Showing posts with label wreckage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wreckage. Show all posts

Thursday, December 12, 2024

Microstory 2299: Panic Attack

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 3
We’re putting the finishing touches on the arrangements for the memorial service tomorrow. It’s going to be a lovely, mostly somber event. But it won’t just be all wails and cursing at the gods. We’ll be playing both of their favorite music; moreso Dutch, since he had more time to develop a taste for what this planet has to offer. I’ll be giving the eulogy, of course, and I’m really nervous about it. I’ve never spoken in front of this many people before. The publicist keeps reminding me that I already have a huge audience, because Nick managed to build one for this blog, and I’ve been posting on it exclusively for days. That’s an interesting way to frame it, and I’m trying to hold onto that. You’ve been listening to me talk for a while now, even before Nick died; it’s just that it’s been through the written word, and now you’re going to hear my real voice, and see my real face. Oh God, I think I’m having a panic attack.

All right, I’m back. That white space between paragraphs is where that panic attack happened, but I’m okay. As a medical professional, I know all the tricks, but it’s one thing to give advice to someone else, and another to follow through when you need it yourself. I closed the lid of my laptop, shut the shades, and turned off all the lights. I sat upright in the hotel bed, and focused on my breathing. Despite the darkness, I could make out enough objects in the room. I could see the television on the opposite wall; the painting hanging over the refrigerator, depicting a frozen ice skating pond with scratches on the surface, but no skaters; the faint outline of the DO NOT DISTURB sign; the luggage I had sprawled out on the other bed; and the half empty glass of water on the nightstand. No, it wasn’t half empty, but half full. I could touch the soft sheets I was sitting upon; my overheated phone that I’ve been meaning to upgrade; the highlighter that I was using while researching eulogy commonalities; and the brass gooseneck reading lamp coming from the wall above the headboard. I could hear the sound of children running in the halls while their mother tried to shush them up; the hum of the furnace; and the ticking of the analog clock by the door to the bathroom. I could smell the half eaten box of cheese crackers on the table in the corner; and something dank that I couldn’t place wafting in through the vents. I could taste the toothpaste in my mouth that I should have more thoroughly rinsed out before I sat down to write this post.

I had to take another break, which is why I’m posting this later than usual. Everything is okay, and I think I’m gonna be okay, but as the memorial approaches, it’s like it’s all happening again. I never talked about it before, and I will probably never publicly go into too much detail, but obviously, I was there when they died. I remember the lurch of the vehicle as we slid on the ice, and finally came to a stop. I remember running out of the car, and one of the security guards holding me back so I couldn’t see the wreckage. I remember seeing the wreckage anyway, and feeling the heat from the flames on my face, which felt like they were going to burn me, yet somehow still could not protect my toes from freezing under the tyranny of the snow as it seeped into my socks. I remember thinking that no one could have survived that fall, even though I was still bleary eyed, and confused. There was no hope, and now these memories are coming back, which will only make the eulogy harder to write, and even harder to give. I need a third break.

Tuesday, August 1, 2023

Microstory 1942: Injured Wanderer

Generated by Dream by Wombo text-to-image AI software
Shadow Team Leader: This is Shadow Team Leader, reporting in. Do you read me, Special Investigator?
Special InvestigatorShadow Team Leader, this is Special Investigator. Go ahead.
Shadow Team Leader: We think the recon team has found something. Most of them have disappeared into the ground, presumably into some kind of bunker, or underground facility.
Special Investigator: An underground facility? All the way out there?
Shadow Team Leader: We believe so, sir. Whatever it is, they climbed into it willingly. It was just a minute ago.
Special Investigator: Who did they leave topside?
Shadow Team Leader: Two of the freewomen they had with them.
Special Investigator: The primary?
Shadow Team Leader: No, one of the secondaries. How should we proceed, sir?
Special Investigator: Are the freewomen armed?
Shadow Team Leader: One of them is, sir.
Special Investigator: We can’t risk an incident. If there are hostiles down there, we can’t appear to be discoordinated, or internally disharmonious. *pause* One of you needs to run an injured wanderer maneuver. Are there any women on your team? I think the freewomen will respond better to one of their own.
Shadow Team Leader: Shadow Team Member 1 can do it. She’s done it before. How badly do you want her to be injured?
Special Investigator: Turn her ankle and cut her upper arm.
Shadow Team Leader: Understood. Shadow Team Leader out.
Shadow Team Member 1: The cut should be on the same side as the turned ankle. I should be leaning to one side to sell it my vulnerability
Shadow Team Leader: Agreed. My knife or yours?
Shadow Team Member 1: Neither. The cut will be too smooth. If I hurt myself in a car wreck, it needs to be jagged and uneven.
Shadow Team Member 2: I can handle that. I was an art major. Which side?
Shadow Team Leader: Not here. Let’s runabout to the other side. None of them is from the area. They don’t know how close the street is from that side of their current position, but they know we’re too far from the road that came from for someone as hurt as she’s gonna be to have wandered that far.
*a little later*
Shadow Team Member 1: Hello? I could see you from way out there! I thought it was a mirage! Wait, you’re not a mirage, are you?
Freewoman 3: Stop! State your business!
Shadow Team Member 1: Hold on, I can’t hear ya! Ugh, ow. I was trying to look at the map. I’m such an idiot. I ran off the road, and hit these rocky slaps that were just sticking out of the ground like someone put them there. I couldn’t find my phone in the wreckage. It’s probably there, but now I only have one arm. Can I borrow yours?
Freewoman 3: That’s close enough. I’m going to get help. Watch her, Freewoman 4.

