Microstory 2780: Nothing Will Stop Her From Leaving Him

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At the moment, the two most popular planets in the galaxy are Varkas Reflex and Castlebourne. The former handles virtual simulations very well while the latter is the only place with extensive and comprehensive base reality sims. Earth is special because it’s the seed of civilization, but its population is still decreasing. Some are leaving because they want what those other worlds have, others because they want to return Earth to the wild. Incidentally, Gatewood is technically popular too, but only as a pitstop for other colonies. Most other colonies are niche or family-owned; not central hubs.

That leaves Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida. It is the only other Core World which naturally supports complex life. A human can survive on the surface in the open air with minimal bioengineering. A baseline human can survive with the right life support tech. That used to be a huge draw, but other breathable worlds have since been found, and it’s just not that important anymore. Life under a large enough dome is indistinguishable from a genuine sky. Virtual constructs are perfect, and can be programmed with any environment imaginable. Bida, despite its recent gravity problems, simply isn’t that special anymore. And those gravity problems are pushing it over the edge.

Everyone is leaving, including possibly Jande’s sister, Laise. She is missing, and it’s highly unlikely that something went wrong with her consciousness transmission. Bida may be known for its minimal use of tech, but they’re not backwards like Proxima Doma. They’re efficient, and death is an inefficient use of thought. That was engraved on the arch over the entrance to the Welcome Center below the primary space elevator, and above the door to the central substrate inventorium. Laise should be back by now.

In the weeks following the destruction of Eyrenland, the community has suffered from all sides. The whole planet has been wrecked. The people survived, but many are choosing not to rebuild their lives here. They’re going to those other places to live out their dreams. Some may end up doing exactly what they were doing before the cataclysm, just elsewhere. Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida is dying. It started quick, but it’s gonna end slow. Their way of life is being threatened by something that was entirely out of their control, and their own laws. Even Jande’s wives can’t take it anymore.

“Evers, please. Don’t leave,” Jande begs. “We’re building a life together.”

“This world is no longer safe,” Evers argues. “The black holes are still opening up all over the star system. I don’t want to be here when the next one shows up. What if it’s in the core of the planet? What if it’s in our backyard?”

“There’s a fancy ship up there,” Jande reminds her. “The Axiom of Astronomy is on it. The galaxy’s top scientists have cast themselves here to figure this out.” He sighs. “They’re gonna figure it out. The farm needs you, more than ever. I need you.”

“I’m not going to ask you to leave with me. I know that you have to stay, especially since your father...” She trails off just so she doesn’t have to finish the sentence. “You have your ways, and I thought I knew what I was getting myself into when I joined this community and married you. But I didn’t sign up for this.”

“There are ways around this,” he insists. “We can get a long-range backup relay. If your body dies, you can be on the other side of the solar system in seconds, clear of any black hole that may or may not open up here. This doesn’t have to be the end.”

Now Evers is the one to sigh. “And what if that deep space backup is destroyed too? I’m not going to risk it. This is an unprecedented threat.”

“Please, just give it another few days. They’re gonna announce something—”

“What are the divorce procedures?” Evers interrupts.

Jande doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t want to answer that question.

“Come on, I know they’re different when the marriage ends entirely, instead of remaining partially intact after only one leaves, so I can’t just utter the dissolution line, like Suki. You either come with me, or it’s over. What do I have to do to divorce you?”

Jande shakes his head. “You’re the one ending the marriage, and I’m the victim. You have to cut down a tree with an axe, and I have to cut one down with a knife.”

Evers stares at her still-husband for a minute. “Is that even possible?”

“Eventually, yes. It will take time out of my extremely busy life, but you can begin leaving before that. It will take hours, if not a day, for you to finish your own tree, get to the elevator, ride it up, and fly off. I promise to be done by then. The tree isn’t gigantic.”

“The trees we planted on our wedding day. We have to cut those ones down?”

“They symbolize our union, so yes,” Jande confirms.

“So older couples have a harder divorce. What if one of the trees is already dead?”

“Well, ours are still alive, and you’re leaving the culture completely, so what does it fucking matter?” Okay, he has shifted his emotions away from sadness now.

“I want to understand what’s happening to us, and I have the right to. I won’t push it, but I do want to know, what of Suki’s tree?” Evers questions.

“I have to take it down at some point, when I have time,” Jande explains. “It doesn’t have to be ceremonial or grueling, though. I can use a laser saw, or whatever.”

Evers frowns at him. “I was hoping to cast my mind to Varkas Reflex. I mean, if I’m gonna become incorporeal anyway, I might as well travel there without this body—”

“Goddammit!” Jande pushes past Evers and walks around to the back of the house. He pulls out his sheath knife and starts to slice against the trunk of his tree, at the narrowest section he can find, grateful that it doesn’t have to be at a particular height. He’s already making good progress, fueled by his adrenaline.

Evers walks up next to him. “I never wanted it to end like this.”

“But you wanted it to end,” Jande points out. “Good, that’s great. I’m so happy for you, you’re finally getting the life you wanted. I’m so sorry that I trapped you on the most beautiful planet in the universe. You must have been miserable.”

“I was never miserable,” Evers begins. “I’m just scared. I don’t think you see how dangerous this has become. Our ancestors prepared for everything—everything!—when they started to explore outer space, but they never thought of this. I know you think what you’re doing is important, but it’s not worth your life. It’s not worth mine, and there was a time when you would have agreed with me. Just...think about it.”

