Microstory 2657: Revealed

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Her team jogs up behind her as Mandica is frozen. Jaidia covers her mouth with her hand. “Oh my God.” They were told that Guinevere would be locked up in this tower, but they assumed that they would find her in a less-than-comfortable bed, and maybe—maybe—chained up. She’s chained up all right, but not in the usual way. One leg is shackled to a wall while the other is free. The same goes for her wrists on opposing sides. She’s lying on her side in an awkward position, next to a bucket with an obvious purpose. There’s a sink above her, but it doesn’t look like she can get to it. Water is dripping from a pipe underneath, forming a puddle in the chipped stone below. Her eyes are open, and she’s barely blinking, but she is, so she’s still alive.

Mandica knows right away what has happened. She has no proof, it could all be a lie, but this is what she is choosing to believe. Vanore never betrayed her. She never plucked out her eyes, or stabbed her in the chest. She has not been tormenting locals in Camelot and Greater Loegria. She hasn’t done anything wrong. She’s been locked up here this whole time. The asshole running around as Morgana is a shapeshifter, using Vanore’s face as a default in order to sell a lie. It’s clever, she’ll give her that. They never knew if there was anyone in the world they could trust, but if they ever saw Vanore, they knew they couldn’t trust her. But that was foolish. Of course there was another layer. Mandica gets down on her knees and pulls one link in the chain apart while Jaidia gets down and does the same to free her leg. “What did she do to you?” Mandica asks, tearing up. She gently lifts Vanore’s head, and slides her crossed legs underneath it.

“She needs water,” Reagan notes. He finds a cup, and fills it with clean water.

“I’ve been drinking,” Vanore assures them but her voice is hoarse, so she’s not drinking enough, or it’s full of bacteria. Or both.

“Guys, I know this is important, but we gotta go,” Malika urges. “I have to tell you what I learned. I don’t know what Morgana is planning, but it’s bigger than we knew.”

Mandica is still crying softly as she’s running her fingers through Vanore’s hair. “I’m sorry I doubted you. We should have seen it. I should have seen the truth.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Vanore replies. No, she wouldn’t.

“She’s talking about me.” It’s Morgana, standing in the doorway, still wearing Vanore’s face. She’s not upset at all, like all of this is going according to plan.

Scared to death, the real Vanore presses the back of her head against Mandica’s chest, trying to get as far from the witch as possible. “Who is that? Who the hell is that?”

“Oh, sorry. You’re used to seeing me like this.” Smoke billows out of Morgana’s cloak. Behind it, nanites begin to rearrange themselves. When the cloud fades, they see a man in her place. He removes the cloak, as well as the low-cut outfit underneath. He then peels a shirt from the cloak’s back lining, and puts it on for a more masculine look.

Mandica thought she may recognize his real face—if this is even finally that—but she doesn’t. It’s a guy. It’s just some random guy. “Let me guess. Just Morgan.”

My real name is Jiminy actually.

Mandica blinks deliberately. “What?! Like...the bug?”

“It started out as a nickname, but I’ve been using it for centuries; much longer than I had my original name, which I almost don’t remember.” He notices the team in defensive positions. “This didn’t go well for you last time. Nothing has changed. Except that face.” He waves his hand towards Jaidia.

Her facial hologram disappears, leaving her scar fully visible. She only covered it up when she came here so it didn’t draw attention from the locals. She’s not fazed.

Jiminy tilts his head. “Those aren’t as deep as they should be. Let me try again. He forms another cloud from his hands, but the particles are more sharply defined. They look vaguely like a sword. He drops it down, and slices through Jadia’s head, right were one of the slashes once was. Her body drops. “You next,” he says, looking at Malika.

Blue Wave extends her wings, just as Ravensgate Rescuer did earlier, except they are still less feathery, and more metallic. “I’m actually stronger this time.” She attacks.

Jiminy takes hold of the wings, and twists so they’re wrapped around Blue Wave’s body. He jams the sharp edges into her torso.

Malika falls to her back in front of Mandica, and begins to cough up blood. She turns her chin towards her friend. “He’s...” she struggles to say. “He’s in Underbelly a third of the time.” More blood, flying out like a geyser. “Loegria the other third. And—” She dies before she finishes her thought, but the math equation is easy enough to solve.

“Whoops,” Jiminy says. “You found out about that a little too early. Whatever.”

Reagan his holding his decoherence gun towards the enemy, but not shooting.

“Ahh. Not charged quite yet, is it? Yeah, that’s a big downside, but a small price to pay for full-on murder.” Jiminy takes a gun out from behind his back, which doesn’t look unlike Reagan’s. “Mine’s freshly juiced up. And bonus...” He trains it on Reagan. “I figured out how to propagate the backup signals. Dead is dead is dead is dead.”

Reagan’s eyes roll to the back of his head, and he collapses.

“A neural suicide inducer?” Jiminy complains. “What a coward. Welp, I guess I’ll test it on your girlfriend.” She points the gun at Vanore now. “Move out of the way so I can get a clean shot. I’m not done with you yet. You’re the key to everything.”

Mandica lifts Vanore’s head up more, and gently pushes it behind her back so he has an even worse shot. “I don’t know why you think I would do such a thing.”

He sighs. “To make it easier on all of us.” He reaches over his shoulder, and quickly swings his arm forwards, sending a chained hook towards Mandica. It digs itself into her shoulder. He yanks it, pulling Mandica out of the way. Then he fires his weapon at Vanore, sending a blast of energy into her stomach. Satisfied, he points the gun towards the ceiling in a comfortable resting position. “The results will take time.”

Azad Petit literally appears out of nowhere. One second he’s not there, and the next, he is. It’s impossible. It breaks the laws of physics, it just does. But it’s a good thing he can do it. Without hesitating, he goes right for Reagan’s decoherence gun, and shoots Jiminy with it. Jiminy’s nanite bonds break, and he falls apart like a sand statue.

