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.

Microstory 2665: Anchorman

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It’s been a couple of weeks. House Kutelin has had their ups and their downs, but if we’re talking hard numbers, then all ups. A lot of graduates are joining, and no one who joins can leave. Some things are meant to start to change, but Resi isn’t sure if that’s one of them; where people can shift between Houses at will. House leaders will start campaigning for members. They’ll incentivize switching sides. Entire industries on this island could suffer. They technically already are. With fewer people joining any of the four original Houses these days, those who are already in them are struggling. Just a little bit, but it will presumably get worse. Older generations will start to feel the need to stay on the job for longer. Younger generations will feel bitter about being stuck. Right now, Aether doesn’t contribute anything. All they do is take. Resi is not an idiot. He absolutely foresaw this. The question is, did the Assembly? Well, he’s about to find out. After all this time, they have finally asked for a meeting. Let’s see how upset they are.

The first thing he hears is clapping. He stops short of rounding the corner, where he’ll see, and be seen by, the Assemblymen. Did he come in too early? The steward said that they were ready for him, but if they’re still finishing up previous business...

“What’s wrong?” Caprice asks.

“I’m waiting until they’re done,” Resi explains.

“That’s for you,” she explains. “Better get in there so they can rest their arms.”

Resi grimaces, and timidly continues. As he steps in enough to start to see faces, they look back at him with smiles, and begin to cheer louder. This again? It happened at his Kidjum, and he still doesn’t understand why. Not really. Everything he has studied about history has taught him that people hate change. It doesn’t matter if it’s good or bad, they fear it. One might think that a post-scarcity society would have possibly moved past that, but no. Even outside of this one little island, they fear change. That’s actually what getting rid of things like money, poverty, and war did. It created equilibrium. No more change, just peace and predictability. And the only reason Yana hasn’t joined them is because they started the race from behind. They’re afraid of making that one last change to end all change. That’s how his philosophy teacher explained it. The lecture is still fresh in his mind, because it was only a few months ago. When he was a kid.

“All right, all right,” the Speaker says as she’s pressing their voices down with both hands. Resi isn’t all that familiar with who these people are. Politics were never his thing. He always thought he would just work the dirt and keep his head down for the rest of his life. He believes that Speaker Lincoln is from House Maing’aing, but she would have shed that association a long time ago. Civil service is a separate thing, which is expected to serve all Houses equally. They always talk about the four Houses, but in reality, there are a lot more. They are just the original four industrial domains, before life became too complex for such limited stratification. You may join a House but work in a tangential field. She holds silent for a moment, like she’s waiting for Resi to finish his internal thoughts. “Resi Brooks, First Tongue of Aether, Founder of House Kutelin, thank you for coming in today. You honor us with your presence.” She gestures to him.

Is he supposed to say something? Something in particular? Is this ceremony? He wasn’t given any guidelines. “Speaker Lincoln of the Tambora Assembly, thank you for having me. I look forward to hearing your grievances, and working towards a common goal.” Wow. What the hell was that? Just say the quiet part out loud, why don’t you?

The whole Assembly laughs. They’re delighted. They must still see him as a child, with his quirky little ignorance, and lack of decorum. Speaker Lincoln doesn’t laugh out loud, but she looks as pleased. “We have no grievances, only a gift.”

“A gift, sir?” he questions. “I could not ask for more. House Kutelin is not yet working.” That is not entirely true. Last week, once Resi realized that the population of his new House wasn’t on track to stop exploding, he started sending volunteers back to the other four Houses. They don’t work too hard, and have no obligations, so it hasn’t made up for the total loss. Only a handful of them have agreed to it. Most of these volunteers have simply been staying at home, where they were before graduation.

“How many belong to your House now?” Speaker Lincoln asks. “Three hundred?”

“Three hundred thirteen,” Resi replies, “if we’re counting my pre-Kidjum sister.”

Speaker Lincoln nods. “Outgrowing the old college dorms, aren’t we?”

Yes, they’re climbing over each other over there. The school shut down because it became too small for the populace, and outdated, but it’s considered a historical landmark, so it remains standing. Really nowhere else in the city could accommodate such a concentrated group of people. “We’re making it work. Many joiners are from House Maing’aing, so they have begun to draw up plans for new facilities, but that...”

