Showing posts with label witness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label witness. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 29, 2025

Microstory 2397: Earth, May 5, 2182

Generated by Google VideoFX text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 2
Dear Corinthia,

I regret to inform you that my son, Condor Sloane has been missing since January 4, 2180. I was made aware that he was hired for a new job working with a global outfit that has since been defunct. They were trying to restore this planet to its original health before the toxins, and while they were moderately successful, they have since lost all steam, and talent. Condor could have been a great asset to them, but he never made it to their rendezvous point in the North Queensland Dome. The initial suspicion was that his truck broke down on his way out there, and he succumbed to the environment after life support ran out, or that he crashed, and lost life support right away. I spent weeks combing the desert, looking for any sign of him. I searched the road, I searched off the road, I searched detours, I searched everywhere. And once I had finished searching everywhere I thought he could possibly be, I began to search everywhere else. I heard reports of someone spotting him somewhere near Bowen Orbital Spaceport, but when I went to investigate there, I couldn’t corroborate the witness’ story, and when I tried to reach out, this witness was nowhere to be found either. I’m sure it was just a prank. For the last two years, though, I’ve kept searching. I’ve run down every lead. He didn’t just disappear into thin air. I thought maybe my old neighbor had gotten to him, or Condor’s old nurse. They have both lied, and maybe there was more to the study that Condor was on the verge of discovering, and they had to shut him up. Or maybe they just wanted to study him again. Maybe us asking all these questions only served to renew their interests in the endeavor. I found nothing. I found no evidence of anything. My best guess at this point is that he ended up in the water, somewhere along Australia’s eastern coast. It would be impossible to find him under these conditions. It could have happened anywhere from Old Brisbane to the Blackbraes dome. I wish that I had better news, and I wish I could keep going, but I buried my son. I held a funeral for him, and everything. I’m an old man now, and can’t keep traveling like I used to. I’ve recently settled in a region that was once called Ecuador. The poisonous gases are still here, and it’s still deadly to go outside, however, this close to the equator, the sunshine is able to break through. You can see the sky from the ground during the day, and shortly after nightfall, you can even make out a few stars before the particles recongregate, and it fogs over once more. It’s a highly coveted place to live, and a great place to retire. Condor would say that I’ve earned it, and I’m trying to honor him that way. I’m sorry. I know he meant a lot to you. It was a lovely service, you deserved to be there. I should have recorded it for you. I just wasn’t thinking. I’ve attached the program, though, so you can imagine having been there.

Bittersweet to hear from you again after all this time,

Pascal

Friday, February 28, 2025

Microstory 2355: Earth, June 23, 2179

Generated by Google ImageFX text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 3
Dear Corinthia,

Yeah, it sounds like Nature Wars is pretty much out of the question. I don’t want to put you out of commission for that long, and I did a little more research. It doesn’t sound like something I would be very interested in, especially not all the way across 2,352 episodes! The premise of being in the pure air isn’t what bothers me, though, lol. I mean, I suppose if all they talk about is how clean the atmosphere is, it would get annoying, but I’m guessing that would have been true a hundred years ago when it was last on. I do think that I have a different idea, though, which could work depending on how familiar you are with the franchise. The best part about it is that it would feed two birds with one worm. If you’re lookin’ for a story about a regular person who has to beat the odds despite having no clue what he’s doing, then you’ll probably like The Winfield Files. It’s a series of twelve books, and there’s even a TV adaptation with twelve seasons. It’s about a guy who works in a small town grocery store with a girl who turns out to be part of a witness relocation program. One of her new friends posts a photo of her online against her wishes, which leads the bad guys to finding her location. He happens to be in the background of the photo, and gets embroiled in the intrigue and adventure. So I was thinking that maybe we could read each book, talk about it, then watch the season of the show that’s based on it, and talk about that too. Or we could read a chapter, or watch an episode, at a time, if you would rather break it up more. I’ve never read them myself, because I’m more into the classics, but it sounds like a great place to meet in the middle. Let me know what you think. It would be nice to have something to talk about that we’ve both actually experienced. The “joint” parties were great, but they were still separate parties. But people have remote book clubs all the time, and it seems to work out for them. The delay is still there—but it always will be, so we may as well work within its boundaries since that’s our only choice.