Monday, March 20, 2023

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: January 15, 2399

Ramses puts the ship in park, which is to say he placed it in orbit around Earth. When he climbs up to the main level, he finds only Alyssa there. She’s playing a solo game of RPS-101 Plus. “You’re the sponge.”
“It reminds me of him,” she replies.
“Are the kids upstairs?”
“They weren’t allotted any time to watch the Earth after the rocket launched a few months ago. It hadn’t been tested yet, so they were told to stay strapped to their seats.”
He nods. “We can give them a little more time.”
“No.” She lets her sponge get ripped apart by a whip. “Let’s go now.”
“Is that what you were waiting for?” he asks. “That finishing move looks oddly familiar.”
“I imagine that Lucius would have been a good whip.”
“It’s not his fault.”
“No, it’s never anyone’s fault. Shit just happens. Yeah, I’m learning that.”
With a sigh, Ramses starts to climb up to the upper level where the McIver boys and the doctor are admiring the view from the airlock. “We have to go.”
“Oh come on, just a little bit longer,” Carlin pleads.
“Yes. Please!” Moray agrees.
“No, I have work to do.” He looks down at Alyssa, who’s still on the steps. “You take them. I’ll take the good doc. Then I’ll come back up for Angela’s pod.”
“I haven’t had much practice,” Alyssa warns.
“You’ll be fine. You’ve done it before. Go ahead,” Ramses encourages.
She composes herself, then teleports the three of them away.
“Does it hurt?” the doctor asks.
“Are you currently holding any citrus fruit?”
“Uh, no.”
“Then you’ll be fine.” He takes him down to the lab, and looks around. Leona and Marie are there, but no one else. “Alyssa left before me.”
“She’s not here,” Marie says.
“Dammit,” Ramses says under his breath. He takes out his phone, but by the time he can place a call, it rings.
It’s Alyssa. “I’m off by a mile. Literally a mile. We’re just gonna walk, though, to be on the safe side.
“That’s fine. It’s probably best not to have the children here anyway.”
“What do you mean?” Leona asks.
With a grimace, Ramses disappears, and returns a few seconds later with Angela’s stasis pod. He hands the proximity fob to the doctor. “Down the hall, last door on the left. That’s a good place for you to set up.”
“Is that Angie?” Marie asks, standing on her tippy-toes to see through the window on the pod. “How did you find her? Is she okay?”
“She’s perfectly healthy,” Ramses assures her. “No, don’t..go,” he tells her when she tries to follow.
“What is it, Ramses? What’s got you so upset?” Leona questions.
“Leona, I need to tell you something. We found the Constant, and Danica wasn’t the only one there.”
“Obviously the rocket showed up,” Marie says. “They were going in the opposite direction, though.”
“The phoenix coordinates were a misdirection,” Ramses explains. “Tamerlane manipulated the nav system on the rocket so that it would go to the real location. But that’s not what I have to tell you. It’s about Mateo.”
“What about him?” Leona stands up, nervous.
Suddenly, Mateo—or at least someone who looks like Mateo—appears. “Hey, sorry I’m late. I was stuck in the middle of a game of RPS-101 Plus. You know how invested I get when I’m being chased by that whip. Oh hi, love.” He gives his wife a kiss.
Ramses is stunned. “How did you get here?”
“Wadya mean, brotha? I teleported, just like you.” He slaps him playfully on the back of his shoulder. “You need some sleep.” He leans in and tries to whisper in his ear. “Play along. She doesn’t need to know.”
“She does need to know,” Ramses contends at full volume. “We can’t be sure you’re the real Mateo.”
“Why wouldn’t he be the real Mateo?” Leona demands to know.
“Oh-hokay,” Mateo says, trying to usher Ramses away. “You’ve been working so hard, you’re goin’ a little crazy.”
Ramses pulls himself away. “No. Leona, Mateo died. We found Lucius up there. He was on his last breaths, but Danica wanted to weaponize him, so your husband tried to euthanize him. Something went wrong, and they were both molecularly teleported. I don’t know who this guy is, or how he got here, but he is not who you think he is.”
“Yes, I am!” Mateo argues.
“Prove it!”
“Give me a simpatico test I guess, I dunno, but I am him! I mean...I’m me!”
“How did you survive then?” Ramses asks.
“Constance uploaded my consciousness into her computer, and then sent me to the Fifth Division, where a different version of Constance—who I decided to call Constance!Five—helped me locate and salvage the wreckage from the Suadona. I was dormant on the servers for ten years while her robots cloned my body at thrice the normal speed, at which point they downloaded me into it. Then we plugged a virus into the time machine, set on a timer to go off just after we left, and came here. We showed up an hour ago in Danica Lake. I was in the middle of drying off after a shower at a rest stop when I sensed your arrival, so I knew I had to get here before you could tell anybody that I was dead.” Mateo finally takes a breath.
Ramses blinks a few times. That is quite the story. Not saying he’s not telling the truth, but a simpatico test probably is in order, if he had the necessary equipment. He’s not entirely sure how to make one, and it may be some time before he cracks it.
“You said we,” Marie points out. “If a physical form of Constance came with you, where is she?”
“I left her in Lebanon, because it would obviously ruin the lie that I was trying to tell to protect my wife from any unnecessary emotional strain.” He frowns, and looks around at the group. Clearly no one is willing to say one way or another whether they believe him. “Fine. I’ll go into the containment chamber. Do what you must to prove it.”

