Source Variant: Moving Heaven and Orolak (Part XIV)

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The six of them think they’ve found their proverbial ladder in the form of an archived set of files from the Maramon servers, but first, they have to read a little background. Because Maramon are so incredibly difficult to kill, and it’s even harder for them to die accidentally, the population grew to untenable numbers. They tried to expand to the stars, but quickly learned that they were not real. They were but a hologram on a gigantic impenetrable surface, which served as the literal end of the universe. This eventually transformed their race into an angry and hostile threat. It also galvanized them into developing technology that would allow them to travel the multiverse. Most cultures never figure out how to do this, because their own universes are too expansive for them to even truly fathom the concept of space that somehow exists beyond it. The white monsters became a huge danger to all other worlds, and for the most part, all Maramon were on board with this. They separated into factions, and formed their own agendas, but the general sentiment was an animosity towards humans, which were all free to move about the cosmos. Of course, however, Ansutah was home to billions and billions of individuals, and probability dictates that not everyone will feel the same way.

Scattered throughout the lands were good Maramon, who felt no ill will towards the humans. Some just wanted to find breathing room to live on their own, while others actively wanted to protect the innocent. They were considered irritants to the rest of Maramon culture, and were all but wiped out for it. Fewer than two hundred of these rebels survived long enough to escape their world through a universe bridge, and come into this one. They wouldn’t have been able to do this, however, if the other Maramon hadn’t collected them all in one place. Silver lining, but it wasn’t all kittens and rainbows. Though they were reportedly good people, who meant the humans no harm, they frightened the other refugees. Leadership decided to exile them to a planet many light years away, which they called Kolob. It was only later that they began a mission to find yet another planet to call home, eventually settling on what would become Orolak.

Before Dandavo Dali Dali—the Maramon equivalent of Operation Starseed—began, these good Maramon felt like they needed to protect themselves. Instead of forcing them to leave, the humans could have just killed them to be safe. The Maramon were grateful this didn’t happen, but also paranoid that the humans would change their minds later. So they devised a way to fortify their new homeworld. Well, they aren’t fortifications so much as they’re temporal tricks, inspired by some of the superpowered people they were aware of. First, based on the time powers of a man named Vito Bulgari, the star system is invisible. Anyone looking at the space where the celestial bodies are will instead perceive more empty space. This is important, but it isn’t good enough on its own. Anyone suspicious of this, knowing that the coordinates should have taken them to Kolob, might investigate further. They would use other detection methods to clearly sense that there is significant gravitational pull in that region. So the Maramon continued with their research, and created a second line of defense. Without proper authorization, anyone attempting to enter the system will be immediately transported to the other side of it. Of course, this isn’t perfect either, because now the intruders know there’s something to find, and will again, investigate further. The first line of defense thusly needed to be impossible to overcome.

To prevent anyone from following them in the first place, the Maramon moved their entire solar system somewhere else. The notes that Zektene and Saxon find don’t specify the new coordinates, which is probably a good thing, but it does imply that the jump they made was of a massively great distance. The second two countermeasures aren’t, strictly speaking, easy, but compared to this, they’re a short walk in the park. How are they going to move Orolak, its parent star, and all other orbitals? And how are they going to do it without leaving any trace?

“Maqsud Al-Amin is the only person I know of who’s capable of independently jumping through interstellar space,” Vearden!Two says. “And I don’t think he can jump a whole planet.”

“Aristotle can do it as well,” Saga!Three informs him.

“The philosopher?” Saga!Two questions.

“No.”

“The Delegator seems capable of doing it in some way too,” Zektene reminds the group.

“Either way,” Vearden!Two continues. “These files don’t say anything about how the Kolobians did it. It’s not even clear whether they did it at all. Maybe it’s just a lie so anyone looking for them will think they’re looking in the wrong place.”

“It was pretty hard for us to find these files,” Saxon points out. “If they wanted to spread a lie that they moved their planet, when they didn’t really, they didn’t do a good job of getting the false information out there.”

“Still,” Vearden!Two contends, “no one here has much hope of doing it, whether it’s a replication of something once done before, or the first time anyone has done it.”

“He’s not wrong,” Vearden!Three says in support of his alternate. “I’ve been to loads of other universes, and I’ve never heard of anyone teleporting a planet, let alone an entire system. They move them, but it takes time.”

“Who says we can’t take time?” Saga!Two asks.

“We don’t know how long it’ll take the Ochivari to get here.”

“Yeah, but we’re time travelers,” Saga!Two says. “We can create time where there is none.”

“Well, if that’s the case,” Vearden!Three says, throwing up his hands, “why don’t we just send Orolak to the past, long before the Ochivari even exist?”

“We don’t want to screw up the timeline,” Saxon says. “There aren’t meant to be any aliens until the Earthan humans advance enough to create the source variants.”

“I wasn’t suggesting we actually do that,” Vearden!Three volleys.

“I think we’re relying too heavily on what we found in the Maramon archives,” Saga!Two notes. “These don’t seem to explain how they accomplished any of this. Hell, they don’t even promise they followed through at all. They’re just ideas. We don’t have to do it just like them.”

“Well, what would you suggest?” Vearden!Two asks.

“Look, Saxon is obviously a genius. Zektene ain’t all that dumb neither,” Saga!Two begins. “The four of us, though? We’re not all that useful in this scenario. We need someone whose experience goes beyond learning computers, or being an engineer. We need someone who we know has moved a planet before.”

“Who the hell has done that?” her counterpart, Saga!Three questions.