Mandica tears the hook from her flesh. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,” She whimpers. She cups Vanore’s cheeks, trying to get some kind of reaction, but Vanore doesn’t move. Her heart is still. Her lungs are flat. The light in her eyes is gone. All of Mandica’s friends will come back to life, but if Jiminy wasn’t lying, Vanore cannot. Every copy of her has just been killed forever. Mandica lifts her head and screams as loud as she can. While still screaming, her back begins to burn. It’s hotter and more painful than ever before. Malika sits up quickly, and catches her breath. Reagan does too. And Jaidia? Well, she’s too far gone. But Mandica doesn’t care about that. She’ll be fine. She needs Vanore back. She stops screaming, and looks down at her love. “Please.”

Vanore breathes in.

Microstory 2655: Shadow of the Throne

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They’re here. They’re in Loegria, specifically just outside the walls of Camelot’s lower town. It was a fine walk all the way out here, which is part of the immersive experience. There were no trains in the middle ages, so the castle is a full forty-two kilometers from the entrance. For a normal person in those days, that might have taken a couple of days, or more, including rest. Many come to this dome with intentionally low-grade substrates to really feel the antiquity of it all. Team Ravensgate doesn’t care about that experience. They just need to get the job done. It takes them four hours of sustained powerwalking. The clothing was the most difficult part. In order to be let through the gates, they decided to travel as nobles, and people like that dressed for attention, not comfort or practicality. Reagan has it the worst. He’s portraying a knight.

“I speak the language, so let me do the talking,” Mandica encourages. “This dome is not a hundred percent accurate. Women and people of color are not treated as second-class citizens. The NPCs are programmed to ignore it.” They draw nearer. “Good morrow, kind sir!” she calls up to one of the guards. “We are travelers to Glastonbury, and require one night of rest. Is there room at the inn for three ladies and their knight?”

The guard stares daggers before reaching behind his back and taking out a parchment. He unrolls it, and leans over to the side to show the other guard. It appears they are comparing something on it to the team. He clears his throat. “You have been expected, Lady Raven of Dakota, The Hollow Red Woman, and the Shadow of Doubt.”

“Please enter,” the other guard adds as the gates are opening for them. “Make your way to the tiltyard for your challenge.” He chortles. “I do not like your odds.”

“We did not sign up to joust,” Mandica informs them.

“You are on the list, you are fighting in the grand mêlée,” he replies with a shrug.

“Morgana knows we’re here,” Reagan guesses as they’re walking through.

The lower town is exactly how you would think. The first thing they see is the market, where locals, neighboring farmers, and travelers are selling their wares. The road leads up the mountain, towards the castle. They don’t know precisely where the tiltyard is, but it’s the biggest tourist attraction in the land, so it will be obvious enough. Mandica did not look too much into how it works when you legitimately sign up to visit this dome. Do you start as a serf, and try to work your way up, or is it like Ravensgate, where you get to write your full character sheet? Malika made herself rich in Underbelly, and that was fine since not everyone finds that to be the best gaming experience. They may have rules against that here, however. Perhaps all other nobles are NPCs. Anyone they come across could be a visitor, and if they are, will be a lot less likely to break character than people in Underbelly. They’re not just playing cops and robbers, but living an ancestral life 24-7. Being truly immersed is the entire purpose.

They continue up the mountain. The townspeople scowl until they think they’ve been caught, then turn away to avoid punishment. They knew they wouldn’t have a lot of fans, dressed like this. It was necessary to get through that gate without issue. Though, they didn’t expect to be let in quite that easily, or be expected. But it’s fine. If Morgana wants to fight, they can fight. That’s why they came here prepared.

They make it to the tiltyard, which is full of people. A runner apparently beat them here so he could warn the Marshal of their arrival. The stands are completely full. The audience begins to cheer uproariously when the four of them enter the grounds. Morgana didn’t only send word to her guardsmen. She prepared the whole town. She wants to make a show of it. She probably wants to humiliate them.

The Knight Marshal stands on his platform, and begins to bellow his announcement. He tells false tales of where the four of them come from, making up annoyingly elaborate backstories, which the governing AI must have developed for them since they didn’t take the time to write their own. They’re expected to stand there and look confident or scared. They don’t have time. “Excuse me?” Jaidia interrupts.

The Knight Marshal glares at her before turning back to the crowd so all can hear. “You will have your chance to speak when I am finished!”

“Right, but is Morgana here?” Jaidia continues.

“Or Morgan le Fay?” Mandica adds, not sure which name they use for her here.

“Lady Morgana is in Avalon, where she—hey! Hey!” He’s getting mad because the four of them are simply leaving. “Hey, I have this whole introduction planned! I’ve been working on this all day! It’s not easy to speak in this weird Chaucerian shit!”

“Save your complaint for your review!” Malika argues back.

A wiry little man skitters up to them as they’re leaving. “Seek ye the road to Avalon? I know the way. Lady Morgana, she lays traps for those who would do her harm. If you are not pure of heart, or sharp as steel, you may wander for days in a circle that looks straight. I can shine a light upon the true path. I am a humble man. All I ask—”

Mandica strikes him in the chest with her open palm, sending him crashing into the brush in the ditch. Her friends are neither bothered, nor confused. “That’s enough, shapeshifter! We’re taking you to Castledome, where you will face judgment!”

The impostor smirks as he’s standing back up. His skin mutates into nanites, and begin to crawl all over his body, changing shape, changing color, and changing her size. A dark mist swarms her for effect. The statuesque Morgana stands before them. She breathes with an unsettlingly bright smile, as if this form is more comfortable, though if she is made entirely of nanobots, it doesn’t feel like anything, and any preference for form would be merely psychological. She’s not even breathing at all. “Do you really want to have this anachronistic fight here?” she asks with a cackle. “Steward wants to bring me in for breaking the rules. You would break them in service to your fool’s quest?”