Jande stops working for a second to catch his breath. He looks over at her. “I don’t have time to cut down my tree and help you find the axe in the rubble that was our shed. You better go look for it so you can finish this quick enough to cast away in time to catch that sweet VR wave, dude. Hang ten.” He goes back to cutting.

He can see her nod quietly before she walks off.

She is so inexperienced with the axe, he almost finishes his tree before she finishes hers. They don’t say another word to each other for the rest of time. She takes a shuttle to the temporary Welcome Center tent, and leaves him forever.

Microstory 2779: Nearly Everyone Dies

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Jande Ter Avest wakes up and yawns, louder than he wanted to, which serves to wake up his wives. They were going to have to wake up soon enough anyway, though, so it’s fine. He rolls over and gives Evers a kiss, then lifts himself up and over her to kiss Suki. Second Autumn is coming to a close, so it’s the first morning that it’s still dark out when it’s time to get to work. He starts to leave the house as he is, as he normally does.

“Jan,” Evers says. It doesn’t even look like her eyes are open. “You need clothes.”

“It’s not cold enough, I’ll be fine,” Jande assures her.

“Put on clothes,” Evers reiterates. She’s still drowsy and annoyed.

“Put on clothes,” Suki echoes.

“Put on clothes, put on clothes, put on clothes.” They know he hates chanting.

“Fine, fine. I’m putting on my clothes,” Jande reluctantly agrees. “God.”

“Yay,” Suki replies as she buries her face in her pillow.

“Yay,” Evers concurs, just as exhausted and grumpy.

Jande does as they ask, then goes outside. He can never admit that they were right. It is unseasonably cold already. He didn’t bother to check the forecast, but they must have. He ends up stepping back inside real quick to grab a coat too.

He shivers as he’s walking towards the barn. Across the way, he sees his sister walking towards it from her own house. Her pet uquirapod is waddling alongside her. They wave to each other and smile, but don’t speak. It’s too early to speak. He doesn’t hate his life, but he doesn’t love it either. One day, when his parents’ bodies are old enough, they’ll retire, and it will be up to him and Laise to carry on the legacy.

As long as Laise doesn’t run off to find her own way, Jande’s workload will only double, and if he doesn’t have kids eventually, it could last indefinitely. He doesn’t mind doing it for the duration of a legal lifetime if it makes his family happy. He has his whole immortality ahead of him, which he can spend doing whatever he wants. It’s not that hard of a job anyway, it’s just kind of silly to him. One day he’ll look back, and this will only be a blip. His mind lives in that future. He thinks Laise’s mind does too.

She holds the door open for him, and they both walk in. Their father is leaning back in his chair, fast asleep. If he’s not careful, he’ll tip over and fall on his head.

When Laise clears her throat, Father is startled awake. He instantly looks up at the two of them, and says, “you’re late!” like he had the complaint in the chamber.

Laise gets on her knees and rests her hand on Father’s knee. “It’s time, Father. It’s time for you to leave this body behind, and move on.”

Father winces and looks down at himself. “I’m still young enough to beat you.”

“Beat me in what?” Laise asks him with a chortle.

“Name a challenge. A foot race, a milking race; whatever you want,” Father urges.

Laise smiles at him. “You’ve been doing this for a hundred and ten years. You suffered through a lot of harsh winters, and if we’re being honest, your body wasn’t designed perfectly. There is no shame in retiring early. You’ll head west and start a new life. We can take it from here, we promise. Mother wants to be done too, I know it.”

Father shakes his head. “Neither of you married invested workers. You underestimate how hard this job is. You will not be able to handle it just between the two of you. Our way of life must be upheld. You both need to find new partners.”

“We married for love, Father,” Jande explains. “They still help, they just also do other things with their lives. That’s what I love about Evers and Suki.”

“That’s why I love Adora,” Laise agrees. “Our generation doesn’t believe in hard work simply for the sake of it, but that doesn’t mean we’re not committed. It’s no secret that we plan on integrating slightly more technology into the processes. Father, you have not tried to dissuade us from this. We’ll still be farmers, just more modern ones. Holding on for ten more years will not preserve tradition, it will just make your joints achy.” She gently removes the tablet from his hands. “Why don’t you let me handle assignments today? You go take a nap to sleep on it.” She looks down at the device. “Jande, you’re on eyren duty. I’m doing carrots and parbread.”

“Oh, I thought I was gonna do carrots,” Jande says. “Evers was asking to learn more about eyren harvesting, but I told her she could sleep in today.”

“Go ahead and prep the harvesters,” Laise decides. “I’ll get Evers for you.” She looks back at Father again. “Is this okay with you, that I supervise the workers? It’s late in the season, there’s no need for you to get worked up. It’s okay to take a break.”

“Yeah, maybe I’ll take it slow today,” Father relents as he’s yawning.

While Laise is walking across the lawn to Jande’s house, Jande walks over to the shed to retrieve the equipment for harvesting eyren. As he’s loading the supplies on the cart, he sees both of his wives following Laise to the barn. They’re in the middle of a conversation, so he doesn’t interrupt them. He would later wish he had stopped them.

As soon as they step foot inside, the whole barn collapses. Jande does too. He lands on his hands and knees as the gravity pulls him down harder than usual. This happened a couple decades ago, but it was more gradual, and most buildings were reinforced in case it happened again, but they left the barn alone, because it’s just a barn. The shed buckles too and crashes down on top of Jande, pinning him against the soil. It lets up a little bit, but then the ground begins to shake. Jande tries to get up, but his spine has presumably been severed. He tries to crawl out, but he can’t move.

