Orthogradient: The Hawthorne Family (Part II)

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Limerick started to run up the stairs, hoping to get to his family in time. Some kind of weird giant train thing had just appeared out of nowhere, and was sliding down the road. People didn’t really use roads anymore, not for driving anywhere, but they were still there, and necessary bridges between two places that people needed to walk to. He couldn’t tell if anyone was hurt, but his only concern right now was his wife and daughter. He met them on the landing, and his heart jumped back up to where it belonged in his chest. Once he caught his breath, he said, “go back up to the panic room. I’ll figure out what’s going on here.”

“I know what’s going on,” Treasure explained. She didn’t say it out loud. Instead, her voice was coming through a silver tiara on her head that he had never seen before. “That’s the Transit. Azura has come back for me.”

Limerick’s eyes darted over to Freya, who shook her head, having not yet heard the story either.

Treasure sighed. “I’ve been traveling...without you. I spent weeks in multiple branes, and I’ll explain later, but right now, I have to go meet my friend.”

Limerick shook his head. “If that thing is from another brane, then it can travel through time, and literally anyone could be in there. It could be your friend, or it could be your enemy. It could be a fictional character from your favorite movie. You just don’t know. You’re not going anywhere.”

“I’m an adult now, you can’t stop me.” Treasure started to pass her father.

“You turned eighteen already?” Freya questioned. “You said you had been gone for weeks.”

“Maturity isn’t just a number, mother. I’ve seen some shit. That’s why I’m an adult. Now, if you’ll excuse me...”

“Why are you talking like that? Why don’t you move your lips?”

Treasure was growing ever frustrated and impatient. “I either don’t move my lips, or I cut myself. Which would you prefer?” She started to hop down to the first floor.

“Why would those ever be the only two options?” Freya shouted to her.

“Why isn’t she wearing her necklace anymore?” Limerick questioned.

“Haven’t you heard?” Freya popped back as she was following her daughter. “She’s seen some shit now.”

The three of them went outside. Limerick tried to walk between Treasure and this giant spacetrain thing, but she was confident, and completely unworried. A woman stepped out from the second car from the front, and looked around. “Azura!” Treasure cried, louder than expected. She was amplifying her voice using the tiara thing.

Azura started jogging down the ramp. “Treasure! You found your way home!”

“It wasn’t easy,” Treasure admitted. “We didn’t come straight here.” They took each other into a hug.

Azura could clearly see that Treasure’s parents were not happy. “Mister Hawthorne and Madam Einarsson—”

“Missus Hawthorne,” Freya corrected, “and I suppose you can just call me Freya.” She took her husband’s name when they married to further distinguish herself from her alternate, Saga Einarsson.

“Limerick.” He shook the stranger’s hand while his wife did not. “You came in pretty fast. Did you hurt anyone on your way through?”

“Dad,” Treasure scolded.

“It’s a valid concern,” Azura admitted. “No, sir, we did not. The Transit is designed to seek out the closest entry point to the given coordinates that is unimpeded. An impediment can mean an empty car on the road, or a tent full of party people.”

“What exactly is your relationship with my daughter?” Limerick went on.

“Dad!” Treasure repeated herself with far more indignation this time.

The nearest portal trees suddenly began to shake. “That’s probably the government. Do not resist. They are more powerful than you may imagine.”

“We come in peace,” Azura insisted.

Several people came through the portal, four of them being a security contingency. They maintained a circle around the others, keeping their heads on swivels, but paying special attention to the Transit. One of the others was Treasure’s teacher, Thack Natalie Collins, and another was the Principal Guide, who was the leader of the entire world. Limerick did not recognize the third person. The fourth was the Treewalker, who kept his distance behind everyone. Principal Guide Rao brushed her guard away when he tried to stay between her and the Transit, much in the way that Limerick had tried with his own charge. “Azura of Ansutah, my name is Principal Guide Usha Rao. Allow me to be the first to officially welcome you to Voldisilaverse. Before we proceed, please understand that we have rules here. You will keep your onboard weaponry deactivated at all times. You will keep all of your mobile weapons inside the Transit walls at all times. All shore leave requests must be approved by my office. Fighters will not be allowed to congregate in groups more than two, but crewmembers will be allowed to group in fours.”

“I understand, and accept your terms,” Azura said, then shrunk a bit in embarrassment when she realized that the Usha wasn’t finished yet.

Usha didn’t flinch. “Furthermore, one guard will be posted next to each car of the Transit, on each side, and one will be posted on top of it, for a total of three local guards per car. A number at my discretion will be allowed into the Transit to monitor activity. They will stay out of your way, but this is not negotiable. I will also need a full manifest of your current crew and army, as well as obviously your intentions on my world. Do you accept all of these terms in full?”

“I do,” Azura replied without hesitation.

“Very well,” Usha said. “Please return to await the security detail. You will be alerted when it’s time for our debrief and negotiations.”

“Thank you, sir.” Azura went back towards the machine.

“No,” Miss Collins said when Treasure tried to follow.

“But I—”

“I know,” Miss Collins interrupted. “And the answer is no. Your debrief begins right now.”