“Sure.” Reagan takes out his decoherence gun, and shoots Morgana in the chest without hesitation. He has been working on it in secret for decades. Once it’s perfected, he will be able to use it on the man who oppressed him, and is still oppressing his people back home. It will kill every single back-up of anyone streaming their consciousness outside of their body. For now, it is only capable of destroying this one copy, but Azad is standing guard outside of Vanore’s substrate storage chamber. After she returns to her regular body, he won’t let her reinsert herself into the simulation.

With no time to react, Morgana falls to pieces. It’s powerful enough to disrupt the brain’s electrical signals, which means it’s also capable of breaking your average, everyday electromagnetic bonds. If she were more solid, it would not have been so dramatic. More people witnessed it than they realized. They begin to crowd around. “You...you killed her,” a child says. “You killed the witch. Will you save the queen now?”

“The queen?” Malika asks. “Who is the queen? Why does she need saving?”

“Why, ‘tis Guinevere, of course. She withers in the high tower.” The child points. “The King will give you anything if you kill the Bane of Loegria, and set his heart free.”

Microstory 2443: March 14, 2016

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I came to this dome mostly out of curiosity. Not only does it seem so random and vague, but there’s also no information on it. Most prospectuses in the catalog have a lot of information about what you’re getting into. Even the more secretive ones, like Foggy Forest still give data about temperature and wind patterns, and the types of plantlife that can be found there. It also warns you about how dangerous or troublesome it might be for the younger crowd, or people with heart conditions, or whatever. March 14, 2016 does not have anything. There’s not even a picture associated with it, which was the weirdest part about it. All it shows is the title, and under that, the word “Perfect”. I don’t have a family, or anything going on in my life. I’m guessing that I’ll probably move here on a more permanent basis, so I have plenty of time to explore the other domes. I figured I might as well check this one out, especially since I seem to be the first person to review it. There’s a chance that I was even the first visitor ever? I don’t believe that any other visitor was there at the same time, but it can be hard to tell since the androids just look like people. Though, I will say that no one else seemed confused or weirded out, so I really do think that I was alone. Enough of the build-up, what is March 14, 2016? Well, it appears to be St. Louis, Missouri, presumably the way it looked like on that date. The only reason I say that is because there’s a big arch that looks exactly like the one in the photos. I pulled out my handheld device, and tried to figure out where I was standing at any one time, but nothing seemed to match up. All of the street signs were blank. Almost none of the buildings had signs of any kind, and I’ll get to that here in a bit. First, I wanna tell you that the buildings weren’t real either. They were basically cardboard cutouts, including only the façade. You can walk in them, but be careful with the doors. It’s very unsettling, because there aren’t any interior walls or furniture. It feels like the whole thing is about to come down. Unlike the Kansas City replica dome, this was all fake; not just a replica. Remember when I said that there were androids? Well, not a whole lot of them. They weren’t walking on the sidewalks, or crossing the streets. They weren’t driving the cars—or pretending to drive, anyway, because the vehicles were fake too. They had all congregated in one place. It might sound like a big event or gathering, but that’s not right either. There was a reasonable number of people at a store of some kind, which were common in this time period before they were replaced with free inventoria. Some were wearing blue vests or polo shirts, and name tags, so I’m assuming they worked there. Everyone else was wearing whatever, so they were probably customers. Unlike everywhere else, the store had a sign, but it too was disappointing, because it was just given the generic name of Superstore. The inside was full of stuff; the kind of stuff I’m told would be typical of the age in a store. It had gizmos and gadgets and clothes. People were buying things, and then walking out. Nothing interesting or crazy happened all day. I kind of thought maybe that there was a bombing here, or some kind of attack? Or maybe ghosts would fly out of the walls, and start scaring people. But nothing. Everyone smiled at each other. While no one actually said a word, they behaved as if they were talking to each other. There didn’t appear to be any conflict. At the end of the “day” the store shut down, and hours later, it reopened, and restarted the exact same routine over again. I tried to find any other places of activity, but couldn’t. I did find other Superstore locations, but they weren’t populated. I don’t know what to make of it. Maybe someone else can try it, and see something different.

Microstory 2423: Oz

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My assumption is that the guy who made this planet was a huge fan of L. Frank Baum, and his works. If you haven’t read the books, you really should. You can see the movies, particularly the first one, but everything here is drawn from the source material. Oz is only one dome, complete with the Emerald City in the center, and the four countries around it. There’s a so-called Impassable Desert along the perimeter, but there’s not much to it before you just hit the wall. Which is fine. I mean, that qualifies as impassable, doesn’t it? Unless you go through a door. I’m overthinking it. The point is that Oz is only one dome, but the world of the Baum books includes many other regions on the planet, and each of them has their own dome too. They’re all on my list, because my father used to read me the books when I was a kid, multiple times. And when I grew up, I read them myself. On my way here, I read them yet again to refresh my memory. Yeah, I could have installed the data into my cybernetic mind, but there’s nothing like reading the words in realtime, is there? The bottom line is that this place is perfect for me. It’s as accurate as it can be given the lack of specifications from the books (which no one could expect from any writer). It exemplifies the spirit of the original story, I should say. They had to make their own decisions, and take some liberties, but they totally nailed it. This. Is. The Land of Oz. Are there some things that I would change if I could? Sure. Do I wish that they would ask me to help them make such changes? Yeah, I do. Could I offer my services? Yeah, I guess I could. I might just do that. They have people work here, right? It’s not all automated. I might wait just a little bit, though. I should take notes, and go through the entire thing. I should also wait until I’ve had time to do the same in the other Baum domes. I wouldn’t dream of telling you what to do, but you really should check it out. It is great and good.