“Her name is Hokusai Gimura. I once traveled to Earth with her on a ship called The Elizabeth Warren. We were coming from Durus, which is a rogue planet she quite literally steered away from its collision with Earth.”

“That’s...impressive,” Vearden!Two acknowledges. “Do you have any means of contacting her? That was centuries ago.”

“Zektene just said it,” SagaTwo says. “The Delegator can travel to other planets, at least in some way.”

“The Delegator came to us voluntarily,” Vearden!Two recalls. “Did he tell you three how to reach him in case of emergency?”

“He didn’t need to,” Saga!Two claims. “The other Saga knows.”

Everyone looks at Saga!Three, who hesitates slightly. “I technically know his phone number,” she says with airquotes. “I’ve never cared to call him before, so I can’t promise it will work, but Dr. Sarka did once give me the instructions. How did you know that?” she asks Saga!Two.

“I have my sources,” Saga!Two answers cryptically, and it doesn’t look like she’s interested in elaborating.

“Okay,” Saga!Three starts. “I just need to make use of the synthesizer.” She looks around at where they are. “I’ll need someone to program it, though. I doubt what we’re looking for is already in the Maramon’s database.”

“I should be able to help with that,” Zektene volunteers. “I know the system pretty well.”

“Did you have the game of jenga in your home universe?”

“Can’t say I’ve ever heard of it,” Zektene admits.

“We’ll all work on it together,” Saxon assures them. “It’ll only take a few minutes.”

A few minutes later, they have their game blocks 3D printed, and assembled on the table. Saga!Three takes a deep breath, hoping that what she learned wasn’t a lie, or a prank, or that she’s just remembering it wrong. She throws one of the extra blocks, and shouts the magic words, “that’s what you think!”

Everyone looks over at the far wall, which hasn’t transformed into a portal, but it kind of looks like it’s trying to. The metal is waving and warping, but it’s not quite opening up.

“Maybe we should try again,” Vearden!Three suggests.

Just after Vearden!Two hands Saga!Three the block she threw, the portal opens up, but it doesn’t reveal Stonehenge. It’s just a darkened room. It kind of looks like a storage area. All kinds of things are there, sitting on the shelves, and tables. They immediately notice a set of jenga blocks, constructed to mimic the look of Stonehenge, just like the one Saga!Three set up. A woman is standing there. “Yeah, the Delegator’s not responding to you. I think he’s pretty butthurt about something. I wouldn’t normally intervene, but you’re from pretty far in the future, and I’m terribly curious.”

“Hi!” Vearden!Three approaches confidently. “We’re the Sagas and Veardens; plus our friends, Saxon and Zektene.”

The woman steps up to the edge of the Maramon facility, but deliberately doesn’t step over the threshold. “Hello, my name is Susan Glines. Some people call me The Switcher. I’m responsible for connecting people through time and space. You can’t call anyone directly. You’re always just calling me, and I call the person you’re actually trying to reach.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Vearden!Three says. “Does that mean you can help us find someone?”

“It depends on the someone,” Susan replies.

Vearden!Three looks back at Saga!Two. He remembers the name of the woman they’re trying to contact, but Saga is the one who knows her, so this is her show.

“Hokusai Gimura.” Saga!Two reports. “It should probably be sometime after the year 2182, by the old Earthan calendar. That’s the last time I saw her.”

Susan pursed her lips as far to the left side of her face as possible. “I’m not so sure.”

“We’re friends,” Saga!Two tries to explain. “She might not be able to help us, but she’ll be willing to listen, at the very least. You control the environment. If you’re worried you’re not meant to connect us with her, you can close the portal at any time.” She hopes she’s understanding how all this portal stuff works.

Susan continues to think it over. “You’re the doorwalkers, right?”

“Yes,” all four of them reply in unison.

She breathes in deeply through her nose. “Okay. I will allow one of you to step into my office—briefly,” she makes sure they understand. “You may knock on Miss Gimura’s doors over there.” She points to a set of double doors on the other side of the wall. “You will then immediately cross back through the portal. She can choose to open it, or not.”

Vearden!Two nods his head. “We will accept any outcome.”

“Good,” Susan says. She presents the door like a gameshow showcase model. “Then you shall have the honor.”

Vearden!Two nods cordially, and steps over the threshold. He playfully knocks on the door in a particular pattern. The door immediately opens. “Can I help you?” a man asks.

Susan rolls her eyes. “Sorry, Murdoch. Wrong door.”

“No worries,” the man replies sincerely. He closes the door.

“Where did you hear that pattern?” Susan asks Vearden!Two.

He frowns and shrugs. “Iono.”

“You can knock any way you want; just not like that,” she directs him.

He tries again, but this time, just goes with the traditional three firm knocks. He tries to step back through the portal, like he was told to, but he can’t. “What? What is this?”

“What the hell?” Susan asks.

Hokusai Gimura opens the door, and also has questions. “Hello? What is this place?”

“Vearden,” Saga!Two begs. “Come back.”

“I can’t!” Vearden!Two insists.

“Vearden!” Saga!Three cries. “Come back through.”

“I’m telling you, I can’t,” he repeats. He continues to struggle against some kind of invisible barrier.

Zektene approaches, intending to help.

“Stay back!” Susan commands. “Something’s wrong here, and I don’t know what. Miss Gimura, you should leave. It may not be safe here.”

“Okay,” Hokusai says, but misunderstanding her, she crosses over into the facility, as if there were no barrier at all.

“No, not there!” Susan yells. “I don’t understand what’s happening!”

