Microstory 2223: Goodbye

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People are evidently fascinated by my story, and have a morbid curiosity for my terrible prognosis. They want to know what it’s like, living with this day to day, and knowing that my life will be over soon. Well, it’s actually kind of boring. Since I don’t have the freedom to move around where I want to, and everything I do need to accomplish has to be planned out in advance, I mostly just repeat the same routine every day. I wake up at 07:15. For now, I can brush my teeth on my own, because my arm tremors don’t prevent me from doing it, especially not so early in the morning. It gets to be problematic later in the day, when my arm starts to kind of flail about more unpredictably. I guess the prions need time to wake up too. Anyway, after I take my first round of medicine, Kelly helps me with some physical therapy exercises for about an hour. After that, I need a break, so she plants me in front of the TV for maybe a couple of hours. At that point, I’m getting hungry, so she makes me something simple for lunch, usually a sandwich or a wrap, along with fruit and vegetables. I’ve never eaten so healthily, but that was always my problem, having to be inconvenienced by preparing the food myself. I’ve never cared that much about the taste or quality, it was always just easier eating something prepackaged, or delivered right to my door. That’s probably the best thing about having an assistant, be it a medical professional, or no. Then after lunch, Kelly takes me for a walk in the wheelchair, or if she’s being a big meany, the walker. I’m joking, I know that it’s good for me to stay active and mobile. There will come a day when even sitting in a wheelchair will feel like too much. The walk takes as long as I can handle it, because I’ve always needed a nap right after it, and in some cases, during. She usually has to wake me up to take more pills, and then I just stay awake for more TV, more physical therapy, dinner, more pills, and more recently, writing these posts. Finally, it’s time for bed. That’s pretty much it. Exciting, I know. It’s so interesting, in fact, I think I’ll start a vlog about it, so a company can offer to sponsor me, then get mad when things don’t work out (probably because I’ll be dead). So. You’ve all been writing me letters, and that’s a very lovely thought, but I’m not going to tell you where I live, I do not have a publicist, because it’s a waste of money at this point, and the jail shouldn’t be worrying about them. They have enough on their plate. Here’s the deal, if you send more letters addressed to me, they have been instructed to literally throw them away. They’re not even gonna open them. So please, stop killing trees for no reason. If you want to say something to me, you can send a quick message below, or catch me on social. I still might not be able to read them, though, because it’s getting harder and harder for me to keep my eyes open in front of screens. And my lifecare assistant isn’t getting paid for all that extra stuff. Thank you for understanding. Goodbye.

Microstory 2213: Calming Environment

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Negative. Negative or inconclusive, that is. All of the blood test results came back, and none of them told us what Nick might have. We woke up to no answers today, just as we have every morning in recent days. He was scheduled to have an MRI in the early afternoon, so we were still hopeful that that would turn up something, but it didn’t tell us anything either. Well, I’m sure it told the doctor something, but it goes over our heads. All we know is that Nick is sick, and there is no apparent treatment for it. While we were waiting for the ultimately unhelpful MRI analysis results, I took him for a walk in the arboretum. This is precisely why they built the hospital at this location, so patients and loved ones can have a calming environment in some of their darkest times. There are trails in there that are somewhat difficult to walk on, or at least which require two legs, but for the less mobile people, there are also paved paths. We stayed on those, but were still able to enjoy a lot of beauty. I think it was really great for him to be out there. If you go deep enough, you stop being able to see the ninety degree angles of the buildings and roads, and hear the sounds of the cars. He told me that he likes either being inside with the conditioned air, or in nature, but not in between. He doesn’t like the urban world, with all its loud artificial noises, and crowds of people. Due to all the jail time he experienced, and the work he did during and after that, he hasn’t been able to spend much time in places like that. He agrees that it did him good, but there was a downside to it. I pushed him in the wheelchair, which is not the same thing as walking it himself. He regrets not going on one more hike, but of course, he had no idea that things would turn out like this. He may never be able to once again walk on his own, but I’ll take him to places like this every day if he wants. Nature has been scientifically proven to be emotionally and mentally beneficial to all, but especially for someone like him, and for someone in his condition. EEG, and maybe a spinal tap, tomorrow. Yikes!

Microstory 2049: Oklahoma

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Back in August, my papa was sitting in his wheelchair in the dining room. He was looking up at the map where he and my dad had placed stickers to show which states they had gone to. My papa was only missing two states. He had never gone to Oklahoma or Minnesota. It was hard for him to pick up objects, but he asked me to hand him a quarter. When he let go of it, it fell to the floor. It landed on tails, which he had decided meant that he would be going to Oklahoma. I think he knew that he didn’t have very much time left, because that is where he died. He was sitting in a blue camping chair, watching the sunset with his favorite people. My dad was sitting on his right, and I was sitting on his left. Grandma Daphne, Aunt Cooper, Uncle Currian, and my cousins, Nash, Osmond, and Thatcher were all there too. Even though we knew that it was going to happen, it was sad, especially since I was there to see it. Still, I’m glad that he was looking at something so beautiful when it happened, instead of just staring up at the ceiling, or something.

Microstory 2047: Delaware

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Papa struggled with the ALS for many months, doing what the doctors recommended, and trying different medications. Nothing was working, so they decided to go see another doctor. There was a different specialist who lived in Millsboro, Delaware. This is the one who told my fathers that the disease was aggressive. That’s the word I heard my family use a lot: aggressive. It sounds really mean. Some people can live 10 years after they find out that they have ALS, and I wish I could say that my papa was one of them, but he wasn’t. He found out in 2021, and you already know how this story ends. They did everything they could, but that wasn’t much. All they could really do in the end was make him as comfortable as possible. Delaware was not a good trip either. I will probably never go to Pennsylvania or Delaware. I might not even go to North Dakota again. Delaware was the last time that my papa could walk. He had to stay in the wheelchair for the rest of his life. It was hard to see him like that, but I would rather see him like that than not at all.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: November 4, 2398

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Leona wheels herself down the hallway, and peeks into the room. Nope, not who she’s looking for. She continues to the next one. Not this one either. She knows that Cheyenne is in one of these rooms, but they wouldn’t tell her which. They also wouldn’t tell her if that’s just hospital policy, or if Cheyenne specifically asked not to see her. There we go, this room right here. Leona knocks on the door as she’s inviting herself in. “Hey. We haven’t talked yet.”