This body is wasted, it’s not going to heal; certainly not in enough time. It hasn’t killed him, so he’s going to have to do it himself. He doesn’t want to transfer his consciousness to a normal backup, though, because they’re too far away. Without telling anyone, Jande programmed a failsafe in his brain, which allows him to jump to the neighbor’s service bot. They are also farmers, but they use more advanced tech to make their lives easier, allowing them to focus more on the crops. Jande closes his eyes and triggers the suicide protocol. Everything goes dark for a few seconds. He’s not sure how long this is going to take, though, because he never tested it.

He doesn’t have to open his eyes again. The image simply renders in front of him. He finds himself carrying two little children in his metallic arms. It’s the neighbor kids. The four parents are running alongside him, trying to get out in the open space while the bidaquakes continue to stir up the ground. Jande looks around. This area is as good as any. The surface is solid, and nothing can fall upon them. Jande sets the kids down. “I must check on the Ter Avests too,” he requests.

“Yes, we’ll be fine, bot,” one of the mothers says. “Go help the community.”

It’s a kilometer away, but this substrate gets him back home in no time. He races into the barn, and starts carefully pulling debris away. Other than his mother, everyone he loves turns up dead, but his sister is the only one who never comes back to life.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 28, 2572

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Their collective depression had not been alleviated by Romana’s departure, but had only grown darker. She did what she promised, or at least so far. When she made it through to the other side, she sent a message back through the persistent bulk connection, assuring them that she was fine. And just this morning, she sent another one, informing them that she would be leaving Earth today. Later messages would have to come through the quantum network, which took longer, and couldn’t be done in realtime at these distances; not with the equipment her little ship had. It was equipped with everything she needed, including a reframe engine, but it was nothing fancy.

As for the rest of them, they didn’t want to do anything. They tried to sulk together, but they kept awkwardly locking eyes with each other. No one said anything out loud, they just gradually started to go their separate ways. Mateo didn’t know if they were occupying their minds with various activities, or like him, they were just sitting there, stewing. Not even Ramses was working, and he almost always had a project in his queue. Speaking of queues, there was an off-world mission that they could have taken, but no one was up for it, so they simply ignored it. It wasn’t the right thing to do, per se, but the way they saw it, they were a bonus addition for the galaxy. They were not officially responsible for helping anyone. They had committed to no one.

After a few hours of this, Olimpia paged their communicators, which was just a simple way to say, come here. It wasn’t the right protocol for an emergency, so no one rushed to her location in the main lounge. When they finally did show up one by one, she didn’t even look like she was waiting for them. She was resting her temple on her fist, and staring blankly at the floor. Only when the last of them, Angela arrived, did Olimpia perk up a little. “I’m leaving too.”

“Like Romana?” Leona asked, panic in her eyes, but also patient caution.

“Yes, but I don’t intend on going anywhere besides Earth. I think I want to revisit Sri Lanka; see what’s become of it. And...I wanna do it alone. I’m not asking for a divorce, or anything. I need to clear my head. This place reminds me of my...of Romy.”

“It’s okay,” Leona encouraged. “She saw you as a mother figure. You are inarguably her stepmother. You can call her your daughter. I do.”

“I think that’s maybe changed,” Olimpia decided. “We have been through a lot together, the seven of us. I used to think nothing could tear us apart. Now I don’t know if anything can bring us back together. It’s not the only reason I’m leaving, though.”

Leona stood and approached her wife. She leaned over and kissed her on the lips. It wasn’t a mere peck, but it wasn’t passionate either. It was soft and familiar; fitting for a goodbye. “I don’t want you to go, but I respect your decision.” She inhaled. “Matt, would you like to say goodbye to your wife?”

Mateo stood too. He exhaled. “I can’t respect this. When you break a pencil, it becomes harder to write with. You don’t solve that by breaking it again.” He walked out of the room. He couldn’t take another person leaving. Well, he wouldn’t be able to stop it, but he at least didn’t have to watch it happen. If he didn’t see her go through that slingportal, as far as he would know, Olimpia was always just in a different room.

He suspected that he would regret his actions later, but he was not living in the later. Now was now, and this was what he had to do to survive this.

As he was trying to sulk alone in his room, Leona walked in.

“Don’t say it,” he begged.

“You need to go fix this before you miss your chance,” Leona demanded.

“I meant what I said. When something is broken, don’t break it again,” he argued.

“If you don’t go back out there before she leaves, you’re going to have to repeat what you said to her to me. Do you understand me? This is a difficult situation, and we all have different feelings about it. This is her way of dealing with it.”

“Well, this is how I’m dealing with it,” Mateo reasoned. “Why should I apologize for my reaction to her reaction? She should respect me, and let me be.”

“She is,” Leona countered. “That’s why I’m in this room right now, and she’s not.”

“What if she doesn’t come back, Leona? What if Romana doesn’t either? What if this is the end of all of us?” He couldn’t even remember how long he had been doing this, or how long he had known the people he loved, but he couldn’t imagine an end to that. Not even death should have been able to collapse the team, but here they were.

“Exactly,” Leona agreed. “What if she never comes back, and what if the reason she never comes back is because you made her feel like it would be bad if she did?”

