mateo suggested. “There’s nothing for us here.” He then looked directly at Pacey, and added, “if you wouldn’t mind...”

Pacey obliged, stepping out of the vacpod, and off to the side.

“Are you two, like, a thing?” Mateo went on while everyone else was stepping into the pod.

Pacey and Octavia exchanged a look. “Just because we work together, and have the same goals, doesn’t mean we’re hooking up.”

“That’s why I asked,” Mateo retorted. “Because I didn’t know the answer. Don’t be so defensive. You’re the antagonists in this situation, you know that, right? If someone were to write this tale down in a history textbook with any semblance of accuracy, the students would not be rooting for you. Whether the ends justify the means or not, most people don’t like dirty means.” Amidst their silence, he deftly stepped backwards into the pod too. “Just remember that the next time you come across someone you think needs to be taught a lesson.” The doors closed with perfect timing, sending them away and home. Hopefully, that is.

The pod stopped, and the doors reopened. A blackness came flooding in. Dark particles immediately swarmed all around them. Now that Octavia no longer needed Mateo’s protection, he redirected it. He wrapped his arms around Boyd’s body, and endowed him with his EmergentSuit nanites. Everyone else was able to just activate their own suits. They couldn’t talk, though—not in this world. They had to rely on their long histories with each other, and their empathic connections. The other six huddled around Mateo and Boyd. They engaged their tandem slingdrives, and dispatched them all to real, normal space.

Mateo fell straight to the floor, coughing uncontrollably. It felt like the dark particles had entered his body, which didn’t sound possible. According to Ramses, they were just neutrinos, which couldn’t interact with regular matter. Whatever was causing it, he couldn’t stop it, and neither could anyone else. He just kept coughing and coughing until he either passed out or died. He couldn’t tell which.

« < » > Table of Contents

The Seventh Stage: Foundation Rock (Part VII)

« < » > Entire Story

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3

Echo and Clavia both teleport out of the water, leaving every molecule of it behind, even the drops clinging to their skin, so they’re completely dry now, on the ground. They also apport clothes around their bodies so they can continue the conversation. “Aristotle Al-Amin,” Echo begins, “son of Maqsud.”

“That’s right,” Aristotle says. He was leaning against a tree. He pops himself off it, and saunters around, vaguely in their direction.

“You’re the one who made the Sixth Key?” Clavia asks.

“I didn’t make it,” he clarifies. “I did transport everyone to it, though.”

“How did you do that?” Andrei asks, still piloting the original Clavia body.

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” Aristotle answers anticlimactically.

“That’s okay,” Echo decides. “The only question is, can you do it again? Mostly the same people, and their descendants. Comparatively, the population isn’t all that much higher, and they’re all in the same place now, going to the same place. Here, actually. But. We also have to figure out who wants to go, and who doesn’t. They’re getting a choice this time.”

Aristotle nods like he knows something they don’t, which he surely does. He continues to pace around a little, admiring the peaceful surroundings. “I should clarify, I didn’t do it alone. I had enormous help, from a god.”

“Some people call us gods,” Andrei says.

Aristotle’s eyes dart over to him, but he doesn’t move his head. “You may be gods in this universe, but I spoke with those who live on a higher plane of existence. Now, that doesn’t mean we need them this time. Maybe you could supply the power instead. I don’t know who any of you are. All I know is that I can’t do it at the scale you’re asking for without some serious might.”

“Well, how did you contact these higher gods?” Clavia asks.

“A special term sequence that you input in a Nexus,” Aristotle answers.

“Can you remember the sequence?” Clavia presses.

Aristotle snorts as he laughs. “Yeah, I think I can recall.”

They stare at him blankly.

“It’s one glyph long,” he clarifies.

“Then why doesn’t everybody do it?” Andrei asks him.

“Because it’s only one glyph,” Aristotle reiterates. “Most people don’t think to even try it, because most term sequences are longer. Besides, it can only be used once at any given Nexus, and if you’ve ever done it before, you can’t do it again. You can tag along, but you won’t get another wish. If we go this route, I won’t be able to do it, because mine has already been asked and answered.”

“A wish?” Clavia questions. “Are they gods, or genies?”

“Both, I guess. They don’t use either of those words. They just have names.”

Andrei looks around. “Does anyone know of a Nexus in the Sixth Key that might be so rarely used that no one has tried this oddly simple single-glyph term sequence? Can you even call it a sequence?”