Cheyenne is sitting up straight in her bed, supporting her back on her own. It looks like a physical therapy exercise. “They told me you weren’t feeling up to visitors.”

“I don’t know why they said that,” Leona replies. “Mateo, Ramses, Kivi, and Marie all came to visit.”

Cheyenne just frowns.

“I wanted to apologize for what happened,” Leona says forlornly. “I never should have put you in that position. The whole thing about that place is that crime is legal. It’s no surprise that people took advantage of that.”

“Not all crime,” Cheyenne counters. “Bombings, which endanger not only a high number of people within the boundaries, but also neighboring areas, are not legal. Besides, didn’t you hear? The suspects are in custody.”

“I heard, yes. I know that they’re the ones who did it, but I still feel responsible.”

“I’m an adult, I made my choice.”

“You’ve lost so much already. Bridgette...” She was trying to start a list, but the first one is too heartbreaking.

“I don’t blame you for what happened to her either,” Cheyenne promises. “Look, I’ve not said much about my past, or my origins, but just know that you have nothing to apologize for. I was born into this secret underground world. You and your team didn’t bring me in, like you seem to think. I may even know more about it than you. If anything, I’m the one who put you in danger, by letting you know me.”

“I don’t believe that.”

Cheyenne chuckles. “You may change your mind one day. You’re time travelers,” she muses with a shrug. “Keeping secrets from people like us inevitably leads to failure.”

Leona narrows her eyes. She wants to know who this woman really is, but she knows that she’s not entitled to it. Still, she’s right. When you’re part of the salmon and choosing one network, you can’t expect to keep things from others, especially not if two or more people know about it. Even the adage, two can keep a secret if one of them is dead is completely meaningless for them. They probably would have cracked this nut a long time ago if the Third Rail weren’t stifling temporal manipulation, and hindering the circulation of information. “It doesn’t matter. That building was mine, and I was responsible for anyone in it, and anything that happened to them.”

Cheyenne nods tightly and respectfully. “Okay.” She leans back, and exhales, either finished with her exercise, or too tired to go on for now.

“Miss, you can’t be in here,” the nurse says from the doorway.

“We’ll talk later,” Cheyenne says.

“In the meantime,” she begins before turning her attention to the nurse, “I would like to speak with administration to find out why I’m not allowed to see my friend.”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: November 2, 2398

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Leona wakes up in a hospital bed. Her husband’s is the first face she sees. The nurse’s is the next. She tries to speak, but it doesn’t feel like her voice is coming out. The nurse hands Mateo a cup of water so he can hold it under Leona’s chin, and help her sip. Quenched, she can utter the only pertinent word right now. “Report.”

“There was an explosion,” Mateo begins to explain as the nurse is leaving to get the doctor. “They don’t know who, and if they know how, they’ve not released this information to the public. The investigation is going slow. The fact that the crime took place in a crime hole is causing some jurisdictional issues. Normally, an internal investigative team would be expected to handle this on their own, but when neighboring areas are at risk, external forces are willing to come in, which they have to, because—”

“Because I drained the swamp of nearly all staff, and absolutely all security,” Leona recalls. “I don’t regret it.”

“This being the case, police would usually try to get consent from the owner of the crime hole to step in, but since you were incapacitated...”

“They have it,” Leona says. “Anyone with the authority to investigate crime has my consent and support to do what they must.”

“I’ll text Winona,” Mateo says, taking out his device.

Once he’s done with that, Leona says, “go on.”

“Cheyenne and Marie were hurt; Cheyenne the least. She was conscious, and able to inform the rescuers that only the three of you were in the building at the time. Is that a fair assessment?”

“As far as we knew, yes. We kept a few staff to help with the transition, but we asked them not to come in today—”

“It’s the second of November,” Mateo interrupts.

“We asked them not to come in on that day,” Leona amends. “We wanted to walk the space, and envision the changes. Is it destroyed? Is the whole thing gone?”

“It is, yes. It was a massive explosion.”

“That’s a silver lining. We were just discussing how we would prefer to knock it down, and rebuild from scratch...assuming we haven’t lost ownership over it.”

“No one has said as much. I don’t know how it works.”

The doctor comes in and performs a basic examination on Leona. She has multiple bruises, a head laceration, and both of her legs are broken. She cracks a joke about this being a blessing since she didn’t have to cut them off, like last time. He doesn’t think it’s funny, but if he knew that she wasn’t lying... She’s going to make a full recovery, but the healing process is going to take some time. She will be confined to a wheelchair for the next three months at least, maybe even longer. She would be able to transition to crutches sooner, but there’s little point in trying that when both legs need time to heal. Leona is taking it surprisingly well. Again, if he only knew the kinds of things she has gone through, he would understand that this is not life-shattering news. It sucks, but if all else fails, she should eventually be able to just transfer her consciousness to a new body.

Shortly after the doctor leaves to let Leona get some rest, there is a knock on the door. Mateo answers to find Kivi on the other side. She steps into the room quietly, and looks around cautiously. She opens the door to the bathroom, like she’s expecting another person to be here. Then she settles her gaze back on Leona, and finally exhales.

“Are you looking for another bomb?” Leona asks.

“No, I was looking for the people who did it,” Kivi replies.

“What made you believe that they were in here? You don’t think that one of us did it, do you?”

“Of course not!” Kivi says. “I think I’ve overestimated how much control I’ve developed over my psychic abilities. I want to catch the people who did this to you, but my heart just wanted to make sure my friend was okay.”

“That’s sweet,” Leona says. “Thank you.”

“I better get back to the team.” Kivi lifts her watch up, and speaks into it, “code orange. Stand down.”

“Code orange?” Mateo asks.

“Like a detour sign?” Kivi explains. “These are not the droids we’re looking for.”

“Why do you know pop culture references from the wrong reality?” Leona questions.

“I dunno.” Kivi starts to back out of the room casually. “Why is a tree good? Why is the sunset good? Why are boobs good?”

Leona narrows her eyes at her. “I love you.”

“Love you too!” Kivi calls back just as she’s stepping out of view.

Leona manages to get a little bit of sleep before Ramses abruptly invites himself into the room. “She’s asleep,” Mateo tries to whisper, but it’s too late.

“I’m up.”

“Good.” Also without asking, Ramses lifts the bedsheets, and slides Leona’s hospital gown up to get a look at her legs.

