The Advancement of Mateo Matic: October 2, 2576

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Olimpia woke up on a cot in an unfamiliar place. That wasn’t entirely true. It did feel familiar, but she didn’t recognize her surroundings. It didn’t feel safe either, but something was telling her that she chose to come here, and had some idea what she was getting herself into. It was dark and dirty. The walls were made of concrete, and the height of the two windows suggested that she was underground.

The door opened. Olimpia’s brother came in, who she hadn’t realized only a moment ago that they had even reconnected. So she was starting to get her memories back, which implied that she didn’t have amnesia, just a fogged mind.

“Hey, you’re back. It’s been another year,” Delfinus pointed out.

“What day is it?” Olimpia asked him.

“It’s hard to keep track of the Earthan calendar all the way in Miridir, but somewhere in late 2576. Hopefully that’s enough for you to gauge,” he answered.

Olimpia nodded and sat back down on the bed to massage her forehead. “Unless I’ve fallen off of my pattern, it should be the second of October. Where are we?”

“A planet called Desulforudis. It’s in the middle of a civil war, but it’s winding down because there aren’t very many people left alive.” He filled a glass of water from the sink in the corner and offered it to her. “Don’t worry, it’s clean. Leida has been drinking it for years. She chose this world so people would leave her alone. She can protect herself.”

She accepted the water and chugged it, having not realized how thirsty she was.

Delfinus sighed and sat down next to her. “Leida feels awful about what happened. She thinks you have nanites in your brain which complicate the psychic wards she gave you. She thinks it worked, but the two competing systems fought for dominance, so your brain shut down to protect itself. She and I have been living here together for a year. She figured out how to turn off my time curse. And yes, it had more to do with time than we thought. I wasn’t narrating people’s thoughts. It was more like I was seeing the timeline from the outside, and extrapolating private thoughts based on a pattern of events from history. It’s hard to explain, but now I can control it. I can talk normal.”

“Good, I’m glad.” Olimpia breathed. “I remember something. We came here with a little card. It can take us back to Snake Island in the Milky Way galaxy. Now, we’ll be thousands of years in the past, but they’ll have a way to propel us back to the future.”

“I can’t leave,” Delfinus began. “Leida and I—ya know it’s been a year, and the only other people in this world are trying to kill each other, so...”

“You don’t have to explain why you fell in love.” Olimpia was still a little loopy and dizzy, but she managed to crack a smile. She patted her brother on the back a couple times before leaving her hand there. “I want you to be happy, but...here?”

“It seems counterintuitive, but the Desulforudisians had psychic warfare capabilities, so everyone by now has their own wards. It’s quiet for her.”

“Does it have to be a planet? You know they make private rotating habitats, right? My friend, Ramses could whip one up in a matter of weeks. That way it doesn’t have to be so...” She looked around the room again, “hard to maintain.” That was the best she could come up with to say that this woman’s home was disgusting.

“I’ll talk to her,” he said, “but as far as the card goes, we never found anything. If it’s not on your person, it might be lost. It could have fallen into a storm drain, or something. We looked for it because I couldn’t remember if you retrieved it, or what.”

Olimpia spent the next half hour hunting for the rendezvous card in her pockets, her pack, and the floor of the bunker. She was choosing to believe that it truly was lost, and not that it was taken on purpose. She was regaining her memories over time, but the last few hours were still a blur. The card wasn’t there, and she couldn’t get back to the Milky Way on her own, let alone to Ramosus.

Olimpia walked into the living area of the bunker, where Leida and Delfinus were sitting together.

“Hey, I’m sorry about the card,” Leida immediately said. “We did look for it last year, while you were passed out. And I’m sorry about that too.”

“You can make it up to me,” Olimpia said. “There’s some kind of signal jammer, which even blocks quantum connections. I need that switched off so I can make a call.”

Leida shook her head. “That’s not me. It’s planetwide. It’s one of the first things they did when the war started. They didn’t want people making contact with other colonies, and calling in reinforcements. The control room is somewhere in a fortress.”

“You tell me where that fortress is, I’ll get myself in there, unless you also tell me that they have teleportation technology, and potentially teleportation-suppressing tech.”

“Not that I know of,” Leida said. “I wasn’t aware that you were a teleporter.”

“I am many things,” Olimpia replied. “The fortress?”

Leida raised both of her eyebrows and simply pointed to the nearest window.

Olimpia moved a chair over to the window, and climbed on it to look outside. She could easily see what Leida must have been talking about. It was in the shape of a mountain, but was clearly made of artificial materials. She stepped back down. “How many people will try to stop me if I break in there? I’ll need to look for the controls.”

“No people,” Leida answered. “The people are all dead, but the automated systems will stop you.”

“What kind of automated systems?” Olimpia pressed. “Optical? Thermal?”

“Probably, yeah,” Leida replied. “So unless you can turn invisible...”

Olimpia made herself disappear. “Yeah, I can turn invisible. I have other tricks, but this one is my specialty.”

“How do you have so many time powers?” Leida questioned.

Olimpia showed herself again. “Time powers aren’t magical. It’s just a matter of finding and understanding the intersection where time, biology, and neurology meet. That’s what Ramses said anyway. You two stay here, I’ll turn off that jammer, and then we’ll all leave. By this time tomorrow, you should be free. I don’t want to argue about it right now, but there are other ways to isolate yourself from society. I’ll explain when I return.” She turned invisible again and teleported away before either could respond.

Olimpia transported herself to the base of the fake mountain. The doors were wide open, probably because the defensive systems were confident in their ability to keep unwanted users out, and also because the population of this planet was estimated to only be in the thousands at this point. She strolled in, prepared to teleport away if the sensors were sophisticated enough to detect her.

This turned out to be harder than she hoped. The place was gigantic, but since no one worked here anymore, a total mess too. She had a hell of a time just finding the room that controlled the massive signal jammer, and it took even longer to determine how to shut it off. It was on a split-control mechanism, which made sense given how vital this tool would have been to the war effort. Olimpia tried to trip both terminals herself using teleportation, but it wasn’t enough. They had to be flipped at the exact same time. So she returned to the bunker to seek help. She only needed one of them, but both came.