“Don’t you already know what I went through?” Treasure figured. “Weren’t you watching me the whole time?”

Miss Collins took some time to respond. “For your protection...no.” She turned around to head back to the portal trees, followed closely by the Treewalker. “Come along, dear,” Miss Collins urged. “You may come as well, mom and dad.”

The Hawthornes stepped into the portal, and exited on the other side of the country, where Miss Collins lived and worked. They continued in silence, into her work building, and up to her office. Treasure went out to the computer lab down the hall to retrieve a chair for herself while her parents sat down in the two that were already there.

Miss Collins took a breath. “I have been watching over your daughter for her entire life. I’ve been there for your whole family, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Absolutely,” Limerick said.

“Yes,” Freya concurred quickly.

“As you know, I can witness events on any of the nearest branes to ours, and that comes with a heavy weight of responsibility. I have never been able to give Treasure my undivided attention, so she is lucky to have two amazing caregivers to pick up the slack in that regard. You might not want to hear it, but your little girl is all grown up now, and it’s time for her to make her own way. She was never going to wait until she turned eighteen. I could see that, even though I can’t watch events in this universe unless I’m standing right there. I think you knew it too. She is an Einarsson, who is patient, thoughtful, and careful. But she’s also her father’s daughter. That makes her impatient, reckless, and unpredictable. You, I, and her other teachers, have all done what we can to teach her to be a good person, and as a lifelong learner myself, I don’t believe that ever ends, but at a certain point, your personality is kind of locked in.

“She is an amazing young woman, destined to do great things throughout the entire bulk. Whatever she just experienced during her first solo mission was a test that she gave herself, and only she can tell us whether she passed. So, how about it, Treasure? What was your score?”

Treasure squirmed in her chair. “I dunno...” She cleared her throat, even though she wasn’t using it to speak. She tried to look away, but Miss Collins didn’t allow that when they were having a conversation. “Can’t you just look at what happened now?”

“No. I must be careful about what I see, and when I see it. My spirit ability is a constant threat to the continuity of time. We wouldn’t want a paradox to destroy the multiverse, would we? I’ve taught you that.”

Treasure stood up to pace around the room a little, gathering her thoughts.

“I got shot.”

“What!?” Limerick and Freya exclaimed simultaneously.

“Let me finish,” Treasure requested. “When I screamed, I went to Azura’s universe. Well, it wasn’t her homeworld. She’s from Ansutah. She’s half-human, half-Maramon. At any rate, the space station where she was working was attacked, and I was caught in the crossfire. They shot me in the neck, and Azura pulled me to safety. She was trying to save her one escape route for later, but she used it to save me. I managed to illustrate that I needed to go to Salmonverse for help, and that’s how we ended up finding the Transit. A bunch of the attackers accidentally came with us. She fought them off single-handedly, and then patched me up. Over time, while we were all stuck there together, we grew close, and worked hard to figure out how to get out of there. We started to go to other universes, asking for help with power sources. It did not always go well, but I survived. I made friends, I fell in love...I think. He’s waiting for me in a random brane out there. Or maybe he’s not. Maybe when I go back, only seconds will have passed. The point is that my journey was not without its speed bumps, but I persevered. Did I get a perfect score? No. But did I pass? Yes, I should think so. Parental unit, you haven’t told me everything that you’ve done with your lives, but based on the stories that you have told me, my life is not unlike yours. Hawthornes end up in dangerous situations all the time, and we make it through. That’s what we do. That’s what I’ll continue to do, and I would love for you to be on my side, and to support me in that, but it is not a requirement. I’m Treasure Hawthrone, natural traveler of the bulk, and I’ll be damned if I do nothing with that responsibility.”

Her parents and Miss Collins didn’t say anything, stunned by the logorrhea that just spilled out of Treasure’s mouth.

She plopped back down in the chair, and slouched. “Oh, and I wear this tiara, because it translates my thoughts into audible sound. I have to do that, because my body metabolizes bulk energy, but it leaks out every time I speak, so if I want to keep it in, I can’t talk anymore.”

Freya stood up, and gestured for Treasure to do the same. She took her daughter in a warm embrace. “I love you, and I support you. But I’ll also always protect you. You don’t go anywhere without telling me. I don’t care how much bulk energy you lose, don’t rely on Miss Collins to update me on your whereabouts. No more secret trips, okay?”

“Okay,” Treasure answered.

Limerick stood up to hug her too. “Does this boy know how you feel?”

“Pretty much, yeah. His name is Quino. He was part of the attackers, but he wasn’t a fighter. He just carried stuff.”

“What did you give him?” Limerick asked.

“What, you mean, like, a present...or an STD?”

Limerick just flinched.

“I didn’t give him anything,” Treasure clarified. “He gave me a gift.”

Limerick gave his wife a kiss on the forehead. “We’ll be back.” He walked towards the door to punch the air. It wasn’t really the air, though, not when he was opening a shatter portal. He reached back and punched it again. He kept punching and punching. It made the objects in the room jiggle a little, but not enough to break anything. He punched and punched, and punched until the portal was wide enough to climb through. Then he reached back to offer Treasure his hand.