Microstory 2152: Stop Stopping Moving

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I’ve gone back to being bored and boring, and that makes me nervous. Every time that happens, I get sick, and then something too crazy happens as a result of that. I’ve sort of exhausted every kind of infection that you can get, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get another one of the same type as before. To shake things up, when I had some free time, I returned to the nursery where I used to work to see my old friends and boss. It was a little awkward, because I didn’t leave in the best way. It wasn’t combative, like what sometimes happens with former employees, but it was really weird. To make things less uncomfortable today, I bought a few pots, and some seeds. I mostly chose daisies, since that’s my dog’s name, so it’s fitting. It’s not like I can’t do with a little bit more color in my apartment. I have a history of having very sparse dwellings. I don’t put up photos or paintings. I was born in 1987, so everything I ever cared about was in the cloud by the time I moved out of my parents’ house. If I wanted to look at a picture of someone I cared about, I could just take out my phone. It never seemed better to be able to see such things along the hallways. Walls are just there to hold up the ceiling, and I don’t see blank walls as problematic. All of those pictures are lost to me now, and no matter what I do, I will never get them back. I’m thinking about giving a description of my dogs, Sophie (who is no longer with us) and Daisy, so I can have drawings of them, though they may not be very good, because I have a notoriously bad memory. I am barely confident that the artist could even get close, and I’m not at all confident that we could figure out what my human family looked like. Still, it’s not a bad idea. It would certainly give me something to do with my days besides working, writing, talking about my feelings with my therapist, updating my parole officer on nothing, and sitting in jail. I should make a list...a list of things I can do, which may not necessarily improve my life, but perhaps just make it different. I’m a shark, so I should stop stopping moving.

Microstory 1974: Team Alpha

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Micro: What do you think of these names? Team One? Team Prime? Team Alpha?

Anaïs: Not the most common practice. They usually just use colors, but I’ve heard of this technique before, to prevent anyone from feeling subordinate or inferior.

Micro: I think we all know who the B-team is here. We’re stuck at the second location.

Anaïs: I’m stuck at the second location. Parsons is still mad at me for being cagey about my past. You’re here, because I need a babysitter.

Micro: I would have been at the computer either way, poring over all this data, looking for anything that might help us catch this guy, and whoever he may be working for.

Anaïs: Do you want to be in the field?

Micro: It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. I just think these equality names are funny. Being part of a group doesn’t mean that everyone is the same, and being equal doesn’t mean that either. It’s okay to just call it like it is. Someone ought to always be in charge.

Anaïs: Well, many would agree with you. Hold up, what is this?

Micro: What? *looking over at Anaïs’ screen* Let me check what it says here.

Anaïs: [...] Does that mean what I think it means?

Ophelia: *through the radio* Team Lead, this is Team One. We have eyes on the target. He’s heading upstairs.

Reese: *through the radio* Team One, this is Team Lead. Hold fast. [...] Team Prime, do you have a visual?

Sasho: *through the radio* Negative, Team Lead. We can’t see the front.

Reese: *through the radio* Okay, Team Alpha, go, go, go. Take him down at his door.

Anaïs: What do we do? We don’t have time to verify any of this?

Micro: Better safe than sorry. If we’re wrong, we have a better image of this guy now, so if he gets away today, we’ll get him again. Make the call.

Anaïs: You do it. Parsons may have told everyone not to trust me.

Micro: *into the radio* Team One, if you can hear me, male, clear your throat, and female, smack your lips. *the sounds come through* I’ve switched us to a private channel. When I give the word, tackle the suspect, and pull him to the floor. All three of you need to get to your stomachs, but not too soon.

Anaïs: Is this going to work?

Sasho: *through the radio* You’re clear, Prime A. You’re pointed right at ‘im.

Reese: *through the radio* Shoot only on my command.

Micro: *into the radio* Team One, DROP! NOW!

Sachs: *fires rifle*

Sasho: *through the radio* I lost visual! There’s too much dust!

Micro: *into the radio* Team One, we’re still on private. Please respond.

Ophelia: *through the radio* We’re here. We’re okay.

Micro: *into the radio* Apprehend the suspect, and run. Lose all trackable tech. Do not proceed to the agreed upon rendezvous point.

Leonard: *through the radio* What’s this about?

Anaïs: Are you gonna tell them?

Micro: That Sachs is a traitor? *into the radio* Wait for me at the Salmon Civic Center.

Microstory 1973: Team Prime

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Sachs: This one?

Sasho: Magazine latch...

Sachs: And this one?

Sasho: Band axle pin...trigger rod...pusher spring.

Sachs: Ehh...?

Sasho: No! Return spring.

Sachs: There you go. You’re getting better, faster.

Sasho: God, I haven’t used flashcards since the ninth grade. *chuckles* I probably should have used them in college. Maybe then I wouldn’t have flunked out. Hey, you don’t need a degree to be a spotter, do you?

Sachs: Not where we work. If you were to join the military as an officer, then yes, but not just to be a spotter. That’s just a requirement for everybody. I suppose you could be a member of the enlisted forces, but I wouldn’t recommend it. That’s how I started it, and it took a lot of hard work for me to become a sergeant.

Sasho: I’m not seriously thinking about it. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I mean, I’m too old to join the military, right?

Sachs: You have a knack for this. Look, a spotter in the military isn’t the same as it is on a tack team. You’ll have a lot more responsibilities out here. In the army, my spotter just spotted. This is an elite squad, and you gotta be able to make up your own rules. You’ll always have a leader, of course, but it’s a far cry from the chain of command.

Sasho: I dunno. Maybe I should just go back to the jail.

Sachs: I can’t tell you what to do, but if I were you, I would pursue this.

Sasho: *nodding* Hey, so I was wondering...

Sachs: You can’t ask me that.

Sasho: No, okay. Sorry.

Ophelia: *through the radio* Team Lead, this is Team One. We have eyes on the target. He’s heading upstairs.

Reese: *through the radio* Team One, this is Team Lead. Hold fast. [...] Team Prime, do you have a visual?

Sachs: No. We can see into the apartment, but not the storefront, or the stairs.

Sasho: *into the radio* Negative, Team Lead. We can’t see the front.

Reese: *through the radio* Okay, Team Alpha, go, go, go. Take him down at his door.

Sasho: What do we do?

Sachs: *closing the bipod* Follow me. We need to get a better vantage point. They’re not gonna make it into the apartment. *leads him down the roof* Wait. You stay here. You’ll see them through that window in five seconds.