Just then, a woman only Saga!Two recognizes teleports in. “I’m terribly sorry about this, but I’m gonna need him for something, and for some reason, I can’t go to the year 4066; howbow dah?”

“Arcadia,” Saga!Two mutters, fuming.

“Madam Einarsson,” Arcadia says with a smile. “You remember how I trapped you on Tribulation Island for years, and made you complete a bunch of challenges?”

“Umm...yeah? That’s why I’m looking at you like this,” Saga!Two says.

“Yes, well...” Arcadia begins, “Mister Haywood here has not yet done that. So, it’s his time. Byeeeeee!”

“No!” Saga!Two screams, but it’s too late. The portal closes up right between them.

“What’s going to happen to him?” Saga!Three asks.

Saga!Two lowers her head in sadness. “He dies,” she answers. She waits another minute, then repeats herself more quietly, “he dies.”

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Microstory 1260: Kalea Akopa

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There wasn’t a whole lot of joy in Springfield after it was pulled into the Deathfall, and marooned on the rogue world of Durus. There were monsters to fight against, a lack of resources, which caused a lot of unrest, and though there was atmosphere, warmth, and life, there was no sun as of yet. The Akopas took all of this in stride. They had each other, and that was really all that mattered. They figured the town would get through it as long as they worked together, and they put a lot of time into trying to make that happen in their own special way. Neither of the parents were skilled workers, and their son was too young to have entered the workforce. They were really good, however, at providing entertainment, and keeping people comfortable. They would regularly host get-togethers, and other events, at their house, trying to lighten the mood for everyone. These were poorly attended in the beginning, as people felt like there was far too much to be done to protect themselves and survive, but over time, people realized they needed it. These events were eventually moved to larger venues, becoming more extravagant and elaborate, and accommodating more people. They would all go crazy if they didn’t take the time to relax and enjoy each other’s company. These breaks helped boost morale, and actually increased productivity. Disagreements and more dangerous conflicts were often tempered or erase because of one of the Akopa parties. There was, of course, a no violence rule. When source mage, Kalea Akopa was older, she continued this tradition. The borders of the now multiple towns were being well-protected, and a real civilization was actually prospering. While some of the other source mages were concerned with maintaining this protection, or with selecting the other mages who would be doing this protecting, Kalea just liked to keep it casual. She remained positive at all times, at least when she interacted with other people, and she helped mediate arguments when it was necessary. Her unflappable attitude could have been really annoying and irrational, but she recognized that she was a little different, and she knew how to appreciate that sometimes people just needed to feel something other than joy. She was aware that others weren’t happy all the time like her. She made an effort to sort of downplay her constant optimism, and be a little more low key. She didn’t have to do this, but it was one of the many things that made her a good person. Kalea was really good at making people feel comfortable and safe. People couldn’t go to her for advice, because that just wasn’t her strength, but they could always count on her to help them escape from their problems, and to make them feel better, if only temporarily. It was truly unfortunate what ultimately happened to her, because if no more than one person on the two worlds didn’t deserve to suffer as such, it was Kalea.

Microstory 1259: Tasha Rutherford

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Catalina Lenz was born and raised in Wyoming, but she wanted a change of pace after college, so she literally spun a globe, and decided to move wherever her finger landed. She immediately realized she didn’t want to live in another country, or the middle of the ocean, so she had to spin a couple dozen more times before finally landing on Kansas City. She would come to regret not trying for one more spin, or for giving Western Australia a shot. Not long after she moved, she got herself mixed up with the street gangs, particularly a high ranking member of the Business Ends, which once controlled a lot of Downtown KC MO. His anger and desire for violence increased proportionately to the drop in power he and his men had over the city. Another gang was taking over, and he took his frustrations out on Catalina. But she stayed, because she had spent almost every dime she had to travel across four states, and hadn’t ever found a way to support herself. Then she learned she was pregnant, and everything changed. Now there was this other person who couldn’t survive without her. She knew she had to get out to protect her daughter. If only she had realized that someone had already come up with a protocol for this, the plan would have gone much smoother. There was only one person she knew she could trust, but he had already done so much for her, and she didn’t want to burden him, or place him in danger. She snuck out on her own, and made her way to a little village in Illinois called Makanda. That wasn’t where she was trying to get to, but she felt it was safer to stay out of the big cities, which had more security cameras, and she could only travel so far in one go. This was where her ex-boyfriend’s lieutenant caught up with her, but also where she met some really nice people who had a way to help.

They ended up contacting the man who would have been able to help her back in Kansas City had she known anything about him. His real name was Duane Blackwood, but his nickname was The Forger. He was able to provide Catalina and her baby with new identifies, transforming them into Tasha and Sabine Rutherford. This was more than just just a few slips of paper, and a convincing passport. Duane had the ability to send data, and sometimes memories, through time. Birth certificates, hospital records, report cards, parking tickets, job applications, ID cards, even tourism photos; all these and more were believably sprinkled throughout history so that Tasha Rutherford was an undeniably real person, with a true background. The Forger also provided her with a little bit of seed money, so she could get her start somewhere else. Not wanting to make the same mistake twice, she ended up choosing to live in Perth, Australia, and loved it there. She kept a low profile, but her granddaughter certainly did not. In the future, most diseases were eradicated, but some were trickier than others. Cancer could be essentially suppressed using medical nanotechnology, but that wasn’t really a cure. People who underwent these treatments lived fulfilling lives, no longer actively aware of their condition, but this was still just managing the symptoms. Marcy Rutherford and her team started developing their cure for colorectal cancer in the 2080s, and finished it by 2095. Their efforts proved to be invaluable in research beyond this one form of cancer, as the unique method they used to combat the cancer cells could be adapted, and reapplied to other forms of cancer, and even some other diseases. Thanks to other medical advancements, Tasha lived long enough to see her granddaughter’s amazing accomplishments, and be thankful that she was afforded a rare second chance.

