Microstory 2166: There is Violence Everywhere

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This is Nick’s parole officer, Leonard Miazga. Nick has asked me to write up a short post on his behalf. He was badly beaten by other inmates. They were displeased with his claims that the governor might commute his sentence, and allow the warden to hire him for a paid position at the jail instead. If it were to go through, it would be a massive change in dynamic, and that did not sit well with some of them. Nick has refused to name names, partially to protect the guilty, partially because he struggles with memory and recognizing faces, but also because he’s suffered brain damage as a result of his injuries. The attackers also broke three of his ribs, and two of his toes. His left shoulder was dislocated, and he has lacerations all over his body. They also discovered internal bleeding, which is why he’s currently being transported to the hospital for surgery. I’m sure that we will receive further diagnoses when the surgeon and other doctors perform their own examinations. While they’re doing that, I’m going to be in a meeting with the warden and the governor to discuss options. Nothing like this has ever happened before. There is violence everywhere, but this is the worst that this particular facility has ever reported. I will be strongly advocating for his release from his sentence, but either way, he should never be sent back in to this jail as he is no longer safe there. In addition to his prior work with the FBI, Nick is a model jail guest, and a positively contributing member of society. He has been gainfully employed for nearly two months, and has been working hard on this website, which readers have expressed gratitude for, for his ability to show what it’s really like to experience intermittent jail in this universe. I’ll update you tomorrow since I do not see him being well enough to write a post on his own so soon.

Microstory 2165: Professional Being Paid

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I feel like my attention has been really split lately, and I’ve been making mistakes at work. It’s nothing that I’ve not been able to fix before someone else gets their eyes on it, but it’s been frustrating just the same, and I need to get my head right. I’ve had all these things coming at me. The warden wants to hire me, though I’m still an inmate in the jail. I have to stay in contact with my parole officer regularly. He’s cool, but that’s just one more thing that I have to worry about all the time. My therapy helps, but it also contributes to the stress of my schedule. Now I have this dumb potential lawsuit with that jerk of a company who apparently doesn’t have anything better to do than go after a small fish like me. I was going to do some more volunteering with Homes for Humankind today, but I had to cancel so I could focus on my regular job. I can’t lose that, or everything good I have in my life, like a great apartment, and plenty of food, goes away. Since I’m not allowed to talk about what I do, there’s not much that I can say, so I can’t even vent. I think I need someone else to talk to. Someone who isn’t a professional being paid to be there, like a friend. Am I lonely? I think I’m just lonely. I’m going to go see if my neighbor is home. Maybe we can have an impromptu dinner together before I have to report for jail this evening. Though, there is one thing that I should really finish up for work that I don’t want to put off until Monday. I wouldn’t be fired if it weren’t done, or anything, but you know me, I don’t like to leave tasks dangling over the weekend. I think a part of me worries that I’ll never come back, so I’ll at least have reached some kind of reasonable stopping point.

Microstory 2164: Whiny Babies

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A while back, a company reached out to me for a business opportunity. They wanted me to promote their products in my videos, which I do not make, but we still thought there was something there, so we kept talking. An agreement was made, and a deal was quite nearly finalized with a steak dinner. I’m a vegetarian, so I lamented how that affected my mental health. The company didn’t like that, so they pulled out of the deal, and I thought that was the end of it. It’s come back to haunt me today. Now they’ve taken it a step further, and sent me a cease and desist letter. They’re threatening to take legal action unless I remove the posts that mention the issue, and release a public apology. Honestly—and I recognize that saying this might only make things worse—but they’re total morons. I have yet to tell you which company this is, and I will continue to keep that a secret unless they leave me no choice. If I apologize publicly, you will necessarily find out who they are. Now, you might end up on their side because of that, but something tells me that you’re going to continue to side with the lone blogger who was only exercising his freedom of speech over a corporation with an amount of money that I can’t even ballpark, because it would narrow down your list of suspects, which I don’t want you to be able to do. But obviously we’re not talking about some local family run shop with only one location. People tend to not like corporate executives for being the biggest whiny babies in a world that gives them everything they need and want. I don’t think that this will end well for them, which is why I’m doing everything I can to help them move past it. I’m trying to keep things civil, private and confidential, and productive, but I think they’ve just seen how popular I’ve grown to be, and they want in on that action. I guess they think that I’m a millionaire by now, or something. I assure you, I’m not there yet. I may never be, as I’m a blogger, not a movie star. I’m not too worried about where this little legal issue is going to go. They’ll back down when they realize that even if they win, they lose. Their reputation is so much more important than mine is. I can fall into obscurity if I have to. I could live naked in the middle of the woods with nothing, and still survive. A company can’t do that. So come at me, bro.