Sasho: Team One will be blocking the shot. We have to get across to the other roof.

Sachs: That’s where I’m going. Spot from there.

Sasho: I don’t know how to do that!

Sachs: I believe in you. Just tell me what you see, and where you see it. These rounds can break through the brick. *Hops over the alleyway*

Sasho: He’s gonna shoot through the wall?

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: November 28, 2398

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Alyssa and Ramses continued to discuss the plan to fake Leona’s death with Arcadia and Vearden. Their live-in guards got in on the conversation too, contributing their experience and expertise as career military servicemen. The National Intelligence Agency has an entire department tasked with faking people’s deaths, usually for witness and turned asset relocation purposes. Their methods usually involve using completely unrelated corpses as proof; they’ve never done anything like this, but they have not been read into the situation anyway, so no one is allowed to reach out to them about it. This is all very ghoulish of them, but they keep reminding themselves, and each other, that it would be a lot worse if they were planning an actual murder. The point is to prevent someone from dying, and if all goes according to plan, no one will get hurt at all.

Here’s what they’re going to do. First, they’re going to transfer Erlendr’s consciousness from the Insulator of Life, into Leona Reaver’s body. Well, first they have to convince him to play along, but assuming that he does, they’re going to equip him with concealed body armor to prevent anyone else from managing to actually hurt him before they get the chance to complete their performance. He’s going to make himself known in a very public space where Leona’s face is sure to be recognized. They will pick a place that is having a parade, or something, so it will be really crowded, and possibly even filmed and streamed. They’ve not chosen any event yet, because they’re not yet certain of their timeline. They may plant operatives in the audience to make sure Erlendr isn’t standing out in the open without anyone noticing.

Their fake bounty hunter—which will be an undercover SD6 specialist—will then begin his or her pursuit. If any other hunters happen to be in the area, other undercovers will run interference against them. The chase won’t last long, or go far, because they want the audience they end up with to be able to see the whole thing. Erlendr will duck into a car, and drive off a little ways before a bomb goes off. This is the trickiest part of the magic trick, because they don’t want anyone else to get hurt, so it has to be highly controlled, and focused, but not so focused that it looks like maybe Erlendr survived it. The timing has to be perfect too, because they can’t allow people to see the Leona Reaver body disappear when fate intervenes, and sends it to the other timeline. Tinted windows will be key, along with maybe a little remote driving.

They have to control for security cameras, audience involvement, and other crazy eventualities, this is not something that they’ll be able to pull off today. That’s probably all right, though, because they want Arcadia’s baby bump to get a little bigger, in case she gets recognized after the thing. That brings them back to the crux of the plan, which is Erlendr’s participation. He has no loyalty to them, so figuring out a decent incentive was the hardest part, and they did need to come up with one, because if they tried to force it on him, he would probably claim to be a twin or triplet in public, and ruin their whole gambit. They think they have a way to go about it, but they’re going to need Arcadia’s help. They don’t really have a Plan B if they can’t get him to cooperate.

“This won’t hurt the baby, right?”

Ramses smiles. “First of all, no, it wouldn’t. But I knew you would be concerned, which is why you’re not going in cerebrally. You’re just going to use these.” He holds up the goggles.

“What does that mean?”

“I’m connecting my brain to the simulation, which will make it feel like I’m really there...except I always turn off my pain receptors. You, on the other hand, will only be able to see what it looks like through regular VR. You won’t feel a thing, but you can pilot your avatar using this controller, if you want.”

“Okay.” She accepts the googles.

“Lyss?” Ramses asks.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want her to be alone in there, even just as an avatar, so I’m going to set myself up first, and then you can push that green button in the corner of the screen to activate her once I’m jacked in, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Then when she gives you the signal, press the purple button.”

“Green button, then purple, got it.”

“Thanks,” he says to her. “Are you ready?” he asks Arcadia.

“I know kung-fu,” Arcadia says casually as she’s wrapping the goggles around her head. She might actually know it for reals.

Erlendr sits up in his cot, and blinks at the lights that have just turned on. They’re not real eyes, just visual coding that’s been programmed to become distressed due to virtual lighting changes to make it feel more real. “What’s this about?”

“Are we having fun yet?” Ramses asks.

“Barrels. What do you want?”

“We would like you to help us save Leona Matic’s life.”

“This oughta be good.”

Ramses and Arcadia go over the plan, altering certain details, so he doesn’t know too much about it yet. He has to agree to help them first, then he gets to know exactly how they’re going to fake his death.

“You want me to knowingly put myself in harm’s way, all for a woman that I couldn’t care less about? What’s in it for me?”

Ramses clicks the button on a little fob. The wall behind him, opposite Erlendr, falls backwards, and lands in the grass. The field of daisies where Bhulan was staying is there. Erlendr could run out and frolic if he wanted to. “This is a sign of good faith. You can live there, instead of in this room. If you don’t agree to help us, we won’t even put you back in here. That’s how important this is to us.”

Erlendr starts to speak in a weird mocking voice, but it’s hard to tell who he’s mocking. “They let you try it free? It must be good!”

Ramses looks quizzically at Arcadia.

“It’s an old television advertisement,” she explains.

“Oh. This isn’t your reward. Like I said, it’s a good faith gesture. Your reward...is this.” He takes a half-step to the side to get out of Arcadia’s way.

She takes off her ruana, and lifts her shirt to reveal the bump on her belly. It’s just a virtual construct, but Ramses built this avatar by scanning Arcadia today, and extrapolating what she would look like if she still had her real body, and it was pregnant, instead of Leona Delaney’s body. “If you don’t help us, you’ll never meet your granddaughter, because she will be killed before she can even be born. Now, Alyssa.” She transforms into the image of her current self, as Leona. “What say you, father?”