“If you want to do this,” Leida began, “I’ll help and support you, but we don’t know what’s gonna happen. It looks like this machine does a lot of things—not only control signals. We don’t know enough about it.”

“Did you steal my rendezvous card?” Olimpia asked her.

“What?” Leida was shocked. “We went over this, no.”

“Then please flip the switch for me,” Olimpia said.

Leida conceded with her face before her voice. “Okay.” She stepped onto the platform.

Olimpia counted down from three, then together, they turned it off.

Her connection reestablished itself instantly. Olimpia tapped on her wrist to send a message. At millions of light years, it could take hours to reach Ramosus, depending on what kind of relay and boosting infrastructure they had in this galaxy. So the three of them went back to the bunker to wait it out. Olimpia was hungry, so they ate too. Leida wasn’t a savage. The bunker wasn’t clean or nice, but she had all the necessary amenities, such as a simple food synthesizer. And a shower. Olimpia needed a shower too.

As midnight central was approaching, that was when Olimpia started to grow nervous. Even at this distance, the call should have gone through. Without that rendezvous card, they were stuck here, and she wasn’t sure she was buying that it could have slipped down a storm drain, or something. If she could only remember more of yesterday...

“Is there anyone else you can call? If they’re the only people who can jump this far, maybe there are other friends who can check in on them?” Delfinus suggested.

Olimpia consulted her watch for the umpteenth time. “It will take a year for them to get back to me, but yes, there’s an alternative. I just wish I had sent them a message at the same time to hedge my bets. That was a stupid move. Now I’ve wasted all this time.”

“We’ll be here,” Leida assured Olimpia. “It will only be a few minutes for you, and we’ll be waiting. Tell your other friends to come a few hours early so I can provide them with a proper welcome; maybe serve some tea. Then when you show up, you leave whenever you’re ready.”

“Okay,” Olimpia agreed. “Thanks.” She was still suspicious of this woman, but Leida had been nothing but helpful since they met.

Olimpia set her message to the Vellani Ambassador, knowing that they wouldn’t receive it until after she had disappeared from the timestream. Her friends would know this too, so they would not try to make their way here right away, where they would have to wait anyway.

When Olimpia popped back into existence on October 3, 2577, the VA was on the ground next to her. And the bunker? The bunker was gone, replaced with a big, scarred crater.

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Microstory 2777: Fewer Deaths Than It Looks

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There’s a knock at the door. Elty Fenstermacher opens it quickly. “Come in, come on, hurry,” he urges. He tugs his friend inside, then looks around to see if anyone is watching. They are. He has to smile and wave at a small group of people gardening against their own abode. The battle may be over, but the war has only begun, and he doesn’t know who he can trust anymore. This is a test...a test of his resolve.

“What did you want to show me, Elty?” Streamer asks. Elty can’t remember what his real name is anymore. Everyone calls him that because he’s the only one in the group who has a digitized brain. He never needed to escape with them. He shouldn’t be a part of the rebellion. But he is, and Elty respects the hell out of him for it.

Elty steps over to the other side of his little lab, and presents the chamber.

“What is it?” Streamer asks him. “A time machine? Please don’t tell me—”

Elty rolls his eyes. “It’s not a time machine. It’s an equilibrium chamber. This is what they use on Varkas Reflex to keep their users in spatial stasis.”

“I don’t understand,” Streamer says. “I went to VR, I never saw this.”

“Well, this is a modified design, and they’ve not always had equilibrium drives,” Elty explains. “When you’re in this, you’re basically floating. Every single square millimeter of your body experiences an equal amount of pressure. They use it because some log in to VR for years at a time, and that comes with health problems.”

“What are you trying to tell me, that you digitized yourself?” Streamer questions.

Elty shakes his head. “I don’t care about VR. I don’t even really care about equilibrium.” He bends down and switches it on. As the power starts running through, he smiles and looks back up at Streamer. “You hear that? You feel it? If you disable the privacy field regulator, the equilibrium stays in the chamber, but the signal jammer escapes. If we install one of these things in every house, the Teaguardians and Bidans can’t spy on us. Nor can anyone else, for that matter. It’s there so users can have private virtual sessions without worrying about someone sneaking in and finding out what they’re doing. We’re gonna use it to live in peace, which is all we’ve ever wanted. I’m not happy that we have to settle for Bida, so if we’re here, let’s make it our own.”

“Hm. That’s interesting,” Streamer notes, but he doesn’t sound enthusiastic.

“I thought you would be more excited,” Elty says. “You’re the one who taught us how to hide our location on Doma Tertia. I just upped our game.”

“Yeah, and I appreciate that,” Streamer agrees. “I just...the Teaguardians agreed to leave us alone. What that Delgado chick did for us in Gatewood was her responsibility, and we’re not at fault for that. We have a good thing here, Elty. I don’t want us to risk that. I’ve kind of given up my anger. Our home was destroyed, and honestly, people have bent over backwards to find a new one for us. This is that, man. Just be happy. Or are you mad because Shimizu left us, which places you in charge, but we don’t need a rebel leader anymore, because we’re not rebels anymore?”

“Don’t make me out to be so petty. I’m just trying to help,” Elty contends. “Something is happening in the sky that they’re not telling us. I’m still trying to figure out what it is, but in the meantime, I’m gonna do what I must to protect us, and our way of life. These people aren’t our heroes. They’re assholes, like everyone else.”

Streamer sighs, and jerks his chin towards the window. “You see those people out there? They still need leadership. Are you gonna step up, and help them settle down once and for all, or are you gonna hole up in here, and tinker with your machines?”

Elty looks through the window. The gardeners are still out there. They’re so bloody happy, it makes him sick. This is not what they wanted. They wanted a planet to call their own. They could have come to Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida right after Proxima Doma fell apart, but they choose to go for something greater. Now they’ve all given up.

