Microstory 2448: Chinadome

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China is one the largest, and most populated, nations on Earth. Historically, it has been a technological powerhouse, and a major player on the global economic stage. It’s so big that individuals emigrating out of China to other towns would often settle in such high numbers that they ended up transforming part of their city to a sector known as Chinatown. These were divisions of the established city in question—New York, San Francisco, Binondo—typically not in an official or legal capacity, but culturally relevant nonetheless. Since those of Chinese ancestry represent a large portion of people back on Earth, it stands to reason that a great deal of people who have chosen to travel to Castlebourne would be Chinese too. To be clear, you don’t have to have any Chinese heritage to come here. In reality, they encourage you to visit regardless of your family background or creed, and learn about Chinese history and culture. That’s the whole point of cultural domes. You can come here to see what it’s like, to engage in their events, or if you just feel comfortable in this environment. The dome holds all the same traditional observances here as they still do on Earth, such as Chinese New Year. It also recognizes the shift in sociopolitical practices that resulted from the adoption of more modern political ideas, particularly post-scarcity economic conventions. It’s a respectful blend of the historical China and the new China that most people living today are more familiar with. I agonized over how to phrase that, which is why, readers, this review is a bit later than usual. I think that’s the most P.C. way for me to say it. I’ll edit you according to your comments. But just this once. I recommend everyone on Castlebourne come for a visit. Even if you saw a Chinatown or two on Earth, there’s always something new to learn, and perspective to be gained.

Microstory 2445: Dune Buggy Paradise

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This is the largest habitable desert in the world. Now, you may be asking yourself, how could it be any bigger than any other? Every dome is the same size as all the others, isn’t it? True, but this one makes better use of that space, because it operates in three dimensions. We’re talking about multiple layers here. It’s quite ingenious, really. I don’t mean that you can wander about on the bottom layer, and then take an elevator to a higher ones. You have to walk or drive up ramps to get to other levels, and you don’t just multiply the area of one by the number of layers to get the total area. The upper layers are nowhere near as big. They’re like giant catwalks, criss-crossing each other in random configurations, looping around, and dipping down. It’s all very chaotic, and hard to track. Here’s the most mysterious—and I think, best—part of this whole place, there is a layer near the top of the dome which no one has been able to figure out how to reach. There doesn’t seem to be any path leading to it, but we can clearly see it. At the right angles—and with good enough vision—you can even make out a dune buggy parked on the edge. It’s gotta be some kind of prize, but as I said, no one has managed to reach it thus far. Even if you found some roundabout way, like with an extremely long grappling hook, how would you drive it down? It’s about a kilometer higher than the next highest layer. Maybe it’s a joke, or the creators are taunting us. Or it’s just straight up unfinished, who knows? Another special thing about the way this place is designed is what happens when sand from one layer falls over the edge. Well, it doesn’t. It can slip over, but then fly back up to where it belongs. You don’t have to worry about sand falling on your head all the time like rain thanks to people on the higher layers. It’s not just regular sand that they harvested from the surface of this planet. It’s smartdust. It’s all smartdust. I hear tales of people claiming that it has flown around in other instances, and formed ominous shapes, which they interpret as the dust trying to communicate with them. It could be true, though I’ve not seen it for myself, but even if it were, there’s a scientific explanation for it. Smartdust is fully capable of moving around, and forming larger shapes, like tiny artificial starlings. Overall, this is a pretty nifty place. It could be pretty boring, with its one niche being hardly distinct from other domes. There are other deserts, and at least one other racing dome, but combining them here is more than just the sum of its parts. I think it’s worth the trip. You don’t have to race if you don’t want to. You can just drive around, people are pretty respectful about boundaries.

Microstory 2430: Advanced Research Dome (ARD)

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In the early days of interstellar colonization, they largely expected you to start from scratch, though the definition of this term is a little loose. I mean, they had domes too, because almost none of them had an atmosphere that was breathable by organic Earthans. So there was some technology right from the start, and they were making scientific advances on their own, but Earth remained front and center in the industry. You just can’t beat that kind of established infrastructure and strong, lasting institutions. I’m not sure that’s true anymore. While Teagarden took over the majority of the military needs of the Core Worlds, that was mostly for political reasons. They wanted to erase any sense that it favored the nations of Old Earth. Physics research didn’t have to switch homes, but it has. These new reframe engines people are using to travel at faster-than-light speeds? Those were apparently invented here. Developments in anti-gravity; induced stasis; transhumanistic enhancement, including bioforming; terraforming; power generation and distribution...it’s all here. Dare I say, we’re now more advanced than Earth is, even with all of its advantages? I’m sorry to tell you that that is my conclusion. If you’re interested in furthering our understanding of physics, biology, chemistry, or any other scientific field, your best bet is to come here. Earth’s programs are nothing to scoff at, and I don’t think they’re doing anything wrong, but at some point, the brightest minds in the galaxy evidently decided to move, and before anyone realized what was happening, the power shifted here. Good or bad, that’s what happened. This power may shift once more, back to Earth, or perhaps some third star system, but for now, this is the nexus of scientific exploration. The silver lining is that they’re not hoarding it any more than Earth did. They’re sharing what they’ve learned with others, so we’re at least safe from the privatization threats that we’ve faced in days past. Word of warning: this dome is not for visitors, really. You can come, and they’ll let you walk around, but we’re dealing with a lot of dangerous things here, so the majority of the sectors are off-limits without proper authorization. People keep randomly showing up, believing that we have something to show off, but that’s not what we’re doing here. This is just for us. If you want to join, fill out the right application. If you don’t yet qualify, find a learning platform, and catch up. There are no limits to who can help humanity and its offshoots achieve everything we ever dreamed of.

Microstory 2421: The Wasteland

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This place sucks. I get what they were going for here, but it’s lacking that authenticity that a real post-apocalyptic wasteland would have. Or maybe there’s just no way of making this exciting and interesting. The name says it’s all. It’s just miles and miles of desert, it’s so boring. There are a few burnt out cars strewn about, and some random collapsed structure, but not much else. You’re supposed to take your cues from science fiction from days past, and make your own adventure, but I don’t think it really works all that well. I mean, since it’s not real, there’s no desperation. You can always find an exit, and just leave. I really don’t see this one sticking around. Yeah, it’s all right to watch a two-hour movie about this, but I don’t know that anyone wants to spend any substantial amount of time in this environment. Thinking on it, though, it has to exist. This guy’s got 83,000 domes, and had to come up with almost as many ideas. I don’t think he made it, he doesn’t have quite as much—which is fine, I’m not criticizing; I’m just saying that wasteland is certainly a theme that exists. There are tons of examples in media. It would be kind of weird, actually, if they didn’t use it. There seems to only be one like this, which is probably a good thing. Many domes are based on particular franchises, but in the end, all wastelands are about the same, so you probably shouldn’t make more than one. I doubt most people would be interested in even seeing it once. I can’t recommend coming here at all. Maybe they’ll add more intrigue later, with robots that have their own programmed motivations, but if they’re expecting us to do all of the heavy lifting, I just don’t see enough people getting into it. There’s another desert dome where your only goal is surviving long enough to make it clear across to the other side. Try that one instead. At least the incentive is clear. My recommendation to the builders is that they should put the ruins of more buildings here. If the world were to end in such a scenario, it’s not like everything would be flattened and buried, ya know? There would still be stuff here to show that a human civilization once thrived. Just a thought, you don’t have to change anything if you don’t want to.