Echo shakes his head as he’s beginning to walk away. “No need to find a needle in a haystack. I’ll just conjure a new needle.” He waves his arms. The trees before him sink into the ground as if it’s made of mud. Once the clearing has formed, an artificial cube materializes atop it. It looks just like any other Nexus, on the outside, and once they step inside, they find it to be typical there as well.

Aristotle looks around. “Are you sure you need my help to do what you ask, or the gods’ help? Might wanna save your wish if you can. As I said, you only get one.”

“No, we know we can’t do it,” Clavia explains. “But that’s a good question. Which one of us should go and ask?”

Aristotle shrugs. “We can all go. It’s one question each. The only thing is, whoever literally inputs the sequence can’t ever do it again. Just like the wish itself, I’m disqualified for that too.”

“I’ll handle it,” Echo volunteers. They all step down into the cavity. “Which is it?”

“Zero-enter,” Aristotle replies. “We’re going to a place called Origin.”

Echo kicks the glyph that translates to zero, and then the enter button. Technicolors rain down from the drum above, and spirit them away.

They find themselves on a dock, floating on a dark and mysterious ocean. It’s eerie, but beautiful. They feel safe here, like nothing can or will hurt them. A rowboat approaches. A person steps out of it, and ties it on. “Welcome to Origin. My name is Senona Riggur.” They turn their head to look at Aristotle. “You’re back. You know the rules, though.”

“Of course,” Aristotle answers. “I’m just their guide.”

Senona turns back to address the other three, but ends up focusing on Andrei in particular. “There are more here than there appears to be.”

Andrei is surprised. “Uh, yeah. We are six in one.”

Senona breathes deeply, and considers the situation. “Six consciousnesses, one body. Six wishes.”

“We appreciate the accommodation,” Andrei says with a slight bow. “That’s very magnanimous of you. A lesser god would not see it that way.”

Senona laughs. “We don’t use that term. Anyway, it’ll make it easier for us to talk if I separate you out first.” They lift their hand, and wave it towards the Clavia body. It disappears, only to be instantly replaced by Ingrid Alvarado, Onyx Wembley, Killjlir Pike, Andrei Orlov, Ayata Seegers, and Debra Lovelace. They’re all in their own bodies, just like they’ve wanted for so long.

And they’re surprised too. They inspect their new substrates, confirming with each other without speaking that they all look exactly as they’re meant to. “Whose wish was that?” Ingrid asks.

Senona is taken aback. “That wasn’t a wish. That was just...maintenance. You still have six.” They address the group as a whole. “To clarify, there are eight qualifiers here. You get eight wishes. You don’t really have to decide whose is whose. I’ve had people come here in groups who collectively all want the same thing, so it’s been more collaborative than individual. It’s all up to you. To further clarify, it’s not magic. What I just did for you, I did with the aid of someone with the tools to make it happen. Just because you can imagine it, doesn’t mean there is anyone in the bulkverse with the requisite tools. If I cannot accomplish what you ask, we’ll work together, and determine something that I can. You have all the time in the world to come up with your ideas.”

“A benevolent god,” Clavia decides.

“A benevolent person,” Senona corrects, “with, as I said, a set of tools. My tools are to find other people’s tools. I sense great power in all of you. I ask, on the side, that you make yourselves available to lend your talents to me in the pursuit of other people’s wishes. I don’t demand it of you, but it would be appreciated.”

“Maybe this is where we’re supposed to be,” Echo whispers to Clavia.

“Maybe,” she whispers back.

“Can we ask questions without them being wishes?” Onyx pipes up.

“Sure!” Senona agrees.

“His wish.” Onyx jerks his head towards Aristotle. “How’d you do it? And can you do it again?”

“Oh, that. I hooked him up with one of the most powerful entities in the bulk. You call me a god...”

“You did?” Aristotle asks. “I don’t remember that.”

“You wouldn’t,” Senona contends. “You didn’t actually meet him. I more just passed the message along.”

“Who was it?”

Senona smiles, but doesn’t answer.

“I think I know who you’re talking about,” Clavia guesses. She too doesn’t say it out loud, though. It would explain everything. He has omnipotent power over everything that happens in Salmonverse, all of its child universes, and reportedly a number of other branes beyond those. It’s a bit of a deus ex machina for him to exercise that control to the degree he needed to in order to make the Reconvergence happen, and to rescue everyone from four of the five original realities. So it’s unclear why he wouldn’t simply make it a non-issue, but she can’t question his judgment, lest he use his authority against her in some way.