Microstory 2163: Your Greatest Weakness Is

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Leonard and I had another meeting with the jail warden. He’s not mad, but I think I needed some time to collect my thoughts about what he proposed in the first place. That’s why I’m a writer, and not an improv comedian. We discussed options further, and there’s actually a chance that I could stop having to go to jail altogether. There is precedent for this sort of thing. A few cops who were convicted of various crimes throughout history have gone back into the field during emergencies, and earned their freedom by proving themselves redeemed. In one case, a really dangerous convict broke out of prison, forcing his not-so-bad cellmate to tag along. The latter ended up not only bringing his cellmate down, but also stopped his associates from committing a horrendous crime while he was still on the other side of the walls. So he was set free too. If I went the same route, it would be nothing as glamorous or intense as that. I would just start working for the jail, trying to help them better sort and schedule the guests. I would love the chance to have my sentence commuted, but I’m still not confident that I’m up for the job. I suppose I always thought of myself as someone who wasn’t necessarily talented at anything, but maybe good at finding talented people elsewhere? I could probably come up with a list of desirable positions, and then figure out how to seek out professionals who sufficiently fit the criteria. My dad was in human resources, so while he didn’t exactly ever sit me down, and teach me the ropes, I did pick up a few skills from him. I’ve also had tons of my own job interviews, so I know which questions are too dumb to be asked, like what kind of animal you would be, or what your greatest weakness is. Ugh, that’s such a terrible one. Nobody has a good answer to that, and even if they do, what qualifies you to analyze it to determine some sort of insight into that person’s fitness for the job? I’m getting off track, but none of this is probably going to happen anyway. Remember that business partnership I was working on that went up in spectacular flames? I don’t see things going that sour for this situation, but I doubt the jail that keeps me locked up every weekend is going to turn around and hire me before I’ve completed my sentence. I can’t imagine they would do it even if I had served my time in its entirety. I will admit, though, it’s kind of nice that they’re even entertaining the possibility. I had never, ever, ever been recruited before until I came to this planet, and now it might happen twice? That’s insane. A con can dream, can’t he?

Microstory 2162: Don’t Say No to a Warden

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I finished my work hours a little early, so my parole officer could pick me up, and drive me back to jail, but I wasn’t staying there as a guest. I had a meeting with the warden, which was agitating the butterflies in my stomach. I put it like that, because I always keep butterflies in there, they just don’t always move around this much. As it turns out, it wasn’t bad, but I’m not so sure that it was good either. He read my story, as he apparently does every evening, and he thought that I had some good ideas. I hadn’t even realized that I had presented any ideas, but this was in regards to the disharmony that sometimes arises when guests that don’t get along well with each other are forced to live together in an enclosed space. To me, that’s kind of the definition of jail and prison, but he wants to find a way to put an end to it anyway. That sounds like a lovely sentiment, but I’m not sure that it can be done. Perhaps with a sufficiently advanced artificial intelligence, you could figure out how to accurately profile and categorize everyone in need of being housed in the system with as many labels as necessary, and organize them to prevent gang conflicts, or other major disagreements. But here’s the thing, you wouldn’t just want to stop two gangs from going to war with each other, you would want the gang to stop from forming in the first place, or they’ll just translate all that into the outside world once their sentences were up. That’s why you can’t just sit down with everyone’s psych profile, and sort them like you’re simply planning the seating arrangements for a wedding reception.

If you think that I’m being dismissive of how difficult it is to plan a wedding, you’re mistaken. Wedding receptions are hard. This would be virtually impossible. First thoughts, you’re gonna need a team of behavioral psychologists, and sociologists, and who knows what else, maybe a logistician? See, I couldn’t even tell you how to form the team. While it might have kind of been my idea, I can’t be a part of it. But that’s what he wants. He wants me to start a taskforce of sorts to figure out how to schedule the guests at the jail. But you would have to account for people’s job situations, the judges’ particular rulings on each person’s specific sentence. Again, I think you need an AI to do all this for you. Even a team probably wouldn’t be able to figure it out. I didn’t say no to the request, because you don’t say no to a warden, but I’ve not agreed to it either. I would need to discuss it with my lawyers, and my current employer... It would eat into the time I need for my site and socials. It would also seem weird to me if I were both a staff member of the jail, and a guest who had no choice but to be there for 48 hours a week straight. I know that prisons have work programs, but this is not the same thing as shelving books in the library, or renovating the CO break room. Those are references that, fortunately, none of you gets. Anyway, I guess this is more a long-term shift in strategies. The warden says that if this hypothetical pilot program works, they could theoretically institute it at other facilities. I suppose nothing would really start until after I completed my sentence, assuming any of this gets off the ground, and that there’s a place for me in it at all, which sounds ridiculous right now. Until then (or until never) I’ll just go back to doing my thang, and not worry much about it. The stress would not get me anywhere. My butterflies move around enough as it is.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 23, 2398