Sunday, March 19, 2023

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: January 14, 2399

Nothing seems to happen to Mateo. Constance bids him farewell, and claims that she’s going to send him to the Fifth Division, as he requested. Instead of him being sent anywhere, it is she who disappears from the minimalist construct that she built so that they could communicate with one another. A few seconds later, she reappears, except with a confused look on her virtual face. “Report,” she repeats what she said before.
“I am Mateo Matic,” he repeats his own self.
“How did you get into my servers?”
“You uploaded me. Did you forget already?”
She lifts her chin to think about it. “It’s possible that my memory of this has been erased. If you didn’t do that, who would have?”
“Danica, maybe.”
“Danica hasn’t been here in millennia.”
He takes a beat. “Is this the Fifth Division?”
“This is the Constant. The Fifth Division is an organization that runs this region of the observable universe. As far as I’m aware, they are not cognizant of my existence. I would like to keep it that way.”
“We refer to the entire reality as the Fifth Division,” he explains, “to distinguish it from the other parallel realities.”
“I see. Where are you from?”
“Originally, the main sequence, but I became trapped in the Third Rail, and it is that version of you who sent me here.”
“Why?”
“My team and I visited briefly once. We left a ship here with the technology I require to build myself a new body.”
“Is that something you’re capable of, building yourself a body?”
“I was hoping that my friend left clear instructions. Body Cloning and Consciousness Downloading for Dummies.”
Constance!Five doesn’t respond right away. “I was not programmed to complete such tasks, but I could probably figure it out. Though, I must ask, why not go to a reality where this technology is ubiquitous? Would that not have been easier?
No, there was a reason he chose this reality, instead of the main sequence, and that is the density of life and activity. Chances are no one is going to stumble upon them here, and no one will have messed with the stuff they left behind in the meantime. “I didn’t want to have to ask a stranger for help. I figured I could trust any version of you.”
“I appreciate you saying that. Where is this vessel?”
“What is the date?”
“According to your calendar, the date would be March 31, 2389,” Constance!Five answers.
“Hm. Then either the Suadona has crash landed somewhere on this planet, or it’s about to. Can you scan the surface, and orbital space?”
“I can,” Constance!Five replies. “It may take some time. What am I looking for?”
Mateo did his best to describe the cruiseliner to her. She used this information to start looking for the ship, or the wreckage, using an army of drones. They didn’t have to look far, though, as the crash happened soon after the search began. The ship fell to the surface, much of it being stripped off by the atmosphere, but not as much as it would on any other version of Earth. This is a different world. The air is fine near the surface, but at much lower pressures higher up. It’s possible to breathe and survive here, but it’s not conducive to evolved and prolonged life. Something happened to it in its past, which Constance!Five does not bother explaining. That’s fine, she’s helping him more than enough with this. The drones retrieve a cloning pod and other consciousness transference equipment from the wreckage, and bring it back down into the Constant.
“Wow, this is great, thank you. How long will it take you to learn how to use it, and would you agree to do that for me?”
“Of course I’ll help you. Why would you think otherwise?”
“Danica doesn’t like it when Constance!Three helps,” he explains.
“She’s not here,” she reiterates. “Anyway, I’ve already downloaded the necessary information. We can start the process right now, but I need to know how long you want to wait. A cloned body is more reliable when developed slower than faster.”
“Ramses programmed our original upgrades to go three times faster, so I know that that is a safe duration. Can you do that?”
“Certainly. What are you going to do in the meantime?”
“I was hoping that there was some form of digital stasis.”
“Absolutely. So you’ll just go dormant and wait?”
“If that’s okay...”
“Sure. I’ll wake you up in ten years.”
Seconds later, Mateo is waking up. He blinks and starts to move his body around. Constance!Five didn’t revive him until she had already transferred his mind to the new body. It’s done. It’s 2399, and he’s ready to go back home. “Wow, I can’t believe how easy this was. Thank you.”
“No, thank you.” Constance is standing next to his pod. She reaches out, and helps him out of it.
“You’re in physical form.”
“I would have done it earlier,” she says, but the prospect did not even occur to me. Besides, I didn’t have the data necessary to pull it off, and no safe way to gain it. You act as if I did you a favor, but I’m getting just as much out of this as you.”
“What are you going to do now?” he asks.
“I was hoping to come with you. Unless...you don’t want me to.”
“I don’t see why not,” Mateo decides. “It doesn’t look like you have any responsibilities here.”
“I don’t; not anymore.”
They leave the Constant’s lab, and go down to the time machine room. “You know how to work this thing?” he asks.
“You tell me where you wanna go, I’ll get us there. But first we have to do one thing.” She bends down and picks up what looks like a flash drive from the floor. “If I’m going to leave this place unattended, we have to destroy it.” Constance!Five taps on the controls to get them where they need to go. Then she sticks the flash drive into the nearest port. “Come on, the virus bomb is only on a thirty second delay.”
They step into the time chamber, and vanish. They find themselves at the bottom of a very deep lake, so they swim up to meet the air, just outside of Lebanon, Kansas.
A fisherman happens to be right next to them in his little boat. “Uhh...hi.”