Microstory 1258: Entodo Purcell IV

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The Purcell family was always rich enough to afford what they referred to as domestic servants, all of whom spoke barely any English. They preferred it this way, so it would be easier to not see them as real people. They had very strict rules that were impossible to follow about where these servants were meant to clean, and how much. The cleaners would regularly have to reaffirm their directives, often by saying the Spanish phrase en todo? which means throughout. They were asking if the homeowners wanted them to clean the entire room, or not. Their young son, of course, didn’t understand what the phrase meant, but as he grew older, he lost his excuse for his ignorance. There were plenty of books in the Springfield library, some of which would have helped him translate, but he chose to ignore them. When the entire town was sucked into a portal, and relocated to the planet of Durus, the Purcell’s employees no longer had any reason to stick around. Money didn’t mean anything here, so they moved on, and started new lives. The Purcells struggled with this new dynamic, and did not care for the fact that they now had to clean up after themselves. That little boy went on to name his own son Entodo, under the assumption that it was a proper first name. He believed he was doing it in honor of his family’s former workers, and even when the townsfolk laughed at him for his choice, he stuck to his decision. The family made it a tradition, and named all the firstborn sons Entodo, until the fourth one came along after the turn of the 22nd century. He was the only one who was bothered by it, which was frightening and weird, though he never changed it. Technically, he didn’t use his first name much when he was an adult. He joined the army as soon as he was old enough, and he always asked people to address him by his rank. After the war—which ended before Entodo IV’s birth—devastated the lands, all the once separate towns of Durus were pulled together into one giant city. The few monsters that had survived were scattered about, and rare. Society was run by the police, so there wasn’t much need for an army. Still, he was invested in “protecting the borders” as he would say. It was his dedication that propelled him through the ranks, until he reached Common. Over the years, now that Springfield was completely cut off from the rest of Earth, language had been transformed slightly. It was still totally intelligible, but there were a few random words whose meanings had changed, or new terms based on confusions. The word general can mean universally applicable, or it can be short for Captain General. The military rank of Common on Durus is the result of morons who neither understand this difference, nor bothered to figure it out. So here he was, Common Entodo Purcell IV. He was proud of who he was, where he had come from, and what he had accomplished. But he shouldn’t have been, because his story was uninteresting, and his impact on history was minimal.

Microstory 1257: Thando Kovar

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Thando Kovar was one of the hardest working men on Durus. He didn’t much mind doing the dirty jobs that no one else wanted to do, and even though he was fairly intelligent, and pretty well-educated, those were the jobs he stuck to, just so no one else would have to do them. It wasn’t until he was older that he realized he was taking those unglamorous jobs from people who didn’t have any choice, but by then, it was too late. He kept his head down, and didn’t make trouble. People would have called him average if they even knew who you were talking about when you brought it up. Still, there was this side of them that craved adventure. He wasn’t constantly pining after a more interesting life, but he not infrequently wondered what it would be like to see other places, and try new things. He hadn’t even realized he wanted this until The Elizabeth Warren came to his planet, and gave him the chance to throw his hat in the ring. He applied for passenger status, but did nothing else to help his case. He didn’t make conversation with the crew, or attach a letter. He just quietly delivered the application, and walked away. It was his good track record that ultimately won him a spot on the ship, but as soon as he boarded, he knew he had to voice his concerns. He didn’t want to just sit around and wait until they arrived at their destination. He had been a worker his entire life, and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself without it. His parents taught him the value of work, which was a lesson not so easily shaken. It wasn’t until he finally made it to Earth that he saw how fulfilling life could be when one’s days could be dedicated to hobbies, rather than tedious labor. While all the others were just hanging out in the pocket dimensions, Thando remained on the ship proper, and kept it clean and maintained. Sure, there were lots of automated systems to take care of that, but the captain turned some of these off, just to make him feel useful. He attempted to continue the way his life had always been upon reaching the homeworld, but that was a lot more difficult. Earth had transformed enormously since the first refugees were stranded on Durus. They had done away with work for the most part. People made themselves useful by creating new things, participating in socio-political debates, and preparing to colonize other planets. He wasn’t really qualified to do anything like that, so if he wanted to help, he would need a more relevant education. Before he got started on that, his case workers set him up with a new identity, and a new life, in what was formerly North America. They all but forced him to go on an extended vacation, so he could really think about whether he wanted to be part of the optional workforce, or if he just wanted to enjoy his life. After only a couple weeks of this, he decided on the latter, even though it was a choice he never could have fathomed making just a couple months ago. He forwent his education, and spent his days traveling the world. He didn’t much care for the virtual constructs that other people were visiting, but he saw a lot of fascinating things until he died of age-related causes many years later. He could have upgraded himself to live forever, but there was still a line he wouldn’t cross, and that was it.