“...would require authorization and support from the Assembly.” Speaker Lincoln indicates her Assemblymen. “Well, let’s fix that before the concrete cures.” Yeah, she’s definitely from Maing’aing. “You’re not getting it. You will not get a builder’s permit.” 

“Speaker Lincoln, I understand that you’re angry with us, but I am not the one who came up with House Kutelin. The breath that told me about it was the same one which told me that it was mine to lead. This is how I’m leading it. If you wanted me to do something different, you should have said something ahead of time. Now it’s too late. Now I’ve built momentum. Now people want to join who aren’t even up for House transition. Some have already transitioned. Others are yet too young.”

“We are aware of how well you are being received,” Speaker Lincoln begins. “Younger generations never understand that the Kidjum is a fundamentally different process from their usual bizarre and hard-to-interpret dreams. It’s nothing new. There is always doubt. Once they find their true place, all fall in line. You, First Tongue Brooks, have chosen your place. You've chosen to go against our ways in unexpected fashion.”

“I told you, you should have said something!” Resi argues. “You. Said. Nothing.”

“That was by design,” Speaker Lincoln retorts. “Our hands were tied. The old traditions were clear. The First Tongue speaks first, and it is up to us to reply. Now that we understand what you’re doing, we have found our voice, and this our reply.”

“What I’m doing,” he echoes. “What do you think I’m doing?”

Speaker Lincoln smirks. “I’m not here to give you the answers, only a timeframe. You and three-hundred and twelve of your closest friends must exit the Nation of Tambora by the end of the month, or you will have declared war on the Four Houses.”

“War?” That escalated quickly. This was a gift? “You were just clapping for me.”

“You are still owed deference in this assembly hall. The old traditions were clear on that too.” She takes a breath. “We are reinstituting the Kidjum. This experiment is over. You will remain an ally, but you are no longer welcome on Yana. Thank you.”

Yana. Tambora does not equate to the whole island. They can’t kick him out. He just has to speak with one or both of the other two nations.

Microstory 2610: There is the Opportunity for Help, But it Will Come at a Cost

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August 20, 2526. Domestic Affairs Administrator Clarita Moffett has been tasked with a responsibility that goes beyond her scope. She is in charge of the homeworld, not reaching out to neighboring worlds. But the Foreign Policy Administrator was arrested, and whether you would agree with that decision or not, it now falls on Clarita to figure this out. That’s okay, it’s not like she’s utterly unprepared for this. She’s been talking to people for a hundred and fifty years. All she’s doing is asking someone she’s never met to possibly send a fleet of ships 13,000 astronomical units away from their postings, completely unscheduled, and pretty much immediately. There’s always been this sort of rivalry between their colonies. It takes a negligible amount of time to get to Bungula from Earth, so some Domanians have wondered why not just stop here? Reportedly, since Rigil Kentaurus is more Sol-like, Bungulans have wondered why bother stopping, when they could just keep going a little bit to them. Plus. Bungula has been fully terraformed, and nobody can actually explain how.

Clarita opens her virtual eyes. This is a meeting space in a simulated environment. Maintaining persistent quantum coherence isn’t all that hard with today’s technology, especially given how close their two worlds are. Even so, it’s a bland room with two chairs, and a table between them. It’s also too hot in here. She removes her jacket, and looks around for a hook, only now realizing that she’s using her game avatar, which does not appear very professional. Too late. When she turns back around, she finds that she’s not alone. “Oh. Sorry, Captain, I didn’t see you there. Thank you for meeting me. I understand that you and your people have the data, but I thought it was time that we had a real conversation. First of all, I’m Clarita Moffett.”

“Reed Ellis, but I’m only an Executor,” he replies, shaking her hand anyway.

“Oh, forgive me, I—”

“The task was delegated to me, even though it is beyond my purview.”

“I’m in the same boat,” Clarita explains. She gestures towards the table, and they both sit down. “I know this is asking a lot, but we no longer have the infrastructure to reach orbit. Lower orbit objects—which were less populated, thank God—were decimated when our normally thin atmosphere expanded. Those in higher orbit are fine, but they can’t reach us. Our space elevator, of course, was in geostationary, but it was pulled down when the CME hit. We need help, and we believe that you can provide it.”