It’s probably for the best that she not investigate further, the man she’s talking about concurs from his bed on a Thursday night. The only question now is whether he would be willing to do it again. Honestly, he’s still debating it.

Okay, it’s been a few hours for him, and he’s ready with his decision, but they’re not going to be happy about it. They’ll do it, though, because that’s what it’s going to take to end the Reality Wars once and for all. Senona receives his message telepathically, and they don’t like it either. “That is not how it works here. It goes against the spirit of everything that we’ve built.”

It’s a sacrifice.

“It’s unreasonable!” they shout back.

It’s too big for one wish.

“Someone once asked me for a sandwich!” Senona argues.

That one was too small for a wish. I can’t control their choices.

“You literally can!”

“Should we try to help?” Killjlir offers.

“Shh,” Ingrid warns. “It’s far too dangerous for us to get involved.”

“It’s not just about the number of wishes,” Senona goes on. “You’re asking them to leave everything they’ve ever known behind. You’re asking them to never see their loved ones again.”

They all hail from a universe where death is less profound, and more of a joke. From my perspective, as much as I’ve put them through, they’ve had it easy. Everyone I’ve ever known has either died for good, or will relatively soon. I shed no tears for these people, and neither should you. Are you going to do it, or make eight sandwiches instead?

Senona frowns with a level of rage that they have not felt in a long time. “I’ve had enough of your editorializing. You can stop inserting yourself into the story, thank you very much. I’ll talk to them myself.” They take a breath, centering themselves. “Based on the half of the conversation that you could hear, I’m sure that you can mostly guess what the stipulations are for your wish. He’s turned me into a liar, because if you ask for the wish that we’ve already discussed, you won’t get seven more. You won’t get any more. This one wish counts for all eight.”

“We understand,” Echo says. “It’s up to the whole group, though. It must be unanimous. Even Debra has to agree.”

“That’s not all,” Senona goes on. “You can’t live there, in your new universe. You can’t live in Salmonverse either, or any of its other offshoots, in fact. You’ll either be staying here, or going somewhere else.”

“Can we...stick together?” Ayata asks, glancing over at her love, Andrei.

“Truthfully, I don’t know,” Senona says. “I’ve become little more than a mouthpiece. It’s all up to him this time. And he reserves the right to change his mind at any time.”

“What a dick,” Debra muses.

“Debra! Jesus Christ!” Clavia shouts. “You’re gonna get us all killed!”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Debra dismisses it with a flick of her hair.

Senona clears their throat. “I’m receiving a new message. I’m told to ask if any of you know someone by the name of Ezqava ‘Effigy’ Eodurus.”

No, they all answer in one way, or another.

“He says...exactly.” Senona finishes.

Echo literally shivers.

They’re all tired of arguing about this, so they put it to a vote. To everyone’s surprise, what they figured would only be the first attempt turns out to be unanimous. They all want to avert the Reality Wars, even if it means not being around to witness the fruits of their labor. They have all been working towards this end for so long, it’s absolutely worth it. It would be selfish of them to try to find some kind of loophole. Debra doesn’t really have this same sentimentality, but she goes along with the plan, because she believes herself to be powerful enough to find a workaround later. And the reality is that she might be right. That has not yet been decided.

They don’t know where the others are gonna end up yet, but Echo and Clavia are going to remain here at Origin. They can do a lot of good, fulfilling visitors’ greatest desires, and making countless worlds better. It’s a great use of their gifts now that their primary goal of saving the Sixth Key is complete. They only asked for one thing in addition to the wish itself, which is to be given some kind of proof that this hasn’t all been for nothing, and that the wish will indeed be fulfilled. I can agree to that. I don’t need any more pushback from any of them, and would like to remove myself from the narrative. Clavia is right, that it’s a deus ex machina, and while that’s a very useful trope in some cases, it’s not something that should be overutilized, or the story essentially becomes meaningless, and a waste of time.

The Reality Wars will be stopped, and everyone who wants to live in the new universe will be automatically transported to it without fuss. All year, I’ve been trying to figure out what its name should be, and I think I’ve finally settled on the right one. In keeping with the motif of placing them in numerical order, it must necessarily follow The Seventh Stage. The result is unremarkable, and strangely simple. I’m calling it...The Eighth Choice.