Erlendr frowns. “I’ll do it, but your plan sucks, I have...many suggestions.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: October 22, 2398

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Kivi hangs up the phone, confused and frustrated, perhaps even more frustrated than before she made the call, but now for different reasons. The interrogation of Meredarchos is not going well. There are only a few people in the world who are immune to his psychic abilities, and half of them don’t work for the government, so they’re off doing their own things. The rest are left to stay at the black site, and keep watch over him in tiresome shifts. They grow weary of it, but until they figure out how his ability works, they are the only line of defense against him. Kivi was hoping to get Arcadia to immunize others, but she can’t come back, for reasons she didn’t get into. She did make one crazy claim, which is that generating mental barriers in other people’s heads is something that Kivi may be able to do herself.

“What you’re doing when you say that you’ve picked up the scent of a target has nothing to do with smell,” Arcadia said. “The reason you can find people is because you’re tracking the unique psychic signal that everyone gives off, whether they want to or not. You too have psychic abilities; maybe not as strong as Meredarchos, or even me, but everyone has a little, and you’re definitely better than the average person.”

Kivi is confounded by this. Obviously she knew it had nothing to do with smell. Catching a scent was just the easiest way to put it without having a degree in neurology. Still, psychic is a bit of a stretch. If she can read minds, shouldn’t she have done so accidentally by now? In the movies, if a character has a special ability, it will always surface at an opportune time, especially if we’re talking multiple abilities. Kivi has been interrogating this dark entity for days, and nothing like that has happened to her. Though maybe just knowing it’s a thing will make it work the next time. She’s certainly going to try that before she attempts to protect a new agent from Meredarchos’ intrusions. If she fails, it places someone in danger, but this only puts her at risk.

They’ve been living at a safehouse about a kilometer from the secret one-person prison, which was built into an abandoned mine shaft by another team while Kivi and her team were still looking for the enemy. She makes the drive back, and checks in at the gate. She takes the elevator down, and heads for Meredarchos. His two frontline guards have already moved him to the interrogation room, and placed a dark bag over his head. If this is going to work, he can’t be allowed to sense anything through her microexpressions. She sits down across from him, and starts to operate on instinct. If I were a real psychic, how would I read someone’s thoughts?

After a few minutes, Kivi starts to feel something. Her own mental wall is still there, but now she’s getting the sense that there are two walls. One of them belongs to Meredarchos and Erlendr. They apparently also have to protect themselves against intruders. She looks up to the top. She can see both of them there, on separate corners, scanning the horizon. They’re looking so far in the distance, they can’t even see that she’s right there in front of them. It’s one tall-ass wall, though. As a metaphor, it’s a pretty good one. There’s no way she’s scaling that, and making it to the other side.

She hears a whisper at the base of the wall. “Psst. Come here.” It’s a shadowy figure, holding onto an open door.

“Who is that?” Kivi asks.

“It’s me, come on.” The figure steps a little more into the light. It’s Cheyenne.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: October 17, 2398

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Technically, this next error that they’re investigating is a lot closer than Wyoming. It’s right in the heart of the Plaza in Kansas City, but Ramses chose to put it off, because he was pretty sure that Erlendr was on Brooks Lake, and that seemed more urgent. Interestingly, they’re in the shopping block where they first searched for the Salmon Civic Center, which doesn’t exist in this reality. Alyssa has been spending her free time monitoring the cameras that they have set up in the parking lot where everyone seems to appear, and no one has come through since Vearden several weeks ago. If someone is looking for the Civic Center, they’ve been looking for a real long time. Mateo has made up a story in his headcanon to explain that as they’re wandering around the block. He thinks that maybe a traveler showed up for the predictable reason, inadvertently drawing attention to themselves. Someone who runs one of these businesses noticed him, and they got to chatting, which eventually led to a job. The traveler is still around, because they work somewhere close now.

“That would be a decent story, and it may yet prove true, but there’s something different about this one.” Ramses is wielding a portable brain scanner, and is waving it around, hoping to detect their target.

“What’s that?” Mateo asks.

“The satellite orbited two dozen times before it stopped—or disappeared, as it were. In that time, ten brains produced ten errors two dozen times. One brain, however, produced an error only once.”

“Where was it during all the other scans?” Mateo questions, pretty sure that Ramses doesn’t know for sure.

“I can’t say for sure,” Ramses answers, “but funny enough, the orbital pass where it appeared happened at exactly midnight central Saturday night.”

“The club,” Mateo realizes. “The Salmonday Club only exists in an extra temporal dimension. I can’t remember what it’s called.”

“The Facsimile,” Ramses replies. “If my calculations are correct, it should be right around...here.” He stops at a dirty off-white wall.”

“That’s why we’re here so late.”

Ramses checks his watch. “We’re here just in time.” He pulls out a syringe, and prepares to inject himself with it.

“You’re going to teleport us in?”

“If our target is in there, they may not be able to get out, which implies the door that’s supposed to be in this spot doesn’t magically appear at 23:59:30. Ours may be the only way in or out.”

Mateo nods.

Ramses injects himself with the temporal energy-infused water. He lets it run through his bloodstream, then checks his watch again. “Are you ready?”

“You warned Leona where we might go, right?”’

“Of course.” Ramses winks, and takes Mateo by the shoulders. Once his watch beeps, he teleports them both through the temporal window.

They end up in the club, or what used to be the club. Now it’s a dirty and abandoned empty space with light trickling in from a collapsed roof, and mold growing on the walls. Ramses holds up his scanner, and tries to find the signal. Once he catches it, they exit the building, and head down the street. It too has been abandoned. Entire buildings have collapsed, vines have taken over. Cars have been burnt up. This is a post-apocalypse world. If anyone is living here, it’s not easy for them, and it’s not fun. Ramses continues to follow the signal only a short distance to the Ponce de Leon. It’s the only thing left standing in all its former glory. Someone is performing maintenance for it, and they likely live in this dimension’s version of the Bran safehouse.

They walk up the stairs, and knock on the door. They hear shuffling on the other side. A  very old man answers, and peers at them. He stares for quite a while, barely able to hold his own weight up. “I’m afraid there’s no way out.” He turns, and begins to walk towards the kitchen. “But there’s still tea, if you want it.” He sets a pot on a gas burner, and lights it. There’s no electricity, so he’s living like a camper in many ways. The unit is clean, though, and tidy. He takes pride in his space, even if no one else could ever have seen it until today.