“We made vows to each other, Lee. She’s breaking them.” Mateo sighed.

“No.” Leona shook her head. “You are.”

He sighed again. “You’re right. Goddammit.” He still didn’t move from his bed.

“Get up. She’s packing light. She could leave at literally any second.”

Mateo went back out to the lounge, but Olimia wasn’t there, so he teleported to the slingdrive lab. He didn’t see her there either, so he started freaking out, but he knew what the machine looked like when it had recently been used, and it had not recently been used. That was when he remembered that they could locate each other.

Olimpia was with Ramses in the main hangar bay. They were just climbing down the steps as the latter was finishing up explaining how to shift AI models if something went wrong with the first. “The failsafes are foolproof, you’re gonna be fine. Oh.”

“Sorry. Can I talk to my wife alone?” Mateo requested sheepishly.

“I just want to make sure the ship collapses into the right pocket dimension,” Ramses said. “I have fixed the initial bugs by now, but I had some issues with the earlier iterations of this technology, so now I always quadruple check it.”

“I just tap right here?” Olimpia asked, mostly rhetorically. After receiving a nod from Ramses, she tapped her interface. Her personal shuttlecraft disappeared.

“Okay.” Ramses put on a special pair of glasses and sized Olimpia up like the best friend character in a ‘90s romcom who didn’t have as much restraint as the protagonist. “All right, it’s in there. You’re good to go.” He put his glasses away and opened his arms.

The two of them hugged before Ramses left. Now it was only Mateo and Olimpia.

“I made a huge mistake and reacted poorly. I’m sorry. I don’t want us to part on bad terms,” Mateo said. “Do you have time to forgive me before you step into that machine? And if not, can you delay departure, so we have more time to talk?”

“We’ll be okay,” Olimpia said to him. “There’s nothing to forgive. I sprang this on you. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but I’ve not discussed it. I still have family alive who I’ve not seen in centuries. I don’t know where they are, but I’m gonna start there. The reason I didn’t bring it up before is because I didn’t know if I wanted you to come. I want you to meet them, but maybe we don’t overwhelm them? I will stay connected. I’m not going just because of what happened with Romana. It’s bad timing.”

Mateo nodded. “Okay. Don’t forget that I love you, though. Our marital bed will feel empty without you, even though Leona will be next to me too.”

“Well...keep it warm for me. I hope by the time I return, Romana has as well.”

By the time Olimpia was even close to returning, Ramosus had been deserted.

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The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 23, 2567

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For space colonization purposes, the galaxy was divided into regions. The closest regions had an obligation to maintain some semblance of cohesion with the other colonies, and Earth. Even a charter world couldn’t secure a charter if they wanted to go out there and do bad things. And you did have to have a charter, however small it might end up being. You couldn’t simply say, we found a star system that’s only fifty-six light years away, but we don’t need any help. But we’re gonna purge every year, okay?

In order to gain that level of freedom, the boundary lay 200 light years from Earth. They devised several other divisions wider than that, but the rules did not change, which was that there were no rules. If you made it that far, you could do whatever you wanted, and the state couldn’t and wouldn’t stop you, no matter how bad it was. That didn’t mean you were free from consequences. If necessary, you would have to defend your way of life. Because anyone who showed up was also in the Extended Bubble or beyond, meaning they didn’t answer to the Core Colonies or Earth either.

It was Team Matic’s intention to travel throughout these distant colonies, and help where needed. They were naïve. They didn’t think they would have to harm them. But as it turned out, the Exin Empire wasn’t a fluke. It was just the most blatant example of human nature because the creator used time travel to establish itself a long time ago. The people who colonized Tarantella had the same idea, just more recently.

Tarantella was barely over 200 light years away, but it didn’t start out that way. They were originally in the Charter Cloud, but two years ago, something changed. They had constructed a massive stellar engine, which pushed the star farther out. It was already moving pretty fast on its own, but they gave it a boost. Why did they do this? Well, because their charter gave them a huge inventory of donated embryos, as well as the resources needed for that stellar engine. Gatewood didn’t think anything of it, them being this close to the border. The exact distance was impossible to prove, but they had to come up with a number, and both parties agreed to it. Now the Core was regretting it, because it locked them in to a number that had since changed, and that could be proven.

The colonists told Gatewood that they were wanting to move their star system to a more hospitable region of space, but in reality, they wanted to cross that border. They wanted to use those embryos as a slave labor force. Ethics didn’t count out here. There were probably a lot of things happening this far from the neighborhood that the team wouldn’t like. These colonists didn’t have to follow any rules. Literally nothing was illegal. That was why they traveled this far. At last, they were free to make their own choices, and the Teaguardians could do nothing about it.

Team Matic could do something about it and had been working on it for two years.

Leona sighed. “I really wish Ramses were here to check my calculations for me.”

Olimpia hugged her wife from the side. “I’m sure you did everything perfectly.”

“He’s never done anything at this scale before,” Leona pointed out.

“He’s never had you before,” Olimpia argued. “Look at his face. He’s ecstatic.”

Kayetan noticed them looking at him. Without a smile, he gave them a thumbs up.

“You’re right.” After the ding, Leona reached over and pressed the comms button. “Power threshold achieved. Merge whenever you’re ready. Focus on the coordinates.”

He took a deep breath as he closed his eyes. He reached out to the other side of the border, within the Charter Cloud. It took over 100 years for the hopeful slavers to move the star two-tenths of a light year, and moments for Kayetan to force them back. Now they were committing a crime. Now the Teaguardian could step in and arrest them all.