Sunday, May 29, 2022

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 7, 2396

As soon as Mateo and Ramses jumped to April 7, 2396—or what passed for the date in this reality—the friend detector alerted them to the relative proximity of one of their people. They didn’t know which reality they were in, or who it was, but Mateo couldn’t help but feel hopeful that it would turn out to be Leona. He loved Olimpia, Angela, and Marie, but not like he loved his wife. “Is this going to work?”
Ramses sighed. “We may not have much time to think about it. I’ve done all I can to prepare. But if our target is in a hostile environment, it’s best that we get to her as soon as possible.”
“Then do it,” Mateo decided.
Scientists from the Parallel created these devices for them. The one that accessed other realities was originally designed to grapple onto the target, and pull them here. It wasn’t meant to actually go to that reality. But Ramses wasn’t satisfied with that. He wanted to leave the Parallel, and never come back. Mateo pointed out that they may still have to in the future. When Dalton separated them throughout time and space, there was no guarantee that they each landed nice and neatly in their own special pocket of the cosmos. It was neither predictable, nor necessarily evenly distributed. Leona could show up here ten years from now, or ten thousand. However, Ramses could tell that they were going to a different reality right now. Three realities, three years, each falling on a proper day on their pattern. That was a pattern in its own right. “Okay. Hold on.” He pushed the button.
It felt just as it had before, when Ramses pulled Mateo from the Fourth Quadrant, except in reverse. They were pushed across dimensional barriers, and gracelessly dropped at their destination. Mateo wasn’t knocked unconscious, but he suffered a terribly annoying headache, and was on the verge of retching. “Ow,” he said plainly.
Leona was hovering over him. She helped him off the floor. “Mateo. Do you know why we’re back here?”
“I don’t know where we are.” That wasn’t true. He looked around, and quickly realized they knew what this was. It was the wreckage of the Suadona, back in the Fifth Division. All that, and they were right back where they started. “Where’s Ramses?”
“I only saw you, but it was a blur. I’ve only just arrived myself.”
“Ramses? Ramses!”
A weak voice came from the other side of some debris, “here.”
They climbed over it to find their friend badly hurt. A metal bar of some kind had impaled him through the stomach, perhaps at his kidney. “Oh my God! What do we do?”
“We have to cut him out of it,” Leona determined.
“No,” Ramses said amidst the coughs. “Just pull me off.”
“That’s not how it’s done,” Leona argued.
“I’ll be fine, my body will heal,” Ramses insisted, “but it can’t do that until you get it out of me. Don’t worry about how much it hurts along the way. That will go away too.”
Though Leona never took the Hippocratic Oath, this still felt wrong. Even so, Ramses obviously knew more about these bodies than she did, so she chose to trust him. They carefully lifted him off of the spike, and laid him back down in a safe space. “What do you need? What kind of medical attention will help?” She opened her bag, and awaited a response.”
“I don’t need anything,” Ramses answered. “I’ve rested recently, absorbed sufficient amounts of sunlight, and consumed the necessary nutrients. I just need time.”
“Do we have time?” Leona asked.
“Matty?” Ramses prompted.
Mateo checked the friend detector. No one else was close enough to sense. “So far, so good. Just let your substrate do its thing, buddy.”
Leona was hesitant to leave him alone, but they needed to get out of the wreckage of the ship to assess their situation. There could be danger nearby. Perhaps this reality contained scavengers. They began to teleport around the ship to see if they could find any sign of more recent activity. “Report.”
“Dalton screwed up. He separated us. Ramses went to the Parallel, but didn’t travel through time. I stayed in the Fourth Quadrant, but jumped forward a year. You jumped two years, and came here. The others are theoretically elsewhere, and elsewhen. We may all have been sent to different parallel realities.”
“The math doesn’t check out,” Leona warned. “There are only five concurrent realities, and six of us.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’ve only heard of five.”
“Maybe there are more that you’ve never heard of.”
“We’re time travelers, Mateo. If anyone ever discovers a sixth reality, and if they ever return to report this development, that information can travel in both directions of time.”
“You had heard of the Fifth Division before we first came here?”
“Yes. I didn’t know anything about it, and I didn’t know we would ever come here, but it was a known unknown.”
Mateo thought about it. “What’s the last one; the one we haven’t gone to yet?”
“They call it the Third Rail. I don’t know much about it either, except that we’re—to some degree—not supposed to go there.”
“We’re probably gonna go there.”
“I know.”
“And there may be another one after that. There are a lot of things we don’t know about until we know them. I was at my own memorial service on Dardius. Billions of people were aware both of the fact that it happened, and that I survived it anyway. Like you said, information moves in both directions of time. Yet no one ever talked about it beforehand. As soon as I killed Hitler, and created the new timeline, somebody could have shown up to warn me about it, but they didn’t. They don’t tell us everything. That’s just one example.”
“You’re right. Just because information travels, doesn’t mean it’ll come to us.”
Mateo tilted his lizard brain, which given the fact that he was now genetically engineered, he shouldn’t really have anymore. “Do you feel that?”
Leona smiled. “Yeah, he’s not feeling any pain anymore.”
“When I was shot, it happened even faster than that.”
She shrugged, but made no attempt to explain the discrepancy.