“My name is Ramses Abdulrashid, and this is my associate, Mateo Matic. How long have you been trapped in this dimension?”

He looks up and to the left as he checks his memory archives. “Since Christmas Eve, 2022. The Cleanser trapped me here. He didn’t take too kindly to me helping one of his victims get her life back. Maybe you know her, Siria Webb?”

“We do,” Mateo answers.

“How was she doing?” the old man asks.

“She was all right when we left her,” Ramses replies, “but she never mentioned you, so you may have seen her more recently than we.”

The man nods. “Well, I’m Mackenzie Dodge, former proprietor of the Salmonday Club, and current sole occupier of this world. I wish we could have met under better circumstances.”

“We think we can get you out,” Mateo tells him. “We came here intentionally, strongly suspecting that someone was trapped. I can’t imagine being alone for over 370 years. It must have been hard.”

“It hasn’t been that long,” Mackenzie says with a laugh as he’s preparing the tea bags. “This place only exists on the eighth day of the week.”

“Right.” Mateo looks over to Ramses.

He does the math in his head. “More than fifty-three years.”

“That’s still a lot, sir,” Mateo says.

Mackenzie smiles. “It is, but—” He suddenly grasps his head, and hisses in pain.

“Oh, no,” Mateo laments.

Before they can do anything, the patch of timonite on Mackenzie’s head spreads throughout his body, and spirits him away to the Sargan Forest. The two of them just stare at the kitchen counter in horror.

“Come on,” Ramses says. “I have to get back to my lab.”

“Are we not going to talk about what just happened?”

“Only so that I can say that it’s not your fault.

“Yes, it is.” Once is an occurrence, twice is a coincidence, and thrice is a pattern. From Mateo’s perspective, twice is evidence enough. Even if he’s not the cause of this issue, he’s certainly not helping. This investigation is going to have to move on without him. His connection to timonite and the bulkverse is too strong to let him just run around free, ruining people’s lives.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 29, 2398

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That proves it. Meredarchos and Erlendr are sharing a body, they can transfer themselves to anyone they choose, and the whole thing with taking Trina’s body was just a ruse to get them to look for the wrong face. The danger here is that, regardless of what body they’re possessing at the moment, they can psychically infect others. Either their victims become so loyal to them that they’re willing to kill their own friends, or the process instills such hatred in them that they’re willing to kill their own friends. Either result ends the same, and they don’t know how to stop it. Arcadia was able to keep them out of her head, as well as Vearden’s, but she may not be able to scale that to the entire team, let alone everyone in the world. Right now, the evil duo feels like an unstoppable force, and while nowhere is safe, some places may be safer than others.

“Are you sure?” Leona asks. She came back early from her business trip at the factory in Oberlin, Ohio to deal with all this.

“Positive,” Arcadia answers. “He’s...a shell.”

Heath is kind of like a baby, except that he doesn’t cry, and he has the motor functions of an adult with absolutely no motivation. If someone turns his head to the left, he just leaves it there. If they stick his hands up in the air, he leaves them there too. He can be physically manipulated like a puppet with invisible strings. He can’t talk, or express needs and wants. He can’t feed himself, and he soils his pants when the opportunity comes up. Fortunately, he’s showing signs of being able to relearn all of these things. He’s mimicked basic sounds, and Marie is hopeful that he will one day speak again. He won’t really be Heath, though. He’s just a doll who looks exactly like her husband did, who is now dead. Any emotional attachment she holds for this individual is irrational and human. He can’t reciprocate, at least not yet.

“We don’t have the resources to protect him,” Leona points out, “nor the qualifications.”

“What about our joint therapist?” Marie asks. She’s always teary-eyed now, but keeping it together.

“She’s not qualified to help someone like this with something like this,” Leona explains.

“But surely she knows someone. He doesn’t need neurological help, the tools are all there in his head. He just needs...a parent. I can help partially, but I really need the guidance of someone who understands development.”

“Okay, I can try to speak with Magnus Sharpe,” Leona agrees.

“No, I know her the best,” Marie says. “I’ll speak with her. I just need someone to help Heath get into bed for a nap.”

“I can do that,” Arcadia volunteers. She frowns when Marie gives her a look. “Forget what you remember of me, or what you’ve been told. I’m not that person anymore. I want to help. He and I grew close while we were living together at the condo. Let me do this.”

Marie is hesitant, but gives in. Heath needs constant supervision, and since she can’t be with him all the time, she’ll have to learn to trust others to pitch in. She steps away to make the call, expecting to have to speak to a number of people regarding her husband’s unique condition.

Mateo nods at her respectfully as he’s entering the apartment. He sees Arcadia ushering Heath into the bedroom. “What can I do?” he asks his wife.

Leona has been thinking about that. “You developed rapport with the founder of Palmeria, correct?”

“Keaton Palmer, yes, I did. He’s quite friendly. He’s going to help us leave this reality when his ride shows up in five months.”

“Even if it overrides that favor, I need you to ask him for a new one.”

“What’s that?”

Leona releases a hologram from her watch, showing a satellite view of the islands. “I had Ramses look into why you weren’t able to teleport within the borders of the island. Preliminary data suggests a powerful barrier protecting the area. I wondered how he was able to prevent invasion without any security to speak of. Why, even a couple of kids wanting to pull a prank might try to boat up there and teepee the woods. They can’t. Ramses found stories of people trying. They all wake up on this side of the border, feeling terribly sick, and with no memory of what happened to them. Barely any time has passed. This may be our best defense against Meredarchos, and his future legions. I think he has to be in proximity to get into your head.”

“You want me to ask Palmer how he built his barrier?”

“More than that, I want you to ask if he would be willing to accept some refugees. We need to protect our family. We need to protect Heath and Marie, and the kids. Ram and I can construct our own barrier of some kind if we need to, but this would still be a warzone. Palmeria is small, remote, and inconsequential.”