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Mateo was excited to find the homestone at first. Its entire thing is being able to send people back to where they started before they first experienced time travel, whether that was in the present reality, or another. But that’s the thing that Alt!Leona pointed out, which is that every member of his team was from a different reality. Not even Mateo and Leona were from the same one. Even if Kivi’s idea of trying to duplicate the stone with Mateo’s quantum knife worked, it would still separate them all. Homestones were known to transport multiple people to the same point in spacetime, but asking for it to do it for nine or ten people all at once was more than pushing it. Plus, whether Alyssa knew it or not, she was destined to leave the Third Rail too, so the total number of people in need of such a thing was even larger.

Upon the properties of a homestone being explained to her, Andile thought there might still be a way if they could just get someone like Ramses back home, where he could use the vast resources of the main sequence to come back for the rest, but that seems like a stretch, and they have other thing to worry about at the moment. They have to focus on the mission at hand, which is to break Alt!Mateo out of Black Crook Rehabilitation Facility. Despite sharing a near identical name with its counterpart from 350 years ago, where Horace Reaver and Gilbert Boyce once lived, the two prisons are not very much alike. The first was a tower built on the peak, holding up a platform where residents lived in almost suburban-like homes. They worked together to maintain a microcosmic society, safe from and for the general population in its isolation. The one here is just a regular building with a fence around it. Rehabilitation isn’t even really part of the program. They just included that in the name to make people feel better about letting their social scraps waste away behind bars, kind of like how the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea is neither democratic, nor a republic.

Mateo will not be able to get his alternate self out of there using wingsuits, as he did last time. The plan went well, but looking back now, it was reckless and foolish. Sure, they had the advantage of time that the guards were nowhere near prepared for, but so many things could have gone wrong. They pretty much just got lucky, or maybe the powers that be protected them in a way that they wouldn’t have been able to recognize at the time. They have a chance this time to do it differently, to make it far easier on themselves. Back in those days, time travelers were time travelers, and teleporters were teleporters, but they have learned so much about reality, the lines have been blurred. More specifically, Mateo is carrying with them one syringe of temporal energy-infused immortality water. It’s actually activated Energy water; double the energy. Ramses believes there is enough power in this thing to make two, maybe even three jumps, which is better than they have been able to do thus far.

“I wasn’t able to figure out where Mateo’s cell might be,” Andile says regretfully. She has become their resident researcher, which makes sense, because that’s what she did before all this happened to her. “That’s all confidential.”

“I don’t think I’ll need that,” Mateo hopes. “Whenever I get a taste of temporal energy, I also get back my superempathy. If there’s anyone in the world I’m more connected to than my Leona, it’s my self.”

“Are you sure?” Andile questions.

“No,” Mateo answers honestly, “but Kivi came up with a contingency plan.”

“It’s not a plan,” Kivi points out. “It’s just an idea.”

“And it’s a good idea,” Mateo tells her.

“It’s...not,” Kivi contends.

“It’s...going to be okay.” Mateo has learned in his advanced age that confidence is key to the success of any mission. Without it, he has to rely too heavily on other people, and he doesn’t want to do that anymore. He doesn’t want to be helpless and sad. He wants to get back in the driver’s seat of his own life. So after a quick goodbye to his friends, he injects himself with the Energy water.

Andile was right to be worried. He gets his empathy back, but he can’t feel anyone he hasn’t before. He can sense Leona, Ramses, Angela, and Marie back in Kansas City. He can feel Kivi in the room with him, which is a bit ambiguous except when accounting for the fact that he can’t feel Alt!Leona, because she’s not the one he’s in love with, and his mind is conscious of that. As Nerakali would explain it, there is only one you; even alternate selves are only approximations. So since he doesn’t know where Alt!Mateo is, he’s going to have to go with Plan B.

Mateo teleports into the prison, getting as close as possible to the room where they think the cells should be controlled. It’s dead center, and would be impossible to reach from the outside without being spotted, but he doesn’t have to worry about all the doors. He appears to be wrong about the purpose of this area, though, as this looks more like a rich person’s fancy office. The walls are lined with books, and there’s a putting strip on the floor. What a giant cliché, it must be the warden’s office.

“Mister Matic,” comes a voice from the other side of the chair. He spins around, once more like a cliché. It’s Tamerlane Pryce. Because of course it is. “I’ve been waiting.”