“Oh good, you’ve graduated from medical school at last,” Leona jokes.

“I just need a quick look.” Ramses feels Leona’s upper thighs, and sticks his fingers down her casts.

“And a feel.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s your body; you built it for me.”

Ramses rolls his eyes. Then he takes out his version of a Star Trek tricorder, and scans her legs. “Yeah, I think this will work, but I can’t promise.”

“What will work?” Mateo asks, growing impatient.

“Did anyone tell you that we’re planning to raise the Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez from the bottom of the ocean?” Ramses asks them as he’s checking Leona’s lymph nodes for an as of yet unknown reason.

“Yeah, what does this have to do with my wife’s medical condition?”

“Do you remember what happened to you when you teleported yourself into orbit? Did you die up there?”

Leona realizes what Ramses is thinking. “Oh. You think if I break the planet’s atmosphere, I’ll regain my transhumanistic upgrades, and reactivate my healing nanites, which will repair my legs.”

“That’s the idea,” Ramses confirms.

“Is that even a thing?” Mateo asks.

“Only one way to find out.” Ramses and Leona high five each other.

Microstory 1555: Fate: The Causal Saga

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Prompt

Some people think that they have free will, while others believe in fate, but the truth is that it’s impossible to ever be sure one way or another, so why ask the question?

Botner

The answer is, for me, something that should be applied to the whole question of what we believe and why we believe it. What we believe to be true and what is true are relative terms. The thing is, free will is based on what we can control. Even when we say we’re playing the random number generator, the results are as predictable as any calculation. It’s not that we can’t be lucky, but even chance is ultimately determined. I suspect that we will only really start to understand the mystery of free will when we realize that there’s nothing we can do, that there’s no one for us to blame, and therefore no one to control. That’s when we’ll understand what true freedom is. About a week ago, I finished a book that has kept me away from blogging and reading for a while. I first heard about it a while back, when it was on the list for a discussion I was having with someone, and was intrigued by the idea. It’s the story of a family living in northern Alberta, and how that environment changes the lives of those involved. The wife is pregnant and has gone into labor, and leaves her husband to go to hospital, with her young son and her mother in tow. As she’s being wheeled away...

Conclusion

...a man rushes in, and claims to be the father. It’s not the husband, though, and you probably have a pretty good idea where this is going. So what does this have to do with fate and free will? Well, all the characters in the story had the opportunity to make whatever choices they felt necessary. They might have regretted it afterwards, or not. It doesn’t matter, it can’t be changed. Furthermore, each character is beholden to whatever choices the other characters made, as well as other people who aren’t characters. They’re also influenced by the weather, the geography, the time in which they were born. Now, when you add this all up together, a lot of people think this spells fate, but that’s not the case. Just because you don’t have control over everything, doesn’t mean you have control over nothing. If you could control all of reality, that would be omnipotence, and that is neither the opposite of, nor answer to, fate. So what’s the answer to this? Does fate exist? Or just free will. I say neither, really. We’re all just trying to make the best choices we can with the cards we’ve been dealt. It’s all about causality, which started with the big bang, and will end with the heat death. Trying to figure out any more details is futile, unnecessarily taxing, and unproductive. Just live your life, and be as happy as you can, while helping as many others as you can, as much as you can. Or don’t, who am I to judge?

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 22, 2016

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The Insulator of Life was one of those things that always did what it was meant to do, theoretically through psychic commands. It didn’t have any buttons or switches, or some kind of computer screen. Leona simply placed it on Mateo’s chest, like she had years ago. Instead of returning his own life to his body, though, she was this time extracting two extraneous lives, with the intention of housing them in the Insulator itself. She knew this was possible, because it had once worked on Brooke and Sharice Prieto. It was a painful process, but it didn’t last forever. Once it was over, Mateo was feeling lighter than ever. He was back to his normal, dumb self.

“How do you feel?” Ramses asked.

“I’m a little nauseated from the experience, but my mind feels amazing.”

“Good, good,” Leona said. “I’m no doctor, but I imagine the nausea will pass. You probably just need a good night’s rest. You’ve been through a lot.”

“I’m sorry, Leona.”

“No more apologies, but my ultimatum remains, even in light of the revelation that you were under the influence. If you leave once more, I don’t ever want to see you again.”

“I understand.”

“Declan,” Ramses began, “could you help me help him upstairs? I assume you have guest quarters somewhere?”

“We just call it a guest bedroom,” Declan said, “and yes.”

Mateo slept the rest of the morning away. When he woke up, he made his way downstairs, and found the rest of his friends sitting in the living room. Leona was wearing the HG Goggles again. “Hey, honey.”

“What are you doing with those?” he asked.

“Here,” she said, removing them, and handing them over.

He put them on, and looked around. Arcadia was pretending to be sitting in one of the chairs. Erlendr was nowhere to be found, though. “Is your father here too?”

“He refuses to come out,” Arcadia answered. “I’m sure it’s for the best.”

“Can he hear you talking about him now?”

“Our consciousnesses are both in here, and we can communicate with each other, but we retain our individuality. He’s pouting alone, and doesn’t know what we’re talking about.”

“What are we talking about?” Mateo asked.

“Could you please translate for us?” Declan requested. “We can’t hear her without the goggles.”

“Sorry,” Mateo said. He started regurgitating what Arcadia was saying for the group.

“We’re discussing what to do with her,” Ramses explained. “We can’t just leave her in there forever. I mean, we technically probably could, but we’re hoping for a solution.”

“We could go back to the future,” Arcadia said. “They would be able to build me a synthetic body of some kind. In this time period, however, there’s nothing.”

“I still think it would work to place you in someone who’s already in a coma, or a vegetative state,” Leona said, kind of out of character. “Your consciousness would mend any physical damage to their brain, and then you would be able to walk around.”

“That’s not ethical,” Ramses said. “It’s the kind of thing I would suggest. What if the person we chose was destined to wake up?”

“I won’t let you do it anyway,” Declan declared. “If I want to be a superhero one day, I can’t let things like this slide.”

Nerakali suddenly walked into the room. “There is another way.”

“Sister!” Arcadia exclaimed.

“Hello, sister,” Nerakali said back to her.

“Wait, you can see her?” Leona questioned.

“All the Prestons have psychic abilities, to varying degrees. Zeferino was the worst. Erlendr was the best. I’m just okay, but I’m good enough to carry on a conversation.”