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Extremus: Year 140

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Waldemar has gathered his most trusted advisors and loyalists in a sector of the ship just for them. He knows what these people think, and how they react to news. Still, he’s not just going to stand here and blurt out the plan. He’s divided everyone into circles. A lot of people in history seem to have had inner circles, and then everyone else, but he’s chosen to have nine of them. The outermost is simply the entire population of the ship, though, so it doesn’t really count. And they are certainly not all here today.

This isn’t just for the ninth circle either, though. Those are the ultra-loyalists. He could literally extinguish the entire population of Extremus, and they would still be on his side, as long as they personally survived, of course. That’s obviously not on the table, but it’s important for him to know who those people are, and to keep them happy. Right now, he’s standing before the seventh circle, which includes the niners, and everyone in the eighth as well. Only the people in this room are even aware that the circles exist. The people in the sixth circle outwards can be trusted to varying degrees, but never enough to let them in on all this. Even so, he has to play this smart. He has to play it cool.

Waldemar is the one who came up with the vice captain program. It was great for him—it got him the job—but now it’s a threat. Most people expect him to step down to let the next one step up. He has no intention of doing that. He only allowed the program to continue to find his last true loyalists. Unfortunately, none of the candidates passed the secret tests he ran on them while they were undergoing the overt tests. So they’re not here. It’s time. It’s time to start planting the seeds. Will some intelligent people figure it out before the time comes? Yes. Will they voice their concerns? Absolutely. Will it matter? It won’t if he rewards his current army of loyalists...and curates more.

That is why there aren’t too many people here today. It will be their jobs to go out and start spreading the good word, so to speak. He first has to teach them subtlety, though. Well, he won’t be the one to teach them subtlety. He is not particularly good at it, because he still doesn’t understand human emotions. But he has someone right by his side for that. “And now—you all know him, you all love him—it’s my new steward...”

His late wife has been haunting him. He still doesn’t know how it’s possible, but Silveon claimed to have seen her too. That’s one reason he had to fire him. They’re not enemies, but he’s only in the fifth circle now. He just doesn’t get it. Ghost!Audrey doesn’t either. She keeps trying to get him to change his ways, but if anything, it’s made him more determined. She almost invariably shows up when he’s alone. That’s why it was so hard to prove to himself that she was a ghost, and not simply alive and teleporting around at will. But she’s here now. She has just suddenly appeared on stage right in front of his steward. Waldemar is too confused to stop himself. “Audrey Husk!”

The crowd was ramping up into another cheer, but they fall deathly silent. They know that name. They know it’s not the name of his steward. They don’t know what to think. It is certainly an odd mistake to make with no explanation. She has been gone for many years now. Why would he call his friend that, accidentally or otherwise?

Waldemar freezes. He has never been so embarrassed. No, he has never been embarrassed at all. He doesn’t feel shame, because he doesn’t care about other people’s opinions. How can he save himself now? What explanation could he give? “That’s right!” he decides to say. “It doesn’t matter what your name was, or what you prefer to be called! If I want to call you something else, that is exactly what I’ll do! You are now the new Audrey Husk! That’s the only name I’ll ever let you use! Accept it...or die!”

The new Audrey accepts it.

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Extremus: Year 139

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Sable has been playing a one-sided game here, which is to be expected, because for the longest time, Silveon was too. A few months ago, Waldemar revealed to her that he had been seeing and interacting with his late wife. Either he is sparse on the details, or Sable didn’t relay everything to Silveon when she told Silveon about it yesterday. He doesn’t know why she waited this long, but he can’t argue with her about it. They have a very fragile partnership, and it’s the only one he has, so he doesn’t want to lose it.

He asked Sable for more information, but she didn’t give it. He doesn’t know how this is changing Waldemar. Their relationship has grown more strained over time as the latter focuses on maintaining his power, and his relationship with Sable. They are probably more or less in a holding pattern, though. He is coming up on a crossroads in his career. In the original timeline, Waldemar threw the rule book out the airlock, and declared himself the One True Captain of Extremus, Eighth of Eight. His acolytes came up with the chant, “eight! Eight! Eight!” When spoken out loud, it sounded like they were saying hate, hate, hate, which in a way, they were very much saying exactly that.

Out of all of their goals, this is the big one. In five years, his and Audrey’s hard work will either pay off, or fail. Will Waldemar do what he did before, or will he follow procedure, and step to the side for a new captain? They were never trying to make him into a saint, but if they can end the tyranny, all of their sacrifices might prove worth it. The question for Silveon right now, though, is who or what is Audrey? He has a decent idea, but he doesn’t want to go digging around to confirm it, because it could mess with what’s happening. He needs to better understand what this Audrey ghost is telling Waldemar, so they know if she’s a threat to the plan, or a boon. It’s gonna be tricky.

“Hey, W,” Silveon says when the door opens for him. “What’s up?”

“What did you want, Sil?” Waldemar questions. He doesn’t sound happy, but he doesn’t sound mad either. He’s concentrating on whatever is on his table at the moment.

This is where Silveon has to be careful. If the Audrey who Waldemar is seeing isn’t the least bit real—like a temporal echo from the past, or a mental projection—and if Waldemar knows that it’s only in his head, Silveon’s next words will be an obvious lie. He might be able to save face, but it depends on the wording he chooses. “I wanted to talk to someone, and I think you’re the only one who may understand. You cared about her as much as I; or more, rather. I can’t trust anyone else.”