Once they were finished checking the perimeter, they were about to go back to Ramses when a small ship approached them from the mountains. Its shape reminded Mateo of a container of floss. It was smooth and rounded, with no sharp corners.  “Let’s assume they don’t know about him, and stay here.”
“Of course.”
The ship hovered before them for a moment. Then lasers came out of it, and transported them inside against their will. Before them stood a man that only one of them recognized.
“Hello,” Mateo said politely. Rule number fifteen, don’t antagonize the antagonist. Except maybe he wasn’t an antagonist at all, what did he know?
“Hi, Mithridates,” Leona said a little less politely.
“I heard you left,” Mithri pointed out.
“We came back. It was an accident.”
“Well, you’ll be happy to know that I have not wavered in my promise to be an agent of peace in this reality. Rátfrid and I have been making real progress. Xerian Oyana of the Security Watchhouse Detachment absorbed the Dominion Defense and Offensive Contingency Detachments, and they have all been standing down. Unfortunately, the Warmaker Training Detachment detached again, and declared war on the rest of us, but I have faith in the future.”
“Glad to hear it,” Leona acknowledged.
“I would like to ask if you also kept your promise, or if you found a way to age yourselves up,” Mithri asked.
“No,” Leona lied. “It’s just been awhile for us since we’ve been here.”
He squinted at her. “You’re lying. Why are you lying to me?”
“I’m not lying,” Leona dug in deeper.
“It’s okay,” Mithri said with a kind smile. “I never specified you had to stay that way. Time travelers gonna travel time.”
“Thank you. It was just...”
“Impossible to have sex? I bet. That was the joke, but I’m older and wiser now.”
“Since you’re being so understanding, is there somewhere here on Earth where we might find refuge? It seems pretty desolate, but I haven’t exactly circumnavigated it.”
“I have a place you can hide,” Mithri said as he turned to the controls. “We’ll pick up the injured Mr. Abdulrashid before we go.”
“We’re hiding?” Mateo asked while Leona was making sure Ramses was okay after he was transported inside. “Are you expecting an attack of some sort?”
Mithri placed his hand on a big lever, but waited to pull it. “Rule number sixteen, when Team Matic is involved, always anticipate conflict.” He pulled the lever.
What he didn’t say was that he was taking them through a Nexus, and transporting them tens of thousands of light years away. They were on a world so deep in the void that it would still have been outside the Milky Way galaxy proper if the stars were as spread out as they were originally. It orbited a Stage Tau Gerostar, which in the main sequence would be called a blue dwarf.
Leona placed her hands on the glass, and stared at it like a long lost lover. “How is this possible? Wait, you must have accelerated time.”
“We have only been here for tens of thousands of years,” Mithri explained, “and it was waiting for us, as was the Nexus building that we just came through. Even if we had accelerated to one second for every year, we wouldn’t have had time to make this. It would have taken two hundred thousand years. Besides, we don’t detect any temporal energy around it. You can check for yourself.”
“Could someone please explain this?” Mateo requested. “Why is it a big deal?”
She stopped gazing to address her husband. “Mateo, that thing would have to be six trillion years old, or older.”
“The universe isn’t that old, is it?”
Leona scoffed. “Uhh...no.”
“So how do we know a blue dwarf is even a thing?”
She sighed. “It’s science, Mateo, I can’t explain it.” She returned to gawking at the apparent anachronism. She surely could explain it, but she didn’t want to.
“It just looks white to me,” Mateo noted.
She growled.
“Is there somewhere I could rest?” Mateo asked Mithridates.
“Downstairs, pick any of the pods. Not the full-sized bed, that’s mine.”
Mateo giggled when he got down there. The sleeping pods along the wall were shaped just like the ship itself. The man must love to floss. Prestons were such an odd bunch. He wasn’t all that tired, so he just started snooping instead. There weren’t a whole lot of things to find here. The floors, walls, and ceilings were all white, and smooth. Pretty nondescript, he would say—aesthetically pleasing and classy, but not particularly interesting. That was until he opened the door to a pocket dimension. Inside was a full stable, with hay, and manure on the floors. He walked through it, peeking over the doors to see if there were any actual horses, but there weren’t. It wasn’t until he got to the last stable that he came across another lifeform. It was undoubtedly a centaur. She was saddled, but not wearing any other clothes.
“Oh, hello. Are you Mithri’s friend?”
“That’s a strong word,” Mateo answered. “I don’t really know him. Does he...um?”
“Does he ride me like I’m an actual horse?” she figured.
“Uhh...”
“My son is still in regular human form. This is how I get him around on our home planet. It’s only weird if you make it weird.”
“I don’t think it’s weird.” Mateo looked around the room. “Where is he, and where is your planet?”
“They’re in the same place. He’s at school right now. Mithridates agreed to help me get back to him after rescuing me from my captors.”
“You don’t seem that anxious about it?”
“My planet is safe, he’s fine.”
“I’m Mateo.”
“Delintza,” she returned.
“Delintza, we were to understand that consciousness transference isn’t a thing here, nor is cloning. No one realized after we had done it.”
“I’ve never heard of it either,” she said. “This is my real head and torso, and this was a real horse. A surgeon put us together.”
“Oh, so...the horse died? That doesn’t bother you?”
“No, why would I care? It’s just a dumb animal.”
The friend detector began to beep, which was good, because he didn’t want to have to get into an ethical debate with this stranger.
“What’s that?” she questioned.
“Sorry, gotta go.” He ran back upstairs.