As he’s watching them toil away, totally content, they suddenly disappear.

“Whoa,” Streamer exclaims. “Did you see that?”

“Yes,” Elty replies. “It’s happening.” He rushes into the equilibrium chamber. Pushing himself down so there’s enough room for the both of them. “Get in here.”

“Why would I do that?” Streamer questions. “It looks uncomfortable.”

“It is,” Elty yells, “but it’s better than the alternative! Now get in!”

Streamer shakes his head, and misses his chance. The ground shakes. The roof flies off the house and soars into the sky, taking Streamer up with it. The whole house follows suit. All around, Elty can see everything fly away from him as if gravity somehow got turned on its head.

“No!” Elty screams, but it’s futile. In seconds, he’s completely alone on his back. Not a building, not a tree, not another person in sight. Only sky and dirt.

Elty lies there in his pod, scared as all hell to stand up. Not only does he not know what will happen to him if he does, but he doesn’t want to see what has become of his new home. He takes a few deep breaths, however, and decides to muster the courage. He’s not going to be afraid. He’s supposed to be a leader. He stands up and looks around at the devastation. It’s gone. Everything is gone. He can’t even take one step forward, or he’ll die. He survived the impossible, but he was the only one. Someone is going to answer for this. Someone is going to pay. It was probably the Teaguardians again.

Below him is nothing by lava. His equilibrium chamber is floating just above it. It’s getting so freaking hot here. He’s having trouble breathing. The noxious gases are just too much. Wait, this is a life support vessel. It has a self-contained breathing apparatus. He brushes his hand along the sides, looking for the access panel, finding it at the head. He takes out the mask and wraps it over his face.

Now Elty can breathe again, but it doesn’t fix the heat. He reaches over to close the door, but then he remembers that he removed it. He didn’t need the door itself gone, but it was in the way of him modifying the machine to expand the scope of the signal jammer. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. He’s gonna die. Is there some kind of communication system? He gets on his knees and rifles through the emergency panel, but there’s nothing. Because of course there’s nothing. He synthesized the parts from the original specs, and the original specs expect you to install it in a room full of these things, where communication is handled in network. It doesn’t need its own transmitter.

The crater was a massive tragedy for the planet of Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida, but not in terms of lives. One was presumed dead after a headcount proved he missed the emergency teleportation. The second was initially presumed the same, but he was discovered later after the quarantine was lifted a month later. The autopsy showed that he roasted alone on a hovering equilibrium chamber over the lava.

Extremus: Year 141

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After a few months, Waldemar makes a second declaration, now deciding to call his new righthand man by his real name, instead of Audrey Husk. He only initially called him that on accident as a Freudian slip. To save face, he claimed that it was simply another way for him to exert his power. It worked. It worked so well. It was trivial and meaningless, but it has sparked passion in his followers’ hearts and minds. Because it means that Waldemar is in total control of everything, no matter how small. If he says something, it’s true. He could tell them he doesn’t have a butthole, and they would believe it. That’s exactly what he needs, so changing the name back was no big deal, because in many people’s eyes, he no longer needs a reason to do anything.

So that solves the problem of his true loyalists, but not everyone else. The secret is out. Now everyone has heard that he intends to be the first captain to break the twenty-four year barrier. He ended up not being able to trust everyone in his circles, and the rest of the ship found out. Of course, many just don’t believe it, and that’s the story he’s spinning, but this will make him a liar when he actually does follow through with the plan. It won’t matter, though. If it starts a war, it starts a war. He’ll survive either way. If he has to rebuild society from scratch, fine. He’ll be immortal. He’ll have time.”

He’s now in a strategy meeting with Faramund Tensil, formerly known as Audrey Husk, formerly known as Faramund Tensil. He needs a plan to assuage any anxiety people have over the very true rumor that Waldemar will be a two-term captain.

Faramund shrugs with his face. “You don’t need to do that. You can lean into it.”

“What do you mean?” Waldemar has come to trust this man more than anyone because he’s like the emotional version of Waldemar. He knows how people think and feel, but he also doesn’t care about it, which makes him a master manipulator.

“What we need to do now is confirm everyone’s fears. I know what you’re thinking, they’ll start fighting you. And it’s true, if you stand up there alone and make your claims, that’s exactly what they’ll do. But we can stop them from standing up if they think someone is already standing up for them.” He smirks, letting that sit for a moment. “We need to build an opposition base for you. Make it loud, make it articulate, but keep it small. If we don’t want the people rising up, we need to give them a champion. We won’t be controlling this person, or their limited team. All they need is a profound grasp of law, so they can continue to assure the public that you can’t be captain for more than twenty-four years. This will calm them. They’ll think they’re safe.”

“But then I’ll keep contradicting it?” That doesn’t make any sense to Waldemar.

“Yes, because you’re kind of silly,” Faramund explains. “You’re getting old, and you’re leaning on your advisors more. Have a couple of health scares—nothing too serious; just enough for people to not take you too literally. Make up some other lies that are more difficult to believe, or which can be proven untrue. Say that this is already your second term, and you’re going for the turkey. Tell ‘em we’re living on a planet; whatever. Over time, your credibility will drop. They will grow desensitized to your nonsense. Meanwhile, your loyalists will keep trusting you, because they love you...because you reward them. When there is no voting, all you need are the loyalists.”

Waldemar thinks about it. “Strangely, I think I get what you’re saying now. People hate liars; that’s a known fact. If I make myself crazy, then I’m not lying, I’m just mistaken. And when what I say turns out to be true, it won’t be my fault.”

“Exactly,” Faramund agrees. “It’ll be a natural consequence; out of your hands.”

Waldemar smiles. “Let’s do it. Write me a speech. Make me sound like an idiot.”

