Microstory 2326: Vacuus, November 18, 2178

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Dear Condor,

I’m sorry to hear that you were having so much trouble sleeping. If you ever need to take a few days to respond, that’s okay. You’ve already extended me the same courtesy when I was gone for weeks. It would be crazy of me to not give you a little bit of extra time if you need it. I mean, if there’s nothing to say, then there’s nothing to say. When I first wrote to you, I didn’t think that you would respond in the first place, let alone that we would start conversing on any sort or regular basis. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll assume that you’re waiting for something interesting to happen, or that you just don’t feel like talking. Yes, I will worry about you, and wonder if something’s happened to you, but that’s just the nature of interplanetary correspondence. I spoke with an expert on this side of the void who says that the FTL communication research has stalled, despite what some might be trying to convince the public. He’s not as hopeful as people may be making it out to be. He can’t say for sure that it’s impossible, but it’s unlikely to work any time soon, if ever. For now, we’re stuck with the light lag. Back in the old days, it was not unheard of for a letter to take weeks to get from one place to another. They were riding in carriages, and directly on horses, and even in some cases, just walking on their own two feet! Can you imagine? There was no way for them to know if their messages were being received unless and until they received a reply. At least we have the option of read receipts for our digital signals. I like when that comes in. It makes me feel a little bit better, because it would know if the message had been intercepted, which of course, it hasn’t so far. What it doesn’t tell us is whether the other twin is doing okay, but maybe there’s a way for us to handle that ourselves. I suppose that we could come up with a protocol where we reply right away with a very brief acknowledgement as a sort of manual read receipt. That way, we know that the other is still alive, but can’t reply fully yet. What do you think of that idea? Please respond at faster than light speeds so I don’t have to wait too long for your input.

From the other side of darkness,

Corinthia

Microstory 2290: Speak of it No Further

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In movies, when someone writes a great book, or is expected to write one, they’ll usually just go straight to the publisher. In fact, publishers are usually asking them to write something for them, generally if the person is already famous, and they think they can make some serious money off of a book deal about their experiences. In the real world, you really need to get an agent first. Sure, publishers have contacted me, but not under the assumption that they’ll be dealing with me directly. They’re all asking who my agent is, so they can negotiate with them instead, just as they’re used to. I’ve not been thinking about it too much, so I don’t have one of those. That’s what I need to do now. But when I say I, I mean Dutch, because I’ve placed him in charge of all that stuff. He’ll talk to the agents, and find the right fit for me, and once he does, the two of them will coordinate with the publishers, and go through that whole process, if anything comes to fruition anyway. Either way, I’m not going to worry myself about it, because it’s not really my goal. Not only do I not have time, and because it distracts me from the art itself, but because I am not doing this for anyone else. I am writing this for me. I can always throw it up on a new website, and let anyone read it. I don’t need it to be published. So other people can go ahead and deal with it on my behalf. If nothing comes of it, or I end up with a bad deal, then whatever. It’s not like I need the money, or more fame. I just need to focus on my work, and let it speak for itself. No matter what, you will have the opportunity to experience it, one way or another, and I’m not a hundred percent convinced that that should come at a cost. Again, I’m not concerning myself with any of it, so I shall speak of it no further.