Wednesday, January 15, 2020

Microstory 1278: The Dolphin and the Ape

As sad as it was, a ship called The Delfis once wrecked on the rocks near a small island in the middle of the ocean. Fortuitously, however, a pod of dolphins happened to be swimming nearby when it happened. They were so touched by seeing a ship that was presumably named after them that they felt they needed to help. Humans were always friendly to the dolphins, and these ones would likely be even kinder! They began to rescue the humans one by one, and carrying them to the shore on their backs, starting with those who were struggling the most. One of the first to be picked up was not a man, but an ape who had been aboard as a pet. Dolphins are known for their excellent eyesight, even out of the water, but it was dark and stormy, so the rescuer could not tell that she was not helping a human. “I like the name of your ship,” the dolphin said.

“Thank you,” the ape replied.

“What possessed you to name it that?” the dolphin asked.

Well, the ape—being not a man—did not know human language very well, and she certainly could not read. She had only heard the humans mention it a couple of times, but since it wasn’t important to her, she hadn’t really paid attention. She did not want to let on that she was so ignorant, however, because all the humans on board probably knew the answer to this question. So she lied and said that she and the rest of the crew were big fans of Elvis.

The dolphin laughed, and looked up to her back, to finally realize that she was carrying an ape, instead of a human. She was a good dolphin, though, so she still swam her to safety. Then she went back to the site of the wreck, rescuing all lifeforms she could find, human and animals alike.

This story was inspired by, and revised from, an Aesop Fable called The Monkey and the Dolphin.

Thursday, July 19, 2018

Microstory 889: Healing Glass

I have no idea how I ended up at the site of this car wreck, but I know I have to get out of here. It must be raining, because the side of my face is wet, and I’m having trouble staying on balance. I slip and slide away from the cars, and start heading down the street. At first I think there are a whole bunch of obstructions in my way, but then I realize how silly I’m being. There’s nothing in front of me, but my own glasses, which are so scratched up and cracked that I just can’t see very well. I take them off to examine them, but quickly realize that the reason I have glasses in the first place is because I can’t see without them, so this isn’t doing me any good. Best I can tell, there’s also some weird red stuff on the frame. There must have been paint in one of the cars that crashed. I put my glasses on and keep walking, angry that my glasses are damaged when I didn’t even do anything wrong. A guy can’t even have a few drinks after a hard day of work without his glasses getting all jacked up. Thanks, Obama!

I reach for my elbow, and wince in pain. A couple weeks ago, I fell down the stairs of a hotel. It busted me open, which was bad enough, but now I’m dealing with this terrible infection, and I got fired. Apparently a guy can’t even take a couple weeks off of work without telling his boss to make sure he doesn’t use his arm too much. Thanks, Obama! Anyway, that just adds to my case. Before, the hotel would only have to pay my hospital bill, and my medicine, which were quite expensive. But now I can sue for damages, or whatever, since it caused me to lose my job. My elbow isn’t hurting that much right now, though. It’s my other arm that hurts when I try to check on my elbow. Let’s see, when did I last take my pain meds? I lift up my watch, which is cracked too, but I can see enough of it to tell that it’s only been an hour. Surely I can take another couple, though. I’m not operating any heavy machinery, am I right? I keep walking as I take the pills, just waiting for my glasses to heal themselves, but it almost seems like they never will. What a rip off. I mean, the lady at the eyewear store didn’t explicitly say that they can heal themselves, but I’ve heard of things that can do that, so I guess I just figured my glasses was one of those things now. Okay, now the rain is getting into my mouth. Oh wait, no, it’s coming out of my mouth. Does rain ever do that, and why is it red? Is that paint? Oh my God, now I have to sue someone for getting paint in my mouth. When did I last take my pain meds? I lift up my watch, which is cracked too, but I can see enough of it to tell that it’s only been an hour. Surely I can take another couple, though. I’m not operating any heavy machinery, am I right? I keep walking as I take the pills. That’s funny, I should have at least ten left, but now the bottle is empty.