Microstory 2416: Mountain Mountain

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Mountain Mountain. So nice, they named it twice. You ever heard that saying before? I actually think they named it that specifically so it would fit that phrase. Before you ask, there aren’t only two mountains here, and there is no mountain that’s literally just called Mountain. Someone in my orientation group thought that was the thing, so they were asking which one was Mountain Mountain, presuming it to be the largest one near the center. Everyone laughed, but I think it’s an honest mistake. Anyway, I’m not here to review that woman. There is nothing particularly astonishing about this dome. There are eleven distinct major mountain peaks here. You can find a list of them in the prospectus. The biggest one is called Mount Vendelin, by the way, if you were curious. For those of you who aren’t knowledgeable on the history of this world, it was first colonized by a man named Vendelin Blackbourne. So he lent his name both to the whole planet, and now this mountain. If you like mountains, I suggest you come here, and if you don’t, well then, whatever. There is a lot you can do on this mountain, but there’s something a little bit different about this dome. It’s not “state run” which means that there aren’t any robots or human staff members providing you with any assistance, except as part of orientation. That is, no one is in charge of activities. There aren’t any activities to sign up for at all. If you wanna do something, just print your supplies, and go do it. They will execute rescue operations, if it becomes necessary, but there aren’t drones flying around constantly, or satellite imagery. It’s basically the wilderness out here. My guess is that they want to see if anyone develops their own institutions, but they didn’t actually say that. Need to learn how to mountain climb? Right now, there’s no one around to do that, unless you happen to run into an expert who’s willing to help. I believe, at some point, as fans begin to show up, people will naturally take on leadership roles, and basically start little businesses. Who knows? We’re still in the early days, so we’ll have to wait and see. Maybe it’ll be you!

Microstory 2415: Underburg

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Around 400 years ago, advances in materials science allowed for truly gargantuan structures to be built with complete structural integrity. We were constructing buildings that rose kilometers into the sky. Hundreds of thousands of residents could now live in an area once fit only for a thousand or two people. They called them megastructure arcologies for their efficient population densities, low environmental impact, and self-sustainability. No one forced anyone to move to these places, but they were the most logical. Instead of taking a vehicle or train from Point A to Point B, you mostly only needed an elevator. People used to have tons of belongings, but with advanced computing and virtual simulations, as well as component miniaturization, material possessions no longer seemed so relevant. Your unit stopped being a place where you lived, and began to serve only functional purposes. You lived in virtual constructs, and needed only a minimal amount of realspace for your physical components. Even so, the entire point to Castlebourne is being able to spread out how you want. You see, the reason we wanted to concentrate our population on Earth was so that we could give the majority of the land area back to wilderness. Animals can’t live in high-rise apartments—at least not intentionally, anyway. We have more choices. We figured that it was only fair that we do everything we can to stay out of their way, and let them be. Castlebourne started out as an uninhabitable planet, which had to be paraterraformed in order for it to be habitable. We’ve done this to many other colonies, but never before at this scale. There was no life here before we arrived. In fact, we’ve added life. The same rules about verticalization don’t apply here. We’re free to stretch our legs, especially since there’s a ton more land area overall, what with the oceans being confined to the poles. Underburg doesn’t have many people here yet, but I’m sure it will expand. Unlike other domes, it’s not populated by androids meant to simulate human life. I mean, sure, there are robots here to help us get things done, but it’s clear who they are. They’re not trying to blend in. If you conduct a search for 21st century suburbia, it will look just like Underburg does. Big houses; big green, perfectly manicured lawns; garages with two cars in them. Don’t worry, they run on electricity, supplied by fusion reactors. And we don’t have a history of racism and elitism. It’s not about recapturing the lifestyle of Old Earth. It’s about living in a neighborhood of like-minded individuals, watering your flowers in front of the walkway, and waving to each other as you leave for the day. We go to work. Nothing needs to get done, but we do it anyway, because that’s what we find enjoyable. If you think you might like it too, why don’t you come move to Underburg? Yes, it’s a little unsettling with all these empty houses, but it won’t get better unless more people take the leap. We need more residents! Come on, you know you want to.

Microstory 2414: Adrenadome

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TRIGGER WARNING. I want to talk about laws here, but I’m not going to say which laws specifically right away, because if my review ends up in a blurb, then it could get banned—or shadowbanned—for perpetuating harmful ideas. I think I need a few extra words to be safe sooooooo, there we go. Suicide laws. That’s what I mean. Back in the old days, when death meant the end of everything, and there was no going back, it was illegal in many places to attempt or commit suicide. Over time, these laws were changed to account for people’s unique desires and needs. Suicide and assisted suicide became necessary evils in certain situations, especially when a slow, painful death was the only other option on the table. The funny thing is, over time after that, these laws had to adapt again. Once they started sufficiently treating, or even curing, certain previously life-threatening medical conditions, the reasons for wanting to unalive yourself began to disappear at about the same rate. People stopped having very good excuses for not wanting to be alive anymore. Progress in mental health research, the proliferation of advanced medical solutions, and the drive towards a post-scarcity economy, among other factors, contributed to a healthier society overall. The development of more extreme technologies, like maximal longevity treatments, transhumanistic or cybernetic enhancements, and consciousness uploading and transference made it practically impossible to justify ending your own life, or anyone else’s, for that matter. Even the language of the relevant laws shifted to phrases like “reckless self-destruction” or “consciousness back-up endangerment”. Self-harm became illegal once again. Whereas before, dying meant taking maybe only a hundred years from someone’s potential future, now you’re potentially robbing you or someone else of the rest of eternity until the heat death of the universe. That should be profoundly immoral and unethical in anyone’s book. They’re even talking about making normal biological humans illegal, with some arguing that letting yourself die after a pitiful century is tantamount to suicide when framed as a negligible blip in the full timeline of reality. I don’t know about that. What we’re talking about is your body, your choice. Anything short of total freedom in that regard is hypocritical when you really think about it. Castlebourne is a Charter planet, which means that it doesn’t have to follow Core World Law. They still do, for the most part, having modeled their legal system on what came before, but they’re also free to make some changes, such as the definitions of those phrases above, like reckless self-destruction. What does reckless even mean? Does it mean jumping out of an airplane without a parachute—a new extreme sport, which they call skydying? Adrenadome is attempting to test the boundaries of what you’re allowed to do with your own body. I’m not gonna just list the extreme sports that can be found here. You can look them up. They’re all available, along with variants that forgo safety measures entirely, and just let you die, knowing that your mind will wake up in a back-up body moments later. Not everyone is gonna like it. I personally don’t. I came here to study the concept, because I’m a scholar of law. But it’s certainly interesting that these philosophical questions about the meaning of life and death get to play out in the real world, and no longer only on the lips, or the page.