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 21, 2565

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Things were awkward and tense on Ramosus, though it was no one’s fault. It wasn’t even Romana’s, though she definitely felt like it was. They were in a holding pattern. Ramses believed he had successfully cleared all the corruption in her by flushing her system of all foreign bodies, but they still weren’t going on missions, even though they received two pings from the alert system. They were all saying it was because they were burnt out, but they just wanted to stay and support Romana. Yet that was exactly what she didn’t want. She didn’t want to be coddled or protected, because it just made her feel worse. She clearly had other things on her mind anyway.

Romana was brushing off their concern. She seemed to be more worried about Boyd at this point, which was fine. Mateo would be fine. Ramses had a lot of data on who he really was, and what separated him from any data corruption. Boyd, on the other hand, was a threat—to them, and to himself. She wasn’t even allowed to talk to him.

Mateo was in her room now to check on her. “Hey. I’m not gonna ask you how you’re doing.” He coolly sat down on her bed next to her. “Instead I’ll say...what’s up?”

“We have already talked,” Romana said. “We do not need to go over it all again.”

“That’s why I asked that question,” he pointed out. “You decide on the topic.”

“I wanna talk about those outstanding pings,” Romana decided. “You should go.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Mateo insisted. “Before you say anything, I know you don’t need to be cared for like a little baby, but I think you need to be distracted, and it’s easier to do that if the distraction is being created and controlled by someone else. If you spend all day dwelling on what happened—even unintentionally—it will eat away at you. You run the risk of it becoming part of your personality. You don’t want that, do you?”

“Guilt and regret are facts of life,” she responded. “They serve a necessary function. They prevent future potential mistakes. I don’t wanna dwell, but I don’t wanna forget either. I’m going to spend the appropriate amount of time reflecting on it.”

“I respect that,” Mateo admitted. “And if you really don’t want to do something with me, like play a boardgame, I won’t force it. But I still need to be here as an option, not off on some colony, helping aliens decide where to plant their grapes, or whatever.”

“Someone should respond to the pings,” Romana reasoned. “It might not be the problem of low-stakes garden design. It could be really serious.”

“No, that’s the actual problem,” Mateo explained. “It’s a grape conflict. They don’t know which side of the river is the best, and don’t have time to observe the seasons.”

“Why would the system flag that?” Romana questioned. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Because the computer calculated a high probability of it leading to what will initially appear to be a compromise by planting on both sides. But this grape species is high maintenance, so they will have to live in two separate communities. Years from now, the computer thinks it will start a war. It has apparently run a lot of simulations.”

Romana was annoyed. “So you should go. Why are we arguing about this?”

“That could take decades,” Mateo dismissed. “They will still be there a few days from now. I’m staying here. Again, we don’t have to do anything, but I’m not leaving.”

She sighed. “Yes, you are.” She reached up and slapped the back of his neck.

It stung. He tried to pull it out, but whatever it was burrowed into his skin.

“Boyd helped me build that. You won’t be able to return to Ramosus until you’ve completed whatever task you went there to do. This is my decision as navigator.”

He teleported into the on-base slingdrive, which powered up on its own, and sent him away, along with Ramses and Angela. A second trip took the other three.

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 17, 2561

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The team spent less than a minute on Ramosus in 2561 before agreeing to jump right to the coordinates of their newest mission. They were on a space station orbiting a star that was 299 light years from the Core Colonies. It would have to be a relatively fresh settlement, being this far out, and so newly reached by the Project Stargate quantum seeder module. This placed it well within the Extended Bubble, which meant it received no protection from Teagarden. Whoever was here would have to claim and defend it on their own, using whatever means they felt necessary. And if that meant violence, that was their choice, and it was looking like the choice that they made.

Team Matic found themselves on some kind of station or ship. There were two separate groups of people, standing opposite each other on either side of the room. They were all completely silent, confused and nervous, likely from having just witnessed seven strangers randomly appear through the technicolor burst of the slingdrive. Leona looked back and forth. “I am Leona Matic from a world known as Ramosus. I’m the captain of an outreach program, attempting to provide volunteer services for worlds that lie outside of Teagarden jurisdiction. How can we help?”

After some more silence, everyone began yelling. They were looking at Leona for the most part, but also at each other. It was completely unintelligible, but it was clear that the two groups weren’t preparing for a set dance. They were at war.

“I’m sorry,” Leona cried. “Did you think I could help you if you talked to me like that? Don’t answer that. Raise your hand if you are a leader of any faction in this room.” She raised her own hand as that applied to her as well. She nodded when two others did the same. “Well, that is much more manageable. You two, step forward, and tell me what the problem is. One at a time.” She pointed. “You first.”

“You’re right, I was first,” the man claimed. “This is our star. They are intruders.”

“We came here fairly, just as you did,” the woman from the other side argued. “It’s not our fault that you failed to lock out the quantum terminal.”

“We did lock it out! You snuck in through a different terminal!”

“Oh, don’t you use that word. There was no sneaking. When we were searching for a destination, we saw your lock, but then we saw another terminal, and thought that maybe the other one was damaged and replaced. We didn’t know you were here!”

“Wait,” Leona interjected. “There are two terminals. Who built the second one?”

“The automators,” the woman answered. “We think that it was damaged en route, so the nearest neighbor sent a replacement, but then somehow, the first one fixed itself, and went back to its implementation procedures. He’s on a moon; we’re on an asteroid. Now we’re both trying to colonize the unaccreted zone.”

Mateo looked through the nearest viewport when a large manmade object appeared. It was an expansive, complex space station. “How long have you been here?”

“Six years,” the man answered. “We just found out about each other two days ago.”

Mateo shook his head. They came here separately, and didn’t know it. It didn’t seem crazy to him that it could have happened in the first place, but that they could have spent quite this much time not realizing that it was happening. Did they not ever detect each other’s radio signals, or did they all stay pure quantum? Those weren’t necessary to answer. The solution was simply, though probably hard on principle. “Space is big; even the space within a single solar system. Have you ever thought about sharing the star?”

They all acted like they hadn’t thought of that before, but now the conversation could begin. The first thing they needed to do, however, was sit down and relax.