« < » > Entire Story

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 19, 2440

« < » > Table of Contents

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

The team was split, but since there were only five of them now, it was not even. Mateo, Leona, and Olimpia all wanted to reroute the ship, and return to Ex-666, where they might be able to find some allies, specifically Mirage and Niobe. They had to get back to Angela, and since they had no idea where or when she was, seeking out help seemed like the only logical response to this situation. Ramses and Marie, on the other hand, wanted to continue on to Ex-467, where a time tech warehouse was waiting for them to break and enter. The rationale for this was that there had to be something there that could help them instead. Leona didn’t agree. Mirage and Niobe were known variables, while the warehouse could turn out to be completely empty for all they knew, or even just pretty much impregnable. One might think that the result would be obvious, but Marie’s vote held more power, as it was her sister who they were trying to locate. In the end, they kept on course, especially since Angela herself seemed rather excited for this mission, and even though she would like to be here with them, she would be more upset if they skipped it altogether on her account. Marie knew how her mind worked.

When they returned to the timestream in 2440, they immediately learned something about their destination that they could not have guessed before. So far, every Ex- designation referred to either a planet, or a person, with the planetary designations being significantly shorter, and the personal designations including the number of their planet of origin. Ex-467 was either a space station, or a ship. Its design included main thrusters that suggested it could be navigated away from the host star that it was orbiting, but the shape itself implied that it was meant to remain a stationary hub at all times. There were tons of ports on it, but none of them was in use at the moment, at least not the exterior ones. There could be large bays somewhere they couldn’t see. It was difficult for their scans to penetrate the extremely thick hull.

Ramses was able to detect teleportation suppressor field generators, however, they were turned off. Mateo and Olimpia were relieved by this until Leona pointed out that they were probably not there to keep people out, but to trap any thieves inside in the event of a breach. If they were going to break in, teleporting was likely the worst way to do it. “Why wouldn’t we break in?” Marie questioned. “Why did we just travel all this way if not to go in and shake some shit up?”

“Poor choice of words,” Leona said apologetically. “All I’m saying is that no one teleports, okay? Not even internally. It’s too dangerous. We are going in...as long as everyone still wants that.”

Marie stepped forward authoritatively. “Yes, everyone wants that.” She glared at Mateo, who was incidentally the most vocal against this route, since they still had no idea what they would be up against.

Mateo regretted being so adamant in his position, but this development only proved his point. Everything they knew about this world came from people who Vitalie!613 had spoken to on the resort world. But they conveniently left out that it wasn’t a planet at all, which placed all intelligence they had regarding the Goldilocks Corridor in question, especially when it came to this place. “Yes, we do,” Mateo said, hoping to earn back some points with Marie.

Ramses nodded. “All right, the computer calculated the safest, most distant point of ingress that’s still large enough for the Vellani Ambassador to dock. We don’t want it to be too big, or our arrival might be noticed. It still might be. We don’t know a whole lot about their security measures.”

“Right,” Leona jumped in. “That’s why we stick together, no matter what. People say that in movies all the time, and it never works out. We can’t afford to get separated, though. If teleportation is our only escape, we absolutely must do it at the same time. That’s the contingency, and we only get one shot.”

“What are we waiting for?” Marie asked impatiently. “Let’s get on with it. It may take us a while to find an alternate self locator, or whatever might help.”

“Hold on,” Mateo urged. “Maybe we shouldn’t get on with it. I think I have a plan that necessitates us waiting. We’ve done something like it before, Leona and I.”

He explained his idea to them, and then they reformulated it together. It immediately called for a reversal of Leona’s order for them to stay together. It was all about misdirection. The Ambassador’s holographic generators were making them look like one of the ships they saw in guardian orbit over Ex-908, which was the planet that was constantly being attacked to test the Empire’s defensive technology. If they ran into other people, Marie was making herself up to look like someone who could not be denied. She was quickly becoming the best at impersonations. Olimpia would remain quiet and invisible the whole time unless they ran into trouble. Ramses and Leona made themselves look like random people that they knew from their pasts, who were not likely to be in any Exin historical records. Mateo was still particularly bad at all the powers, so he was just wearing a physical disguise of a beard and glasses. He was also going to keep his head down, and look like he was the lowest man on the totem pole here. He essentially was, so it wasn’t that great of a stretch. Then again, he was the one who was noticing everyone else’s strengths, and came up with this division of labor in the first place, so he wasn’t totally useless.

A group of guards filed into the room, pointing weapons at them as Leona, stepped out of the ship, alone at first. “State your business, strangers,” the leader demanded of them.