Microstory 2413: Polar Tropica

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I’m at the bottom of the world. If you want to see the biggest known ocean on a habitable planet, go to Earth. I know that they seeded human life on some other planets, so I guess I can’t speak about those, but I’m guessing that Earth still takes the cake, so to speak. The next best thing, however, is on Castlebourne. This planet has two oceans, which are man-made. Have you ever thought about how unusual that word is? My guess is that it’s a holdover from back in the day when things really were constructed by humans. There I go, showing my age. A bunch of quincentenarians are rolling their eyes now. “No, d’uh it’s because we used to have to make everything by hand, you idiot.” Of course, it would be technically unfeasible to try to accomplish something like this with manual labor alone. The land was mostly there, but the automators had to do a lot of digging so the water would be contained to these two spots. The domes here are much more disproportionate, and do not form hemispheres. Still, because of how insanely wide they are, they’re much taller. It says here that they’re 3300 kilometers in diameter and 216 kilometers high at the zenith. When you’re inside, the holographic projections make it look like you’re just outside. Really, you cannot tell the difference between the two environments. If you abducted someone from Earth, transported them here, and let them wake up on the beach, they would assume they were still on Earth. Certainly if you took them from, like, the 21st century, where they didn’t know about alien planets yet. More recent days, who knows? I’m getting off topic, I know. I’m here to discuss Polar Tropica. This is the southern dome. It’s more of a cap, really. Someone else in our orientation group called it a little yarmulke for the world. I had to look that up. It’s a religious thing, LOL. Just run an image search for that, and you’ll get that he was right, though. Okay, enough about the shape. Unlike on Earth, the oceans here are perfectly tailored, and maintained. The temperature always sits between 21 and 27 degrees. It depends on what time of day it is, and precisely where you are. If you recall, it’s a giant environment, so they don’t have to keep it at the same temperature everywhere at once. They control the humidity too, but I don’t have those numbers. Basically, it’s perfect. It’s always comfortable. Some of the water is deep, but not as deep as a natural ocean would be. You can stand in water that’s miles and miles away from any shore in some places, which is just so amazing. Name something you can do in a real ocean, you can do it here. You can even fish, though you’ll be catching animatronic sea creatures, so just remember that, you violent psycho. Anyway, there’s a strip of land that runs the entire perimeter of this thing, and random islands dotting the water. Some of them even float, which you can’t get on Earth either. There’s a giant island in the very center that serves as a sort of hub. There are residential spaces there, and I think that a lot of people are making it their permanent homes. Who could be unhappy in a place like this? To me, if the only habitable region on Castlebourne was Polar Tropica, it would be worth it. But I guess you’ll have to see for yourself...

The Fifth Division: Rock of Gibraltar (Part IV)

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The wave of fire is drawing too close, and Ingrid has no choice but to duck into the bunker with Selma, who leads her down the steps to safety. Once they’re at the bottom, they run through the corridor, and into a wide open room, which must be a gym. Nearly everyone is here, notable absences being Killjlir, Ayata, and Andrei. Horrified, the survivors are watching a bird’s eye view of the destruction on the surface, as likely streamed by a sentry drone. Princess Honeypea is crying into her brother’s shoulder while the other Horticulturalists do everything they can to hold back their own tears. They are distraught, though. There’s nothing they can do to fix this. They don’t know about the whole garden world out there yet. Is it Ingrid’s place to tell them? Did the tree have another plan in mind? What the hell are they supposed to do now?

No one seems to know, but Storm knows that it remains her job to be the leader. “The universe has suffered a terrible loss,” she begins. “Most people in existence don’t even know that this place once stood tall and proud and beautiful. Those who did may never learn that our world was destroyed. We have a lot to talk about. Some of us have lost our purpose, others a home, and some of you, a temporary refuge. I don’t know that I can get any of that back for any of you, but I know that we’re all exhausted and sad. The barracks are down the hall, to the right. It’s okay if we sleep here tonight, Weaver?”

“Of course,” Weaver says sincerely.

Storm nods gratefully. “Get yourselves cleaned up, find something to eat in the kitchen, and then get some rest. We’ll reconvene tomorrow once everyone’s up to it.” She looks at Pinesong to say something to him quietly, but stops to say one more thing to the whole group. “Oh, and anyone who blames themselves in any way for what happened, just don’t. We faced an impossible enemy, and we lost. There’s nothing you could have done. Don’t let the anxiety keep you awake.” Now finished, she does move off to the side with her own people so they can whisper in private.

Ingrid is dirty and bloody, so she takes a shower, and lies down in the medical pod for a bit, but she isn’t ready to sleep. She’s too curious. The fire has finished roaring down its path of destruction, leaving the whole dimension in ashes, but the drone seems to have crashed, or just been switched off. If she wants to see what it looks like out there now, she’ll have to go back outside. She dons a respirator mask, and starts walking back up the stairs. Before she has the chance to open the cellar door, it opens on its own. Killjlir is standing there. They’re soaking wet and coughing violently while holding a broken branch tightly in one hand. There are a few flowers growing from it, and one blue fruit pod hanging from the tip. Whatever Killjlir has been through, it’s a wonder this thing is as intact as it is. They pass out, and fall into Ingrid’s arms.

Ingrid carries her new friend back down to the bunker, and into the infirmary. She places Killjlir in the same pod that she was just using, and carefully removes the branch from their grasp so the machine can track their vitals, make its diagnosis, and execute the proper treatments. They’re not doing well, but they’re not going to die. They suffered wounds all over their upper body that are consistent with hand-to-hand combat, and cuts on their legs indicative of crawling through a bower, or perhaps climbing a tree. They have some level three burns too, but the most pressing threat right now is the water still in their lungs. The little robot arms turn them to their side, and then stick a tube down their throat. It suctions some of it out of their lungs while the rest of the fluid manages to leak out of their mouth. The pod leaves Killjlir on their side while it moves on to the next issues, in order of severity. After removing the necrotic tissue, it triggers rapid in situ dermal regeneration to replace the missing skin. It seals up the cuts with a liquid bandage, and breaks down the bruises with something that it calls a macrophage therapy. Lastly, it begins to emit an ultrasonic wave up and down their body to stimulate blood flow for accelerated healing. Ingrid finally exhales in relief, seeing that her friend is going to be okay. This is a strange feeling to be having for a person she once called her enemy.

Storm walks in. “They’re alive.” It’s unclear if this is a question, or a statement.

“Yes,” Ingrid replies.

“Have they spoken?”

“Not yet.”

“Were they carrying that?”

Ingrid looks down at the branch, now in her hand. “Yeah, I don’t know why.”