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Microstory 2679: Plague Doctor

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Resi is ill. He was hot and sweaty during his speech, and he doesn’t even remember the end of it. He’s just waking up now in his childhood home. The last time he was here was three years ago, but it feels like he’s never really been here at all. It feels like that was a movie, and now he’s fallen into the screen. He’s delirious. Kala walks into the room holding a wet towel. She dabs his forehead with it, and then drapes it across his face. He’s breathing heavily and erratically. “How did I get here?”

“Father brought you,” Kala explains. “He wants to speak with you, but he doesn’t know if you’ll want to see him.”

“Bring him in.”

“It can wait,” Kala offers.

“I’m okay. Bring him in. Thanks, Kal.”

Father comes in after she leaves. He sits on the edge of Resi’s bed, and is silent for a moment. He sighs. “I think it’s time I tell you the truth. It’s gone too far.”

“What has gone too far?” Resi squirms, trying to find a more comfortable position, but his muscles are achy.

“You are not actually my son,” Father begins. Just with those few words, apparently that’s no longer the right thing to call him any more, though. “You are not even Tamboran. When we first discovered that we were not in the garden of heaven, a faction of us asked for advanced technology. The rest stayed as they were.”

“Kartica already told me this. She didn’t mention you, though. Is everyone an immortal?” Resi asks.

“No, but I’m sure she didn’t tell you everything. She couldn’t have. She probably forgot. There’s a reason you can’t figure what the Assembly’s motivations are. A little over 200 years ago, a plague swept the island. All three nations were affected, but none worse than Tambora. To be fair, we had a greater population, and of course, still do. That’s because a Bungulan cloned themself a body that looked more like us, and infiltrated Yana. He claimed to have discovered a plant that could cure the plague, and they were right. Well, I mean, they just used science, but it did cure us. Most islanders are immune now, but there was a problem. The immortal faction—our fearful leaders—suffered permanent brain damage, and it is that damage that persists, even when they jump to new bodies. The reality is that every member of the Assembly is a little bit crazy. I was not one of them in the beginning, but a few friends and I discovered their technology, and decided to become like them. We have been trying to get ourselves elected to offices ever since, and son, we have always failed. They know how to run a campaign. They’ve been doing it for a long time, and they grease the right palms.”

“What does any of this have to do with me?” Resi questions. He’s still in so much pain. He can’t even process his father’s words. He’s just listening to them.

“When the Kokore called you to the First Tongue of Aether, she said that there was one other in the past, right?”

“Yeah.”

“That was you. You are that Bungulan, Res. You saved our island, and in doing so, doomed yourself. Since you were just as much of a clone as the members of the Assembly, your brain continues to suffer its negative effects. We put you on ice, so you could be studied. Don’t fret, you agreed. You see, you went against the Bungulan authority to help us, so you could never return to your normal life. So we couldn’t ask them to research the problem on our behalf. Non-interference, and all that.”

“But you think you figured it out, so you moved me to this body, and raised me as your child,” Resi guesses.

“Pretty much. The Assembly, I suppose, realized what we did, and concocted this bizarre plan to turn you into a hero so you could be knocked down to a villain. Don’t try to understand their reasoning, they have none. Some Assembly members wanted you to create the Fifth House so you would take all of the recruits and leave. They think the island can’t provide for our blooming population, and they may be right about that. But there was infighting. Some started to see you as a genuine threat, and came up with demands that you literally couldn’t fulfill, because they were paradoxical. Now-Speaker Keller put a stop to it. He’s one of us, not of them. We finally got him elected when we realized that the only way to beat them was to simply pretend to be one of the originals. He’s just been lying, and it’s working, because as I said, they’re nuts.”

“But Keller is the one building the army.”

Father shakes his head. “Keller isn’t in charge of the military. He only has so much power as Speaker. He has to pick his battles, but he doesn’t want war.”

“So I’m a Bungulan, trapped in a Tamboran’s body, suffering from a plague, which I contracted 200 years ago. How do my visions fit in?”

“You’re visions?” Father asks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“My Kidjums. Kartica said that I was actually seeing the future.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Father clarifies. “You never told me, and they certainly wouldn’t have either.”

“So it could still be true.” Resi finally forces himself to sit up. “If you were born centuries ago, then you know that the myths are true, and our ancestors were saved from Earth using time travel, which means that kind of thing is real, and I could really be seeing the future.”

“I...can’t argue against that, but I’ve seen no proof of that. I wasn’t born until after our people came here. Unlike Kartica, I never saw Earth.”

“Bungulans have technology that we don’t understand,” Resi reasons. “Predicting the future might be as easy for them as forecasting the weather. If Central Mountain is going to erupt, we wouldn’t have the technology to detect that, but they could, and I could somehow be channeling that knowledge.”

“Central Mountain? If anyone else were to tell me that it was about to erupt, I wouldn’t believe them, but you’ve been nothing but kind to our people since you showed up, so I will. The problem is, you’re sick. Our scientists thought they fixed you by erasing your memory of your past, but the plague has obviously caught up to you anyway. That’s why I’m fessing up now.”

Resi sits all the way up now, and swings his legs over to hang off the edge. “Then we need to find whatever plant,” he begins with airquotes, “I used to stop it in the first place.”

“We don’t have any,” Father reveals. “I would have already given it to you. The Assembly might have kept it, but Keller hasn’t located their secrets.”

Resi nods. “Then we need to go in ourselves. Let’s stop trying to play the sneaky game. Let’s just take the fight to them.”