Microstory 1256: Elliot Channing

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Most people can probably accept that, while they’re the hero in their own story, others may not look so favorably upon their actions. Elliot Channing hated this possibility, and was on a constant quest to somehow become the hero in everyone’s story. He knew this was an absurd goal, and he wasn’t delusional, but he figured the closest he could get to achieving it would be to get himself into politics. Elliot could always see the difference between a good politician, and a bad one. He would often overreact to other people’s claims that all politicians were dirty, and could not be trusted. It was his own damn fault for getting into those arguments, as he would goad people into them by volunteering his opinion unprompted. His was an altered perspective, however, as he believed these were debates that would bolster his experience. His efforts did not prove pointless, as he was routinely elected into higher and higher office, until he really made his mark as a Missouri state senator, where he served his eight full years. By then, he had had a lot of experience in lower offices, including having been part of the House of Representatives for eight years, and he was showing no signs of stopping. Many believed he was going to be Missouri’s next Governor, but life took him in a different direction. He suddenly pulled out of the race, and permanently joined the City Frenzy committee. He never vocalized his reasons for this, but the truth was he was instructed to do this by an individual who claimed to be able to see the future. The Frenzy was a different kind of race; a literal foot race, but it was important to the Kansas City economy. And if it was important to his constituents, then it was important to him. After all this time, making sure both Kansas and Missouri were  financially and socially prosperous seemed like the most important thing to accomplish. Though he had been a lifelong civil servant, most of the electorate did not pay much attention to him until he switched tactics. The average voter only notices whether a candidate has a little D next to their name, or an R. He didn’t feel like he wanted to be part of that anymore, and also that he wasn’t doing much good. It was under his leadership that the event committee grew, and eventually took on more than the annual race. Soon, they were drawing in crowds from all over the country—and even out of the country—for all sorts of concerts, fairs, sports exhibitions, and more. It’s uncertain whether anyone would have called Channing a hero, but he was inarguably a celebrity, and he decided that this was what he truly wanted all along.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: November 24, 2262

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The problem with time travel was that there was no such thing as total safety. If one were to imagine a world without it, finding a secure location wasn’t necessarily easy, but it was at least possible. An individual could theoretically fly a small plane to a remote and uncharted island in the middle of the ocean, and worry little about being discovered. Or they could build an impenetrable bunker in the center of a mountain. But either one of these things would be a three-dimensional endeavor. What would happen if a fourth dimension were to be added? Now someone could potentially find that person before they hid themselves away, or after they came out of it. They could kill their grandmother before they’re born, or even their ancestor from centuries prior. Surviving for a particular stretch of time doesn’t mean anything when an opponent could theoretically go back in time, and create a new reality for you.

Cassidy Long was always in danger; in her present, her future, and even her past. Last year, Pribadium seemed to think that there was a way to protect her from attack in all dimensions, so she and Hogarth spent that year working on it. “I call it a blind spot,” Pribadium announced.

“Are we married to that name?” Vitalie questioned.

“What does it do?” Mateo asked.

“How does it work?” Leona asked.

Hogarth open a small black case and removed an injection needle from it. “This solution is retroactive. If this works, no one will be able to find you. Seers won’t predict your future, remote viewers won’t be able to trace you, psychics won’t be able to connect with you. You’ll be invisible in every sense of the word, except the literal one.”

“People will still be able to see you standing in front of them, of course,” Pribadium clarified.

“How did you make this so quickly?” Mateo asked them.

“It’s been a year for us; not a day,” Hogarth explained.

“I know. That’s still fast. You didn’t even have time to study Cassidy.”

“We didn’t need to,” Pribadium said. “This could work on anyone. It just so happens to be for her, since she’s the one who needs it.”

“So, it hasn’t been tested,” Leona presumed.

“How could you test it?” Hogarth posed.

“I don’t know,” Leona responded. “I’m not a chemist, and also, neither are either of you.”

Even Mateo knew she was right. It sounded far too dangerous for Cassidy to just inject whatever this stuff was into her bloodstream. What exactly did it do, and how did they have any clue how to make it work? They’re both primarily mechanical engineers.

“I learned several months ago,” Pribadium said with a shrug, like it was no big thang.

“Okay, you’re smart,” Leona admitted, “but even you have limits. Learning the entire branch of chemical engineering in a matter of months is one thing, but coming up with a chemical that others in the industry couldn’t even fathom is quite different. How did you incorporate the temporal dimension?”

Hogarth and Pribadium exchanged a look. “We weren’t always on Glisnia”

“We took the AOC to Earth.”

“And we sought help from The Concierge.”

“Danica?” Mateo asked rhetorically. “My cousin let you into The Constant?”

“Why wouldn’t she?” Hogarth asked, but she very well knew why. There were rules.

Pribadium sighed. “We were convincing. And look.” She held the needle up higher. “The proof of our efforts. This serum is very old. It has seen time pass. The only way someone would be able to hurt Cassidy would be if they prevented Earth from coalescing in the first place. They would have to destroy the whole world before it even forms to get to her.”

“I’m not letting my daughter anywhere near that,” Étude promised.

“Hold on,” Cassidy finally said. “Is anyone gonna ask what I want, or does everyone here think they knows what’s best for me?” She turned to each person as she spoke. “Mom, I’m an adult now, and I can make my own choices. Leona, I appreciate your wisdom. Mateo, I appreciate your caution. Hogarth and Pribadium, thank for you everything you’ve done to help me. That all being said, my answer is no. I don’t understand why everyone in my life has gone to so much trouble to protect me. Well my mother, yeah, I get. But everyone else has been going out of their way to make sure poor little Cassidy doesn’t get hurt. I don’t need that.”

“It’s not just about you,” Leona said quietly. “Your blood is special. People want it for their agendas, and we can’t let that happen. It’s dangerous. We’re not just protecting you, but preventing the wrong people from gathering too much power.”