“We have a new elevator ourselves,” Reed says. “It hasn’t even begun non-testing operations yet. I believe that we could spare it, but I would be fighting an uphill battle. I know the people that I work with. It took a lot of us to procure some...special technology for it, and they will not want to give it up.”

“Even for a major rescue operation?”

“Even for that.”

“We’ll give it back.”

“For my part, I would let you keep it. The Tangent is a vanity project, and a waste of our resources. I’m just telling you that they know what you’re after. They sent me to talk to you, because I don’t have the power to say yes.”

“So, what are our options? Do you have any other elevators?”

“We have several others,” Reed confirms, “but they all have multiple tethers, serving multiple settlements. Reeling in one would create imbalance. Reeling in them all is doable if well-coordinated, but difficult, and extremely disruptive. The reason the new one is the only reasonable option is because we do not yet rely on it. That is the most frustrating part of this whole thing.”

“Well, how do you make elevators? Can you just send us the manufacturing platform or whatever? Forgive me, this is not my area of expertise, so I do not know what I’m talking about.”

“We could not build a new elevator in a reasonable amount of time, and they would not expend the resources for that either.”

“What are our options?” Clarita asks, fully aware that she’s repeating herself, though this time, it’s more open-ended, so she doesn’t lead him to another non-solution.

He’s nervous and hesitating. He looks around as if someone might be spying on them in here. If anyone could break into the simulation and do that, they would be able to do it without being detected, but his paranoia is not completely unfounded. “I will get you The Tangent, but you’re going to have to do something for me in return.”

“Anything.” Wait, no. “Um, I mean...almost anything,” she amends.

“It will not be pretty,” Reed goes on. “People will not be happy with my decision. It’s probably best that I not share with you the details of my plan, but once I enact it, I will be incredibly vulnerable.”

“What could we possibly do to help that?”

“I need backup. The space elevator platform is the first of its kind, but it is not designed for interstellar travel. There is a way, but it will be slow. It will take weeks to get to you and the most optimistic of estimates.”

“Okay...”

“Those who...don’t agree with us will have plenty of time to catch up, and put a stop to it. I will promise to defend ourselves during the initial mission, but I would ask you to meet us halfway. Come to us with a fleet; as many as you can. You say there are still ships in orbit. They are useless without a means to land, or more importantly, to pull grounders up to them. So send them towards Bungula, on the exact opposite vector that we’ll be on. Defend us. Help us save you.”

Now it is Clarita who is hesitating. “I don’t have that kind of power either. If I can’t get my people on board, I too will have to...” She is reluctant to use the word coup, or mutiny, or even commandeer. “I will find the support, though. You come to us, and we’ll come to you. But since I don’t know which ships I’ll be able to procure, they might end up being the slower ones. And if that’s the case...”

“You’ll still be in the same boat as me, defending yourselves in an internal conflict.” Reed nods. “I suppose we’ll just have to do our best.”

“I suppose so,” Clarita agrees.

“Your boss. Do they want this to happen?” he questions.

“It does, but it’s fighting a political war to maintain the power it needs to save the lives of our people before you could even possibly arrive. It will be in a very delicate position if we throw this new complication into the mix. We all will.”

“Then I advise you to exercise discretion. Keep the circle tight, and only tell who you must. Figure out who you can trust.”

“Same to you,” Clarita says.

“I better go iron out the plan. Stay in touch.”

Microstory 2602: Hrockas Steward Stops at the Door and Waits

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Hrockas Steward stops at the door and waits. Renata just spent nine months in her chrysalis, but she wasn’t sleeping. It was a taxing and tiring ordeal, so she has had to sleep for nearly a day. She agreed to let Telman monitor her vitals constantly for the time being, and it is showing that she is awake again. He’s not sure if he should knock, though. Quidel’s tracker is showing at this location too, so they’re probably together. According to Telman, nothing is indicating that she’s undergoing strenuous activity the likes of which two people might do together in private, but it’s only been a day, so they’re still trying to establish her baseline.

Renata opens the door. “You know I can see you on my doorcam, right?”

“Sorry, I just didn’t wanna disturb you.” He can see inside her room, where Quidel is stretching, in a way that makes it look like they were only sleeping.

“It’s fine, I’m feeling much better now. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to give you a gift,” Hrockas explains.