Microstory 2672: Allegiance

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Resi demanded to speak with the Assembly, or whoever was trying to stop House Kutelin from exiling to Anchor Island. They refused, as always, but Zenith and the Bungulans were not happy about it. The purpose of this island is to facilitate movement and communication. Refusing to meet your opponent is the first sign of being on the wrong side. So Zenith pretty much forced it to happen. Since Speaker Lincoln committed suicide, she was replaced by the next in line. Sherman is now the interim Speaker, and will serve in this capacity until a new appointment can be made. He brought his granddaughter here for some reason. She is fifteen years old—having not yet gone through her Kidjum—and Resi has never heard of her before, but she looks familiar, like she showed up in a dream once recently, or something. That can’t be it, though. He hasn’t dreamed even once since his botched Kidjum. She really has no business being here, but he can’t argue against it. She looks at him like she knows something he doesn’t, which she surely does.

“Can we all be civil, or do I need to remain here to mediate?” Zenith asks.

“You may go,” Speaker Sherman tells her.

“You do not need to mediate,” Resi begins, like he’s going to agree. “But stay anyway. They are your guests. I would like you to see who they are.”

Zenith closes her eyes and bows slightly before taking a seat against the wall.

It’s important that Resi speaks first, so he can seize the upper hand. “Tell me. Where do you expect us to go? You won’t allow us to return to Yana, and you won’t let us live here. So what other options do we have? What do you want, or think we should do? Should we kill ourselves, like your coward of a former leader?”

Sherman isn’t pleased by his words, but his granddaughter has the strongest reaction. She doesn’t speak, though. “It may sound like a contradiction, but I assure you that it’s not. You may not stay on Yana. You may not live here on Anchor Island,” Speaker Sherman says.

“There’s nowhere else!” Resi cries. That was the wrong move. He has lost his advantage now. He needs to stay calm and in control. Let his enemy see no emotion. No one ever taught him that, it just makes sense.

Sherman is successfully managing to follow Resi’s internal advice, so it must be the right call, at least in theory. “I am not here to give you answers, or options, only restrictions. It is our job to manage the affairs of the Tamboran nation, and to engage with other cultures when necessary. House Kutelin is not a culture whose sovereignty we recognize. Therefore, there is nothing we can do for you.”

The other Fold Leaders begin to yell and argue against his ridiculous position. Resi motions for them to relax. “You may not think that you owe us anything, and the truth may be that you don’t. But if you don’t answer me, you will be the ones declaring war against House Kutelin, not the other way around. We do exist, and the other Houses know us. You may tear us down, and wipe us out, but your will lose your power over Tambora. The people will not stand by. You will lose your reëlections, and you will have accomplished nothing good. Is that what you want?”

Sherman only smiles. “I’ve told you, I’m not here to give you any answers. This conversation is over.” He looks over at Zenith. “I have fulfilled my promise. I gave him five minutes. Now we’re done. Please arrange my transport home. Resi and his people must leave within one day, and the rest of his House must leave Yana a week after that. If I find out you’ve been harboring any members of House Kutelin after that, the Accords will be broken, and you know what that means.”

“I do.” Zenith wasn’t happy, but she wasn’t going to go against him either.

No one on this planet has the authority to do anything. If that’s true, then maybe he should stop asking for what he needs. Maybe he should just take it.

Resi watches the Speaker and the Assembly walk out of the room. As she passes by, Sherman’s daughter flings something from her device to his. He doesn’t look at it until they’ve all left. It’s a note from her. She wants to meet on the rock beach. Alone.

Here it is. Here’s where the relative or assistant swoops in with a knowledge bomb, and our hero has to decide if she can be trusted or not. In half the movies, she can be, and in the other half, she can’t. If she can’t, and is still loyal to the villain, the hero seemingly takes her advice anyway, only for it to turn out that he knew the truth the whole time, and was playing the long game to dupe them both. There is no workaround for this trope. If you operate inside of the system, there is no way to beat that system. The reality of her loyalties, and the hero’s actions, are equally dictated by the needs of the story. This is real life, which means what he chooses here could result in failure, and even casualties. No author is trying to make it more interesting, or lead things down the right path.

“You’re not going alone,” Vantu insists. “You must be protected.” Vantu is a bit of a brute, but a very kind one, and very protective of anyone smaller or weaker. That’s usually not Resi himself, but he’s been particularly clingy on this trip due to the high stakes. Still, it won’t be necessary. Resi already has a plan.

“If they want to hurt me, there are easier ways to do it. A Bungulan-run island is the worst place to try something fishy. They got drones flying all over the place.”

“They only react so quickly,” Vantu argues, “and won’t be able to stop anything. Let me stay out of earshot, but in line of sight, so she knows she’s being monitored.”

“Really, it won’t be necessary, but I’ll let you walk with me,” Resi tells him.

He follows the girl’s directions, and heads towards the beach. He sees her standing there on the rocks, hair blowing in the wind. She’s changed her clothes into an asymmetrical shawl loosely wrapped around her waist, and what at this distance looks like a flower bikini top. She must think that he will listen to her because of it. He doesn’t advertise his asexuality but he doesn’t hide it either. If she’s done her homework, she’ll know that this won’t work. Or maybe she’s just hot. They are in the tropics, after all. He shouldn’t assume what her motivations are. He has no clue who she really is, or what she wants. He can’t trust her, though, that much is absolutely certain. She appears to be rather patient. She’s not folding her arms, or even shifting her weight between legs. She’s a statue, which may be telling him all he needs to know.

Resi looks over his own shoulder at Vantu, who nods, acknowledging that this is where he will remain so he doesn’t interfere with whatever is exchanged here. It doesn’t matter. Resi turns back at the stranger. He slowly draws his open hand up against his forehead in salute. Then he steadily swings it forward dramatically. If he could see her face from this distance, it would probably look confused. He doesn’t go up to see if he’s right. He just turns and walks away. The only way to win this game is to refuse to play.

Microstory 2669: I Thought it Felt Light

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From the shadows, Resi watches Speaker Lincoln wake up in the middle of the night in reaction to a notification. She blinks rapidly as her eyes adjust to the harsh light of her device. “I’ve stolen the Kidjum elixir,” she reads out loud. “What the hell? I never told you to do that,” she whispers loudly. She scrolls a little. “Someone hacked my account!” she complains to what she thinks is an empty room. She dials a number, and holds it up to her ear. “Get security to the Tadungeria lab. We have a breach. Aether is going off script.” She hangs up and rolls her nightgown up and over her head.