Leona stood tall, and inspected the guards with a cold look on her face. It was the face of a girl she knew in elementary school, aged up to her twenties. “Lower your weapons for the Oaksent,” she commanded.

Ramses appeared from the darkness first, followed closely by Marie to his left, but she no longer looked like herself. She was Bronach Oaksent now, Jacobson-Cline Father of the Goldilocks Corridor, Despot of the Exin Empire, Douchebag of the Milky Way Galaxy. She was their enemy. Mateo followed at her flank in rags as Oaksent’s own personal slave. They didn’t know whether he actually had slaves, but it was a decent educated guess. Plus, they figured that they didn’t have to specify Mateo’s role.

“Oh my God,” the leader uttered. He and the rest of the guards knelt down, but in the worst way they had ever seen. They placed the butt of their respective guns against the floor, and rested their foreheads against the muzzle. They weren’t about to pull the triggers, but it was a horrific sign of deference to an evil leader. Was this what everyone did in the presence of their god-king?

The rest of the team could feel Marie’s reluctance to let them treat her this way, but that wasn’t what the real Oaksent would do. They sent her feelings of support and encouragement, so she composed herself, and pretended like this was all perfectly normal, and not profoundly disturbing at all. She cleared her throat. “Not long ago, I sent a team here to extract an object for me as a test. You failed that test when you failed to report the item missing. Do not feel bad, these were the elites, trained personally by me. And lucky for you, I am now giving you the chance to redeem yourselves. My team did not remove the object from the station. They hid it somewhere else. Search the warehouse now, and bring it to me. The first person to come to me with the correct answer will be rewarded with a permanent life on Ex-613.”

“Sir, if I may,” one of the guards near the back asked, carefully letting his head up. “Many of us have families. Will they be allowed to join the winner on Ex-613?”

Marie waited to respond, trying to decide what Oaksent would say. The most obvious answer was yes. That would only incentivize them even more in this snipe hunt. But that didn’t sound like something the real man would agree to. Remember, he was a ruthless dick. She came up with a compromise. “They will be given their own opportunities to join you. Their place on that world is not guaranteed, but I won’t deny it outright either..”

“Thank you, sir. You are most magnanimous,” the inquisitive one replied.

“Go. Go now. Spread the word to everyone else here!” she ordered as they were running out of the room. “Find me that missing object!” They waited until everyone was gone. “Oh my God, I can’t believe that worked.”

“Ya did good, kid,” Mateo said, throwing an arm around her shoulder.

Just then, a guard came back into the room with a smirk on her face. “I was just transferred here from Ex-42,” she said. “I met you while I was there, sir. Do you remember that?”

“Of course not,” Marie responded. “Why would I recall someone like you?”

She smirked. “Well, you were on your way back to Ex-420. There’s no way you could be here now. You were heading in the wrong direction.”

Marie did her best to look like an offended ruler. “I ordered a change in course. I don’t have to explain it to the likes of you.”

“It’s true, the real Bronach Oaksent would owe me nothing, but you’re not him. There are other issues with your ruse here. For one, Oaksent likes the ladies. He doesn’t own male servants, because he can’t impregnate them with the next generation of servants. So I don’t know who that guy’s supposed to be.” She nodded towards Mateo. “And who’s that crouched on the hull of your ship?” They all fell for it. They spun around to see who the hell she was talking about, only to find that no one was there. When they looked back, the smart guard had her weapon trained on them. “Put your guns down.” They heard a short pounding sound as she lurched, and widened her eyelids. Then her eyeballs rolled out of view, and she fell to the floor, unconscious, but very much alive.

Olimpia briefly made herself visible to the team as she was still holding the gun over her victim, which she had used as a blunt instrument. “Good plan, Matty.”

“Except it’s hard to see how beautiful you are when we can’t see you at all,” Mateo acknowledged. He placed a hand softly upon her cheek as she disappeared again. “Y’all go look for the central database,” he told the other three. “Olimpia, you think you can find the security room on your own? I need to secure this one in a closet, or something.”

“Yes, sir,” her voice replied out of the aether.

They broke into their groups, and went off on their separate missions. What Mateo didn’t tell them was that he wasn’t hiding the guard somewhere on the station. He stuck her in hock on the Vellani Ambassador. A half hour later, midnight central hit, giving the station an entire year to cool down, and relax their defenses.