“Well, what’s the other way?” Arcadia asked her.

“I know of a body that no one else is using, and they never will. It’s up for grabs, if you want it.”

“Why is it not in use?” Declan asked. This was his time period, so he was going to be particularly protective of the other people living in it.

“Jesimula Utkin,” Nerakali said. “She went back in time using a homestone, and stopped her younger self from developing time powers.”

“Wait, you can develop time powers?” Declan was very interested in this.

“You can if you’re one of the Springfield Nine, yes. Anyway, there were now two versions of her in the timeline, so she decided to quantum assimilate with each other. Normally, the body they don’t use is scattered throughout space and time, but Jesi decided to keep the other one. I don’t really know why; I didn’t talk to her about it. I just know where it is.”

“That was over twenty years ago,” Mateo pointed out. “Isn’t it a desiccated corpse by now?”

“It’s not a corpse,” Nerakali replied. “It’s still technically alive. It just can’t think or do anything. It’s been in the hospital this whole time. It can breathe, pump blood, swallow, and digest. It wears a diaper, though, and orderlies have to hand feed it.”

“That’s kind of...gross,” Ramses decided.

Nerakali shrugged. “It was her choice. I try not to judge.”

“I’m willing to do it,” Arcadia said, “but I’ll need Jesimula’s permission. We can’t just take it.”

“Aww,” Mateo couldn’t help but say. “You’re growing.”

“Shut up,” she said with a psychic blush.

“I know where the real Jesi is as well,” Nerakali said. “Who’s up for a field trip?”

They found Jesimula Utkin in her lab. She was apparently a pretty big deal here, but she didn’t run the place, like she had in her old life. She no longer had the advantage of temporal powers.

“So. What do you do here?” he asked.

“I’m trying to find a way to replicate the 2025 pathogen.”

“What!” Leona exclaimed.

“Well,” Jesi began, “in an old timeline, I forced Paige Turner to go to the future, so she could become infected with the pathogen. When she went back to her own time period, she spread it more slowly then before, which served to inoculate the entire human race. But then Ace Reaver forced me to go back in time, where I altered the course of history. Now none of that is going to happen, so I have to do it in some other way. Again.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” Nerakali contradicted.

“This is really important to me,” Jesi said. “I kind of based my whole life around saving the species.”

“No, it’s taken care of,” Nerakali added. “The Stitcher handled it.”

Jesi was surprised by this. “She did?”

“Wait, what does that mean?” Leona asked. “What did Tonya do?”

“She folded the two realities together,” Nerakali said. “All that Jesi did when she sent Paige to the 32nd century; that all happened in this timeline, even though her later actions in the past should have prevented it. It’s a stable paradox.”

“My mother died as a result of that disease!” Leona shouted.

Everyone was silent for a moment.

“I mean, it’s the trolley problem,” Nerakali finally said.

“Oh, bullshit! Why did my mother have to be the one who dies? It’s so arbitrary!”

“It’s not arbitrary,” Arcadia said. “It’s fate. I made it so.”

“You agree with her, Mateo?” Leona cried. “She was your mother too!”

“I remember. I’m the one who killed her in the timeline before that.”

“I can’t look at any of you right now.” Leona activated her emergency teleporter, and returned to Declan’s house, where he and Ramses had stayed.

Jesi melted all the bones in her body. “My life’s purpose is pointless. I’ve been wasting my time in this lab.”

“No, you haven’t,” Mateo consoled her. “You’ve contributed to science, and now you can move on to some other project. You might cure cancer. Just because you don’t have a time traveling building doesn’t mean you can’t make things better.”

“Thanks,” Jesi said. “You didn’t come here just to drop that bombshell on me, did you?”

“We need your permission for something,” Nerakali said to her. “We would like to give your other body to someone else.”

Jesi hadn’t seen this request coming. “For who?”

Nerakali gestured towards Mateo. “For the invisible person he’s been translating for.”

“Here,” he said. He took off the HG Goggles, and handed them to Jesi.

“Come on,” Nerakali said to him. “Let’s give them some privacy.” She set the Insulator on the table, and they both walked out of the room.

Jesi and Arcadia didn’t talk too long before the former agreed to give her alternate body to the latter. She never explained why it was she was keeping it around in the first place, but they were grateful it was available. She gave them directions to the hospital where the body was being cared for, and said she would call ahead about her so-called twin sister being transferred to another facility. Obviously, the hospital didn’t really know the truth about the person they were being paid to take care of. The administrators were fully expecting their arrival, and gave them no trouble at the door. Trouble was waiting for them in the body’s room, though. Someone was already trying to remove the vacant Jesi body from the premises.

“Allen?” Mateo asked. He was loading the Jesi body into a wheelchair. “Jul—Saxon? What are you doing?”

“Oh,” Allen said. “This is why she wanted us to come to this exact date. She wanted a confrontation.”

“Who wanted a confrontation?” Nerakali asked, arms folded. “Jesi?”

“No,” Saxon said. “Volpsidia.”

“She wants this body?” Nerakali asked.

“She doesn’t have one of her own anymore. The prison cremated it when they found it empty of a consciousness.”

“Who the hell are we talking about?” Mateo questioned earnestly.

“She’s a psychic,” Nerakali answered. “Like, a damn good. Probably the best within the bounds of the universe. She must have jumped into someone else’s body, so she could escape Beaver Haven. I don’t know what her ultimate plan was, but it was stupid. Cremation is standard protocol for a dead body found in the prison.”

“She doesn’t have her old body in anymore, so she’s going to steal Jesi’s?”

“She told us it was extra,” Saxon explained.

“It is,” Mateo agreed arguably, “but we need it.”

“Well, so do we,” Allen said, “so what do we do? If we try to go back empty handed, she’s going to kill my husband; his brother.

Mateo sighed, but then he felt a burning sensation in his pocket. “Ackey!” He pulled out the Insulator of Life, and let it fall onto the Jesi’s body’s bed. “Why is it so hot? Are they dying?”

“My sister’s probably just trying to get your attention,” Nerakali said.

He put the HG Goggles back on.

“Give them the body,” Arcadia said. “They’re right, they need it more. I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life. Richard is a good person, though.”

“It sounds like Volpsidia isn’t,” Mateo said to her.

“Who is he talking to?” Allen questioned.