“You don’t need to sell me on it, love. I got you.” Mateo disappears.

Arcadia steps out of the bedroom and shuts the door quietly. “I think he understood me when I told him to sleep. He closed his eyelids on his own upon hearing the words. He’s picking up skills quickly.”

“Good. I know that Marie appreciates the help, and I appreciate you wanting to help us at all. And I think we both know that playing capacity nurse doesn’t exactly make use of your own skills, does it?”

Arcadia frowns. “What do you mean by that?”

“Kivi is leaving us. She’s leaving the business, and staying in the field. She may not know yet, but she’s taking her team leader up on an offer to work full time for SD6.”

“Okay...” Arcadia isn’t sure why she needs to know any of this.

“I have a lot of pull there, so while I haven’t actually spoken to anyone about it, I’m certain that I can get you assigned to the team as well.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Kivi can find Meredarchos and Erlendr. You can combat their psychic power.”

Arcadia wants to argue, but she knows she’s in no position to do so. “Okay.”

“Before you leave for that, however, I need you to do something else,” Leona begins, “if you’re even capable of it.”

“I’ll try, whatever it is.”

“What you did for Vearden, when you blocked psychic energy from getting into his head, or whatever it is. Is that permanent, or has his mental wall fallen since then?”

“I made it permanent once I realized the full extent of the threat. I suppose you want me to do the same for everyone else?”

“I like the way you think,” Leona says.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 24, 2398

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Marie and Heath have gone off to be alone for a while, on a vacation in Gothenburg, Nebraska. It would be a strange choice if not for the fact that it’s the center of the continental United States, due to a variation of the border of Texas and Mexico, as well as parts of the North; notably Maine and Canada. Gothenburg was never known to be a special temporal location, but The Constant was built under Lebanon, which is supposed to be the center of the country, so there’s a chance that there is something there. They might go up to Belle Fourche, South Dakota and Epsie, Montana for similar reasons. Angela is on site at Marie’s job, doing her best to keep her head down, and hoping the whole artificial intelligence thing goes away. It probably won’t, and she’s thinking of quitting. Marie doesn’t act like she ever wants to go back to it, and if they figure out how to escape this world, maybe it won’t matter. As for Kivi, she still exists...for now, and is home by herself. Last night, she took Ramses’ couch, while he slept in a recliner.

Mateo, Leona, and Ramses are standing on the third and topmost floor of a skeleton building. It has all the concrete walls and support structures, plumbing, and electrical systems in place, but none of the interior walls, flooring, or furniture. “I told you to leave them out of it,” Leona argues to Winona when she approaches from the stairs.

“This is not a mission,” Winona claims, hands held up defensively. “It’s just...mission-adjacent.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“We have caught wind of other unusual objects around the world. My team is ready to secure them for you, so that you can study them. You can study them...here.”

“What is this place?”

“It was going to be a research clinic,” Winona begins, “but the company that commissioned it suffered a major recall of one of their drugs, so they went bankrupt, and couldn’t finish it. We got a good deal on it. We’re why the staff at the time of closing ended up with severance packages, instead of missing paychecks.”

“Oh, you’re so noble,” Leona says sarcastically.

Winona scoffs. “I know you don’t like me, but this is a gift. You will have full autonomy, and zero oversight. It will be partially funded privately, but subsidized by the government’s black budget.”

“No, oversight, eh?” Leona questions. “Will you be supplying the digital clocks?” She’s referring to the hidden camera they placed in the room in order to watch Leona try to assess the item they stole from some competing force in Germany. It turned out to be the LIR Map, but fortunately, the clock wasn’t facing the right direction for them to see that. They’re still suspicious of her, even though they searched her person.

“That wasn’t my idea,” Winona says. “I had nothing to do with any of it. I was just in charge of leading the procurement team. I was still out of country when the supposed empty case got to you.”

“It was empty,” Leona lies.

“I believe you,” Winona lies too. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a lava lamp. “This is one of hundreds that we can supply you for security.”

“How are those a form of security?” Mateo asks.

“Randomity,” Ramses says for some weird reason. He’s intrigued by them.

Mateo looks over at Leona, who surprisingly doesn’t know this one.

“That’s right,” Winona confirms. “You generate your own encryptions, using the random fluctuations in these lamps. As a bonus, if you place the lamps in front of your security cameras, you’ll be able to watch for video doctoring. My people and I will not be able to come in and steal your data, nor will anyone else. We won’t even buy the cameras for you. We’ll write you a check.”

“Why are you doing this?” Leona questions. “What’s in it for you?”

“When you figure this out—when you finish your time experiments—I have faith that you will finally read us in, and be honest about who you are, and what you know.”

“What about our prior encounters gives you the impression that that’s true?” Leona presses.

“You haven’t hurt any of us yet. You haven’t attacked us, or exposed my father, or anything. You’ve helped us on a number of occasions, including by continuing your work with fusion power. Leona, we’re allies, whether you realize that, or not. Also remember that we haven’t hurt you either. We kept quiet about the flicker watch, and about how you jumped into a pool of water in Türkiye, and ended up a kilometer away. I admit, our tactics have been shady, and we’ve made you feel cornered, but I would like to change that. Your new identities, your intelligence credentials, and now this lab, have all been attempts to help you. I believe that you will one day recognize as much.”

Leona has no response to this. Winona is making too much sense. They have done things they didn’t want to, but they did do them, and they were never technically forced to. Perhaps one day they’ll build trust. But for now, she’s accepting the lava lamps. “We’ll see, I guess. We’ll see,” she says, not wanting to say nothing at all. She takes the lamp from her, and sets it on the floor.

“What else will you need? You don’t have carte blanche, but you should be sufficiently funded.”

Leona looks at Ramses, who doesn’t have an answer. They both spread out just a little, and look around at the walls and ceiling, blocking the layouts of their dream labs, no doubt. “We’ll have a list to you by the end of the week.”