Storm steps forward. “May I?” She accepts it from a reluctant Ingrid, then runs her hand along it like it’s a violin that she’s just crafted. “Bark...wood...flower...fruit...”

“Did they bring it here for a reason?” Ingrid asks.

“I fell on it,” Killjlir explains with a very hoarse voice. The pod reacts to this development by administering a nebulized soothing agent along their pharynx. Fortunately, it doesn’t have to stick the tube as far down as it did before. Killjlir clears their throat, and tries again. “I was climbing the magnolia when this asshole whacked me in the head. I fell back, and the branch broke my fall, but then I fell the rest of the way with it into the water. The current took me away, but I could see the fiery explosion above, and feel some heat. I’ve been floating ever since. I don’t know how I got here.”

“I carried you from the entrance,” Ingrid tells them. “You were walking on your own before that.”

“I couldn’t have,” they say with a dismissive shake of their head. “I was dying.”

“The tree wasn’t a single consciousness in a single whole organism,” Storm says. “When you broke the branch, you took a little piece of its mind with you. It might have given your body the strength it needed to make it here from the river bank. We’re only about twenty meters from it, I would say.”

“So, it’s gone?” Killjlir asks? “It’s all gone.”

Storm smiles, and raises the branch. “This is still here. It’s a symbol of resilience and strength.”

“The fruit,” Ingrid poses, “can it be planted? Will it make a new magnolia tree?”

Storm shakes her head. “It’s a virgin fruit, like an unfertilized egg. There is no seed inside this pod.”

“That’s why I was climbing,” Killjlir tries to clarify. “The Pryce guy, he told me to retrieve the red fruit on the top of the canopy.”

“A red fruit?” Storm is confused, but intrigued. She pulls the blue fruit off of the branch, and squints at it. “We’ve always wondered what was preventing it from producing seeds. If you’re right, something must have triggered it, but just this once.”

“It’s all about energy.” Princess Honeypea is standing in the doorway.

“Temporal energy?” Storm guesses.

“It metabolizes lots of different forms of energy, including temporal, yes. It typically uses it to produce its leaves, flowers, sap, and virgin fruit, but it doesn’t have enough to make a seed, and didn’t have any reason to until today. When the bad guys broke the dimensional barrier down, the energy that Pinesong usually channeled to keep it up was all pulled into the earth at the same time. This gave the Magnolia a surge of power, which it used to produce a miracle. Like you said, just this one time. It was a last ditch effort to survive.”

Killjlir turns away from them. “I was its only hope, and I failed.”

Honeypea smiles and lifts the clear casing of the pod. She gently rolls Killjlir back over by their shoulder. “You were only a distraction.” She takes the fruit from Storm’s hand. “I can go back to that moment, and fulfill the task just before the fire overwhelms this world.”

Storm snatches it right back. “No. It’s too dangerous. There are ways that we can rebuild. We won’t allow visitors this time. At all. The magnolia was only one tree out of the many thousands of specimens that we’ve saved over the ages. Saving it would accomplish hardly anything.”

Ingrid takes the fruit this time. “It’s the only one that hasn’t already been saved,” she insists. “The rest are out there.” She makes a general gesture towards the surface. “The tree showed us as much. This whole world is lush with your vegetation, untamed and breathtaking. You’ve just never seen it before.”

Storm studies Ingrid’s face for signs of deception. Then she looks over at Honeypea, who shrugs. “I didn’t know. If this is true, Pinesong’s barrier was always thinner than we knew. Maybe he did it on purpose.”

“I did,” Pinesong confirms after they call him in, and bring him up to speed. “I made the barrier weak so seeds could and would travel through it. It’s actually structured to facilitate the right wind currents. That’s also why I insisted on including the birds and the bees, so they could propagate certain specimens in their own way. I regret it now, though. The walls would have held had I made them stronger.”

“Those defilers would have broken through eventually,” Ingrid believes. “And we would have been left with nothing. You saved all the beauty. It was the right call.”

“I just can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Storm says to her husband.

“You were so focused on a structured system. I just didn’t want to contain life like that, and I was afraid you would force me to change it. I’m sorry.”

“We’re time travelers,” Princess Honeypea begins. “Maybe what you did in the past was caused by it being necessary in the future. Maybe it was always going to end like this.”

“Then it’s my responsibility.” Pinesong takes the fruit from Ingrid. “I’ll go back and find the magnolia seed.”

“How many can go?” Ingrid questions.

“Only one,” Storm answers.

“No, this is a big one. It could carry two,” Honeypea determines.

“In that case, whoever goes, I’m going with,” Ingrid decides. “They’ll need protection, and it won’t hurt to have a second set of eyes on the seed. Once we do get it, it doesn’t mean the day is saved. We’ll have to find a place to plant it way out there.”

“Then it has to be Onyx,” Honeypea suggests. “He’ll know exactly where it needs to go. Assuming there is water out there?” she asks her brother specifically.

“Yeah, there’s even another confluence,” Pinesong replies, “though it’s only three rivers, not eleven. I don’t know if that’s where it would belong, though, or what.”

“That’s why it’s gotta be him,” Honeypea reiterates about Onyx.

Storm considers the options. They could go through with this and risk the timeline, as well as their own lives, or they could cut their losses, and leave the magnolia in the past. This won’t be an easy decision, so she decides to not make it right away. She orders everyone to go to bed while she stores the fruit and the branch it was once attached to somewhere safe, and secret.

It’s not secret enough for Ingrid, however. After some time has passed, she finds the hidden trapdoor, climbs down the ladder, and looks around for the specific hiding place. The room is full of all sorts of treasure. That’s literal. Gold, diamonds, and other precious jewels are strewn about like a dragon’s keep.

Before she can locate the safe, or wherever the fruit may be, she hears Onyx’s voice behind her from the shadows. “It’s not what you think.” He slowly steps into the light, holding his arms behind his back. “We’re not hoarders, and we’re not greedy. This stuff is meaningless to us.”

“Where does it come from?” Ingrid asks.

He breathes deeply as he’s hunting for the right words. “It grows here.”

“Come again?”

“I wasn’t here yet when Storm and Pinesong had the idea to build this world in the first place. They were on their own, and trying to do everything. His pocket dimension could only be so big, and she struggled to figure out where to plant the specimens. But apparently, these little trinkets have always come through since Piney’s sister came on board. You see, transplanting a plant is difficult on its own. Combine that with the need to transport it into a pocket dimension that’s inside a parallel dimension, and you’re just asking for something to go wrong. The Princess solved their problems, but this new method that she uses has a side effect. It attracts gold. Not raw gold, though, but forged pieces. She either doesn’t know why, or refuses to explain. That’s why she changed her first name to Princess. She thought it was fitting and funny. We toss it down here when we find a piece on the ground, because what else are we gonna do with it? Every item comes from a now defunct timeline. Putting it back in the real world would just flood the market, and as I said, it is of no use to us.”

“It is of no use to me either,” Ingrid agrees. “I’m here for something else.”