“Don’t worry about it,” Nerakali answered him.

“This is a ransom,” Arcadia reasoned, “and I’m paying the ransom. Let them have the body.”

Mateo looked over to Nerakali for guidance. She couldn’t hear what her sister was saying, but she was wise enough to guess. She just shrugged. He sighed again, and stepped to the side. 

“Thank you,” Allen said.

“Thanks,” Saxon echoed.

“Well, what the hell are we gonna do now?” Mateo asked as they left the room behind the other two, walking at a respectful distance behind them.

“I don’t know. I don’t have any other ideas,” a defeated Nerakali said.

“What’s that light up ahead?” The doorway to one of the rooms was glowing.

“It’s probably just some tear in the spacetime continuum,” she said dismissively. “Who cares?”

Mateo felt himself drawn to it. He stepped inside to find out what it was. A woman was sitting in her own wheelchair. It wasn’t just any woman, though. It was Arcadia. She was nearly completely motionless and nonreactive. Drool was dribbling down her cheek.

“Holy shit,” Nerakali said. She snapped her fingers in the physical Arcadia’s face. “She’s unresponsive. She’s a vegetable too.”

“How did this happen?” Mateo asked. “When in your timeline are you like this?” he asked the psychic projection of Arcadia.

“That is not me,” she said, almost defensively.

“There’s something glowing on the desk too,” Mateo noticed.

Nerakali stepped over, and picked it up. “It’s The Artist’s chisel.” She started working through it in her head. “This isn’t Arcadia. This is a recreation of her. The Artist went back in time, and made one, almost certainly for this very purpose. We place the Insulator on the body, and tap her forehead with this chisel, she’ll come to life.”

“Really? Well, let’s do it. Are you all right with that?” he asked Arcadia, but he knew what her answer would be.

“Hell yeah.”

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: November 3, 2241

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It took some doing, but Sanaa did manage to warm up, and open up, a little to Leona. Leona did the same to her as well. They had more in common than they realized. Their hostilities towards each other, especially on Sanaa’s part, didn’t make a whole lot of sense to begin with. As it turned out, she struggled with meeting people who genuinely wanted to be her friend, and didn’t just want to use her powers. Lots of choosers were called upon to do jobs for others, but that was different, at least in her mind. For someone else, it was more of a skill that others valued. For Sanaa, she was really just the middlewoman, who people only spoke to so they could connect with those they actually liked. It was unclear whether people were turned off by her because of her attitude, or if she developed a bad attitude because she felt underappreciated. Regardless, she wasn’t an unpleasant person on the other side of her protective emotional walls, and Leona was getting to know that.

She spent the rest of 2240 in the waters. The great thing about the technology was that the most skeptical and reluctant individual will still adapt surprisingly quickly. And they required no body modification in order to thrive in it. Some random guy from the nineteenth century would be able to dive into one of these tanks, and spend an indefinite amount of time there with no problem breathing. It was quite peaceful in the water, except when she was being bombarded with questions. The colonists somehow got wind that she was partially responsible for the construction of their habitats just before they arrived. Of course Eight Point Seven did most of the work, while she wasn’t in the timestream, but they still considered her to be a worthy celebrity. Unfortunately, they wanted to communicate with her using the sign language they developed, which was designed to be used inside heavier water resistance, and slight visual impairment. That was really the only thing that would hinder the hypothetical nineteenth century man from thriving. His eyes would never truly adjust to the way light bent in the underwater.

Leona was a highly intelligent person, with knowledge from three separate timelines, but even she wasn’t capable of learning the sign language within a day. Despite her seeming misanthropy, Sanaa had picked it up already, and was able to interpret for her when the colonists wanted to talk. This solidified their bond, because now Sanaa didn’t feel so alone and overlooked. They were having so much fun getting to know each other that Leona didn’t realize midnight central was approaching. Even if she had, she probably wouldn’t have thought to break the surface for her time jump. There was no reason to believe anything strange would happen to the environment as a result of her sudden disappearance, or her sudden reappearance a year later. When she tried to exit the tank at that point, the waters followed her out. Her gravity regulator was malfunctioning, which acted to envelop her in her own little aquatic atmosphere that she couldn’t shake. It was kind of cool, but a little annoying.

“Can you modify my gravity field remotely?” Leona asked.

Hokusai was fiddling with her tablet, trying to solve the problem. “It’s having trouble connecting. Like, it will connect, but it won’t let me do anything.”

“And you’re sure you can’t open up the panel on my leg?”

“The water has already damaged your systems enough. It’ll make it even worse if we open the floodgates. That could render your legs completely inoperable, and because of your pattern, it could be virtually impossible to build new ones for you. You weren’t on your pattern when you got these ones here, right?”

“Yeah,” Leona answered sadly.

“Your body needs time to adjust, and time is something  you have far less of than most people.”

Leona tried to use her hand to scrape the water from her face again, and from her legs, even knowing it wouldn’t work. Despite the fact that the planet itself should have been exerting a greater amount of attraction than her artificial gravity legs, it was like trying to scoop the water from a bucket with strainer. “What if I got back in the tank, and then got out some other way? What if I got dressed, or I dunno, started to dance?”

“I don’t think we’re gonna find a home remedy for this. Just give me a minute. If I can only connect for one second, that will be enough to deactivate your regulator.”

Loa came in and walked up. “How do you feel. Can you breathe?”

“Well, I’m not technically breathing, since that’s what my lungs are for, but yes, I feel fine. I just don’t want to feel like this forever.” She redirected her attention back to Hokusai. “Heat?”

“No.”

“Cold. Maybe we could freeze it, and chip it off?”

“That would kill you. Just let me figure this out.”

“It’s not going to connect,” Leona tried to tell her. “It’s broken. You’re going to have to open up the panel, and switch it off manually.”

“No, I told you I can’t do that.”

“I’ll do it myself,” Leona decided. She knelt down to access the panel.

“Stop right there, young lady!”

She complied, secretly relieved that Hokusai stopped her. “If I wait until my next time jump, will that fix it?”

“It’s possible, though not likely. If I’m to understand your history correctly, you and Mateo once made a time jump while you were in a tent?”

“Yeah, it was weird. If we’re standing in a room, we don’t take it with us through time, but I guess the powers that be interpret tents like they do clothing.”

“How would they interpret a magical water blanket?”

“Good point.”