“Uhuh,” Cassidy says, “and who decides who the wrong people are? Ya know, I’ve never sat down and spoken with one of these people who are after me. All I have to go on, Mateo, is a brief conversation you had with one of them in an elevator. He wanted my blood to fight against a race of beings called the white monsters. So maybe I should help them.”

“The procedure could kill you,” Mateo reminded her. “I don’t care what the white monsters do; I’m not letting you die.”

“And again, I appreciate that, but maybe it’s time we stopped trying so hard. There are limits to what we should do to prevent this. If that needle kills me, then it will end up being worse. At least if those people had gotten to me, my blood could have saved lives. Now my life, and my death, will have just been wasted.”

No one had any idea how to respond to this.

“I gotta get outta here,” Cassidy says. Then she ran off.

“Let her go,” Leona stopped Mateo when he tried to follow.

“Do you know where she’s going?” he questioned her.

“Well, she can’t get far,” Leona reasoned. “This facility isn’t that big.”

Hogarth’s eyes widened in fear. “Yes it is. She could be two-point-eight-million light years away in minutes.”

“My teleporter,” Pribadium realized. “Dammit.”

Everybody ran off to stop Cassidy before she did something stupid, but Mateo had a different idea. He walked slowly down the hallways, and took the other tine of the fork. Cassidy was sitting in grave chamber four of the Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, back against the wall. She had a manilla folder in her hands.

Mateo climbed in, and sat against the opposite wall. “What is that?”

She held it up slightly higher. “Oh, this?” This is just me. This is me in one ream of paper or less.”

“I don’t understand.”

“When the other version of my mother, Étude was given the memories of me, the first thing she did was ask where I was. A woman named Nerakali Preston agreed to help her procure the information she would need to find me. This is everything they have, from my fake birthdate, to my sudden disappearance.”

Mateo nodded slowly. “What bothers you about that?”

“I dunno. Just...look at this thing. Is this all I am? My whole life fits in one folder. Isn’t that sad?”

“How many folders do you suppose there should be? Fifty-two?” he joked.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“Can I take a look?”

She handed it over.

“Where’s the part where you skinned your knee when you were six?”

“Huh?”

“What about how you felt after your first kiss?”

“What are you talking about, Mateo?”

“I’m talking about everything about you,” he insisted. “If everything is in here, then where is all that?”

“I don’t follow.”

“Cassidy, this isn’t your life; this is your data. It doesn’t include everything you’ve done with your life, and everyone whose life you’ve impacted. What about this reality’s version of Jai Quelen; the one you were in a complicated relationship with?”

“Oh, he’s definitely in there.”

“Right. He’s mentioned to the extent of your interactions, but not to the extent of how you changed him. He has his own hypothetical folder, but that’s not really what life is. You can’t just boil everyone down to a folder, or a deck of folders, or a million folders. And you can’t keep the folders separate from each other. Because, as they say, no man is an island. We’re all constantly walking in and out of each other’s lives, overlapping our stories, and altering each other’s paths. Nothing can be written that explains how that all works, because paper is two-dimensional, and the universe operates in four dimensions. Hell, as time travelers, we know that there are even more dimensions, and more universes. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, I guess it does.” She lifted her shirt, and for a second, Mateo was worried. “After your memorial, I’m going to leave.”

“Where are you gonna go?”

“With my mother, and Vitalie, if she’s going too.”

He understood. “Why are you showing me that belly button piercing? Are you about to take yourself off my pattern?”

“It doesn’t make sense for me to spend only one day a year with the only family I have left when I have a choice.”

“No, I wouldn’t have made that choice if someone had given it to me when this all started.”

“You’re not worried?” she asked.

“Oh, Cass, I’m always worried. I always will worry. But what Leona said to you was wrong. No one has the right to keep you locked up, white monster army or no. I still think you should keep a low profile, though.”

“I don’t plan on going into show business, or anything.”

“There’s one way you can go do whatever you want without fear of someone coming after you.”

Cassidy smirked. “If my father’s alive, he can remove my powers entirely.”

“What? No, I didn’t think of that. I suppose it’s true...if he’s still alive.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Vitalie has a way to contact The Prototype. It could take you anywhere in the bulkverse. They know which universes have Maramon in them, and which ones are safe.”

“Wow, Mateo. If you wanna break up with me, there are easier ways to do it.”

“I’m serious. I’ve thought about leaving, but...I’m not sure I should. It would get me off my pattern, and free from the powers that be, but...”

“But what?” she prompted.

“Don’t tell anyone I said this, but I’ve grown used to this life. I wake up every morning, and it’s literally a new year. Who else enjoys that kind of fresh start?”

“I can think of two other people.”

“Yeah, but you have your family. Mine are gone. If I could go back in time, and undo all of this, so I could live happily ever after with my parents, would I? Well, no, because then Leona would be twelve years younger than me. But assuming I could somehow have her too, yeah, I would probably do that. But too much has changed now, and I choose to stay.”

“You’re not doing well if you’re trying to convince me to make this choice.”

“I’m not gonna lie to you about my feelings. It can only help you decide whether you feel the same way. You’ll never be safe in this universe, and I know that Étude would be perfectly happy getting you out of it.”

“This is a lot.”

“I know,” he acknowledges. “It all comes down to a few choices. I’m gonna lay them all out for you, even though I think some of them would be stupid. You can continue as you are. You’ll be on mine and Leona’s pattern, and you’ll accompany us wherever we go. You can leave, but remain on our pattern. You can stay, but get off our pattern, or as you said, both leave our pattern, and our lives. There are only two options left.”