“Have we met?” Mateo asks. He doesn’t mean to act like he doesn’t know who he is, but it could be a different version of Pryce, rather than the one he grew to hate in the afterlife simulation.

Pryce understands the meaning. “We’ve not, but I’ve heard of you. I am aware of how my alternate self treated you, and for what it’s worth, I am sorry for that.”

“I have dealt with far worse people, Mateo says sincerely. The other Pryce was rude and self-centered, but not evil. When all added up, he probably did more good than bad. He did save the lives of tens of billions of people throughout history.

“I assume you’re here to bust Andy Dufresne out?” this Pryce asks.

“I assume you’re not going to stop me,” Mateo says, both because maybe saying it out loud will make it come true, but also because there’s a strong chance that it is true.

Pryce looks halfway disgusted. “Ugh, you don’t want that guy. He’s a douche. There’s someone else I have in mind who doesn’t deserve to be here, and could use your help instead. I assume you possess a limited number of jumps?”

“I can do what I need to, as long as you stay out of my way.”

Pryce takes out a big book of residents, listed in alphabetical order, and opens to a particular page. “This is where your other self is right now.” He’s deliberately keeping his finger over the location. Then he switches to another page. “This is where someone who deserves to escape is.” This time, he’s deliberately keeping his finger over the name, and only showing the location. “I won’t tell you who it is until you choose.”

Remembering his thing about the driver’s seat, Mateo takes a letter opener out of its cup, and jams it into Pryce’s wrist, who cries out in pain. He carelessly removes the book from the bloodied hand, and scans for the second name. It’s Leona Reaver.

Microstory 1380: No Remorse (Part 4)

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Celebrity Interviewer: Thank you all for sitting down with me. My audience is very interested to understand the reasoning behind this arrangement. I’m very sorry the warden was not able to be with us today.

Producer: Yes, I just spoke with him, and he has some important business to take care of with the government, but he sends his regards.

Ex-Cop: A private prison owner’s job is never done.

Celebrity Interviewer: Quite. Now, let’s get into it. Whose idea was it to make a film about Ex-Cop?

Producer: That would be me.

Celebrity Interviewer: And who decided to cast Ex-Cop to play himself?

Producer: That would be me as well.

Celebrity Interviewer: That wasn’t Casting Director’s responsibility?

Casting Director: I was responsible for securing the casting, but it was an executive decision. I wasn’t even part of the project yet.

Producer: Yes, my vision started in my head, and I didn’t tell anyone about it until I had a really good idea of what I wanted to do.

Celebrity Interviewer: That makes sense. But, Casting Director, you had to convince the warden to go along with it, correct?

Casting Director: It was a team effort, but I was his primary point of contact.

Celebrity Interviewer: Tell me about the film. Where does it begin?

Producer: We start before the beginning, actually. The first five minutes follow Mr. Ex-Cop’s parents as their relationship evolves, from their first date at the zoo, to the day Ex-Cop was born. The next five minutes follow Ex-Cop’s upbringing. He has said that he knew he wanted to be a law enforcement officer because of a presentation an officer did at his middle school in eighth grade, so that’s where we stop moving so quickly through the narrative. We keep it linear, though. We don’t have any flashbacks.

Ex-Cop: That was my idea. Flashbacks, honestly, confuse me.

Celebrity Interviewer: I’m not surprised by that. Walk me through the reasoning behind not casting any other actors for the role. Are you using visual de-aging technology for Ex-Cop? How does that work? Can you really make a full-grown adult look like a child with CGI?

Ex-Cop: I’m not doing any CGI.

Celebrity Interviewer: So, you just haven’t cast the younger parts yet?

Casting Director: I can explain this. Ex-Cop is going to be playing himself throughout the entire film, and no digital editing will be employed to make him look younger. In fact, he’s not even going to be wearing makeup. This is a gritty, true-to-life experience. We want the audience to see him as the real world does, so they better understand what he’s gone through.

Ex-Cop: That was my idea too. I don’t wear no makeup. Do I look like I got titties?

Producer: Ex-Cop, we talked about this.

Ex-Cop: Whatever.

Celebrity Interviewer: No. I want to know what he has to say. I think you’re right that it’s important the audience sees him as he is, rather than some cartoon on the screen. And to that, I’m still confused. The world sees him as he is today, but when he was six years old, they saw a six-year-old. Sure, you could never find a single-digit child who looks exactly like he did when he was that young, but how exactly can you claim this to be an authentic portrayal when you have a fifty-year-old running around in diapers?

Ex-Cop: I’m not fifty!