“How about you try sending an electrical pulse through the water; disrupt its tension?”

“Where did you get your degree?”

“In two thousand and twenty-four,” Leona replied.

“Now, that’s a good point.”

While it was true that Leona’s education and experience as a physicist and a science fiction buff combined allowed her to understand future technology to a higher degree than most, it only took her so far. She tried to keep up on modern advancements, but there were only so many hours in the day, and she just didn’t know how everything worked. She either understood the creative concepts based on her breadth of film knowledge, or the mechanics from her master’s degree, but if Hokusai tried to ask her for help with the new reframe engine, she would be all but useless.

“Where did Sanaa swim off to?” Loa asked. Perhaps she was merely trying to get Leona’s mind off her predicament.

“I dunno,” Leona answered. “Probably living her best life.”

“I’m right here,” Sanaa called up from the other side of Hokusai’s lab.

“What are you doing out of the water?” Loa asked her with deep concern. She ran over to help her carry this giant machine. It had wheels, but it sounded like they needed some lubricant. Tubing was dragging behind it.

“I’m fine,” Sanaa answered, though she was grateful for the help. “The gravity in this room is at one-point-four-g, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Hokusai confirmed. “I need it higher than Earth gravity for some of my experiments, “but you had to walk clear across the dome, and it’s much higher out there.”

“Hashtag worth it,” Sanaa said. Once she was right in front of Leona, she lifted one of the tubes, and pointed it directly at her. Then she switched on the machine, and everybody watched as it sucked all the water from Leona’s skin.

“A wet-vac?” Hokusai asked after the deed was done.

“Yes,” Sanaa said. “I have demonstrated their weakness may be found from a less sophisticated approach. You are no longer capable of such thinking.” This was a near direct quote from an episode of the ancient series, Stargate SG-1. She was a good person.

“Thank you so much,” Leona said. “You’re right, we did not think of that.”

Hokusai sat Leona down in the nearest chair, and examined her leg. “Remaining droplets are continuing to stick to your skin. This is fascinating. You’re like a little planet, with your own gravity.”

“Are you calling me fat?” Leona joked.

“She’s not a planet,” Sanaa said. “She’s a star.”

Leona smiled. They were friends now. Who knew?

“I have a mini-tank over there.” Hokusai jerked her head in its general direction, but kept her eyes on Leona’s leg as she opened the access panel. “Get yourself right, and we’ll talk. I took a break from my reframe engine to build you something. It’s not a perfect solution, and you may hate it, but it’s an option for anytime you want to get out of the water.”

“What is it?” Sanaa asked, though her own weight was already getting to her. It was a miracle she managed to walk across the dome on land, lugging that huge thing behind her. Even though gravity here was a significant improvement, her time in the tank had lessened her ability to withstand even this high of gravity. It wasn’t the weight so much as it was the distribution.

“You’ll see,” Hokusai said, still working. “Loa can you help her?”

Shortly after Loa helped Sanaa into her tank to rest, Hokusai was finished repairing Leona’s gravity regulator. “Okay. You’ll be able to get back into the water, if you need to, or want to. Prolonged exposure, however, is not ideal. Obviously these are meant to be waterproof, but it’s not worth the possibility of a recurrence. We seem to have learned a little bit about your time jumps, which may make you feel worse about them.”

“I’m the kind of person who wants to know, even if it’s terrible.”

“I would need to study it more, but based on yours and Eight Point Seven’s accounts of earlier attempts, I doubt it would be safe to do so. It would appear that time doesn’t so much as open up for you as it opens you. My hypothesis is that microfissures form all over your body at midnight, allowing temporal energy itself to flood your system. In this case, it’s how the water seeped in as well. How these heal afterwards, I can’t say, but seeing as you’ve never heard any of this before, they don’t seem to be hurting you. Now, if you felt pain every time it happened—”

“I don’t technically feel pain, but Mateo and I both get real tired. We’ve gotten used to it, and the more sleep we’ve had, the better, but I still feel it every time.”

Hokusai tilted her head in thought. “Hmm. When your skin cracks open, perhaps you suffer a temporary oxygen loss, which drastically diminishes your energy. This could bad, incidental, or quite necessary. We’ve always framed your pattern as jumping forwards in time, but maybe time jumps aren’t possible, or aren’t possible for you. You could be placed in suspended animation in another dimension that doesn’t support diatomic oxygen. These are all just guesses, of course. I have no real idea what happens to you or Mateo when you disappear. I don’t even know if you and Mateo experience the same thing, or if your body relies on a workaround, since you weren’t born this way; you were made. Hogarth Pudeyonavic would understand it better. I’m more of a space girl.”

“Oh, you know Hogarth? Did I know that you knew her?”

“I don’t know.”

Loa walked back up. “She’s sleeping. Let’s wait to give it to her until tomorrow.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Hokusai agreed. “I wouldn’t hate taking one last look at the power source.”

“No, I’m up!” Sanaa exclaimed through her mouthpiece.

“Why do you keep hearing us from so far away!” Hokusai shouted.

“Hello!” Sanaa shouted back. “Psychic?”

Hokusai went over to a half-door next to Sanaa’s tank, and pulled out something that looked like a fancy wheelchair. “I don’t know if you would prefer swimming to lying down, but if you ever wanna be dry, this will help. It’s a gravity regulator, but like I said, it’s not perfect. You have to be at a pretty steep incline to distribute your weight effectively, but one thing it has going for it is that it doesn’t require a medical procedure, so it shouldn’t interfere with your powers.”

Sanaa pressed both palms, and her face against the glass—I mean, polycarbonate window. “I love it.”