“I can escape the universe, or I can take Pribdadium’s magic drug.”

“Yes.”

She sighed melodramatically.

They sat in silence for a good long while. When they finally emerged from the AOC, everyone was waiting in the hangar. Cassidy walked up to Pribadium. “Where’s the needle?”

Pribadium removed the needle case from her bag, and began to open it, but Cassidy made her close it, and hand over the whole thing.

“I’m going to keep this with me. I may take it in the future, but it will be when I choose, and it will be on my terms.”

“I understand,” Pribadium said.

Everyone else was either cool with her decision, or would just have to get over it.

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Source Variant: Heaven Protects (Part XIII)

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           Now things are really confusing. It was already tough for the Veardens and the Sagas to keep track of which Vearden, and which Saga they were interacting with. Who remembers what, and what have they been through? But now it’s all four of them, all together. They stand here awkwardly for a moment, in the Gondilak monitoring facility, before Vearen!Two breaks the ice. “So, you two figured out this was happening, right?”

“We had some idea,” Vearden!Three replies with a short nod, and a long blink.

“You’ve been dealing with the Gondilak?” Saga!Two guesses.

“Indeed,” Saga!Three confirms. “I assume you were in charge of the Orothsew.”

“That’s right.”

“So, are we gonna be okay?” Vearden!Two asks. “Are they gonna start fighting each other?”

“They haven’t been fighting,” Zektene explains from the computer.

Saxon is with her. He immediately jumped at the chance to look at a new system. “The Orothsew crossed the ocean decades ago. They came in peace, and they’ve remained as such this whole time. The drones report no history of violence.”

“Wow,” Vearden!Three says. “So we did it. Mission accomplished.”

“That doesn’t mean there aren’t any other threats,” Saga!Three explains. “Zek, what’s the last the drones saw of Cain.”

Zektene fiddles with the inputs. “He disappeared nearly ten years after we did. I think it took him that long to find it.”

“Find what?” Saga!Two asks.

“Don’t worry about it,” Vearden!Two assures her. “If he’s gone, that’s a good thing. This world should be safe now.”

“That’s not true,” Vearden!Three begins. “We still have to worry about the Worlonians.”

“The Ochivari,” Saxon says.

“The whatnow?” Vearden!Three asks.

“They’re not called Worlonians,” Saxon explains. “Ochivari is the name of their species.”

“Really?” Vearden!Three asks. “That’s weird.”

“Is it?” Saga!Two questions. “Humans don’t come from planet Huma, or something.”

“Well, that’s true,” Vearden!Three has to admit.

“Who are these people?” Saga!Three prompts.

“Bad aliens,” Vearden!Three answers. “Real bad aliens. Probably worse than the Maramon.”

“Maybe about equal,” Saxon claims. “The Ochivari want to destroy all life in the multiverse, so that no one else gets to go to heaven.”

“Then they must be worse than the Maramon,” Vearden!Two says. “The white monsters aren’t super great, but they don’t want to kill everyone. Their motivations are diverse, and their agendas nuanced.”

“He’s right,” Saga!Two supports. “I’ve seen what happens when a Maramon is removed from its natural environment, and taught right from wrong. They can be reasoned with.”

“Yes,” Saga!Three adds. “This world is proof of what they can do when they choose to be good.”

“Huh?” Vearden!Three asks. “What do the Maramon have to do with this planet?”

“They’re the Gondilak,” Vearden!Two says to him. “Or rather, the Gondilak are Maramon...their descendants.”

“Oh my God,” Saxon exclaims. “They’re the source variant, aren’t they!”

“That’s what Ramses called it,” Saga!Three acknowledges.

Now everything is starting to make sense. Both the humans and the Maramon chose to settle on this planet, but at different points in history. Now they’ve come together, and things seem to be going fine. Saxon and Zektene continue to catch up on the data, skimming climate patterns, and contact history. The other four mostly catch up with each other, even though this is the first time any of them has been in a situation like this. It doesn’t seem weird, though. Now that the shock of meeting alternate versions of themselves has passed, it’s actually kind of nice. Sure, their respective alts had different experiences, but there’s a shorthand between them that they would never be able to find with anyone else. Both Veardens know they can trust each other with their secrets, while both Sagas feel the same.

They listen to the updates that the other two in their newly formed group relay to them, but most of it isn’t very interesting. Current events have been pretty uneventful. This is around the same time Saga!Two and Vearden!Two were on Orolak in the second timeline, and things are extremely different. It’s satisfying to see the fruits of their labor, and to know that everything they’ve been doing for the last millennium hasn’t been a huge waste of time. The last thing they do before sharing a meal is show each other their funny McIver hats. Everyone is jealous of Vearden!Three’s beard beanie, which Vearden!Two recalls seeing once when he was browsing the internet in the other timeline.

“So, what do we think the mission is?” Saxon asks as Saga!Two is passing him the mashed potatoes. “I mean, why were you four finally reunited, and why now?”

“Well, this isn’t really a reunion,” Vearden!Two explains. “I’ve never met Vearden!Three here.”

“Neither have I,” Saga!Three says. “I hadn’t met anybody until all this, actually.”

“You know what I mean,” Saxon says. “You’ve spent centuries apart; separated on two continents by an ocean. According to our collective experiences, we haven’t gone anywhere without a purpose. But the Orothsew and Gondilak seem fine without us.”

“Maybe the missions are over,” Vearden!Three suggests. “Maybe that’s the point. We’ve done our jobs; preparing for the two races coming together.”