He swings a hand around to his front, revealing that he’s been holding the last surviving fruit of the magical memory magnolia tree. “Storm is out of her element. She’s just lost everything that she dedicated her life to preserving. She’s never gonna be happy with any decision she makes moving forward. Trust me, she wants us to make it for her.”

“What do we do?”

Onyx flashes those pearly whites, and swings his other arm around to toss her the branch that the fruit came with. He cups the fruit in both hands now, and tears it apart down the middle, handing one half to Ingrid. “Pop it in your mouth, and start chewing.”

She lifts up her half in customary celebration. “May all fall into your gravity well, but only your enemies hit the ground.” She stuffs it in and bites down. The flesh is spicy and bitter, and not juicy. She can feel the fibers shoot out as the fruits are crushed between her teeth. They crawl down her windpipe and her gullet alike. The tips puncture the tissue, and spread into every system—nervous, muscular; everywhere. An energy surges from them, and across every surface of her body, inside and out. Her skin glows blue, as does Onyx’s. The light that they’re both emanating sweeps out into the room, and when it fades away, they find themselves on Magnolia Island. They were aiming for the back of the tree, so Killjlir and Andrei wouldn’t spot them, but it doesn’t matter. All of the gold and jewels were spirited away with them. The treasures clatter and clank as they knock each other down the hill, into the water. The question now is, was this all predetermined, or have they just changed the timeline?

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The Fifth Division: Mind of Rocks (Part III)

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Storm doesn’t waste any time as the shield protecting her garden begins to falter and fall apart. “Go to Pinesong,” she orders Briar. “Tell him to reinforce that thing as much as possible. He can draw his energy from the tree if he has to.”

“Do you have any weapons?” Ingrid asks after Briar disappears.

“Obviously not,” Storm answers. “This is meant to be a peaceful haven.

“Then I need to speak with the tree,” Ingrid urges.

Storm thinks about it, but only for a moment, because time is of the essence. If these hostile forces breach the gate, they could destroy this whole place without any resistance. The magical memory magnolia could be the only thing standing in their way. “Goswin, I need your help,” she whispers into her shoulder.

Goswin never appears. Ingrid and Killjlir simply find themselves swept away, and transported to the island where the tree stands. They expect the Tamerlane Pryce avatar to appear before them, but he seems to have other ideas. A rounded rectangular portal appears on the trunk. No one comes out and invites them in, but the implication is that that’s what they’re supposed to do. They exchange a look, hold their breaths, and walk over the threshold. The entrance zips up behind them. They’re standing in a circular room now, like a castle tower, though the walls are not made of stone, but wood. It’s shifting through translucency and transparency. They can still see the conflux waters on the outside, and the expansive garden beyond, as well as the trembling dimensional dome in the sky. The tree is big, but it’s not this big. They shouldn’t both be able to stand in here with so much room. This is either just a representation of what it would look like if they really were in the trunk like chipmunks, or they’ve actually been shrunk down into some kind of bizarre parallel dimension.

The Pryce avatar does not appear. Instead, it’s the Angry Fifth Divisioner.

“Do you always take the form of your enemies?” Ingrid asks.

“I take the form of anyone whose essence I have absorbed,” A.F.’s mouth answers. “I do not see this man as my enemy. I do not have enemies.”

“That’s certainly how they see you,” Ingrid argues.

“They cannot kill me,” he replies. “They can only harm my agents.”

“Does this not concern you? Are we...dispensable?”

The tree smiles. “Your bodies are.”

“So we die here, you absorb us, and we just become part of your transcendental oversoul; the wave returning to the ocean.”

“That’s a way you could look at it,” A.F. agrees.

“Hey,” Killjlir interrupts. “Are you going to help us stop this attack, or not?”

“What’s happening is precisely what must.”

“Stop speaking in riddles, and vague nonsense,” Ingrid insists. “Tell us what you want, tell us what they want. Tell us what the Garden Dimension custodians want, what Goswin and his buddies want, what your other human agents want, and what the other leaders of the Sixth Key want. Tell us everything.”

He smiles again, like a seasoned parent, knowing that their youngest will not understand until they’re older. He doesn’t seem annoyed, or frustrated by all the incessant questions. “It doesn’t matter what any of you want. It doesn’t even matter what I want? All that is is what is, and what’s right.”

Both Ingrid and Killjlir roll their eyes.

“You don’t want riddles?” he goes on. “Then let me be perfectly blunt. The garden will be destroyed. It’s the only way.”

“The only way to accomplish what?” Killjlir is just as annoyed at these piecemeal answers. As Ingrid is.

“The only way to save it.”

There’s a loud boom behind them. They look back to see the pocket dimensional dome collapse. At first, a hole forms at the zenith, then the glassy walls recede back towards the ground, uneven, and occasionally trying to go back up, like the bars of a music visualizer. Pinesong is likely still fighting back, but they all fall in the end. The sun shines down on the ground in all its glory.

“This is what you wanted?” Ingrid presses.

The A.F. avatar chuckles. He lifts one hand, and jiggles it to the left. The view outside changes. It’s back to normal. The dimensional barrier seems intact, though it’s so clear and uniform, it’s hard to make out, especially through the wood walls of this weird tree interior dimension. He jiggles his hand again, changing the scene to when the dome is gone, but the garden is mostly gone too. There are a few bushes in the immediate vicinity, but most of it is desert. “The early days.” He shifts the view again. The bushes are burned. Fires rage in the distance. The garden is being destroyed. Another shift, and the outside is a barren wasteland once more, but not because Storm and her people haven’t begun their work yet. Everything has been annihilated. The soot from the fire remains on the branches of the heartiest of plants here, amidst the ash.

“Past and future,” Ingrid decides.

More like possibilities,” A.F. corrects.

“So it can be stopped,” Killjlir determines.

“Of course it can. I’m saying that it shouldn’t. When you look out there, do you see death, or do you see life?”

“Death, obviously.”

“I would imagine,” A.F. says. “I see something different, though. I see potential. I see a new beginning.”

“Are you telling us that this is a prescription burn?” Killjlir questions. “They destroy the old, so that life can begin anew?”

“I’m saying that it’s a necessary evil. To protect the world, we destroy the garden.”

Ingrid shakes her head. “The world out there, in this parallel dimension? Onyx didn’t tell me what it’s like. It’s uncontrolled, though. It’s...unprotected. Random.”

The tree laughs again at the dumb children. “Is that the point of life? To be controlled?” He reaches up to swipe the scene away entirely, flinging the view across the lands—out of the pocket where the garden once stood—somewhere away from its borders. There is life here too, just like the garden, though it’s unstructured, as predicted. Leaves are left unraked; branches unpruned. It’s patchy and random, with brown grass in some spots, apparent volunteers breaking up the flow, and some plants that are just straight up dead. It’s natural, it’s wild, and it’s beautiful.

“This is a copy of Earth, isn’t it, but without buildings, or anything else manmade?” Ingrid asks as she’s looking down at the dirt below.