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Microstory 1079: Ada

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I have seen first hand what Viola could do. She never used her gifts to help me directly, though one could argue that being included on some of her missions was exactly what I needed. She was capable of transporting herself, and others, to far away locations. It wasn’t quite instant, but it was a hell of a lot faster than flying, that’s for sure. She would later tell me she actually could indeed teleport instantaneously, but it took too much energy, and it wasn’t worth it. She chose to travel all over the world, solving other people’s problems, but she didn’t have to wait for them to cry for help, or anything. She could also see the future, so she would be able to be at the right place, at the time time...mostly. For my second mission, we helped a guy who got stuck in the snow when his wheelchair seized up. He was buried up to his waist by the time we found him. Her orientation skills weren’t always perfect, otherwise we might have stopped it before it even got that bad. I didn’t understand why Viola chose me to be part of what she used to do. She implied I would take up the mantle once she was gone, but I wasn’t born with powers, so how would that even work? It works...because I absorbed her gifts upon her death. She never said that I wasn’t meant to reveal myself to the world. Of course she never said anything, but you must be one hell of a field reporter, Alma, because I just can’t lie to you. Right now, I’m in training. Viola didn’t leave any instructions on exactly how I was meant to use my new abilities—mostly because she didn’t tell me about this at all—so she also didn’t do much in the way of instruction. When I was on those missions, I had no idea she was grooming me to be her replacement. I’m actually working with Martin, Margaret, Mae, and Mattie, since they apparently have some experience with this kind of thing. I guess we’re going to start a team? Maybe I am giving away too much. No, people should know about this. Viola’s story deserves to be told, and if my story is part of hers, then I’m just going to have to deal with those consequences. Now I’m getting all worked up about this. I’m headed to the gym to blow off some steam.

Microstory 859: Wash Out

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The last thing I expected to find when I went out for what was to become my last day of work as an exterior cleaner was a bunch of people sunbathing on top of a roof. This was no nice and flat roof, by the way. I was at a very steep angle, but they were just lying there, wearing nothing but their smiles. I didn’t see any other ladder around save mine, so I couldn’t figure out how they got up there. Perhaps they did have a ladder at some point, but then someone stole it, and they were taking it in stride. I asked them if I had the right address, and they confirmed that this was exactly where I was meant to be. I asked them if they were going to move, so I could clean it, but they just laughed and stayed put. I called my boss up, and she said all I could do was start my work, and hope they wise up, and get off on their own. I was incredibly uncomfortable doing that with such toxic chemicals, but if I went over to the other side, and started off slow, maybe it would all work out. Before too long, I had stalled long enough, and was drawing dangerously near the sunbathers. As if this was the first time they realized I was even there, they all hopped up as soon as I got too close, and flew away. I was so stunned, I slipped off the roof for the first time in my whole career. Of course, I was perfectly fine, strapped into my harness, so I just hung there for I don’t even know how long. I couldn’t figure out how they had done it. They actually flew. Humans. I had heard rumors that some guy had learned how to fly in his dreams, and managed to bring his lessons into the real world, but like most others, I didn’t believe it could be true. But I’m here to tell you, folks, that it is one hundred percent true, even though I obviously can’t personally prove it to you. I sought out the teacher—my now boss—immediately, and started my lessons. Unfortunately, what we discovered is that not everyone is physiologically capable of flight. We can predict the likelihood of your success, but we need quite a bit of information first. So yes, it is absolutely imperative that you fill out these health histories with perfect accuracy, and go through the rigorous physical assessments. You don’t wanna end up in a chair like me, do you?

Voyage to Saga: Magnate (Part IX)

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The last thing that Vearden remembered was famous actor Steven Pasquale pushing his wheelchair down the hall of the abandoned whatever it was. He couldn’t tell if he just blacked out, or if The Shepherd simply apported him back to the hotel suite. Honestly, it could go either way. He could remember way back when. When being strapped to a chair that was bolted to the floor of a ship that was hanging over an apocalyptic cliff was the second worst thing that had ever happened to him. Now, the true lobotomy experience might be even worse than losing his best friend, Saga. At least he would soon get her back. His sanity, on the other hand, might never return. That was positively horrific, and he would never be able to forgive the Shepherd for putting him through it. It wasn’t like they were good friends before that, though.

“I understand how you feel,” the Shepherd said from her chaise.

By now, Vearden was—at least physically—nearly fully recovered. “No, you don’t.”

She became deeply serious. “You don’t know what I’ve been through. You have no idea who I am.”

“No matter what has been done to you, it does not give you the right to violate something like that. That isn’t right in any reality.”

“Fair point.” She waited for a moment. “I had a pretty nasty universe lined up for you next, but I’m going to cancel that one too. Instead, I’m going to give you a break. An easy one.”

“What makes it easy?”

“In your universe, you deal with time travelers. In two others, an airplane emergency, and in one, it was demons. This one is different. Like your last assignment, it takes place in a world resembling the one you lived in before you knew you were a salmon. Unlike that one, there will be no serial killers, or unethical medical procedures. There will be drama, but the most danger you’ll be in is from a paper cut.”

“That...actually kind of sounds nice.”

“It won’t be perfect. There is one catch.”

“What is that?”

“You’ll be staying there for roundabouts five years?”

“Why would I do that?”

“I need you to add to the drama, make things more complicated for the people you’ll be interacting with. Whereas before, there was a single moment where you could make a difference, here it’s more practical if you’re able to stick around for some time.”

“Okay...”

“You could skip it? Well...you could stop, that is.”

“And never see Saga again? No thanks, I’ll take the five years.”

“Very well.” She handed him a folder.

“Here is your forged documentation, complete with an alias, and fabricated history.”

“My alias is Vearden Haywood?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t see the point in changing your name since this is an entirely different universe.”

“Then it’s not an alias.”

“Whatever! Your human words are...whatever!” She clapped her hands in his face violently and yelled, “wake up!”

He blinked, and found himself awkwardly slouched toward his side in the back of a car. He felt groggy, and a little cold.

“Wake up, buddy. We’re here,” said the taxi driver.

“We are? Where’s here.”

“Magnate,” the driver replied. “Apparently it’s your first day? That’s what you said, anyway.”

“I did?” He started rubbing his eyes.

“Better get goin’. Don’t wanna be late.”

“No, wouldn’t want that.” He cleared his throat and climbed out of the cab.

“Hey, buddy!”

“Yeah?”

“Your briefcase?”

“Right.” He took the briefcase that wasn’t his from the seat, and closed the door.

He dodged a couple cars on his way across the street to a skyscraper with the word Magnate on the front. Once inside, he was met with an eerie feeling. It seemed more like a funeral, and less like an office building. Trying to blend in, he kept his head down, and made a beeline to the reception desk.

The security guard receptionist was on the phone at the time, speaking very quietly. He held up one finger to keep Vearden from interrupting. “Okay, I’ll let them know.—Yes, thank you, I’m sure the family appreciates it greatly.—Sorry, I cannot speak on that.—I cannot speak on that either.—Okay, we’ll give you a call back. Thank you.” He took in a deep breath, removed his glasses, and started massaging his eyes. He then finally looked up. “I’m sorry for the wait, sir. It’s just that the death is still fresh in all our minds.”