Microstory 2286: Cathartic to Go Out Alone

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I did a bad thing yesterday; I escaped. I left a note, and my phone was on my person at all times, but everyone was still worried about me. I knew they would be, but I wasn’t thinking about that at the time. I know it’s not the same thing, but my life has felt so stifling these days, like I’m on house arrest. I wanted to be free, so I took the car for a drive. I found a small cemetery pretty far outside of town, and just sat there on one of the stone benches in the freezing cold. I’ve always felt rather comfortable in cemeteries, probably because there usually aren’t very many other people around. They make most people sad at best, and uncomfortable at worst. I go there to think, but also to peruse the headstones. I like to see all the different designs that they carve into them, and to note how many are grouped in families. I have an obsession with time, as you know, so I also look for the oldest grave, and do mental math on people’s lifetimes. Sometimes it really is sad, like when the year of death is the same as the year of birth. It was cathartic to go out alone, even though I really wasn’t supposed to. I was feeling so trapped, but it was still wrong of me, and I received a proper scolding from my security firm. I’m just still not used to being so attached and dependent on others. I mean, that’s not really true, is it? My life has always been a mess. I’ve always relied on others. Too much, truthfully. Money was meant to change that about me, but it’s only made it worse. Man, if I can’t ever go back home, it might be worth it just to escape this world, and start over fresh somewhere else. What’s that, you say? My writing? How’s my writing going? Does it help? No. It’s a nothing burger, as the saying goes. I’m feeling very unmotivated to write anything; fact or fiction. I think I’m probably gonna give up again.

Microstory 2269: Until Tomorrow

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It’s Kelly, filling in for Nick just for today. He’s fine, but the DPA had to spirit him away. They won’t tell us anything about it for obvious reasons, but they promise that they’ll have him back tonight. Once he returns, he won’t be able to say anything about it—they were clear about that. My guess is that they want him to answer questions in preparation for his meeting with the President next week. We’re worried, but his primary bodyguard went with him. I feel much more comfortable knowing that he’s not alone. Since he doesn’t have a background on this planet, I suppose this is the best way to assess his intentions. Or maybe they do this sort of thing for everyone. I really couldn’t say. Until tomorrow!

Microstory 2262: Rather Be Blissfully Ignorant

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All of you apparently expected to hear me give you an answer for whether I was going to do an interview for one of my local news television programs. In short, yes. In a tiny bit longer, it’s complicated. I will be doing something in some way at some point, but the network is making certain accommodations for it that I’m not privy to. I’ll give you all more information, not when I know it, but when I’m allowed to tell you. Don’t stress out about it, though, because it may be a long time before the gears start turning. In the meantime, my publicist is setting me up with one of the firm’s interview specialists to help me learn how to speak in public. I’ve done it before—in various ways, and to varying degrees of success—but I’ve never actually been interviewed, per se. I think we’ll be practicing a lot, which I’m sure I’ll have a lot of fun with...he said sarcastically. I don’t really care to talk about myself in person, and I don’t like trying to figure out how to censor my responses. The only thing worse than getting a question that I wasn’t ready for would be being prepared for all questions, and feeling anxious for them the whole time until it’s finally over. You would think that the worry that comes from not knowing what’s going to happen is what kills me, and that’s true in most situations, but when it comes to interacting with other people, I think I would rather be blissfully ignorant so I don’t spend too much time thinking about it. I’m just weird like that I guess. So to protect myself, that’s all I’ll say for now.

Microstory 1950: Favorite Chaps

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Myka: What do you think of this one?

Leonard: For me?

Myka: Yeah. It has really good battery life, and a fast processor.

Leonard: Do they just make phones with buttons for dialing phone numbers?

Myka: You don’t want to be able to text?

Leonard: Yeah, in my world, the numbered buttons have letters too.

Myka: Oh my God, you calgian. It takes forever to text that way. If you want something simpler, we can do that. But no friend of mine is gonna have a brick, or even a candybar.

Leonard: What the heck is a calgian?

Myka: You don’t have calgians? They hate all technology. I think the original term sprouted from a movement a long time ago of people whose loved ones were killed by the first horseless carriages, or something like that.

Leonard: Oh, we call those people hoobliers.

Myka: That’s a weird word. Anyway; scrolling, scrolling, scrolling. What about this one?

Leonard: When I was staying at the hotel on the government’s dime, I didn’t have to pay for anything, but I could still see the prices. Based on my understanding of the value of your dollar—which is different from what I’m used to—that is still a lot of money.

Myka: I can afford it.

Leonard: Whether you can afford it or not is not the problem. It’s whether I can afford to pay you back. The offer from the Office of Special Investigations did not come with a rate of pay, and I still don’t even know if I’m going to accept it.