Looking for two birds to feed,

Condor

Saturday, November 2, 2024

Extremus: Year 88

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 3
For her first year as Captain, Tinaya lived with a lot of anxiety. It was eating her up from the inside. She was keeping so many secrets, and she just wanted to forget everything. She used to be grateful that at least she wasn’t dealing with a bunch of other tangible problems. Omega and the Verdemusians were protecting them from the war, leaving the Extremus free to continue on its journey. The crew and passengers were getting along, and there weren’t any major crises to solve. Her therapist would say that if she were working through those kinds of captainly issues, she probably wouldn’t have much space in her brain for anxiety, and that might be true. Whatever the case, all of that disappeared the day that her husband, Arqut did. Tinaya didn’t see it herself, but one person happened to be in the corridor with him at the time. He didn’t just blink away, which is the most common form of temporal or spatial travel. No, if he had done that, then the witness probably would have just assumed that he had gone away on purpose.
The way the passerby described it, Arqut was looking rather sweaty. Then he started spinning around like there was a bug on his back, and he was trying to get ahead of it. The witness apparently tried to reach out to help, but missed his opportunity when the spinning seemed to start to happen on its own. He vanished in a haze of dark particles, which gradually faded within seconds. Current temporal engineer Sabine Lebeau had never heard of anything like that before, and it wasn’t in any database that she could find. The uncertainty scared Tinaya more than anything. This was no accident. Someone wanted Arqut, and for the last three months, had yet to return him to her. Unfortunately, her means of investigating were severely limited.
Most people on the ship could not know that he was missing. He disappeared once before, but that was in pursuit of getting Tinaya back. If she admitted that this time was not a planned departure, it would raise too many questions. Only a few people were allowed to know what was going on, and were sworn to secrecy. The witness agreed to his silence in exchange for a minimum on his contribution score. Basically, no matter what he did now, his score would never go below a certain threshold. It was a small price to pay, as long as he didn’t try to use this advantage to become a serial killer, or something. But even if he did, no deal with the captain would protect him from retribution. After that matter was settled, she started to work through the investigation, mostly on her own, though she couldn’t let it interfere with her regular duties either. That would raise questions too. But she wasn’t completely hopeless. She couldn’t make a big fuss about it publicly, or risk other truths coming to light, but there were still ways to conduct this investigation both vigorously and quietly at the same time. She made a list of suspects, and started running down every lead. She started by accusing the Bridgers of having something to do with it, but they denied it, and even let her return to the Bridger section to see for herself. He wasn’t there, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t show up in the future, or hell, the past.
Today is not a good day, though. All of her leads have dried up. She has no one left to talk to, no test left to try. He could be lost forever. It’s worse than it was when she was the one trapped on the outpost planet. She knew where she was, and she knew where Arqut was. The uncertainty; what could she do to remedy that? She’s supposed to be discussing her problems with her therapist at the moment, but instead, she’s retching into the toilet in her stateroom.
How are you doing, Tinaya?” Most people would not be able to just start talking to her like that without waiting for Tinaya to answer first, but some people have special communications privileges, such as medical staff.
Tinaya spits into the bowl. “I’m fine.”
Come back, I need to talk,” Dr. Lebeau requests. That’s right, another Lebeau. Tinaya would normally use the Executive Psychologist for her personal needs, but Sabine introduced her to her sister in order to enact a sort of loophole. While any therapist would respect patient confidentiality, the EP is obligated to report meeting times to the ship’s council, so they can make sure their captain isn’t isn’t showing signs of not being able to handle this job. A private therapist, on the other hand, is under no such obligation. Tinaya can talk to her all she wants, and do so at their joint convenience. Plus, Virve Lebeau already knows many secrets that not even the EP does.
“I’m a little busy.” She spits again.
I can tell. I can help.
“Fine, one second.” Tinaya flushes the toilet, and washes her face. Then she teleports back to Dr. Lebeau’s office. “What is it?”
Dr. Lebeau is holding her watch between her thumb and index finger.
“It’s your watch. Okay, are you scolding me for wasting your time? I’m sorry, next time I’ll use your bathroom, and talk to you about my feelings in between forcing last night’s dinner out of my stomach.”
“No, it’s not about that, Captain.” Dr. Lebeau walks forward, and drapes the watch over her opposite backhand, as if presenting it as a prize for a gameshow. “See these little dots under here?”
Tinaya is confused. “Uh, yeah, those are for blood tests. They spring microneedles to take samples on the fly. Why are you asking me about them?”
“These are necessary when the user doesn’t have any sort of medical implant that could test twenty-four-seven,” Dr. Lebeau goes on. “Obviously, though, you can’t program the watch to poke you whenever it wants. You have to tell it to do it. You have to decide when you’re ready for an update.”
“Are you saying that I have a virus, and I should test myself for it?” She’s still so confused. “Okay, I’ll find out. I think it’s just acid reflux, though. Stress-induced, I’m sure; we can talk about that, if you want.”
“Not a virus. I think you’re pregnant.”
Tinaya chuckles. Then she does it again, but louder. She manages to stop at that, though. “What? I can’t be pregnant, I’m in my sixties!”
“Did you ever go through menopause?” Dr. Lebeau questions.
“I think so.” This isn’t a dumb answer. Thanks to advances in medical science over the centuries, menopause still happens for those who were ever biologically capable of birthing young, but it’s far less pronounced than it was for ancient humans. The same is true for pregnancy and the menstrual cycle as a whole. These conditions are not nearly as uncomfortable as they were back in the day. It’s not that uncommon for people who lived particularly physically rough lives to not even notice that menopause has come and gone for them. If they’ve ever been on advanced chemical or implantable birth control too, it’s really easy to lose track of the cycle due to persistent interference in the body’s natural scheduling.
Dr. Lebeau raises her eyebrows, and looks down at Tinaya’s own watch.
“Y...you want me to test right now? Fine.” She swipes the screen to the appropriate menu, and releases the microneedles. Once it’s done, she self-assuredly bobbles her head a little bit while they wait for the results. After the beep, she takes one look at it, and shows it to the doctor. “See? Look. Pregnant. Pregnant? Fuck.”
“Congratulations,” Dr. Lebeau says to her, rather unconvincingly, one might add.
“I can’t be pregnant.”
“You can. You receive some of the best medical care in the galaxy. Many don’t experience the change until their seventies. You don’t read that in the reports.”
“Virve, I can’t be pregnant. The Captain. Can’t. Be pregnant!”
“There’s no law that says a sitting captain can’t be pregnant. It’s just never happened before,” Dr. Lebeau reminds her.
“For good reason. It splits attention. I must be fully committed to the operations of this vessel, and the safety of its crew and passengers. That is literally my only job.”
“If that’s how you feel about it—”
“I can’t have an abortion either. It’s not illegal, of course, but it’s...unbecoming.”
“Sounds like you’re in a tough spot. I can help you through it, but you have to be willing to explore all options. And you have to be patient, with me, and yourself.”
“Those are my only two options. I mean, what the hell else am I gonna do?” She starts to pace the room. “And yeah, I know, I could put it up for adoption, but that would be scandalous too. That kid will grow up knowing that its mother was just too busy for it, not that she was genuinely incapable of caring for a child. Adoption doesn’t hardly ever happen here, because nobody dies before they’re old! And they don’t have kids after they become old, because that’s nuts! I mean, if Arqut were here, maybe we could make it work together. He could take care of the baby, and even when I’m there, I would be able to teleport at a moment’s notice when duty calls, and I could always argue that that’s an option when anyone tries to criticize me for going through with the pregnancy. But is that enough anyway? Because it’s not just about the perception that my priorities are split. It’s about them actually being split. How can I look out for everyone on the ship, when there are only two people I truly care about? Then again, I am the only Captain who has ever been married at all, so that’s always been a lingering criticism, even though I’ve never heard anyone say that to me, I’m sure that plenty of people feel that way. And now he’s missing, and I can’t even tell anyone about it. I have to claim that he’s on a new mission. But then once people find out that I’m captaining for two, they’re gonna wonder why the father of my child hasn’t come back for his family. Then some are gonna realize the possibility that he’s not the father at all, and there will be a cheating scandal that isn’t even true, but do you think people even care about the truth anymore? That’s all we’ve been talking about; perception, and there’s nothing I can do about that. And either way, this whole thing is gonna get people wondering where Arqut has been this whole time, and they’ll start asking questions, and they’ll all find out that he’s missing, and that we’re been course correcting for decades, and that Verdemus wasn’t destroyed, and why aren’t you trying to call me down!”
“I think you need this outburst,” Dr. Lebeau explains. “It sounds cathartic.”
“Well...” She starts, prepared to argue. “I think you’re right, I appreciate it.”
Captain?” Tinaya’s First Lieutenant asks through her watch.
“What is it, Faiyaz?”
It’s Arqut. He’s back.