She looks down at herself. “Isn’t my new substrate the gift?”

“Uh, no, that was ethically compulsory on our part. We destroyed your old one, and even if we hadn’t, they’re free.”

“Oh. Well, I don’t need a gift. I just wanna figure out what my life looks like now.”

“That’s what this gift is for.” As Renata steps off to the side, Hrockas looks over at Quidel. “Mister Jesperson, you’re welcome to tag along. It might affect you too.”

Quidel sits up with a yawn, then sticks his tongue out like he’s just tasted something unpalatable, but he’s really just still tired. He shuts his eyes, and falls back on the bed.

“I have a bit too much, uh...stamina for him,” Renata discloses.

“I see,” Hrockas says awkwardly.

She throws on a shirt and some pants. “Let’s go.”

Hrockas teleports them both to a hangar, about fifty meters from her gift, which is covered in a tarp. They start walking towards it. “Some friends of mine are upgrading their shuttles. There’s nothing wrong with the old ones, but the technology doesn’t quite fit their intergalactic missions. Instead of trying to cast yourself to another world, or spend extensive periods of time on cyclers, I thought maybe you would like a way to take shortcuts.” He snaps his fingers. The pulley system engages, and moves the tarp to reveal the purple beauty. “Renata Granger, may I introduce you to...The Aerie.”

Renata admires it. “This is for me?”

“I have no use for it myself. I’ll be on Castlebourne ‘til the stars burn out.”

“You said something about shortcuts?”

He nods. “Mm-hmm. You could reach Earth in about two months.”

A hatch opens, and a woman climbs out. “It’s called a reframe engine,” she says. She approaches the two of them. “Hi, I’m Brooke Prieto.” She shakes Renata’s hand, and then looks over at Hrockas. “Unfortunately, due to its small size, it can’t go at full reframe speeds. If you try to get back to Earth, it’s gonna take you about five years. It’s still better than a hundred and eight, though, right?” She grimaces a little.

“It’s fine with me.” Renata looks at Hrockas too. “I’m apparently immortal now.”

“That you are,” Hrockas agrees. “Anyway, I’ll let you two get acquainted. I have some other business to take care of, but don’t leave without saying goodbye.”

“Thank you, Steward Steward.”

He smiles. “No. Thank you.” He teleports away.

“Did you get everything squared away with Ren and the boy?” Azad asks.

“She’s got her ship. I think she’ll leave to explore the real world for a change. Castlebourne is a symbol of her entrapment, even if she isn’t conscious of that. I can’t imagine he won’t go with her.”

“That just leaves the Marshal,” Azad points out.

“Samani is a soldier,” Hrockas reasons. “He’ll fall in line. I don’t think he’ll be a problem. I don’t trust him enough to read him in, but if we ever have to use the thing, I doubt he’ll cause us problems.”

Azad nods. They’re silent for a moment.

“Did you figure out where the next component is?”

“Not for a fact, but all signs are pointing to Underbelly.”

“If we can’t get the people to vote to move the sun to a new location, we may need it, but we still have time before the Exin armada arrives.”

“Ya know, there would be a benefit to us keeping the Granger girl around. If she can shut down entire simulations with nothing but a thought, she could be of use to us. Not even you have that power.”

Hrockas shakes his head. “I don’t have that power by design. It raises too many questions. I’m still fending off reporters who want to know what the hell happened in the Spydome Network.” He shakes his head more aggressively. “No. These domes stay as they are. We follow their rules, and we let the stories play out naturally. As I said, we have time.”

“We don’t have infinite time, though,” Azad reminds him.

“Yeah, I know. Just keep looking for the other components, and do it quietly.”

“Okay.” Azad’s watch beeps. “Superintendent Glarieda needs something again.”

“Go ahead,” Hrockas encourages. “Assure him that we’ll make sure the votes go our way, one way or another.”

“You want me to say it like that?”

“Obviously not.”

“What should I do with this thing?” Azad asks.

They both look down at the device sitting on the table. “Granger still has access to the lab, and might need to return there for check-ups while she’s still on-world. She can’t know that we didn’t destroy it. She went through a lot to prevent her own mother from using it. She won’t approve of us using it either. Take it to Delta Outpost. But that can wait. See what Dreychan needs first.”