“This parallel dimension was stuck in the past, about 300 million years prior to the modern day,” the A.F. avatar begins to explain. “The land was combined into a supercontinent known as Pangea. The rest of it, ocean. Little moisture could reach the center of Pangea, leaving it as an arid desert. Only the coastal regions were lush with vegetation. We don’t know what this parallel dimension exists, it just does. The Gardeners specifically chose it so as not to interfere with the delicate ecosystem of a preexisting world. The center of this continent was nothing, just sand and dirt, and they thought that it was up for grabs for this reason. They built a pocket dimension right there, but pocket dimensions don’t have skies. Their atmospheres are artificial, and must be recycled. So they intentionally made the barrier thin, which gives it physical structure within the world around it. The sun can penetrate, as can the air. And so can seeds.” He gestures towards the vegetation outside the tree tower. “They didn’t even realize it, but they were seeding life all over the continent. Every plant that they planted is out here somewhere, surviving in its natural state. Except for the newest specimens, of course, who just haven’t had time to permeate the barrier.”

“So it’s not just a garden dimension anymore. It’s a garden planet,” Killjlir muses.

“It’s the way every world should be. In my honest opinion,” A.F. adds.

Ingrid shakes her head. “You propose that we let the garden be destroyed, because this is all out here anyway? Why wouldn’t our enemies just destroy it too? Set a larger fire, and let it encompass the supercontinent. Couldn’t be too hard.”

“They don’t know it’s here,” the tree claims.

“But they’re coming from the outside,” Ingrid reasons. “They’re on the border. They could easily just...turn around and look.”

“They’re not on the border,” he argues. “They just needed to collapse the barrier, so they could come from their own plane of existence.”

“Well, they’ll see it now,” Killjlir presumes. “Again, they’ll just turn around.”

“Not if they stay near the center. Their plan was to engulf us in flames, and let it spread to the center, but it is vital that they come to the conflux instead, so their view is obstructed. You must lure them to me, and make them set the fire at my feet. They’ll have no choice but to escape interdimensionally, and they will never see what the world truly looks like. That’s why I brought you.”

“Won’t you be destroyed?” Ingrid figures.

“Another necessary evil.” He sighs. “I’m a sentient tree with magical powers. I’ve lived many lifetimes, and seen all of time and space. I’m ready to go.”

“There’s gotta be a better way,” Killjlir hopes.

“If there were, I would see it,” A.F. contends.

Ingrid takes a deep breath. “Take us back to realtime, and realspace. You’ll need to be able to transport us upon request.”

“Done. Easy.” With a wave of his hands, the Memory Magnolia transports them back to the conflux.

They’re standing on the little island again, and they’re not alone. “Andrei. Where are Selma and Ayata?”

“They’re helping everyone escape into the tunnels,” Andrei replies. “Weaver and those other three don’t have their powers anymore, or perhaps just not right now. They have to get out manually, but once they’re safe, they plan to come back to protect the tree. Princess Honeypea says that it’s the most important lifeform out here.”

“No,” Ingrid counters. “We have to let them destroy the tree. Trust me, this is what it wants. Tell your partners to stay where they are, protecting the others. You and Killjlir will stand guard here. Put up a fight, so it doesn’t seem suspicious, but ultimately, let them through.”

“What are you gonna do?” Killjlir asks her.

“I’m bait,” Ingrid answers. “Take me to ‘em, tree guy.” She’s teleported to a tunnel entrance. Ayata is there, fighting off Tamerlane and his partners in hand-to-hand combat. It’s so pedestrian, fighting like this, instead of with powers, or at least guns, but they may be just as restricted as everyone else. “Get back to the tree!” she orders Ayata. “It’s the only thing that matters! As long as it’s standing, they can’t destroy anything!”

Ingrid would sure prefer a gun in this situation, but if the tree wants the garden destroyed, it better be destroyed. That means she can’t just kill all of her opponents right here. Presumably, if these humans don’t get the job done, this First Explorer entity will just find others to do its bidding. After Ayata disappears, Ingrid takes her place in the fight, fending off three attackers at once. They all appear to have impenetrable skin, but they’re untrained and unskilled. She would send them all into the ground if they weren’t superhumanly strong and tough. Still, she keeps going, because that’s what they’re expecting out of her. She can’t just roll over, even though the endgame sounds inevitable. Finally, they manage to punch and kick her enough times for her to reasonably fall to the ground herself, and let them run off.

“Get to the tree. I’ll finish this,” one of the women says. The other two nod, and teleport away. Well, two out of three ain’t bad. The ruse should hold.

Ingrid spits some of the blood out of her mouth as she’s kneeling in the dirt. She extends her hand. “Ingrid Alvarado.”

The enemy shakes her hand. “Iolanta Koval.” She then pulls Ingrid up to her feet. “You have some skill. Could you teach me?”

“You would have to not kill me first.”

“Good point.” Iolanta tilts her head. “I have finally figured out how to stop your little tree god from subverting my temporal suppressive powers. You ain’t goin’ nowhere anymore. You’re standing on your own grave.”

Ingrid takes a breath, and enjoys one final look at the beautiful garden around her. She could have been happy here. “It’s so gorgeous...not the worst place to die. So why are you trying to destroy it?”

She shrugs. “I have no strong feelings about it. This is just what the boss wants.”

“You always do what the boss says?”

“Someone has to lead, someone has to follow. It’s what keeps the trains running on time. Without the chain of command, it’s chaos.”

There’s an explosion a ways away, in the direction of the magnolia tree. The fire is already spreading out from it, and heading their way. They both regard it with different feelings. Iolanta is indifferent. Ingrid is saddened. “That doesn’t look like chaos to you?”

“Let’s call it a controlled burn,” Iolanta decides.

“Yes, let’s.” Hopefully the magnolia used the last of its power to send all of the humans standing there to a safe place, even Killjlir.

Even though they’re both totally exhausted, Iolanta isn’t finished. She takes a pea shooter out of her breast pocket, and points it at Ingrid’s head. She doesn’t get the chance to pull the trigger, though. A gunshot rings out from somewhere, and blood shoots out of her neck. She falls to the ground.

Selma is jogging the rest of the way up from the tunnel entrance, still holding her firearm at the ready. “We have to go.”

“No, I have to make sure that this is done,” Ingrid argues. She’s watching the fire in the distance. It’s coming closer as the flames begin to engulf everything that made this place so beautiful. Necessary evil or not, it’s a damn shame.