Monday, April 1, 2024

Microstory 2116: Law is Clear Enough

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 2
I spent two nights in jail after they processed me. I’ve always had pretty good luck with law enforcement, probably because I easily pass for white, yet I’ve always disliked them, because of the things that happen to people who can’t pass for white. Of course, they shouldn’t have to pass for anything beyond being living creatures who deserve to be respected, and to feel safe around the people who have literally sworn an oath to serve and protect. As far as I know, there’s no oath to attack and kill unprovoked, but you wouldn’t know it reading about the coppers on my homeworld. Anyway, processing went fine, and the jail cell wasn’t that bad. I shared it with five other guys. The toilet wasn’t in a separate room, but there was a partial concrete barrier. We could still see each other, but we couldn’t see anything private unless we deliberately walked up closer, which fortunately, no one ever did. Sunday morning was a whirlwind of activity that I did not expect. I made a lot of friends on this planet, but none of them was in a position to help me with this situation. My family doesn’t live here, and I’ve not been around for long enough to form strong bonds. As it turned out, I didn’t really need them. The FBI surprisingly had my back. I helped them by luring that teenage girl’s kidnappers away from the trail while they rescued her, which was a really nice thing for me to do, but we weren’t exactly investigating terrorists. I’m not even sure if they’ve even managed to catch the criminals yet. What I did was not that big of a deal. All I had to do was drive to Alabama, and leave breadcrumbs for them to follow. The hardest part of that was having to spend time in Alabama. Boom.

Normally, I don’t think a federal agency will spend taxpayer money to bail an individual out of jail, but they were able to expedite paperwork to make me a CI. Obviously, the C in that initialism is supposed to stand for confidential, but past events have already been recorded in this regard, so who cares? Luckily for the taxpayers, my bail wasn’t all that high, because the judge knew that I wouldn’t be able to afford more than a few bucks. I’ll say, the wheels of justice seem to turn faster here than they do where I’m from. They do hearings on the weekend, did you know that? That’s so weird, but I’m grateful for it. I’m staying in a hotel right now, which the feds are allowing me to tell you, but I can’t say which one. It’s pretty nice, though. They’re treating me like an important witness, which I may be. They may ask me to testify against the ID makers whenever they catch them, and start turning the wheels of justice over them too. Don’t get too excited for me, though. They’ll probably cut me a deal for a lighter sentence due to my help in the bigger investigation, but I’m not getting off scot-free. I’ve still committed my own crimes, and the law is clear enough on that, so I’ll have to pay for my sins one way or another. The government can’t pay my legal fees, for obvious reasons, but I don’t have to worry about that either. They’re not the only friends that I unexpectedly made.