Resi taps on his own device, careful to not let the light give away his position yet.

Lincoln’s device dings again. “Oh my God.” She opens the drawer of her nightstand and takes out a gun. She checks the magazine to find it empty.

Only now does Resi flip on the lamp in the corner. He’s sitting comfortably in her armchair, trying to look menacing but authoritative. He saw this in a movie once. Actually, it’s been in a few movies. “The first to raise a hand in violence dips one foot in their grave,” he recites calmly.

Lincoln looks down at her half naked body. “You like what you see?”

“Relax, I’m asexual. Go ahead and cover up.”

She wraps herself in a robe. “You must have Bungula tech if you could teleport here that fast.” She jerked her chin towards the device that she tossed onto the bed. “I just read your message that you’re gonna poison me with an overdose of elixir.”

“You think I would order one of my people to do that in the same second that I decided to just do it myself? You got security all riled up for nothin’. No one from my House is anywhere near the Tadungeria. Your elixir is safe, and so are you, physically speaking. I won’t hurt you, but I wanna know why you’ve been impersonating me, and sending my people orders that I would never give. You want us to stop. You wanted to bring the Kidjums back, so why are you undermining those efforts?”

Lincoln breathes through her nose as she regards Resi with a facial expression that he is unable to read. She’s trying to look calm too, though. She thinks she’s still in control here. Bizarrely, she lets the robe drop from her shoulders again. She then starts to remove the rest of her clothing.

“I told you, I’m asexual. I feel nothing. Seducing me will not work.”

“I’m not trying to seduce you,” she explains as she’s crawling back into bed and neatly rearranging her belongings on the night stand. “I don’t have to tell you anything. I just need to let you step both feet into your own grave, which you have done quite nicely by breaking into my house tonight.”

“I’m having signals blocked. If the answers you give me are satisfactory, I’ll leave before anyone notices. It will be your word against mine. If you lie, I don’t know what will happen. I want to know why. It makes no sense. Do you want a fifth House, or not?”

“I don’t care about the houses,” she admits. “It’s an arbitrary stratification that most cultures don’t have and do just fine. Divide into fourths, divide into eights, just have one united peoples; it’s irrelevant. The total population is the same.”

“So the Kidjum is fake, and it’s all about control? Do you just want to decide who goes where? Worker bees versus drones, as long as the queen stays on top.”

She smirks. “It’s not fake. It’s not about control. It’s about human lives, and the Garden we were promised. The Kidjum is very real. It’s the easiest and most reliable way for us to know what you want. Everyone has a place, and everyone chooses. Again, it’s not about that. But anyway, I’m tired, and I just want to end it all. I won’t be answering any more of your questions. It’s your turn.”

He sighs and grunts. This isn’t doing any good, and who knows where they go from here? So he’s proved that she’s a bad guy? She didn’t do it on her own. Anyone or everyone on the Assembly could be a part of it. The best he can hope for is that the other two nations hear him out. Maybe they’re not a part of the conspiracy. Or maybe they are, and House Kutelin really does need to revolt. He’ll have to just go out and try his best. Staying here, listening to these lies and vague answers, isn’t going to pay off, so let’s be done with this quickly. “I’m an open book. I’ll answer any questions you like.”

“Have you ever fired a gun before?” she asks, picking hers back up, and sliding three of her fingers across it like it’s her pet.

“No, but I know that that’s a projectile weapon. It needs bullets, not a maser charge, or whatever. I already took the mag out, and checked for extras.”

She smiles and nods, still looking at it admiringly. “Did you check the chamber?”

He jumps up in fear, now remembering other movies, where yeah, the bullets aren’t only stored in one place. There’s also this other thing on the top. 

Instead of aiming it at him, she points it at the side of her own head, as far from her temple as her bent arm will reach, and squeezes the trigger. Blood goes everywhere.

He’s seen it in those movies before, but it’s a different thing, being in the room when it happens. He’s frozen, though he doesn’t know for how long. People don’t really die around here, except peacefully in their sleep, or in a hospital bed. They’re not immortals, like the colonists, but life is pretty safe. They’ve built out the infrastructure, and everyone knows what they’re doing. The Kidjum doesn’t just choose what you want, but what your mind knows it would be good at doing. Everyone is professional and skilled. That’s why he doesn’t know history and geography, because their nation doesn’t value those things. It places all of its focus on people who can get work done. If they need to know anything about how the universe works, they can ask the Bungulans. Leave science to people who’ve been doing it for millennia.

Why the shit is he thinking about any of this right now? They’re hauling him out of the bungalow by his upper arms. He’s not resisting, he just can’t move his legs on his own. He feels the splinters catch on his toes as they drag across the old front porch. They throw him into the wagon, and drive off. He realizes that they never bound his limbs. He could jump out, and run away. But where would he go? They would look for him at the dorms, and then his birth parents’ home. It’s an island, and it’s probably being locked all the way down. This is the first murder he’s ever heard of, so the whole planet is probably freaking out. He could try to swim it. How far is Anchor Island again? Only forty-some-odd kilometers? Easy, he could do that in one breath.

He’s in a hardback chair now. When did they pull him out of the wagon? They’re asking him questions. He can’t really hear them. They say something about already finding his prints on the gun, which makes sense, because he had to take that magazine out. The chamber. The goddamn chamber. How could he be so stupid? That’s why the action stars are always pulling that thing back while they’re making their snide remarks. He thought he had it all figured out. The honeypot was brilliant. His people were on the ball. Like he was saying...trained as professionals. He’s the one who screwed up, and it’s gonna land him in prison. House Kutelin will fall, and she’ll get away with it. Oh wait, no, she died. She killed herself. Why? Just to frame him? What an asshole.