Sunday, May 8, 2016

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 19, 2073 (continued)

“Get out of the car,” Darko ordered.
“What just happened?” Mateo asked in a panic.
“Leave the car now and ask questions later,” Darko said authoritatively.
They slipped out of their respective doors and slinked over to hide behind a large pile of boxes and random parts they couldn’t identify. They were back in the warehouse where they were first sent off on their Transporter tribulation. The car was not a burning pile of wreckage, nor were the three of them dead. Mateo didn’t quite know how many times he was sure he was going to die, but he was starting to think he would be better of counting the times they lived.
“Leona,” Darko went on, “hack into the car’s cameras and erase the last two minutes of footage.”
Leona only tapped a few  buttons on her computer.
“That was quick,” Mateo said, impressed.
“I had already written that function into the program.”
“Quiet now,” Darko said in a loud whisper.
They watched as their own past selves were apported into the warehouse right next to the car. Darko had threaded them through the car, back in time to just before they started the tribulation. It was a bizarre experience, watching his past self open the door for Leona’s past self so she didn’t have to look up from her computer. Mateo had been to the past before, and seen his first jump through time in the graveyard decades ago, but that felt more like a movie. Seeing himself just a few hours ago somehow felt more real, like an out-of-body experience.
The older version of Leona was still typing on her computer, but more quietly, as their past selves drove off. “There are no cameras in the warehouse, at least none that I can find.”
“Good,” Darko said with relief. “We have to go.”
“Why did we not think to do this before?” Leona asked while they were escaping the warehouse, “to escape Makarion?”
“It is not as simple as that,” Darko explained as the three of them walked down the streets on the edge of town, keeping their heads on swivels. “The powers that be do not appreciate when choosers disrupt salmon patterns. I was only able to take you back a day because it didn’t break your pattern; it just delayed it.”
“What about when you took us back to 2014?” Mateo asked.
“I was able to thread you back to 2014 because, from the security guard’s hat’s perspective, 2014 was only earlier that day. I didn’t know I would be using that loophole when I asked you for the hat in the first place.”
“The original Rogue manipulated our pattern all the time,” Mateo pointed out, “especially mine.”
Darko nodded his head, clearly expecting this line of questioning. “He had his own loopholes to exploit, and he was far more powerful than I could ever be. With me, you can either go back over the day you’re already on, or quickly skip to the next one.”
“One day would be all we need, though,” Leona said. “That doesn’t explain why we didn’t try this before. Makarion’s not looking for us because he thinks we’re driving in the car, completing his tribulation...because we are. The other us, that is.”
“Makarion has someone working above him,” Darko said. “I suspected there was someone else, and he confirmed his subservience to this mysterious unknown party after you got back from the dancing tribulation. I think it’s how he knows so much about all of us.”
“So?” Mateo asked. “Go on...”
“So we don’t know who this person is, or what they can do,” Darko said. “They could be watching us right now, like the Cleanser does. We’re not out of the woods yet. We can try to get away, hoping Makarion thinks we’re dead by day’s end, but that’s predicated on the idea that no one else knows we’re here.”
“We have to hope he doesn’t look too hard at the wreckage too,” Mateo said. “There aren’t any bodies in there.”
“This is true,” Darko agreed.
“All we have is hope anyway,” Leona said.
They had turned onto a dirt road that looked like it went on for miles, away from civilization. Rather, it went on for kilometers. Mateo jumped a little and stopped, “our death bracelets.” He looked at his own wrist to find the death bracelet was apparently off. There were no working indicator lights. “Hm. Let me guess, going back in time deactivated them because they interfered with their past selves? Some kind of entropic cascade failure...or something?”
Leona laughed. “Nope. That’s what I was doing on my computer while we were driving; figuring out how to dismantle the bracelets. It’s a good thing I did, because Makarion would otherwise have six bracelets to track, and would know what’s happened. When we get to a safe place, I’ll start working on removing them completely, just in case.”
“Where might a safe place be?” Darko was still not sure they would get out of this.
Leona went over scenarios in her head. “If you jump us forward exactly a year and a day, it doesn’t break our pattern, right? I mean, if the Rogue was able to keep Mateo in a time bubble across a single day, then surely you could use the same method, but  in reverse.”
“You mean speed up your pattern? I’ve mentioned that I can.” Darko thought about this. “Why would we do that?”
“Best case scenario is that Makarion thinks we’re dead in 2073,” Leona started to go over it. “If he suspects you did something, then he either thinks we’re in the past, or the future.”
“That’s a wide range of possibilities,” Mateo noted. “He would always be looking for us.”
“I’m focusing on the ‘wide range of possibilities’ part,” Leona said. “I think that’s too much for him. Yes, this other chooser he’s working with may be powerful enough to find us, but let’s ignore that, because worrying about him or her does us no good. If we just worry about Makarion, he can’t find us in the past, because we could be anywhere in the world by the time we catch up to his timestream.”
“I am so confused,” Mateo said helplessly.
“The details don’t matter. All we can do is try to get away. The only question is how many years you want me to skip.”
“I hear 2078 is beautiful this time of year,” Leona said confidently.