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Microstory 2365: Earth, August 17, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

I didn’t even think about that, how there would be no organic material in the soil on a lifeless alien world. Even if we were to find life on another planet, it would probably not be the right organic material for the plants that we need to survive. I must say, as angry as I was with your mother, I admired her greatly for her bravery. She knew that she was going somewhere dangerous, and that she might not make it. She and everyone on that ship should be commended for their courage in the face of such literal darkness. I hope it’s okay to say all that. I know that you had a tricky relationship with your mom, and it’s only grown more complicated since she passed. I just want to make sure you know that she loved you very much, and your brother too. Leaving him was the hardest thing that she ever did. She and I struggled there near the end, but she never lied to me. She wouldn’t have taken walking away from Condor lightly. She genuinely believed in the science that they were advancing. Had things gone more smoothly here—had Condor and I lived more stable lives—the insights taken from this research could have helped humanity better understand how humans adapt and survive in the black. Space travel will only increase in the future. I just hope that whoever was in charge managed to get something positive out of it before civilization fell apart. I hate to think that never having the chance to meet my own daughter amounted to absolutely nothing. Condor has asked me about the researchers themselves, and I’ve spent a lot of time pondering who here may have been involved. I’m trying to make a list of everyone I’ve ever met in my life since Alizée first told me that she was pregnant. It’s nothing concrete, but after you left, I did have one neighbor who used to come by the apartment to play cards. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but now I am looking back at it with fresh eyes. He offered to do a number of things together, like watching sports, playing sports, hiking—a lot of outdoorsy and active stuff that I’m not into. He didn’t really stop asking until he found something that I was amenable to. He may have been using this as an excuse to come over and monitor Condor. I don’t know, but we moved away when Condor was still young, and I never saw that guy again. I think I’ll try to see if he’s still alive somewhere, and maybe get you some answers. I won’t write back until I find something, or hit a roadblock.

Stay safe out there,

Pascal

PS: I ordered some apples from the Australian dome, because we don’t have them yet here. It will be a while before we swing around close enough to it again.

Microstory 2362: Earth, August 6, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

It’s true, I don’t need to hear certain details about your love life, but I want you to feel comfortable telling me what’s going on with you. I guess it’s a little strange that we’ve never brought it up before. Ya know, when we talk about the population decline on this planet, people often cite the poisoned atmosphere as the primary cause of it, but the truth is a lot more nuanced. Yes, obviously people died from it, and not just from the gases themselves—there were a lot of related effects, like failures in infrastructure maintenance that made the old cities less safe—but there were less overt repercussions too. The biggest consequence of the end of the old world was how isolated it made us from each other. You used to be able to take a bus to the airport, get on a flight, and be on the other side of the world in a matter of hours. You could travel just about anywhere with hardly any time to plan. Our jets are faster than ever, but the preparation for these flights takes so much more effort. If you want to go somewhere, you better damn well be sure that that’s where you wanna be, because there is no guarantee that you’re gonna be back. Because of all these limitations, and more, it’s much harder for some of us to meet someone. People are having fewer kids than they did in the past, because they have a hard time finding suitable partners. I won’t even get into population control mandates, but the only things keeping us from bursting at the seams are the people who do the transportation jobs like we used to have, and those building new settlements, or expanding preexisting habitats. This is all to say that I’ve not had much luck on the relationship front myself. I’ve moved around more than most. Our clients had to move too, but once we placed them at their new homes, they were free to settle down, and develop bonds within their respective communities. We just kept moving. I’ve gone on a few dates here under this ocean dome, but none of them has led to anything special. I’m not opposed to it, but we’re not getting any younger, so I’ve kind of learned to not get my hopes up about it anymore. I’m glad that you’ve found someone with the potential to last. I don’t think your age gap is all that big of a deal. And what are ya gonna do, let it get in your way? I say, love is love. As long as you’re consenting adults, and neither one is exerting any unfair power over the other, you should be allowed to do whatever feels right. But I’ll warn you, so you can warn him, if he hurts you, no interplanetary void is wide enough to keep him safe from my wrath. Okay, I’m done being overprotective again. Hey, dad didn’t tell me what he put in his latest letter to you, but I hope you’re pleased with it, and feeling okay. Tell me however much you want.

Love ya,

Condor

The Fourth Quadrant: Bag of Rocks (Part II)

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Selma and Andrei volunteer to become Pryce Tree’s human agents, as does Andrei’s love interest, Ayata. The two of them have not yet defined their relationship, but they are definitely some sort of couple. Ayata’s boss, Cosette doesn’t want her to go, but the tree needs a team of three people for safety reasons, and no one else is stepping up. It’s not like the others won’t be doing anything. If they’re going to live in the Garden Dimension, then they’re expected to contribute. Princess Honeypea will have them working with the plants, making sure they’re healthy and happy. She’s excited to have this many people around all at once. It’s a rare sight. These organisms aren’t for show, only for their own preservation. Selma thinks that it’s a bit weird, but the people who run this place seem to think that protecting the otherwise extinct strains is inherently valuable, whether anyone is around to enjoy them or not.

The three agents are asked to wade through the water, halfway across the conflux of the rivers, and onto the dry land on the other side. They expected it to be quite cold, but it’s the perfect temperature, and actually quite relaxing, even as they’re moving through it at a fairly quick pace. They continue to walk in the same direction over the prairie until they come to a door on the side of a hill. They ring the doorbell, as instructed, but instead of receiving a vocal response, the door opens on its own. They follow the steps down into what looks like a bunker. It’s a bit eerie, but only because they don’t exactly know what’s going on; not because anything feels nefarious.

A woman in a lab coat is sitting on a stool behind a counter with her back to them. She’s working on something that they can’t see. She spins around, and pushes her steampunk goggles up to her forehead. “Can I help you?”

“We were told to come here. Are we in the right place?” Andrei asks.

“I dunno. Who told you?”

“The...tr—tree.”

“Ah, yes. If that’s what it said, that’s what it meant.” The scientist removes her goggles altogether, and pulls off her gloves. She grabs an earpiece from the table between them, and sticks it in her ear, but has to hold it in place. “I have three people here?” She listens to a response. “Full tack?” She waits again. “Well, what is their objective?” More waiting. “I could give them the nanosuit implants that Ramses Abdulrashid invented in the main sequence. That would be superior.” Only a few seconds this time. “Okay, then. I’m on it.” She sets the earpiece back down.

“What is a nanosuit?” Ayata asks, intrigued.

“She also said implants. I’m not up for that,” Selma contends.

“You’re not authorized for them anyway,” the scientist lady says. She reaches out. “My name is Weaver. I don’t work for the Garden Dimension, per se, but they let me work out of here, and in exchange, I use some of my technology to protect this world from external threats. I’m told that you’re to receive tactical gear for recon—and possibly offensive—missions. I can tell you how the gear works, and how to use it, but I’m guessing that you’ll be meeting with Captain Montagne for the rundown of your responsibilities. I’m also assuming that Eight Point Seven will be your pilot.”

“Is that someone’s name?” Andrei questions. “Eight Point Seven?”

“It is. Please don’t interrupt me.” She steps around the table, and heads towards an open doorway. “Right this way.” She leads them down the dim hallway, which automatically lights up before them, then dims again behind. A door opens up for her, and they walk into a locker room. She points. “Lav through there, booths for privacy if you need them. You can put your old clothes in one of these bags, and take them with you, or just find an empty locker. Follow the instructions to designate an access code, and leave them here. These big lockers here will have everything you need. It will be obvious how to put the clothing on. You don’t have to look in the packs right now. I’ll train you on them once you’re ready, which we’ll do in the briefing room across the hall.” She goes back through the door to leave them to it. “Whenever you’re ready.”