Celebrity Interviewer: Assistant, please make note of the time. We’re going to want to put a fact-check up on the screen, making sure my audience knows Ex-Cop is indeed fifty years old.

Assistant: Yes, sir.

Ex-Cop: You go to hell, the both of you!

Celebrity Interviewer: Don’t talk to her like that.

Producer: He didn’t really mean it.

Celebrity Interviewer: No. I want him to apologize. He can say whatever he wants about me, but he will leave my assistant out of this, or he’s gonna wish the state had just sent him to some hole in the ground where I can’t find him.

Ex-Cop: Fine. I’m sorry.

Assistant: Thank you.

Producer: Let’s get back on track. I understand where you’re coming from, but Ex-Cop expressed to us that he’s always felt more like an adult, so we wanted to illustrate that by having him play his younger selves as well. It’s a creative choice, and I stand by it.

Casting Director: As do I.

Celebrity Interviewer: And do you stand by casting a convicted murderer in your film at all?

Casting Director: I’m sorry?

Celebrity Interviewer: You should be.

Producer: I would like to clarify this. We’ve obviously heard all of the criticisms. It’s not my job to judge whether Ex-Cop is racist, or if he’s guilty of his crime—

Celebrity Interviewer: He’s guilty. He was found guilty by all six peer arbiters, all four professional arbitrators, and a highly respected adjudicator. He’s considered guilty by the majority of the country’s population, and then some. The film that started this all—the one that shows Ex-Cop pounding his fist into the head of Innocent Victim until he dies—proves that what they said he did, he did.

Ex-Cop: You can’t talk about me like this!

Celebrity Interviewer: On the contrary, sir, I can. You gave up your rights when you abused your power, and murdered an innocent blackman on the streets of Hillside. This film is outrageous! This private prison is outrageous! And you, Ex-Cop are the most outrageous of all. Why, if I had—

Assistant: Celebrity Interviewer? Your boss is on the phone. He’s watching the closed stream.

Ex-Cop: You’re in trouble now, bitch.

Celebrity Interviewer: You fucking piece of shit. I’m gonna put you on the ground. Why you runnin’? Get back here, coward!

Producer: Stop.

Celebrity Interviewer: Get your hands off me. You’re as bad as him, because you validate his sentiments!

Assistant: You better take this call.

Microstory 1379: No Remorse (Part 3)

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Ex-Cop: I don’t even wanna be here.

Prison Counselor: I understand that, but if you want to stay in protective custody, this is how its done.

Ex-Cop: I’m a cop, I should be in protective custody no matter what, and since I’m a cop, I know that this is not how it works. I shouldn’t need a psychological assessment to see if I’m fit to not be murdered by some big black man.

Prison Counselor: This isn’t a psychological assessment. This is regular counseling that’s required for you to maintain your right to protective custody. It doesn’t matter what you stay here, as long as you agree to these sessions, the warden will let you stay.

Ex-Cop: So, I can say whatever I want?

Prison Counselor: I understand that it is your instinct to rail against minorities, and all the other people that you believe are responsible for you losing your job. But we won’t get anywhere until you admit that what you did was murder, and wrong. First step towards that, I believe, is admitting that you’re no longer a law enforcement officer.

Ex-Cop: Once a cop, always a cop.

Prison Counselor: I can see how you would feel that way symbolically, metaphorically. But literally, you are not. I’ve read the court transcripts. You expressed no remorse for your actions. Has anything changed in that regard?

Ex-Cop: Yes, absolutely.

Prison Counselor: Oh, good.

Ex-Cop: I regret that I didn’t notice that bitch holding her cellphone camera at me sooner, and that I didn’t rip it out of her hands as soon as I finally did see it.

Prison Counselor: You’re referring to Innocent Victim’s boyfriend, who identifies as a man. Acceptance of non-heterosexuality is another thing we’ll need to work on.

Ex-Cop: Where do you get off telling me what we need to work on? I’m fine. I just need to stay away from all these black people who keep trying to kill me in here.

Prison Counselor: You are protected now. This is a safe space. You can be honest. I want you to be able and willing to change, though. That’s what life is, a constant progression towards an improved state.

Ex-Cop: If I’m not willing to change, you’re gonna kick me back to gen pop?

Prison Counselor: That’s right.

Ex-Cop: Is that even legal?

Prison Counselor: No one behind these gates is guaranteed protection. Do you think you can do this? Do you think you can entertain the possibility that you’re wrong, and that you need to become a better person? Or are you convinced you’re an infallible god?

Ex-Cop: I never said I was a god.

Prison Counselor: ...