When I first left Kansas City, and hid out in Iowa, I quickly hooked up with the ID makers to generate my new identity. I still can’t tell you how I managed that, but perhaps one day. Sorry, but it’s not my secret to tell. Soon after that, I was able to find a job. It was a weird place where I worked, but I didn’t ask any questions. I just cleaned where I was told to clean, and kept my head down. They were dealing with very secretive information, but I never found out what exactly all of those documents were for. I still don’t know, but they noticed me, and they’ve decided to help out too, for reasons I couldn’t tell you. They’ve promised to cover all of my legal fees, including whatever it might cost if I decide to countersue the state, the federal government, or anyone else. I don’t think that I’m going to do that. I’m not sure what my case would be, and I’m not greedy. I knew what I was getting myself into. Well, I didn’t know that I would encounter a kidnap victim, but as far as my own dealings go, I made my own bed. Here’s what I’m worried about—and I’m fully aware that they have access to my blog—maybe they think that I saw something while I was a janitor in their offices, and don’t want me telling others about it. Honestly, I didn’t see nothin’, man. All of the regular staff members were always really good about keeping their stuff locked up, and I was really good about not letting my eyes wander. The truth is, I’m a curious person, but I’m not investigative. I could never have been a detective, because I generally don’t want to get into other people’s business. If I walk up to two people who are laughing together, I don’t ask them what’s funny. The way I see it, if they want to tell me, they can. So I don’t know what interest my former employer has in my legal issues, but I’ve decided to accept their help until they give me a reason to stop trusting them. I’ll fill you in on more tomorrow. Things are changing every day now, so I’m sure I’ll have a lot to catch you up on. This could all be a game, or a ruse, though, so my declaration stands; no matter what the autopsy says, it was murder.