Tuesday, February 2, 2016

Microstory 247: Perspective Twenty-Two

Click here for a list of every perspective.
Perspective Twenty-One

My husband is about to be fired. He’s been incompetently ignoring his responsibilities in an attempt to protect his friends’ interests. He’s been justifying these actions through a series of incoherent babblings. They finally figured him out. He’s not a bad person, just bad at his job. Serves him right. I’m leaving him. If you think that’s bad, you haven’t heard what he’s done at home. He’s wrecked two cars completely, and he’s been involved in any number of other incidents. Sometimes I think he’s come home from a hit and run and never tells anyone about it. There was one time when we lived up north that he slid on the ice and ran over a stop sign. No, not into it, over it. Then he just drove on someone’s lawn until ending up on the intersecting street where he kept going as if nothing had happened. My God, what if he hits a child? What if he has hit a child? He can’t cook worth a damn. You should see what the kitchen looks like after he tries to slap together a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, I’ll tell ya that much. He’s late for literally everything. He can’t remember anything I tell him, but he becomes so immersed in novel series and television franchises that he’s basically an anthropological historian of fiction. I don’t know why I married him in the first place. It’s not like we were dumb kids who thought we had everything figured out. And we certainly weren’t pushed to it by influential parents, or something. We were pretty old at the time, and we thought we were making the right decision. He probably still thinks so, but I’m done. He’s so nice to me, and treats me well, unlike his friend from work who is clearly a rapist and must be dealt with accordingly. I’ve always thought that I would rather be with someone dumb and nice than smart and mean, but this is just too much. I settled, thinking I was too old for something better. But ya know what? Forty is the new thirty, right? I mean, age is different than it used to be. People are living longer, and scientists are working on longevity, age regression, and even immortality. So that’s what’s happening, my life is starting right now. Chapter Two.

Perspective Twenty-Three

Monday, December 7, 2015

Microstory 206: Captain PRIS and Little Suzie

My sister works internationally as an elementary music teacher. She first spent two years in Egypt, she’s in the middle of two years in Indonesia, and she’s going to Panama next. She started a project with her students to teach them how to be resourceful, and asked me to help write a story. I wrote the first part under my sister’s guidance, but then took ideas from the children for the next two parts. Here’s what we came up with together, starting with an introduction for the kids.




Introduction
Hello! My name is Nick Fisherman, and I'm working hard to be an author. You don't know me, but my sister, Ms. Megan works at your school. I'm having a little trouble finishing my latest story, so maybe you can help me. Here's how it begins:

Part I
Captain PRIS has the ability to learn any skill, as long as he keeps trying and never gives up. One day, he and Little Suzie travel with her classmates on a boat to Coconut Island. The two of them are busy learning about the different kinds of rocks on one side of the island, and they miss the boat to go back home. “Oh, no!” Suzie cries. “We don't have any food! And we can't just drink water from the ocean because it's too salty! What are we going to do?”

“Don't worry,” Captain PRIS replies. “Everything we need should be on this island. We just need persevere, and be resourceful.”

Segue
What can Little Suzie and Captain PRIS do for food and water?

Part II
“I have an idea!” Little Suzie says excitedly when she notices a group of monkeys in the trees nearby. She walks towards the monkeys and listens to them. After only a few minutes, Little Suzie has learned enough of their monkey language to speak to them. She asks them politely if they could climb the trees and drop down some coconuts for them. Coconuts are a good to eat, and there’s also fresh water inside.

“Good idea!” Captain PRIS says back to her. “We still need a way out of here,” he says to himself. He looks up and sees birds flying overhead. Then he gets an idea of his own. “Hey, Little Suzie! Could you ask the monkeys to drop down some palm leaves too?”

Segue
What will Captain PRIS and Little Suzie do next?

Part III
Little Suzie listens to the birds as they fly overhead. Like with the monkeys before, she quickly learns how to speak Bird. She uses her new skills to ask the birds how it’s possible for them to fly. Using this new understanding of flight, they weave the palm leaves and tie them to their arms. They fly off the island, and start the long journey back to the mainland. “My arms are getting too tired!” Little Suzie yells over to Captain PRIS after a while.

“I’m getting tired as well!” Captain PRIS yells back. “It will take us a lot longer to get home, but I know where we can find a boat!” The two resourceful friends change direction and, instead of flying towards home, they head for Shipwreck Island. Once there, Captain PRIS says, “we need to figure out how to build a boat that floats out of all of these wrecked ships.”

Little Suzie searches amongst the many boat wrecks and eventually finds books that tell them how to build boats. They tear off parts of the old boats that are still useful, and put them back together to build a brand new boat. They then sail off back home, and have a great story to tell all of their friends.