Ex-Cop: Yes, I can do that. I suppose it’s possible that I’m just a little bit racist, and that there’s a slight chance I haven’t been my best self.

Prison Counselor: Great. Now, let’s start from the beginning. What do you remember your parents teaching you about race, ethnicity, and skin color when you were a child?

Dardius: Horace Reaver (Part X)

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Horace Reaver was in prison. It wasn’t the first time being locked up, but he still had not gotten used to it. A bunch of stuff went down when an unhinged reality manipulator came to town, and started wreaking havoc on his and his people’s lives. Ace, as he was called at this time, and in this reality, submitted himself here somewhat voluntarily, in order to free a friend of theirs who never should have been here in the first place. It was under duress, though, so voluntary was probably the wrong word to use. He had so far been in here for six days, knowing full well that this didn’t mean his family was off schedule. They could get him out if they completed a mission for the prison, and their new partner advised them that it would take at least a week just to plan it. So he wasn’t worried, but he was already sick of it.

This place didn’t have yard time, cafeteria time, or anything. Prisoners remained in their cells permanently, because it was safer that way. Most of the inmates had special time powers, and The Warden said it wasn’t worth the risk to let anyone out for anything but medical or logistical reasons. Fortunately, each cell had access to its own pocket dimension, full of creature comforts, and wide open spaces. It wasn’t the same as being free, but it was better than a six-by-nine. To be clear, the six-by-nine regular cell did exist, and the pocket could be closed to punish prisoners for bad behavior, but according to a man named Tracker, that was rare, because prisoners knew there was no escape, and there wasn’t any point in causing trouble. Ace liked to spend time up in the front, outside of his pocket, because it allowed him to see outside the cell, into other people’s cells, and at the guards patrolling the area. It made him feel more trapped to be in a windowless room with low lighting, even if that room had a couch, bed, and entertainment. He ordered a lot of books. At the moment, he was sitting in his chair, reading one about bunnies, when he heard a commotion beyond his field of vision.

“Sir, please.” It was the Warden. Who could she possibly need to call sir with such deference? Was it possible there was someone even more powerful around here than her?

“You can’t stop me,” came a voice Ace didn’t recognize.

“How do you know that?” the Warden asked as they were just coming into view.

“I spoke with Meliora. She told me everything.” The two of them stopped at Ace’s cell. The man was smiling as deeply as the Warden was frowning. “Hello, old friend.”

“Do we know each other?” Ace asked.

“Mister Matic,” the Warden began, “those contingencies were designed to get you out of prison, if a mistake like that ever happened again. They were not meant for you to come in, and break someone else out.”

“I’m doing it anyway.” He reached up with both hands, and grasped the bars. While a lot of the security measures here were time power-based, it was still fitted with good ol’ fashioned cement blocks and thick metal gates. It looked like this kind stranger was preparing to rip them off with brute strength, which should have been impossible. Then again, time travel should have been impossible too, but that was quite clearly real.

“Wait,” the Warden said desperately. “If you do this, you effectively declare war on Beaver Haven.”

The man stopped to think about it for a moment, but less like he was considering changing his mind, and more like he was working out how he was going to combat this new threat. “Then I better make it count.” He tightened his grip on the bars, and pulled at them. They didn’t tear off like rice paper, but they did come completely off, leaving about a foot of space for Ace to slip through. Some of the other prisoners saw what happened, and began to make a ruckus. This drew more out, so that everyone could either see what was happening, or was close enough to hear others yelling updates.

“Are you going to stuff me back in there?” Ace asked the Warden once he was free.

She shook her head. “He’s made his choice. I can’t undo it any more than he can.”

“It’s not the last choice I’m gonna make,” the man said. He walked over to another cell, and tore the bars off of that one too.

A man named Curtis came out of it, and tipped his head cordially.

The man stepped one cell over, and did it a third time. “Oh,” he said when he saw Lucius just stand there. He pulled off two more bars, because Lucius was big as hell. That wasn’t it, though. Lucius still just stood there. “You can’t be put back in here. These people can’t move against me in that manner.”

“I deserve to be here,” Lucius replied in his low sexy voice. This guy was a god. If Ace weren’t with Serkan...

“No, you don’t,” the jailbreaker said. “You and Curtis have a destiny. I need you to take care of him.”

Lucius looked over at Curtis. Neither of them knew what he was talking about, but they trusted that the man was telling them the truth about their future together.

The Warden was extremely displeased. “Anyone else, Mister Matic?”

“Are Missy and Darko here?” Mr. Matic asked.

“Not in this reality,” the Warden answered, seemingly truthfully.

“Then my work is done here.” He pointed over to Curtis and Lucius. “You take them wherever they want to go. I’ll be taking Horace myself.