Microstory 2668: Brooks Without an E

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Resi walks into the common area of his wing where everyone is watching his nationwide address. Most of the kids here are from his Fold, but there are a few from different Folds. The TV version of him is just finishing up his speech. “To reiterate, House Kutelin is here to stay, but we are no longer accepting new members, and will be doing what we can to reinstitute the Kidjum so that Tambora can successfully return to its roots, and begin letting our collective subconscious help us find a happy and prosperous place for all adult citizens of the island. Thank you.”

The broadcast ends, everyone looks back at present moment Resi. “Sir, I don’t understand,” Banu says. “I thought we were starting a revolution.”

“We—” He has to clear his throat. “We don’t have the space or resources to take in more. Aren’t there three people in your room? Which one of you sleeps on the floor?”

“We were waiting for you to fix that for us,” Banu replies. “Something’s changed.”

“Yeah, who got to you? Speaker Lincoln?” Nita guesses.

“No, it wasn’t someone from the Assembly,” Banu says to Nita.

“Right. What did the Ambassadors say to you?” another boy, Rimba presses. “You spoke with them, and suddenly you’re on board with the Kidjum?”

“The Kidjum was supposed to return days ago,” Resi reminds them. “The Ambassadors have nothing to do with it. We can’t stop them from going back to the old ways. I wasn’t helping them before, but it’s gotten out of control. We’re being exiled, and we still don’t have anywhere to go. How am I meant to feed all of you?”

“So why have we been sabotaging the Kidjum this whole time if we didn’t want any more kids to join us?” Darima questions.

What the hell is she talking about? Resi telescopes his neck as far as possible. “Who’s been sabotaging the Kidjums? I’ve not ordered anyone to sabotage the Kidjums.”

“We’ve been wetting the coals to prevent them from conducting the fire ceremony,” Darima goes on. “We’ve been stealing sheets and cots, and sending cancellation messages to fifteen-year-olds, redirecting them here.”

Resi looks around at his Fold to see about half agree with Darima. Half look just as confused as he is. As his heart sinks, it buoys back up just a little bit when it appears Chaya is one of the clueless. He wouldn’t know what to do if he found out that the person he was leaving his sister with betrayed them. “Who told you to do that?”

Now everyone has a look of confusion on their face. “You did, sir,” Darima claims. “You’ve been sending messages this whole time. You were quite specific about what you wanted us to do. You even gave us keys to the Tadungeria.”

“I don’t have keys to the Tadungeria,” Resi argues, “because we don’t use it, because we don’t do the Kidjums. I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, but it wasn’t me. Raise your hand if anyone has spoken to me in person about stealing cots, or drowning coal.” He nods when no one raises their hand. “Well, there’s your answer.”

“It came from your address, see?” another girl claims, who isn’t even in his Fold, and probably shouldn’t be here for this discussion. Except apparently, this goes beyond this wing, to other members of the House. She shows him her device.

“I’m taking this.” He scans the group. “Where’s Arumay?” Their techiest tech wiz.

“Right here.” She’s behind him.

He hands her the device. “Find out who’s doing this, and how.” He goes back to the crowd. “From now on, you don’t do anything unless I tell you in person. This created an enemy that we don’t want. We can’t go up against a whole nation’s soldiers, and if the other nations get involved, that’s goodbye House Kutelin. Get ready to see God.”

Arumay hands Resi the device back after having barely any time to check it. “No one hacked the network. They just typosquatted. The emails came from resi dot brookes with an e in your last name, rather than resi dot brooks.” She scowls at everyone. “They’re just idiots. I think I remember getting an email from that address, inviting me to a new distribution pod. It went straight to my spam because I have decent filters.”

Resi sighs, and takes a moment to compose himself before he says something bad. “We are not sabotaging anyone. To be clear, this is not a revolution, a rebellion, or an insurgency. We were told that a fifth House was an option. We have since been told that it is no longer an option, and that we must leave. I can get us through this, but you have to work with me, not against me. Pay attention to the way we spell words. I will never just send you an order to do something that you’ve never done before. We will always have talked first. I was going to be fully transparent with you, but now I know that I have to keep secrets, like the Assembly. The Kidjum is not just something that we are allowing because they’re giving us no choice. Letting it go on is absolutely integral to my plan to find us a new home. I won’t tell you more than that, because now I don’t know who I can trust. One of you impersonated me and committed treason. Until I find out who that is, you’re going to have to trust me without reciprocation.”

“We thought this was going to make our lives better,” Kasati contends. “We thought we were helping push the island into the 26th century. But if things are going to go back to the way they were, and we’re not going to fight it, what are we even doing here still? My dream was probably gonna lead me to join Ilah. I might have ended up being adopted by your birth family. You took that from me with your lies. It doesn’t matter if we read the messages wrong. What they were telling us to do was exactly what we should be doing, and if we’re going to stop, then I’m going to demand that the Assembly allow me a latent Kidjum to make up for what I missed. But that’s up to you, Res. Is what you’re doing helping, or should we quit while we’re ahead?”

Resi shakes his head. “The Assembly never said that make-up Kidjums would be an option, but please, before you flood their inboxes with requests, allow me to ask on your behalf. If you wanna leave, you can leave, but if your exile applies whether you stay with us or not, you should know that there is no returning. You would be choosing to be exiled alone, and I won’t help you find a new place to live. I only help Kutelins. Give me two days to reach out to the Speaker before you make any irreversible decisions for yourself. And for the love of Yana, leave the Kidjums that are moving ahead alone.”

Some seem agreeable. Others look embarrassed for having been fooled by the fake emails. A few are still indignant, and will likely continue to be a problem.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go make a new video so that our whole House knows where we stand, and that what I say goes. I’m First Tongue of Aether, I speak first. It will be coming from resi dot brooks, no e.” He leans over to Arumay as they’re dispersing. “Find out who sent those other messages. I wanna know who’s trying to get us killed.” Wait. “No e in my last name,” he clarifies to his Fold. “There is one in Resi.” He shouldn’t have to dumb this down. Maybe not everyone deserves to be in his Fold.