« < » > Table of Contents

Extremus: Year 70

« < » > Table of Contents

Generated by Google Workspace Labs text-to-image Duet AI software

The honeymoon period is over. Tinaya and Arqut have to set aside the fact that they’re married now, and focus on the new age that is hopefully dawning. She has completed her proposal for a new official form of government. It’s not going to be a radical departure from the way things already are, but it’s a pretty big change from what’s currently in the law books. No more First Chair, no more Second Chair. The line that separates the civilian passengers from the crew is going to be blurred, with each branch working together to support each other’s needs, and to work towards the betterment of the ship. Most vessels do it more like this, which is understandable thanks to their short trip times. There’s no reason for a full government when the journey is going to take a week or two. At that point, only the safety of everyone on board matters, and the crew is there for that. Extremus is going to be here for a total of 216 years, so it made sense to do it differently. But it doesn’t have to be that way, and if the others in charge start to listen to Tinaya, it won’t be for much longer.

She has distributed the new plan, and given everyone a week to look it over by themselves. The council members, high government offices, and executive crew members were strongly discouraged from discussing it with each other in the meantime, so everyone can be on the same page during the official discussions, but they surely broke this unwritten rule. They’re all here in the meeting room today, listening to Tinaya speak on it herself, and then they’ll go from here. She doesn’t just rehash what’s already in the written proposal. She gets into why they should do this, and how it would make things better and easier for everyone. They have some concerns. One of them is secrets and compartmentalization, and the other is the balance of power.

The current council leader is named Millaray Addison. “This is a quick timeline. You want us to change everything about how we run things in only three years? Forgive me, under three years, since we’re already in the middle of Year 70.”

“I felt it was important to begin the transition before I have the chance to run again for my final term. It would be very easy for someone in power to make a plan to abolish their own position when they won’t be holding onto it much longer anyway. That is why I will be stepping down at the end of my third term. I mean that no matter what. To show you how deeply passionate I am in favor of this change, I will not have a fourth term, regardless of what we decide about our future in the coming months.”

Lataran stands. “And what of me and my position? Would you have me step down as well?”

“The captaincy does not go away in my proposal,” Tinaya assures her.

“This is true,” Millaray agrees. “Why is that? Why lose the Chairs, but keep the Captain and Lieutenant? Is it because she is your friend?”

“In order for the crew to run smoothly,” Tinaya begins, “it must be at least partially militaristic in nature. No military in the universe could survive as a democracy. Someone must be in charge; at the top of the chain of command. The civilian government, on the other hand, would work just fine with a council. It already is. You make more decisions than I do on a regular basis. All this proposal does is make that official.”

“Well, it does more than that,” Council Leader Addison contends. “There are virtually no procedures for passing legislation.”

“Yes, there are,” Tinaya argues. “Everything will be a referendum.”

“Right.” Millaray quite nearly rolls her eyes. “Referendums, where everyone votes. Would that not become tedious and overly complex? There’s a reason why we have a representative government. You vote for the people who make decisions for you. That is how the common man’s voice is heard, not literally one by one. What you describe here would be cumbersome. How do you expect to pull it off?”

“I don’t expect to pull anything off. I will not be involved,” Tinaya promises. “It’s very important that I lose all semblance of power here, or it will appear selfish and self-serving. I’m afraid, if you agree to this, you would have to deal with everything yourselves. The way I see it, drawing up these plans is how I contribute, and now that it’s done, my part should be too. I don’t mean to sound like I’m abandoning you, but I really think that this won’t work if there is any hint of impropriety. Lots of great First Chairs have served fewer than four terms. Well, I suppose there have not been lots of us at all, but you know what I mean.”

Consul Abdastartus Sievert is a quiet man; one of those people who only speaks when it’s necessary, and when he feels that it is indeed the case, he’s always right. When it looks like he’s about to say something, most people know to shut up and let him do it. He’s been leaning back in his chair, but he sits up straight now. The room falls silent. “I appreciate the sentiment, First Chair Leithe. I think we all do. However, you will forgive us for finding the prospect of losing your input permanently to be...unsettling. You have birthed this project, now you must raise it.”

“Now, hold on,” Millaray interrupts. “We’ve not agreed to anything...”