The Warden reluctantly looked up and over her glasses at a guard on the second level. She raised her hand, and gestured for him to come down, and presumably help transport the other two empardoned ones. Is empardoned a word? Well, it is now.

“Hey, Mateo,” Lucius called up to them as the mysterious savior and Ace were starting to leave. “I owe you a favor.”

Mateo smirked. “Nope. Now we’re even.” Time, right?

“Not that I’m not grateful,” Ace said as they were winding their way through the corridors. Guards were letting them through with no question. Who the hell was this guy, and why was everyone so afraid of him?

“Why did I break you out?” Mateo presumed. “You and I have had a complicated multi-timeline relationship, but I need to make sure you understand who you are.”

“I don’t understand.”

“One day, someone is going to come to you, and restore your memories. You will remember how much you hated me, and the terrible things you did to express that hate. I got you out of there, and I’m taking you to see something important, not so that you’ll remember how good of friends we are, but so that you’ll remember how good of a person you are.”

“Huh?” They opened the exit, and started to walk away from the secret prison. Ace chose to not look back. That was in his past, and he needed to get back to his family, and move forward. Mateo opened the back door of a car, and ushered Ace in. “Dave?”

“I’m not meant to be a literal chauffeur,” the driver said as Mateo was getting in as well. “That’s just a nickname.”

“Meliora agreed to help me get to either 2027, or 3413. I chose to come here, so you could help me with both missions. And you’re gonna do it, because this is your boss’ father. He’s your grandboss.”

The Chauffeur rolled his eyes, and restarted the car. “That’s not a thing.”

“You know Meliora?” Ace asked.

“Not super well, but yes,” Mateo confirmed.

“And you know me too?”

“From other realities, and the future in this reality, yes.”

“But you’ve seen my darkness.” Ace didn’t know it had anything to do with alternate timelines, but there were some things about himself that he couldn’t explain. He sometimes experienced...outbursts of violence that didn’t make any sense. They didn’t feel like him, but at the same time, they felt more like him than anything else. This all scared him a great deal, and if this Mateo guy could save him from that, he was willing to try just about anything.

Dave drove them to a hospital, and waited in the parking lot while Mateo took Ace up to a room. It was empty, but lived in, and the bathroom door was closed. They heard a flush, and a hoarse voice Ace thought he recognized. “Can I get some help here?”

“Stay here,” Mateo instructed. He slipped into the bathroom to help, and came out two minutes later with Jesimula Utkin.

“Thank you,” she said graciously. “Ace! What are you doin’ here, man?”

“Uhh...I’m here to see you.”

“Oh, that’s cool. I’m on drugs.”

“It sounds like it. Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m great! I’m on this new diet, and just lost three ounces in a few hours!”

“Her kidney,” Mateo clarified as he was helping Jesi back into bed. “She just donated her kidney.”

Jesi placed her hand to the side of her mouth. “It was anonymous,” she told him in a loud whisper.

“I don’t understand,” Ace repeated. “Who did you give it to? Or was the recipient anonymous too?”

“The hospital thinks she was,” Mateo began to explain, “but we know who it was.”

“Yes,” Jesi agreed. “Leona Mulaney.”

“Delaney,” Mateo corrected.

“Right. Delaney Mulvaney,” Jesi said.

“She saved Leona’s life?” Ace asked. “She’s my daughter’s friend.”

“She’s my future wife,” Mateo said. “I mean that literally. I couldn’t give her my own kidney in this reality, so Jesi stepped up. How can you prevent her from adapting your time power, though?” he asked Jesi.

“I don’t have any powers anymore,” Jesi explained. “I assimilated myself into my alternate, and used her body as primary. I’m just a normal forty-five year old now.”

“You don’t look forty-five,” Ace pointed out.

“I still got friends,” Jesi argued. “Damn, man!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Forgiven. No, you’re threegiven, because I’m still a little mad.”

“Jesi, your light’s on,” Mateo informed her.

Jesi smiled, and lifted a little button. “Cool.” She started pressing it over and over again, still smiling dumbly at it.

“Don’t worry,” Mateo said. “It won’t give her more pain medication than she’s allowed to have.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You did this,” Mateo said as Jesi was falling asleep. “You saved Leona’s life, because you didn’t give up on Jesi. You helped her become a better person, and I’m trying to keep you the same way. When someone comes to blend your memories with those of your alternates, focus hard on this moment. You’ve done a lot of good in your life, even in the other timelines. But let this memory be your anchor. I was told to come here to take you to my funeral. Don’t ask how that works, it’s complicated. The point is that I’m not going to do that. If you make it to the service, then great, I have a job for you. But I can’t let you do that job if you don’t remember everything about what we’ve been through together. So after they blend your brain—and once you’re ready—come to Dardius in the year 2263. Can you do this for me? I don’t know when it will be for you, but I want you to be prepared for it.”