Sunday, December 17, 2023

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 5, 2426

Generated by Google Workspace Labs text-to-image Duet AI software
Sheriff Kamiński’s posse, and some of the former slaves that they had recently freed, constructed a hock in the building that they took over to live in until Team Matic could return, and teleport them all to the other side of the world. The natives stayed away from Fort Welrios, and the Welriosians stayed away from everyone else, unless they were conducting their searches and investigations. The people they interrogated cooperated as much as they were able, scared to death that the team would do to them what Leona did to their previous monarchy, or worse. No one knew where Maqsud Al-Amin’s son, Aristotle was, but the family he was staying with was missing as well. Child slaves were treated differently than the adults. Their duties were limited to performing household chores, and never anything outside until they reached double digits. Even then, the work was light, which the slavedrivers probably figured was a really nice thing to do for them. When there was no more work left each day, the masters of the house homeschooled them. The curriculum included indoctrinating the young ones into believing that this was what was best for them. Cool.
“He won’t talk,” Sheriff Kamiński explained. “He’s the only one left that we’re not sure about, which leads me to believe that he knows something.”
“He’ll talk to me,” Leona said, determined to find that boy.
“He’ll talk to me,” Mateo argued. “You’re too angry right now.”
“I’m not too angry!” she shouted.
“Is that what I said?” Mateo asked. “I misspoke. I meant, you’re needed on the other continent. I’m sure there’s an invention or something that the Welriosians could do with, and I certainly can’t help with that.”
“You’re on thin ice, Matic. Get me a lead.” She disappeared.
“Were I you,” he said to her through comms. He cleared his throat, and walked down the hall to the makeshift interrogation room. “What’s your name?”
“It’s—” the prisoner began.
“Don’t care. Do you know what space is made out of?”
The prisoner was confused. “Umm...nothing?”
“That’s exactly right. Or it isn’t. Maybe there’s dark matter up there, or giant spacewhales, I don’t know. What you say you and me go up and find out?” He offered his hand to him.
The prisoner slunk back as much as he could against his chair.
“Not interested?”
“I don’t care to be threatened.”
“I don’t care to not know where my friend is. Now I promised his parents that I would take care of him. You don’t want me to disappoint his mother, do you? I mean his real mother, not the one who literally abducted him, and forced him to do her work.”
“I don’t know where they are!”
“But you know something, don’t you?” Mateo guessed.
The prisoner shook his head, all but confirming that he was holding onto at least one small bit of vital information.
“I don’t need you to consent to the spacewalk,” Mateo said, standing up, and starting to make his way to the other side of the table.
“No!” he cried. “Fine. I really don’t know where they are, but I saw them leave.”
“Leave where? I mean, what direction?”
“No direction. They just disappeared.”
“What did it look like?” he teleported to the other side of the room. “Like that?”
“No.”
“Did you see anyone else?”
“The mother, the daughter, the neighbor, and the boy. That’s all I saw.”
“The neighbor? No one said anything about the neighbor. What neighbor?”
“The neighbor next door. They were in his apartment. I don’t know why they went over there. He’s just this old man who lives alone. He didn’t have any slaves. He was alive back when we had them before, but he never did. He doesn’t even hire labor. I don’t know where he gets his money.”
“The family where Aristotle was staying, they were rich?”
“Poor people aren’t allowed to take the children in. They don’t know what to teach them. I’m the gardener for the old man’s neighbor on the other side, and I didn’t take any slaves either. I want to be clear about that. I just don’t want to lose my job.”
“Describe it.”
“Describe what.”
“I assume you saw something through the window? Four people disappeared before your eyes. Describe what it looked like.”
“There was a glow, and then his skylight shattered. The glow escaped from it, but it was so quick, I couldn’t see if the people were in it, or whatever. I looked back down, and the parlor was empty.”
“What color was the glow?”
“Gray, I guess.”
Mateo studied the young man’s face to see if he was lying, or holding back more information. He clearly had no idea how Maqsud’s power worked, but was describing what Mateo imagined it looked like from the outside. It was reasonable to guess that Aristotle inherited the same gift, though it was unknown if he used it accidentally, or on purpose. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was trying to escape this life, and the people he was with were just swept up in the energy field. Unfortunately, there was probably no way of knowing where they went.
“Someone patched up the roof the next day, long before the Welriosians started asking about it. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before, I just didn’t want to stand out. Workers who stand out get the worse jobs. Please don’t take me up to space.”
“Relax, I’m not going to kill you. I’ll go get someone to get you out of those chains, and escort you back to wherever you live.” Mateo stood up to leave.
“Wait.” He looked scared.
“What is it?”
“Take me to New Welrios, or whatever it is they’re calling it.”
“I don’t know how they’ll treat you there. I don’t know them very well at all. Most of our interactions have been us trying to rescue them.”
“Anywhere is better than here. I can work. I won’t expect them to do anything for them, I just can’t go back. My boss is...”
“You don’t have to explain. I’ll take you to a spot nearby. If you promise to stay put until I return, I’ll figure out whether you can join them. But if you’re requesting asylum, I’ll grant it immediately.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much.”
Mateo transported the witness to a backup location that Ramses and Angela found when there were looking for a place to relocate the Welriosians. Then he reconvened with his friends who had been listening through the comms the whole time. “Did I make the right call?”
“I think so, as long as he’s not lying, and he really didn’t own slaves.”
“Most people here never have,” Sheriff Kamiński explained. “There are hundreds of millions of them, yet only 11,000 of us.”
“I know what you’re thinking,” Leona says, watching her husband’s face. “We can’t save them all. Even if we could confirm who else never had slaves, we could not relocate them all here, nor anywhere else, for that matter.”
“We have to do something,” Mateo urged. “This world is so bleak. Everything sucks here for everyone, except for the one percent. Even most of the poor people with slaves don’t just sit around all day. They use the slave to double their productivity. They’re miserable.”
“I don’t feel bad for them,” Leona said.
“Neither do I, there’s no excuse. I’m just saying that there must be something we can do to improve conditions here, so no one feels desperate enough to enslave anyone, or pay with pennies.”
Leona sighed, and considered it. “Ramses, go to the old man’s house, and try to figure out if you can determine Aristotle’s vector. Mateo, bring that kid to us. I have some questions of my own. No anger, I promise.”
Mateo retrieved the witness, and brought him to the alpha site. He then started to help transport more supplies from the main continent, to the Welriosians. They had survived just fine over the last year, but there were a few things the natives had access to that they still did not. They were all still living in the cave, but had constructed a number of buildings within it, so the residents could have places to live in separately. It somewhat resembled the lava tubes that people lived inside of on Luna and Mars. The expanse was there to protect them from the outside—in that case, the vacuum; and in this case, the elements—but people still wanted and needed privacy. They cut down trees for these structures, and also figured out how to make mud bricks from scratch. It was an impressive accomplishment, finding a way to thrive here in so little time. They were not doing this without experience, of course. They had done something similar on their sanctuary planet before it was discovered, and ultimately destroyed. Perhaps one day this community will have the technology to rival what they had before, and then even the cities on the other side of the world.
The team reconvened once more an hour later, Leona with a vague plan, and Ramses with the answers they would need to solidify it. “It’s not like I can trace their ion trail, or photon trail, or any other trail that science fiction stories like to claim will make anyone findable in space. I do believe I have a decent idea of where they might have gone, though. The Monarchy gave me a list of inhabited star systems in this part of the galaxy. Once I figured out what the data meant, I converted them to standard galactic coordinates, and only found two possible planets where they might have gone. It’s a light year away. They all are. No one in the Goldilocks Corridor is ever more than a light year away from anyone else. I’m sure that’s why they call it that.”
“How many systems are there?” Marie asked.
“A hundred and twenty, though there could be more by now. The list I have is dated thirty-four local years ago, which is about thirty-five standard years.”
Leona shook her head. “All these people, and we had no idea they existed.”
“We know now,” Mateo reminded her. “Our current problem is that we don’t have a ship anymore. We can’t get to Aristotle, even if we go the right way, and even if he still happens to be there. I don’t know how long it takes for him to recharge, but I doubt that’s what’s keeping him in one place by this point.”
“Guys?” Olimpia jumped in. “Shouldn’t Lilac be included in this conversation?”
“I’ll go get her,” Angela volunteered. It was reportedly difficult to convince her to leave Fort Welrios, and come to New Welrios. She couldn’t leave the place where she had last seen her son. But they were certain that he had left the planet over a year ago, and she trusted their judgment on that. They started the meeting up again once everyone was there.
“I can build us a ship.” Ramses kicked at the dirt underneath his feet. “It won’t have a fancy-schmancy reframe engine, but it will get us to where we’re going. Eventually.”
“Forgive us, the uneducated,” Olimpia began, “but why no reframe engine?”
“I don’t have any concentrated temporal energy, and I don’t have any way of manufacturing antimatter, which would be good enough to power it,” Ramses answered. “The natives here don’t even know what I’m talking about. The ships that come to pick up goods use fusion, and in fact, one of the things they process here is tritium. I’m sure we can steal some of that, given our...influence over these people. I also happen to have a mini-reactor in the basement of our lab, so...”
“The lab has a basement?” Mateo asked.
Ramses shrugged. “Yeah, it’s for storage. Anyway, I could build a reframe engine, but it would use a lot of fuel, and I still probably couldn’t get it to maximum speeds. We also have that time-jumping thing tonight, so faster doesn’t really help us.”
“It would help me,” Lilac contended.
“We wouldn’t leave you alone on a strange new world to find your son. You could be on the wrong side of the planet with no hope of getting anywhere near where he might be. And you would also have no one there to protect you.”
“I could protect her,” Sheriff Kamiński jumped in. “I also know that you have teleportation tech that anyone can use.”
Ramses sighed. “We have emergency teleporters, which store temporal energy for, of course, emergency use. You can’t just jump however much you want, unless your body metabolizes temporal energy on its own, like ours do. When I was a normal human, I couldn’t have used anything like that on a regular basis.”
Leona frowned. “I’m sorry, Lilac. We want to find him too, but waiting two more years is the only way.”
Two years?” Lilac questioned. “Why two?”
“I need time to build the ship,” Ramses said apologetically. “One year to build it while we’re gone, and another to make the journey to the destination.”
“Put me in stasis,” Lilac demanded.
“Well, it’s a relativistic trip, so what will take a year will only feel like five—”
“No,” Lilac interrupted. “Put me in stasis now. My heart aches for my son, so put me to sleep, and don’t wake me up until it’s time to find him.”
The team exchanged looks for a few moments, reading each other’s feelings. “Okay. I’ll prep a pod for you.”