Myka: This isn’t a loan, Leonard. It’s a gift.

Leonard: You don’t have to do that.

Myka: I want to. I don’t need a new job; I’m doing okay for myself as I am.

Leonard: What do you do for a living? I don’t know if you ever said.

Myka: I work in a room full of remotely accessed computers and servers. I don’t have technical expertise, but if someone who’s working from home needs their machine to be turned back on, or something else goes wrong that requires physical access, they send me a message, and I handle it. I also ship and receive their home devices.

Leonard: Oh, that’s interesting.

Myka: It’s not. Things don’t go wrong often. Luckily, it allows me to watch TV all day.

Leonard: Once when I was struggling to find a job, my father gave me the best advice I’ve ever heard. The goal for those who don’t have any special skill or passion should be a job that gives them the most amount of money for the least amount of work.

Myka: That is interesting. [...] Anyway, let me get this for you, okay? I think you may find yourself using the features more than you think. Don’t feel bad about the money. I need to know that you’ll be available at any time. Plus, you’ll be able to install SatChapp.

Leonard: All right, I won’t feel bad. Thanks, Myka. And what is SatChapp?

Myka: It’s an app that lets you track your friends via satellite. SatChapp, the sat app for your favorite chaps. There’s a jingle that goes with it. Here, I’ll look it up on VidChapp.

Leonard: I’m one of your favorite chaps?

Myka: *giggling* Shut up. Of course you are.

Microstory 1949: Those in the Know

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Reese: Oh, good, you’re here too. I was worried about you both, but you don’t have a phone, and she’s not picking up.

Myka: Sorry, I’m here. My phone died while we were in quarantine, and it’s still off and on the charger. Leo, we need to get you your own device.

Leonard: Yeah.

Reese: Is everyone okay? How did they treat you in there? [...] Somebody respond, I’m getting worried again.

Leonard: I’m fine, I was just trying to let the lady speak first.

Myka: I’m fine too. I missed you...both. I have something to tell you, though, and I don’t know how you’re gonna feel about it.

Leonard: Let me guess, they offered you a job.

Myka: Yeah!

Reese: Seriously? Both of you? That’s suspicious.

Myka: Why, you don’t think I would be cut out for it?

Reese: I didn’t say that. It’s just that the government doesn’t make a habit out of hiring the formerly incarcerated. Even the OSI has a thing about perfect prior records. What would you even be doing for them?

Myka: They didn’t say.

Reese: See? Suspicious. I don’t think you should even entertain the idea.

Leonard: I’m not so sure, and I think I know the reason. She knows about the aliens, and I am an alien. I think they would rather keep us close than far away where they can’t keep track of our movements and behaviors. I’m thinking about taking it. Like you said, I need a phone. And a place to live, and food. I need money for all that, just as I did on my world. How hard would it be to apply at, say, a carwash without a valid background?

Myka: You’re right, they’re trying to keep an eye on us, but that doesn’t doesn’t mean we should accept the positions. I assume you have something more substantial in the way of an offer than I do, but it sounds dangerous.

Reese: Well....

Myka: Well, what? Have you already changed your mind?

Reese: I want you both to be safe, and you knowing about aliens puts you in more danger than I’m in because I know about them too. Yes, you would be working for the people who are placing you in that danger, but maybe they’ll be less likely to go after you if you seem to share their interests. Government spies know government secrets all the time, and their government doesn’t kill them, because they’re on the same side.

Myka: So, you think I should take it?

Reese: I didn’t say that. I just don’t think we should dismiss it. We really should learn what plans they have for you. You have skills, as do you, Leonard, but neither of you has the kind of résumé they generally look for.

Leonard: How do you suppose we go about procuring such information?

Reese: We don’t. I already work there, to a certain extent. I’ll go back in and see what I can find out. You two stay here and don’t go out unless you’re buying a new phone, and don’t separate until you have one...or maybe not even then.