Consul Sievert holds up a hand to quiet her. “Everyone has been discussing this plan since she first sent it to us. Don’t think I’ve not heard. We all have questions, comments, and concerns. The plan needs tweaking, and then no matter what, we will decide upon it by referendum. The Extremusians will have their chance to speak, and we’ll hear anyone who wishes to vocalize their opinion before the vote. Referendums are not difficult these days. We’re not going to use paper, for heaven’s sake. A more fair democracy is well within our reach on a logistical level. But there is one major thing that needs to be changed before we get to that point. Someone needs to be in charge of making sure it works. They need to keep up with the maintenance.” Some people wear watches, while others were wristbands. The former is good enough in most cases, but for those who deal with documents, like the consul, they prefer to have a large screen, especially since their documents are sensitive, and holograms would not be appropriate in mixed company. Consul Sievert swipes up on his to cast a document onto the main screen for all to see. Addendum Two Forty-Nine, Reinstatement of the Superintendent.”

The Superintendent is the so-called god of this universe, and if he exists, he has nothing to do with this. The Superintendent of Extremus, on the other hand, was a short-lived position given to a man who turned out to be a traitor. The ship did not launch with a superintendent, and it has not had one since, but it remains an option. Tinaya considered including it in her original proposal, but she was pretty sure that they would ask her to do it, so she intentionally left it out. Now it seems there’s no way around it. “I don’t think that’s necessary,” she claims. “The system is based on the greatest number of voices for the greatest common good. No one needs to be at the top.”

“That’s not what a superintendent does,” Lataran reminds her. She’s right, and Tinaya knows that. Like the superintendent of an apartment building, her job would be to fix issues as they come up, not to make decisions. But that’s not really what happened when Calixte Salmon held the responsibility. Not only did he actively endanger the safety of the crew and passengers, but he was found to have abused his power on a regular basis. There is a lot of historical stigma attached to it now. “I second the Consul’s motion. The proposal outlines what we need to do to make the transition. It doesn’t account for everything. It can’t.”

“If everyone feels that way,” Tinaya begins, “then give me another month. I’ll add whatever needs to be added to make it work on its own. It should be a well-oiled machine. That’s the whole point. If anyone’s going to be superintendent, then why change anything at all? Why not just redefine the First Chair’s purview?”

“Because that’s a different meeting,” Council Leader Addison says. “I didn’t spend all this time reading the document you prepared, only to have most of it erased in favor of simply rewriting your job description.”

“So you believe in this proposal?” Lataran asks her.

“I never said that I didn’t,” Addison replies. “I just want to make sure we get it right. This is a good start, First Chair Leithe. It needs work.”

“I agree.” Well, Tinaya does agree, but maybe not to as high of a degree as the Council Leader is implying with her tone.

“Is that what we’re doing here today?” Lataran questions. “Are we just deciding whether we should work on this further? If that’s what’s happening, then let’s stop arguing, and actually get to it. Nothing we do with the framework has to have any bearing on how the ship is actually run, because nothing’s happening yet. We’re just sharing a document.” She’s right about this too. This is only the beginning.

“I suppose we’re here to discuss whether we even want to keep discussing it or not,” Addison determines.

“Anyone who is adamant that we should put the kibosh on this project right now without any further discussion, run to the other side of the room, and tap the back wall with your left hand,” Lataran suggests.

Addison sighs. “That is not how we do things here, Captain.”

“That’s the way I do it,” Lataran jokes under her breath.

Tinaya can’t help but smirk at the remark.

“All right. Here’s how we’ll move forward,” Addison continues. “You’ve all had time to look over the proposal, but you’ve not necessarily put down any notes. Everyone here will do that over the course of the next...shall we say, two weeks. Submit your input to First Chair Leithe, who will take our suggestions under advisement, and draft a new version. She’ll then resubmit it back to us, and we’ll take another week to look over the improvements. That is when we will reconvene, and discuss any persistent issues. Also at that meeting, we’ll talk about how we’ll continue on from there. Everything make sense? Good, let’s go to lunch,” she says before anyone has a chance to respond.

The next couple of months are grueling. Everyone on the council picks apart every word Tinaya wrote in her proposal, and tries to come up with something better. Whenever she starts to think that maybe they’re happy enough with it, they find something else to change. They go through this a few more times until the final document resembles the original one more closely than it does any of the other versions. Her first ideas turn out to be the best. Except for the superintendent part. They do end up putting that in there. It doesn’t specifically say that Tinaya has to be the one to do it, but the whole population of the ship is going to vote on it next year, so she fully expects them to ask her. She needs to find them an alternative. She’s about ready to retire.

« < » > Table of Contents