Thursday, May 25, 2023

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 22, 2399

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Labhrás Delaney steps into the apartment behind Winona, and looks around with a frown on his face. It’s small, and it could do with some cleaning, but he’s lived in worse. He did not exactly grow up rich. That’s why he did what he used to do, because he had to. He’s trying to do better now, but he certainly wouldn’t say that he regrets his past transgressions. That’s not true; he literally said that he regrets everything, but he didn’t really mean it. He just knew that the only way he was ever going to get back to the surface of the planet was to tell these people what they wanted to hear. Luckily, lying is his specialty. He steps a little farther into the unit. “What’s this?”
“It’s your new place,” she tells him.
“I thought we were just stopping by to run an errand. You bought this for me?”
“Well, the government did; not me personally, and they rented it. Surprise!”
He shakes his head, looking at the mold on the wall, and incessant leaky faucet.
“Mateo taught me a phrase from his reality. He said that beggars can’t be choosers. This is what’s available. The government’s not going to spring for a penthouse apartment overlooking the water.”
“No, it’s not like that. I thought I would be living closer to my granddaughter.”
“She’s not your granddaughter yet, and I don’t think she thinks of you that way. And anyway, she lives in New York now, and I don’t think that she’ll be coming back anytime soon. There’s something there that cannot be moved.”
“Oh, you gave me access to the news down in the prison. I heard all about it. Which is why I was hoping that you would relocate me there.”
“That’s not a thing,” Winona says apologetically. “We don’t move people around. You began your rehabilitation in KC, because that’s where the person who was in charge of it—i.e. me—needed to be. We only relocate through the witness protection program.”
“I witnessed a murder,” Labhrás discloses.
“Are you talking about your own murder?”
“Would that not count? Hold on, I can think of another crime...”
“I’m sorry, Mister Delaney, but if you don’t want to go back to the black site, this place is your only option. You’ll also need to fulfill the requirements we spoke of. You need to check in regularly, stay sober, earn gainful employment by the end of April—”
“You don’t think this is going to last another month, do you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Word has spread, Miss Honeycutt. The world is ending.”
“Who did you overhear discussing that?” she questions.
“The guards never told me their names.”
“So it was a guard.”
“Don’t get anyone in trouble on my account.”
She sighs. “Leona is going to reveal herself to the Daltomists, and therefore the whole world, on Friday. The last thing she needs is a presumably dead future relative of hers showing up to make things even more complicated.”
He seems to get it now. He throws his knapsack onto the counter. “Thank you.”
“Try to find some joy here. This is the kind of second chance that no one else has ever received. I’ll come by to take you shopping tomorrow.”