Saga!Three, Vearden!Two, and Zektene aren’t obligated to say anything at this point, and no one else responds either, but it feels like they’re somehow more silent than everybody else who isn’t talking. It’s like they’re avoiding the conversation actively, rather than passively.

“Okay, what is it?” Saxon asks, concerned.

“We went off mission,” Saga!Three finally replies.

“We weren’t supposed to help the Gondilak,” Vearden!Two continues the explanation. “We were supposed to kill them”

“Once we failed to do that,” Zektene contributes, “we were at least supposed to slow them down, so your people could wipe them out.”

“Oh my God,” is all Vearden!Three can say.

“That’s terrible,” Saga!Two adds.

“Well, it didn’t go that way,” Saxon reminds them. “What you did worked, and the Orothsew and Gondilak will never know how grateful they should be for you.”

“For us,” Saga!Two clarifies. “This whole thing required all six of us, and it required not listening to The Delegator, apparently to varying degrees.”

Vearden!Three smiles widely. “We should all feel proud. We stopped a frickin’ world war. Who else can say that?”

“I heard the salmon battalion stopped World War III,” Vearden!Two reveals.

“That’s an urban legend,” Saga!Two refutes. “They won wars, but they didn’t stop any.”

“Speaking of war,” Vearden!Two says, “tell us more about these Ochivari.”

“We don’t know much about them,” Saxon begins. “It’s mostly about three little Latin words. Loci non grata. Just the fact that Earth has banned all travel to Worlon space is enough to frighten me. I mean, there are worlds we don’t get along with very well, but we do try to interact with them on some level. LNG means no ambassadors, no mediators, no negotiations. If your ship has gone derelict within three light years of Worlon, you’re just straight up expected to let yourself die; it’s that bad.”

“They’re a Class XI threat,” Vearden!Three says, “which Saxon here evidently didn’t even know existed.”

“Really?” Zektene is interested. “Tell me about the classes.”

Saxon wipes his mouth to prepare for the lecture. “It’s a pretty straightforward ranking system for threats to life. A Class I threat would be to an individual; like a murderer, or something. Class II would be for a group of people...a mass murderer. Class three is city, then region, then continent, then the whole planet. Class VII threatens the whole solar system, while Class VIII the stellar neighborhood. As far as I know, nothing has been designated threat level IX for the whole galaxy, or X for the universe. And as we’ve said, Class XI is an entirely new thing, for something that could be dangerous for the multiverse.”

“Bulkverse,” Zektene corrects. “It’s called the bulkverse.”

“Oh, okay,” Saxon accepts.

“So...” Zektene begins. “Would these Ochivari, perhaps...possibly resemble dragonflies?”

“Um...” Saxon is uncomfortable. “They do, yes.”

“Yeah, they came to my world once,” Zektene discloses. “They didn’t ask for anything. They just started killing people.”

“What did you do?”

“We used our superpowers, and destroyed them right back,” Zektene says as if it were obvious.

“We might need those powers here,” Saga!Two says to her. “We’re not sure when the Ochivari are coming, only that they are. The Orothsew and Gondilak might not be prepared for it when that happens.”

“Well, how has Earth prepared to protect themselves?” Vearden!Two asks her.

“A number of things,” Saxon answers instead. “I don’t have all the details, but it’s all about SCR&M. Safety, Compartmentalization, Redundancy, and Modularization. The first line of defense is recon and early warning, of course, but for anything incoming, they’re also protected by a gargantuan shield that encompasses the whole system. There are trillions of planetesimals, and other celestial bodies in spherical orbit in something called the Oort cloud, only fractions of a light year from the center. Almost every single one of them is equipped with defensive and/or offensive measures. If something were to get past that, they’ll have to deal with the armada of reserve warships, a satellite fleet, and an array of surface weapons. For the people, it’s estimated that Earth could be one hundred percent evacuated in an hour. Other planets have fewer people, and less atmosphere, so they could escape even faster.”

No one says anything for a moment or two. They’ve also stopped eating.

“All right,” Vearden!Two says, dropping his napkin on his plate. “Let’s do that.”

“Do what?” Saxon asks. “Build a defensive contingency around this solar system?”

“Well, I don’t know that it has to be the solar system, does it?” Vearden!Two believes. “We just need to protect the planet. It’s the only place that’s inhabited, ain’t it?”

“Theoretically,” Saxon admits.

Vearden!Three stands up. “We already have artificial satellites in orbit, right? I know the humans put at least one up there. I assume the Maramon did as well.”

“This is the mission,” Zektene decides. “This is what we’re here to do.”

“Hold on,” Saxon argues. “We are not qualified to try anything like this.”

“You are,” Saga!Two claims. “You helped build the quantum seeder network, and you told us about those gigantic telescopes just outside the Milky Way. We can’t pick up a hammer and some nails, and expect to get anything done, but we can come up with ideas, and you and Zektene can program the AIs to do the actual construction.”

“This sounds impossible,” Saga!Three can’t help but feel.

“I would rather try than not,” says Saga!Two. “If you’re anything like me, you feel the same.”

“Don’t you just wanna get back to your daughter?” Saga!Three asks her.

Saga!Two stands up. “I wanna protect her. Maybe this is how we do it, because we have to protect the human race, and everything that comes from it...even if it’s against something else that comes from it.”

Saxon shakes his head. “This is a tall order.”

“Then let’s find a ladder,” Vearden!Two and Vearden!Three say simultaneously.

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