Waldemar freezes but stays on his tablet. “Cared about who?”

“Audrey,” Silveon answers. “I’ve been...seeing her. Kind of in the corner of my eye? She doesn’t talk. I thought it was only in my head, but it’s just too real. She’s older, ya know? She’s aged like us even though she’s been gone for so long already. I dunno, I mean, my brain could certainly conceive of that, but stranger things have happened too. Maybe...maybe it’s real. Do you think she could be real?”

Waldemar stares at the man who he once called a friend, and is now becoming a stranger by the day. He stares for a long time. “Of course not, Silveon. Audrey’s dead. Time travel is illegal. It’s the only set of laws I never touched. Go see a psychologist.”

Shit. Their trust is gone completely. Well, at least he’s not angry, or becoming violent. Still, he’s playing this close to the vest, which means that Sable remains the only hope they have of getting through to him, and averting his dark fate.

Silveon shakes his head, bids his farewell, then respectfully bows out of the room.

He returns to his own quarters, defeated. Life should have an undo button.

“Hey,” a voice says from behind him. It’s Audrey. “We need to talk.”

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Extremus: Year 138

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Waldemar and Sable are back together. It has been long enough since Audrey died that the people of Extremus accept the new relationship, so they can be public about it. Yes, she’s young. The crew and passengers do notice that, but they wouldn’t dare say anything to his face. He doesn’t want people to talk about them behind their backs either, but he can’t stop that. Well, he probably could. He could have the AI that runs the systems track everyone’s conversations, and make sure they’re only saying nice things, but he won’t do that. The old version of him might have, but he’s different now. He still doesn’t have real emotions, but he knows if he takes away all of their freedoms, then his popularity rating will drop down to zero, and he won’t keep his job. Maybe in a few years once the second phase of the master plan begins.

Other than his personal life, nothing noteworthy is happening, at least not that he can be honest about. The ghost of his late wife still haunts him, and not in a metaphorical way. She shows up when he’s alone, and talks to him. It’s torture. He knows it could be worse. She’s not screaming in his ears while he’s trying to sleep, or singing the same song over and over again. What she does is basically give him advice. She acts just Audrey did when she was physically here, except now he can’t even get on top of her like he used to.

No, the problem with it is that he doesn’t have a choice. He can’t leave the room unless he wants to surround himself with others. She won’t leave. A part of him doesn’t want her to, but a part of him does. He obviously can’t tell anyone about it, because it will make him look unfit for the chair. He can’t trust Silveon, and his rekindling with Sable isn’t where it should be yet. When the—

“Stop. No one cares about this.” It’s Audrey again. She just appears out of nowhere sometimes. It can be really annoying.

“What are you goin’ on about now?” Waldemar questions.

“You’re dwelling on your situation,” Audrey explains. “Your thoughts are not interesting, which makes sense, because the story is not interesting right now. The beginning of this volume had a lot of action and intrigue, and the end of it will too, but right now, The Superintendent is in the middle of focusing on other projects, so he doesn’t have time to write this whole thing about your fake fee-fees and hallucinations.”

Waldemar stands there midstride, holding a plate of cookies and a glass of milk. A single drop of the milk sprang out of it when Audrey first showed up, and is currently running down the back of his hand as another form of irritation. He wants to stop and lick it up, but he’s worried he’ll look stupid in front of the ghost. Can you believe it? Feeling self-conscious before someone who you don’t even respect. If only—

“I said stop!” Audrey argues. “Stop trying to create a story where there is none. He’s gonna cut this short, and move on. Maybe he’ll have more time next week.”

“I’ve had enough of this.” Waldemar carelessly drops both the plate and the glass on the floor to let the cleaning bots deal with it. He taps on his wrist band until he finds what he’s looking for. Or rather, who he’s looking for.

Sable appears on the floor. She’s half-naked, crouched in an awkward position.

“What were you doing?” Waldemar asks. “Having sex?”

“Uh, no. Yoga?” Sable claims, probably lying. She stands up. “I don’t appreciate being summoned like this. You may be the captain, and I may be your girlfriend, but—”

“I’ve been seeing the ghost of my dead wife. For years. And I need your help.”

She stares but he can’t say what she’s thinking. “Fascinating. Tell me everything.”

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Extremus: Year 134

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The fairytale dream is over. Waldemar no longer feels emotions, but he is not back to his old self either. That experience has changed him, and he’s having mixed feelings about it. No, that’s obviously the wrong way to word it. He’s having contradicting thoughts. On the one hand, it’s familiar, so he’s much more comfortable again. This is how he grew up, and it seems right. It was working before. People weren’t happy, but he didn’t need them to be. Still, it’s not like the end of the year of empathy means that he can revert. He’s now living in a paradox. The logic in how he behaved, and the kinds of decisions he made, are still in his head. They still make a lot of sense. The darkness is fueling his rage, but it’s also...intoxicating, and he doesn’t want to give it up again. Because, now that he has spent time without it, he realizes that that’s what it is. It’s fuel. It makes him feel strong and powerful. There’s that word again, though.

He’s standing in his bathroom now, staring at the mirror. He’s looking at himself in disgust, not because that’s what he’s feeling, but because he knows others would if they knew the truth. He slaps himself in the cheek. “Feel something,” he urges.

He feels nothing.