Monday, May 1, 2023

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: February 26, 2399

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Leona woke up yesterday, but she only spoke with Winona and Aldona. She wasn’t ready to speak with her future self, even if it meant staying away from her husband too. She’s still not ready for that today, so she’s focusing on the prisoners. Mangrove Rocket Three is orbiting Earth now, but they have no current plans to land on the surface until all of these loose ends are resolved. Right now, she’s sitting with Senator Morton. “We’ve never met. My name is Leona Matic.”
“I met a Leona Reaver.”
“Did you meet her, or did you lock her up and study her?”
“We mostly just kept her locked up,” Morton replies.
Leona nods. “Well...” She’s about to tell him that this is Reaver’s body, but he doesn’t need to know that. He doesn’t need to know anything.
“If we were to return you to Earth, what would you do? How would you handle the situation?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been dead for over eight months. They had a funeral. Some of your shady and corrupt dealings were later made public in a posthumous scandal that made headlines nationwide.”
He’s seething.
“Oh, don’t be mad at us. When you died, we moved on with our lives, and barely gave you another thought. You locked up our friends, but you were gone, so you couldn’t hurt anyone ever again. We had no need to soil your purported good name. We didn’t care. Other people found the skeletons in your closet, because they were there to be found, and those investigators cared. But that changes nothing, at least as far as I and my team are concerned. Good, bad, it doesn’t matter to us. We’re only worried about what you’ll tell the public. How will you explain your absence? Did you fake your death? Did someone else fake it?”
“Yes,” he interrupts her. “That one, ‘cause it’s true.”
“All they would have to do is exhume your body, and call that into question.”
“We’ll say I have a twin brother, who died in my place, and I tried to run for help, but they caught up to me.”
“Why did the people who murdered this twin brother because they thought he was you let you live once they realized their mistake?”
“Their boss changed their mind,” Morton suggests. He’s scared.
“You’re worried we’ll kill you, aren’t you?”
“No.”
“You think that we’ll solve the problem of your highly exaggerated death, as reported by the news, by turning it into a real death.”
“Well, is that so crazy? You killed me before.”
“Winona killed you, and I think she’s grown a lot since then. She was trying to protect her asset anyway, who you had unlawfully abducted.”
“I just wanted to understand who you people are. I still do!”
“Your daughter died too, did you know that? Did you see her in the cafeteria while you were learning how to be alive again?”
He was seething before, but now he’s fuming. “No. I could barely see a thing before the hock you just escorted me out of. The lights were so bright, and everything was blurry. Did Winona kill her too?”
“Absolutely not. It was an enemy, who we managed to destroy, and I’ll have you know that if I hadn’t sacrificed my own life, he may have been brought back too.”
“You look fine to me.”
“I’m on borrowed time,” Leona explains. She’s not going to get into the fact that her future self does end up returning too, especially because of the body deficit caveat.
“I don’t know what you want me to say. I wanna live, and honestly, I’ll do whatever you want to make that happen.”
Leona nods, and takes out her tablet. She starts flipping through photos of men with various hairstyles for Morton to see. He thinks nothing of it yet, but he’s going to be shocked, and probably afraid, when she tells him what these have to do with him. “I noticed that you have a full head of hair, which is impressive for a man of your age.”
“Yeah...”
“What if I told you that you may be able to look like a whole new person, but you would have to shave your head, and replace it with hair transplants?”
“Why would I do that? I mean, why would that be a thing?”
“We have a friend with the ability to make herself look like anyone. If we transplant some of her hair onto your head, you may gain that ability, except it won’t be an ability. You’ll only be able to choose your form once, and have to stick with it for the rest of your life. This will allow you to blend in with the public without anyone knowing who you really are. Even if you try to tell them the truth, they obviously won’t believe you. We’ll send you into the witness relocation program, and get you set up with a new place to live. You’ll have to stay out of the spotlight, though.”
“That sounds absurd.”
“Is it worse than being in hock? Because that’s what you’re facing if you don’t take this deal. We can’t have someone running around the planet, revealing all of our secrets to anyone willing to bend an ear.”
Morton sighs, shakes his head, and massages his temples. “Can I think about it?”
“You’ll have until the end of the week to decide.” She looks over to the door, and nods at Winona through the window. This conversation is over.
“Wait, how long until the end of the week? What day is it?”
“It’s February 26, 2399. Friday.”
“Dammit!” He’s frustrated, but the average person doesn’t ever need more than one day to make a decision. That’s plenty of time to weigh the pros and cons, and just get on with it. He lets himself be taken away.
Leona gets herself another cup of tea before the next subject comes in. He’s already sitting when she comes back in. She doesn’t bother joining him. She takes a slow sip by the door as she’s having a staring contest with him. “Lock ‘im up,” she orders decisively. “We’ll send him back to the main sequence whenever the opportunity arises.
Winona takes Erlendr away, and returns with Fairpoint. He doesn’t even get over the threshold before Leona dismisses him too. He’s going right back to the black site, just in a shiny new body.
Winona brings in the vengeful Fifth Divisioner.
Leona tries to rub some dead skin off of her cuticles, and pretty much ignores him for a few minutes. “What’s your name?” she finally asks impassively.
“Business.”
She rolls her eyes. “Did you mean to say Nunya?”
“No,” he insists, embarrassed. “Hold on, ask me again.”
She consults her watch. “I don’t care what your name is. I just can’t decide if I want to let the government interrogate you, or if I should send you to Antarctica. I’m hesitant to do either, because I don’t trust either party with this task, but I also don’t want to waste my own breath on it. I’m not sure you have anything valuable to say to me, but I worry that you might know something you don’t realize is important, particularly about Constance!Five.”
“I won’t tell you anything, and I won’t tell anyone else anything either.”
“You won’t? Why not?”
“Because I hate you with every molecule in my body.”
“How do you train new molecules to share this hate?”
“Huh?”
Leona narrows her eyes to try to read him. “Nah, you don’t know anything. You were just a tool. A new ally of mine killed you, and he did it to save me, but he also had his own reasons, and I don’t want to take that away from him.”
“So you’re going to kill me again?” he figures.
She stands up. “Go float yourself, whatever your name was.” She leaves the room, and manages to run into Mateo-slash-Future!Leona. “Wanna do me a favor?”
“Anything,” they promise.
“Teleport the prisoner in the interrogation room to the edge of the atmosphere.”
“Are you sure?” Meona asks.
“Yes,” she confirms as she passes by. Winona has been following her. “Did you put the next one where I asked?” she asks her.
“He’s on the bridge,” Winona says. “Vearden is watching him. Well...Tarboda is watching him, and Vearden is watching Tarboda.”
“Thanks.” Leona enters the bridge. “Computer, open the sunshields.” The viewports rise, allowing them to see the Earth above them. She steps up to one of them and looks out. “Have you ever seen such a thing?” she asks her grandfather.
“Such beauty,” Labhrás responds in his cool Irish accent.
“Do you ever wanna see it again? Not this view, of course, but something more than the inside of a prison cell?”
“I would. Very much, I would. I sincerely regret my life choices, and I’m ready to start making better ones. My death has been an eye-opener.”
“Parole rules,” Leona begins. “No contact with old associates, no firearms, no breaking the law. I’ll assign someone for you to check in with. You’ll be taking drug tests, and getting yourself a real job so you can contribute positively to society.”
“That all sounds quite reasonable. I appreciate the opportunity...granddaughter. I would also like to get to know you better, and find out what happens to me.”
She ignores his personal remark. “We’ll discuss the details of your responsibilities later. Vearden will take you to your new temporary cabin. Get some rest in a real bed.”
“Thank you.”
The vengeful Fifth Divisioner appears out of nowhere, and collapses to the floor.
Leona looks over to see him through the security mirror. “I knew it. I knew it wouldn’t be that easy.” She sighs. “Take him back to hock please.”