They’re all friends here, so they don’t use the privacy booths. Once they’re finished getting dressed, they look like bona fide soldiers, and Selma is worried about stolen valor. They aren’t wearing any sort of rank indicators, or whatever, but it still feels disrespectful. She is a civil servant and a leader, not a fighter. What the hell has she gotten herself into? They grab their packs from the bottom of their lockers, and walk over to the briefing room. Weaver has all the contents that are in their own bags laid out on the demonstration table. It’s like a spy movie. She goes over every item, no matter how obvious or mundane, including the extra socks, and firestarter.

“But you don’t know where we’re going, or what we’re gonna be doing?” Selma presses.

“I have no clue,” Weaver admits. “I found out where you’ll be conducting your training, and it won’t be here, but other than that, they’ve told me nothing.”

The faint image of the magnolia tree appears on the other side of the room. Pryce Tree steps out of it as if it were a door, and lets it fade away behind him. “Are you all ready to go?”

“We’re doing training?” Andrei asks him to confirm.

“You didn’t think we were just gonna throw you out there with nothing, did you?” Pryce Tree laughs. “We’re not monsters. You never answered my question.”

This is all very overwhelming, but no one says anything out loud. They just exchange looks, and it’s clear that none of them was prepared for what they were getting themselves into. They should have asked for more information before raising their hands. It doesn’t matter, though, because it’s done. They’re certainly not going to back out now, and saddle someone else with this responsibility. They each nod, and let the magical tree spirit them away.

They’re standing in front of a man in a dojo. He’s wearing robes, and no shoes or socks. He’s cycling through a deck of note cards, presumably trying to learn or memorize something. “I’ll be with you in a second.” He keeps pulling the top card out, and slipping it back into the back. He does a few more before he comes to a stopping point. He checks his watch. “My name is Darko—”

“Heh,” a woman sitting in the corner interrupts him.

Darko rolls his eyes. “For the sake of consistency, I have been asked to change my designation. In the spirit of cooperation with my gracious hosts, you may call me Prince Darko. That’s not my real name. It’s a holdover from an old reality where I was a little less...conscientious. That over there is my apprentice, Jesimula Utkin. Don’t worry about what she thinks.”

“Uh, he’s teaching me taekwondo,” Jesimula corrects. “I know how to fight, I’m just expanding my repertoire.”

“Don’t you have an away mission to prepare for?” Darko asks her.

“It’s a wellness check on New Welrios,” Jesimula explains. “They don’t want me there.”

“I understand the sentiment.”

Jesimula sticks her tongue out like a child, but then leaves.

“Sorry about that. We’re still learning to get along, but we don’t hate each other. As I was saying, I’m Prince Darko Matic—”

“Are you related to Mateo or Leona?” Andrei asks him.

“He’s my half-brother,” Prince Darko answers. “You didn’t get any background info before you came here, did you?”

“We have no idea where we are, or what we’ll be doing,” Selma says.

“What are your names?” Darko asks.

“I’m Andrei Orlov. This is Selma Eriksen, and the lovely and beguiling, Ayata Seegers.”

Darko narrows his eyes at them, but specifically at Ayata. “Seegers.” He starts cycling through his note cards again until he finds what he’s looking for. Hartwin Seegers.”

Ayata is very surprised to hear this. “That’s my grandfather.”

Darko nods. “He served as a tactician in a covert outfit known as SD-6 in the Third Rail. Were you aware of that?”

“We were aware that...he did something,” Ayata acknowledges. “He died a few years ago, before he ever got into specifics.”

“One of his teammates lives here, Kivi Bristol. Would you like to meet here?” It looks like Darko is about to make a call through his watch.

“That’s okay,” Ayata answers quickly.

“Very well.” Darko nods again. “Moving on, I was asked to teach you basic well-rounded combat skills, as well as introductory use of firearms, and common weapons. I was told that this is time-sensitive, which is a little strange since you’re apparently from the past. But I’m not gonna argue with a sentient tree, so I’ll be taking you through my intensive program.” He reaches down to the bench behind him, and lifts the seat to retrieve three mesh bags. He drops one at each of their feet. “These are your bags of rocks. You’ll notice that there’s only one rock in there right now. This represents your lack of skill. Go ahead and pick up your bags,” he directs as if they should have known to do that unprompted. “You will keep your bag with you at all times. You’ll sleep with it, and you’ll shower with it, and when I ask you to run five kilometers, you’ll lug it around the track with you. When you screw up, you get a new rock. When you fail to meet time, you get a new rock. When you talk back to me... That’s right, new rock. Luckily, I’m a merciful teacher. When you do something well, I’ll take a rock back. At the end of your training, the person with the lightest bag wins. I’ll tell you precisely what you win when we cross that bridge. Any questions so far?”

Andrei holds up a hand, but doesn’t wait to be called upon. “Are they weighted? Are major screw-ups awarded by a heavier rock?”

Darko salutes facetiously. “Major Screw-up. Yes, a heavier rock means you failed miserably. A pebble would just be a tiny little mistake.” He pulls a smallish rock out of his robe pocket, steps forward, and slips it into Andrei’s bag.

“What’s this for? Did I already mess up?”

“I just kinda don’t like your voice.” Darko drops another small rock into his bag.

Without a hint of anger, Andrei fiddles with his watch, and then lifts it up to his lips. “How’s this?” he asks, using technology to replicate Darko’s voice instead.

Darko drops a third rock in his bag for a total of four. “I don’t like people mimicking my voice either.” He went back to his place before them. “This was your first lesson. I am the Keeper of the Rocks. I decide what constitutes an addition or subtraction, and there will be no arguing with me about it. I literally asked for questions, so he didn’t technically do anything wrong, but I’m the boss, and I reserve the right to change or reinterpret the rules without even telling you. Any other questions?”

Silence.

“Good, that means you’re learning.” Darko takes two rocks out his pocket, dropping one in Selma’s bag, and the other in Ayata’s. “These are just because it’s Tuesday. All right. Clip those around your waists, and let’s get to it.” He claps his hands, and walks over to slide open a door to another room, which seems to be a boxing gym.

They’re afraid to ask, but come to learn after a few days that this intensive program is set to last three weeks. They run the gamut for basic training. They do weightlifting, cardio exercise, self-defense, boxing, martial arts, weapons safety, marksmanship, and mindfulness. None of them is an elite superspy when they’re done, but they feel stronger and more prepared than they were when this all began. It is Selma who ends up the winner with zero rocks left in her bag. She doesn’t question it when Darko reaches over, and plants a sticker of a smiling sun on her chest. That’s it, that’s the grand prize. And it’s more than enough. For now. She decides that she doesn’t really want to go on any missions. She wants to keep learning.

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