He slaps himself harder. “Feel something!” he cries.

Nothing.

“Feel something!” he screams at the top of his lungs.

“Stop that,” comes a voice from behind him. “Stop hitting yourself.”

He turns to see his late wife, Audrey Kristiansen. “Where have you been?” He declared her dead, but he never knew what happened. When he didn’t feel anything, he didn’t care, and when he did, he wanted to leave her alone if she wasn’t really dead.

“I like the new place. I would have felt more at home here when I was alive.” During the empathy year, he downgraded himself to smaller quarters to look more like the common man, and he didn’t regret it. It didn’t really matter.

“You know I don’t like to repeat myself,” he told her.

“And you know I don’t like to be ordered around. I’m not one of your crewmembers. I was your wife, and you treated me like shit.”

“You knew who I was when you married me,” he pointed out.

“Yes, I did. That’s why I did it. I took that bullet so no one else would have to. And I died for it. Now you are at a crossroads. You are starting to believe that the only way you can get respect from both sides of the imaginary political line is if you align yourself with a new belle. I’m here to tell you that you don’t. You don’t have to be the ruthless dictator, and you don’t have to be a squirming bleeding heart. You just have to follow logic. And logically, hurting people has never made any sense. Yes, you have a darkness. You can’t ignore it, so I’m not going to try to tell you to. But it doesn’t have to define you. The year that you felt something taught you what others experience all the time. Don’t try to get it back, but don’t let it go either. Learn from it. Be better.” She paused for a moment. “And stop with the self-harm. It makes you look weak.”

“I am not..weak!” he cries, lunging towards her with the anger of a magnetar.

She doesn’t blink. “Prove it. Get out there, and do your job. Lead the people. Don’t tell them what to do. Tell them what needs to be done, so they can decide. If you don’t know what needs to be done, then lean on advisors. That is what they’re there for.”

“You’re not really here. What are you?” Waldemar questions.

“That’s not the question you need to ask yourself, Captain,” she begins. “The question is...who are you?”

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Microstory 2708: The Fear of History Repeating

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It was about another month before they were ready to head out. They mostly abandoned the old house how it was, though of course, they pulled the door off of the hinges, and replaced it with a much cheaper one that Vith cut himself. They got on the road, and started walking. Isavet spent most of the trip in the cart, holding baby Leif, while the others walked. Vith would go off on his own to scout ahead or hunt, and then catch up with them later. Maybe he isn’t going to leave the simulation after all.

After several days, they felt as though they had traveled far enough. They weren’t looking for some kind of paradise; just a nice patch of land to call their own, where they could put down new roots. They found a clearing that had seemingly been untouched by man. It sat up against a ridgeline, so it was well-fortified on one side already. It was perfect. It was far enough from others that they could start over, but not so remote that they were entirely unprotected from invaders. What mattered was that it was closer to the border of the next dome, which was where Ronan would be headed eventually.

Ronan leans their special, expensive door up against the face of the ridge. He stares at it with a smile on his face while Vith is starting to unload the supplies. “Thank you for making me bring this. We’ll build a bigger and better house this time; one more fitting of this door.”

“I’ll help,” Gia says. “A woman can get her hands dirty, even in these times.”

“Of course, she can,” Ronan replies with a hearty laugh.

“I can help too!” Isavet exclaims. She’s playing a game where she taps Leif somewhere on his body, like an ear or a shoulder, and tries to teach him to match it on her body. He’s surprisingly good at it. He gets it right a few times, and gets really close for the rest. He already understands body parts. That’s some high-level stuff for his age.

Ronan starts to think about young Leif. Like Talus, he will grow up in this world, under this dome. Are they doing him a disservice, keeping him from seeing the outside world? Is that what happened to Talus? Would he have turned out differently had Mayumi been more honest about what she wanted out of life? Well, if she had been honest, Talus never would have been born in the first place, so that is an impossible question to answer. They also agreed to put all that behind them anyway, so he should really be focusing on the family that he has left.

Gia frowns at him. “I know that look. I know what you’re thinking about. He’s not going to grow up to be like him. He’s a completely different kid, born under entirely different circumstances. We will still need to litigate that when we get out of here.”

“I know,” Ronan agrees. He lowers his voice “I just want him to be happy. I want him to have a choice. This should be against the rules. Having a kid in a simulation should not be allowed, so people aren’t burdened with these questions.”

“Are you regretting having Leif?” Gia asks in a whisper.

“No, of course not. I just...what if Talus’ behavior had nothing to do with his genetics? What if this place made him that way? And what if the same thing happens again? He got sick. He almost died. That could mess anyone up.”

“He won’t remember that,” Gia assures him. “He was far too young. He still is. He will have a very happy and safe childhood.”

“I hope you’re right,” Ronan says. “I hope you’re right.”

She wasn’t, and he didn’t.

Microstory 2707: Walking Out With the Door

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It’s been another year now. Leif knows his own name, and responds to it. Isavet has taken quite a liking to him. She doesn’t quite understand what Talus did, but she knows he was a bad boy, and seems to be trying to compensate for him. Ronan and Gia often talk about how close they might have been to Talus doing something to her. They grew up together as babies, so he never would have seen her as a threat to his status, but he might have held hate against her for some other reason. They don’t know what was going on in his head. They never will, and they have decided to take this as a blessing. For the most part, they don’t talk about Talus at all, especially not openly.