Monday, February 27, 2023

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: Year 252,398

Curtis and Cheyenne have known each other for eight years now, which Mateo is finding surreal, because he’s awake even less than they are. Though, he shouldn’t think it’s that weird, since skipping time has been his life for awhile now. The two lovebirds met tens of thousands of years ago, but since they have so much time on their hands, they have spent some of it keeping track of actual time. In fact, that eight year figure doesn’t even account for the time that one of them was out of stasis without the other. A normal couple would count all the time they were geographically apart from each other, so all told, it’s longer than that. There aren’t a whole lot of options for partnerships here. Between relatives and external relationships, neither Curtis nor Cheyenne has a large pool to choose from. So they worked really hard to test their relationship with each other to make sure that it was real, and not just a last man on Earth type of situation. After all that, they have decided that they really do care for each other, and exclusively so, even if there were billions of others around. They want to get married, but the problem is that no one here is qualified to officiate the ceremony, or sign the papers.
“We don’t need a big ceremony, though,” Cheyenne says. “Are you sure that no one vested that power in you?”
“Certain,” Danica replies. “It’s the responsibility of someone else in our world.”
“Well...could you contact that person?” Curtis requests.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know how,” Danica apologizes.
“I know how.” Bhulan steps forward.
“You do?” Danica question.
“Not herme,” Bhulan says, confusingly. “This is Aquila.” Oh, right.
“Oh.” Danica nods. “You know how to contact The Officiant?”
“Yeah, I know a lot of things,” Aquila replies.
“I’m not sure that she can come to this reality,” Danica says, worried.
“She can go anywhere,” Aquila claims. At least that is the assumption. Perhaps they should come up with some way of knowing which one is talking. One of them could always be wearing sunglasses, or be holding the talking stick. “Trust me.”
“Okay. We have nothing else to do for the next 4,000 years, so let’s plan a wedding. And by let’s, I mean anyone else, because that is not my strong suit. Really, you don’t want me involved. I can set up chairs, or fold announcements, but...”
“We don’t need much,” Cheyenne says. “We can’t invite anyone else, and don’t really want to.”
Curtis is confused. “Wait, we talked about this,” he says to her in a hushed tone.
“Yeah, and I don’t think they’re gonna be able to swing it,” she replies in a more hushed tone.
They continue to argue softer and softer until no one else can here.
“Aquila, do you know if the Officiant would be able to transport people here, like her family?” Curtis asks.
“I doubt it, but you can ask. You can’t have the wedding today, she’ll want to meet you first, and then give you time.”
“Great. Call her.”
“I have to do it alone,” Aquila explains. “That includes you,” she says to her own shoulder, likely as a way of communicating with her brainmate, Bhulan. “I’ll go dormant, like we practiced,” she then says, suggesting that this is Bhulan speaking now. Yeah, a good talking stick would really help. “Just remember to wake me up.”
Aquila goes off to do whatever she needs to do to make contact with the Officiant. By the time she walks back into the room, the woman herself has arrived. A bookcase in the master sitting room disappears, and is replaced with the door to the Officiant’s office. She steps out. “Who are the lucky two?”
Curtis and Cheyenne step forward.
“Come with me so we can talk. This could be the first of many, or the last.” As they’re stepping up to the door, she looks at the rest of the group. “I need someone to join us as witness.”
Bhulan raises her hand.
“Only one witness, please,” the Officiant clarifies. “How about you, sir?”
“Me?” Mateo questions, looking behind him to see if she means it.
“Yes, you’ve gone through this before, you know what to expect. It could help.”
“We didn’t have a witness at mine and Leona’s meeting.”
The Officiant scowls. “I made a lot of concessions for that marriage. How is it going, by the way?”
“It’s been better,” Mateo replies. “I miss her.”
“Well, come on, then. Your friends need you.”
He wouldn’t feel comfortable calling either of them friends. Curtis is from a timeline that Mateo doesn’t remember, and he’s only ever met Future!Cheyenne. But still, if they need someone to be there, he can’t say no.
Once they’re all seated, she begins. “Why don’t I let you start and drive the conversation? What are your biggest concerns regarding this event?”
“Well,” Cheyenne says, looking over to make sure that Curtis doesn’t want to say something first. “Neither of us wants a big wedding, but I was hoping my family could be there. He thought it would be okay to ask if you could retrieve them for us.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” the Officiant replies. “Guest lists are beyond my purview. We in the business call it scope creep, and it’s caused some issues in past ceremonies. I can, however, perform the ceremony whenever, and wherever, you like. We can wait until you return to your family. Is that a possibility?”
“Not for a long time,” Curtis responds. “But we’re anxious to get to it.”
“Even if we did go back,” Cheyenne says, “people would hear about it, and ask a lot of questions. Who’s this guy? Where did he come from? Why wasn’t I invited? We don’t just want to keep it small, we don’t want excluded people to know about it.”
That’s an interesting take that Mateo and Leona might have tried in another life. There were some people at their wedding that they would not have chosen to invite. They didn’t get the chance to discuss before it was forced upon them. They probably would have split the difference, where all their loved ones could attend, but not the entire multiverse. Maybe they should consider a do-over. It’s certainly possible.
“Snap out of it,” the Officiant instructs with a literal snap of her fingers. “Today is about them. We can discuss your own situation at a later date.”
“Sorry, yes, of course,” Mateo says. He doesn’t remember her being psychic.
The Officiant nods. “Now. What else would you like to discuss?”
“The most important aspect of any wedding ceremony...flower arrangements,” Curtis jokes.