“It’s fine. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank y—” he stopped to study Vearden’s face. “Your tone. It’s like you’re saying that to a relative.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Do you not know who died.”

“I...” Oh no, he’s been made. He kept his eyes glued to those of the guards, but tried to focus on his peripheral vision for a clue. A large painting was hanging behind the reception desk, with some kind of black ribbon underneath. He also remembered other gravesite and memorial objects; pictures, flowers, candles. He hadn’t given it much thought since he was so confused about just being there, but it was clear what had happened. He gestured towards the painting up above, of a stern and regal man who held himself proudly, and likely made people believe that he was reading their minds. “Of course I do. Sorry. It’s my first day, I didn’t know if you knew him personally, or what.”

“I’m just the security guard.”

“For all I know, you were his first hire?”

He was suspicious, but let it go. He put his glasses back on and prepared to type on his computer. “Name.”

“Vearden Haywood.”

“Oh, you’re the new shadow. Congratulations on your win. I’m sorry it came at such a bad time.”

“Eh...time, right?”

“Rrright.” He was still not sure of Vearden, but had found him in the system, and that was enough for now.

“You’ll be starting in the mailroom, but only be there for a few days. Building services will be next. I can print off your entire tentative work schedule.”

“That would be great, thanks.”

There was a minor commotion ever since he stepped into the building. It was quieter than other places with this many people, probably because of the recent death of who appeared to be the company’s founder, but still loud enough to notice when it suddenly became silent. Now only one sound could be heard. A woman in her early twenties was briskly walking from the elevators, to the desk. All eyes were on her. She was damn important. “Galen,” she said with a high level of authority.

“Yes, Miss Wallace.”

“Something...” She paused. “Something f—ed up has happened.” She censored herself. She actually pronounced only the beginning, and the ending of the word, and mouthed the letters in the middle. He knew at this moment, that his relationship with the nurse back in the fifteenth century of his home universe, meant next to nothing. Violante, was it? He could barely remember what she looked like. Not now that he had seen the face of this absolutely radiant Miss Wallace. He was already in love.

“What is it?”

“Mister Burke’s legacy is in jeopardy. I just got out of a meeting with his lawyer, and he just sprung this on me. My assistant is sick. Or dead too, who cares? I need someone to take notes for me.”

“Uh, I can take notes.” As soon as he said it, Vearden knew that he shouldn’t have. He was no one, and he should be as invisible as possible. He was pretty good at that, so why not now? Oh, that’s right. Love.

“Who are you?” she asked, somehow both sweet and critical at the same time.

“Um, Miss Wallace, this is Vearden Haywood. He won the contest. He’s our new shadow. He’ll be with us for the next year, moving from department to department.”

She started sizing him up. “So he has no real qualifications? Yeah, no thanks, you can stay in the cafeteria, or wherever you’re going.” She turned back to Galen, who was presumably looking into finding someone more suited for the position.

“I know shorthand.” Yeah, he shouldn’t have said that either. She was not letting him think clearly.

She started studying him again. “Impressive. What type? Pitman? Gregg?”

“Shelton.”

She was taken aback by this, which was a reasonable reaction to meeting a modern-day person being familiar with Shelton short-writing. It was something he picked up back when he was living in the 18th century. He was just glad she had heard of it in this universe. Some things never change, even really innocuous things.

“That’s weird, Vardan.”

“It’s Vearden.”

“Why do you know Shelton?”

“I’m kind of a history buff.” If she only knew what his life was really like, that would be a good joke.

She thought about it for a moment. Vearden could see Galen’s hand hovering over his keyboard, waiting for her to make a decision. “I suppose you would eventually find your way up to the top floor anyway,” she finally said. “Might as well start today. Manus would have hired you in a second, just for knowing tachygraphy. He was the best kind of crazy, and would appreciate us bringing in someone completely random for this situation.”

“Thank you,” Vearden said. “I won’t let you down.”

“We’ll see.” It was only then that she realized everyone had stopped what they were doing when she showed up. She spread her arms out and lowered her head as she looked at them. “Who here works in the lobby?” she asked rhetorically, but still had to wait for them to take the hint. “Get to your workstations,” she ordered.

They did so.

Miss Wallace looked back at Galen as she was leading Vearden away. “He can get his badge later.”

He was having trouble keeping up, but her tendency to walk fast was one of her more attractive qualities. “I want to thank you for this opportunity.”

She ignored him. “I’m going to talk to you like you’re an alien, okay? I have to assume that you know nothing about this company. But as soon as we step in that conference room, you act like you’re the foremost expert in all things Magnate, and Manus Burke, okay? Don’t talk. Don’t even look at anyone, but hold yourself like a seasoned professional. As Manus would say...act like ya been there.

“Got it.”

“Manus Burke was born in 1948. He started this company when he was only nineteen years old. He named it after himself, but combined it with the name of his favorite high school teacher, Nathan Lister, with whom he was rumored to have once been in a relationship. My grandmother needed money, so even though he didn’t need one, he hired her as his assistant. My mother took over when she retired, and I took over right out of college last year.”

“I’m sorry, you were his assistant? And you had an assistant?”

She stopped walking. “Yeah, is that a problem?”

“No, no, of course not.”

“I wasn’t just his assistant. My mother and grandmother practically ran the company with him during their tenure. They were more like partners, but the board of directors would have to vote on that sort of thing, and there were all sorts of legal issues, so it’s more of the company’s worst kept secret.”

“I understand,” Vearden said. That was really the only thing he truly understood about this universe.

“We’re almost there. So I’m just going to prepare you for what’s coming next, at least to the best of my ability.” She had to take a moment to compose herself as the elevator doors were opening. “I am evidently about to meet two women who are reportedly Manus Burke’s estranged daughters. From what I understand, they don’t even know each other, let alone who their father was, but they’re about to be handed a multi-billion dollar global organization.”

“And you think you should take over instead.”

She just placed her hand on the door handle and looked at him.

“I don’t know you, but it sure sounds like you’re the most qualified.”

That might have created a smile, but he couldn’t quite tell.

“I’m Gretchen, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Gretchen Wallace, sir.”

Vearden then spent the next five years working for Magnate, and being married to Gretchen Wallace for two of them.

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