Ronan’s mind drifts outside the dome when he’s alone, often towards Talus’ new place on Varkas Reflex. He thinks about him from time to time, wondering how he’s doing. He’s probably having the time of his life. A significant portion of the population chooses such a life on purpose, and stays forever. Ronan could get everything he has here in there, but it wouldn’t feel right. He would always know it’s not real. He’s clearly not the only one. It’s why Castlebourne is the fastest growing colony in the galaxy, when it really should be Varkas Reflex, or it shouldn’t matter since you can technically do VR anywhere. One day, Castlebourne may sport the highest population of all. That will be an interesting time. According to projections, he will be done with this particular simulated experience by then, but who knows? The winds could shift.

They’re thinking of moving, just to separate themselves from the community. It has grown since they first arrived. A few other people have settled land near their farm. And they all know what happened, to some degree, so the looks Ronan and Gia get can be really uncomfortable, and take them out of the Norse experience. It wouldn’t be narratively unreasonable either. People moved all the time in this culture. But there’s one thing that would be hard to take with them. Ronan isn’t sure if he wants it, though.

“I think we should do it,” Gia says. “I think we should take it with us. You built that very nice wagon for us. If we moved far up to another beach, it wouldn’t be too difficult of a trip. It will take us several days regardless.”

Ronan keeps staring at it. “I built this house around this door. I did it for Mayumi. I did it for...” He trails off, not wanting to say his name.

“It’s our door now,” Gia points out. “It may be worth more than anything else we have combined. Some rich person was very upset, but has had nearly a decade to get over it. But the fact that you’re agonizing over it leads me to believe that you’re ready?”

Ronan looks at his wife now. “I think I’m ready. It’s time. This phase of our lives is over. How does Isavet feel about it? Is she attached to this house?”

“She might want to leave more than any of us,” Gia explains. “She may understand more about what happened to Leif than we thought. I catch her sometimes, staring at his crib when he’s not in it. She moves it to where it was when...” She trails off too. “Vith can’t find a wife here. We should look somewhere else.”

Ronan chuckles. “Vith doesn’t want a wife.”

“He does if he wants to stay immersed,” Gia says.

“He may not want to do that either,” Ronan calculates. “He’s changed more than any of us in some ways. He may be ready to leave too, but go in a different direction.”

“Well, we’ll let him decide that, and I won’t ask him about it. You shouldn’t either. Now come on, we are not packing up today. Dinner is almost ready.”

Microstory 2706: A Leif on the Wind

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Ronan is back. He asked the Custodian preparing him for reëntry if he could return with extra supplies, and she said that he could, since that wasn’t the reason he walked out in the first place. Had he simply been out of what he needed, it would have been against the rules. He considers it compensation for what he endured, even though it wasn’t Castlebourne’s fault. They don’t make him go through the sunken boat trial again. He simply exits a regular elevator, and carries his new stuff through. He recognizes this part of the woods. It is surprisingly close to where he lives, but it’s not the same elevator he took to leave a few weeks ago. Just before the new elevator sank back into the ground, the Custodian warned him that they would be dismantling it immediately. Which is fine, and it’s obvious that they will replace it with a new one later somewhere else, so they are no more trapped than they were for the last several years.

Not wanting to lug all this stuff, he whistles. It’s the sound of a bird that Ronan studied before they came here. The nightingale thrush doesn’t exist in the simulation, for whatever reason, so he uses it as a signal to the people he knows and trusts. Mayumi and both versions of Talus, therefore, also know it, but he doesn’t see them coming here, especially not the one who is on his way to virtual prison. He has to find a way to push that out of his mind. To be fair, however, it’s about to come up. Gia never had the chance to say goodbye to the boy she raised. Isavet didn’t either. Vith probably won’t care. He could see the darkness in Talus from the beginning. He just didn’t know how to help.

Vith walks up now, having heard the song. He’s holding his bow, having presumably been hunting. Ronan asks him how things have been, and Vith assures him that they have been okay. Isavet has been a great help with the baby, which makes Ronan smile. Yumo—wait, that’s right, another complication. Oh, that is maybe a problem now. They named Yumo after Mayumi, but she is no longer a bright star in Ronan’s past. It certainly isn’t too late. The little guy doesn’t know his own name yet. They still have time to come up with something better. But what, and what would Gia think of it? He’s afraid to even mention it, after all this.

They must have been through so much, waiting for him to come back. It’s good that the child’s siblings helped, but the boy needed his father. At some point, Ronan is going to have to leave. That’s what he has always planned on doing, after the farming portion of the experience is over. Every second away from his family not at least fighting for them is a second wasted. Then again, that trial was his way of fighting for them. That doesn’t mean he wants to go back and do it all over again, but it’s taught him some things. It’s taught him what kind of father, and what kind of Norseman, he wants to be. And a true Norseman would face his wife. He would tell her what needed to be done, and while he probably wouldn’t necessarily listen to her input, that is what Ronan is going to do. He and Vith return to the house. It looks the same as it always did. He half-expected to come back to it having been burned to the ground, just to throw a wrench into the game. But it’s fine. He can pick up where he left off.

After he tells Gia how the excursion went, he brings up the point about Yumo’s name. She’s receptive to his position. She’s a little too receptive. “Actually, I’ve not been calling him Yumo since you left,” she admits, seemingly worried about his reaction.

“Well, what have you been calling him?” Ronan asks.

“Leif.” A bit dark, given what it’s a homophone of, but okay.