“I can do that. I don’t really get what’s going on, but I will do my best.”

Mateo smiled softly, and placed a hand on Ace’s shoulder. “I know you will.” He took him into a warm hug. “I gotta get to Stonehenge, but be careful. I hear this Omega Gyroscope thing is a real threat to the universe.” And with that, he left.

Not two seconds later, someone else came into the room, and for a moment, Ace couldn’t believe it. Then he recalled Serkan’s advice to act like ya been there, and contained his confusion. It was another Horace Reaver.

Future!Horace reached into his shirt, and retrieved the hundemarke; a special object capable of creating moments in time that cannot be changed via temporal manipulation. He handed it to Present!Horace.

“What am I meant to do with this?” Present!Horace questioned.

Jesi woke up, but just long enough to cry, “throw it in the portal!”

Future!Horace shook his head no. “She’s talking about something else.” Then he just walked out of the room without another word.

< > Entire Story

Microstory 1180: Beth-Anne McAlister

< > Table of Contents

Beth-Anne McAlister, who didn’t allow anyone to just call her Beth, or Anne, was a normal human being, born in a very old timeline. She remembers watching the news when it was reported that a man with the power to temporarily erase obstacles to his path was using his ability to rescue miners trapped under a cave-in. He didn’t physically move the earth from on top of them. He just made it so that it wasn’t there, but only long enough to allow a pulley system to be lowered down, and all the survivors to be lifted up. Then he put it right back. After that, more people with special time powers started appearing. A woman who claimed to be a Savior of Earth came into the spotlight, and her apparently inherent side ability to erase people’s memories of her good deeds was suppressed. A couple of magicians finally outed themselves, revealing that they weren’t just using tricks, but actually instantaneously transporting volunteers across the stage. As it turned out, the world was full of these people; some good, some not so great. New legislation was passed in most countries to deal with these new possible crimes that most did not know was possible before. Though the world changed dramatically, it was hard to determine whether it had gotten better, or worse. For every good deed, there was a bad one; just like it always was, even before the secret got out. Beth-Anne was not in a position of power, but she chose to create a platform for herself, warning the world of what could happen if these people were not heavily regulated. She turned out to be right, when a particularly angry time traveler went back to before she was born, and killed her mother as a child, Terminator style. Fortunately for Beth-Anne, she had followers from all walks of life. Not everyone with time powers felt the same way about how they should be handled, and relatively few would have condoned the killer’s actions. One man, who could make himself aware of alternate timelines, sought help from an ally, and still in Terminator fashion, sent himself backwards in time to stop the killer, thus creating yet another new timeline.

The protector continued to keep watch over Beth-Anne, making sure she survived through adulthood, and he allowed her to voice her concerns to the public, just as she had before. At all times, she wore a bracelet that has since been lost to temporal changes, which prevented her personal past from being altered too significantly. But the protector could see that this would not be enough. The world just kept getting worse. War broke out between the two sides, and the humans stood no chance. Any sufficiently violent time traveler could wipe out any opposing force before it could even begin to gather. So he used his ability on Beth-Anne, transforming her into a different kind of person. Beth-Anne would always be born, no matter what any temporal manipulator tried to do in the past. She would always be able to remember her alternate lives, and she would always be free to make her own decisions. The biggest decision she made was to prevent that first choosing one from choosing to save those people in the mine. She explained to him why she had to do this, and he accepted it. He wanted to help people; not break reality. Unfortunately, Beth-Anne knew that his position was not shared by all. There was too much of a risk of it happening again, and not all timelines would benefit from at least getting its start with an example of a choosing one who wanted to do good. She built a prison, called it Beaver Haven, and became its warden. She didn’t care about time traveling criminals, per se. She was only worried about exposure. Good or bad, if any chooser or salmon risked the prosperity of the world by revealing their power to a high enough degree to risk everyone’s secrecy, she would lock them up. There was a little bit of trial and error with this. She eventually devised a decent system of monitoring for exposures, reversing time, and changing the recent past, and because she was protected, no one could stop her. She knew not everyone would agree with her goals, and certainly not her methods, but she was convinced this was the only way to keep members on both sides safe. The world of humans, and the world of temporal manipulators had to stay separate. Perhaps she was right, but not all of her choices would be good. Her ability to recall events from alternate realities had terrible consequences for her mind, and over time, it made her lose her sense of morality. That was still hope, though.