Without knowing exactly what was going on, Treasure accepted it, and went through the portal with him. They landed on a gorgeous field of various flowers. To one side of them was a pristine beach, and a calm turquoise sea. To the other a forest. In the distance were snow capped mountains. Treasure noticed all of the color around them. It felt like they were standing inside of a painting.

“I want you to pick out, or make, a gift for this boy. This is what Hawthornes do to show our love, respect, and commitment to our partners, especially in the beginning. I should have taught you this before, I just didn’t realize how much you had grown up until it was too late. It can be anything. When we were on prehistoric Worlon, I made your mother a garland chaplet out of twigs, leaves, grass, and flowers. But it doesn’t have to be hand-crafted. There’s a village where we can barter a few kilometers that way, and a city not too far from that.”

“You’re not mad? I thought you would hate Quino just from hearing he existed.”

“No, I’m not mad, hon. We’ll have to meet him, of course, but you’ll need a gift regardless. Even if the next time you see him, you break up, you must go with a gift.”

“Okay.” Treasure did want it to be something special that she made herself, rather than a heartless trinket from the market. She looked around; the field, the forest, and the beach. In the end, she made him a charm bracelet out of sea glass, seashells, sand, and stones.”

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Microstory 2150: Phone Calls in Jail

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I probably shouldn’t be saying this, but I have some things to think about now. When you start reaching an audience of a million on this platform, it starts looking like you can focus on that fulltime, and not have to worry about any other job. If I were to push myself towards multimedia content, endorsements, and even public events, I would be at the point where I not only could quit my job without suffering, but also should, since it would free up my time for those other pursuits. I’m still working on that partnership I told you about not too long ago, but I remain reluctant to branch out into other types of content, and I don’t really want to make public appearances. Someone once told me that I have a face for radio...and a voice for print. It was mean, but they’re right. Even without all that, if my readership keeps growing, I may be able to quit anyway. I didn’t even say that during my interview for this job. My interviewer brought it up unprompted, acknowledging that I may not exactly be destined to retire from there. Now, I’ve not made any decisions yet, but it’s definitely becoming an option, which I know could be weird for you, since you still don’t even have a clue what I do for a living, let alone who specifically I work for. The great thing about quitting a job for a form of self-employment is that I can take my time with it. If I were to transition over to somewhere else, I would want to do it within two weeks. That’s standard practice in this country, and beyond. But here, I can hold off, and wait for them to find my replacement, and perhaps even train them. Not forever, mind you, but longer. I’m sure I’ll be getting a call from my boss as soon as this installment posts, but I’ll be in jail by then, so I will not be able to answer. There is a way to take phone calls in jail, but it doesn’t happen all that much, because we’re all only in there for a couple days at a time. And other people have families that they want to stay in contact with, so I wouldn’t want to take any time away from them. I’m alone whether I’m in there, or out here. Maybe I should get a pet. Now that I’ve made friends with my neighbor, I might be able to leave on the weekends without worrying. That’s yet another thing that I need to be considering, but I’ll put it on the backburner.

Microstory 2149: A Million of Anything

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As you might have deduced from the title, I’ve reached one million readers. Is that right? Is it deduce, or is it induce? I’ve heard that deduction comes from removing all wrong answers, but that’s probably wrong, and I really don’t know what induction is. Here’s the thing, I have a pretty decent vocabulary, but there are still some concepts that I struggle with. I’m also very logical, but I’ve also always particularly struggled with explaining my logic through accepted standardized terms, like straw man or if and then. I can tell you my logic, but I’m not going to sound very smart while I do it, and I’ll stumble over all of my words on my way there. In seventh grade, I was failing English class. We were on a topic called Greek and Latin Roots and Stems. I was paying so little attention that I didn’t even know what that meant. I’m sure I was daydreaming a lot. I didn’t crack open my workbook once, and in fact, would just leave it in my locker. We had a test the next day so I actually had to call a classmate, who gave me hers to photocopy. It was kind of late at night, and really weird, and humiliating, and my dad was angry with me for it, because like I said, it was twelve or thirteen, so he had to help me with everything. So anyway, I got the workbook, and started looking through it, and I’m like, “this? This is what my teacher has been talking about? I know all this. It says that -ing means continuous action, because of course it does. This is why my teacher called my parents, and got me in trouble?” Needless to say, now that I understood what I was missing, I aced the test, and ended up with one of the highest grades of all classes combined. So I’m pretty good at language.

Still, it’s still not clear to me how you induce something, at least not in any practical sense, and my definition of deduction may come from my strong sense of linguistic morphology, not from how the word is actually used in this subject. I remember intuiting that the word division meant separating objects in half when I was a toddler, which misses the fact that it’s not always by half specifically. Why am I talking about this? Oh yeah, a million readers. A million people read my stories now. Well, a million unique IP addresses access my website on a regular basis. I think it goes by the month, but it’s the middle of May now, so is that based on April’s metrics, or is it just from thirty days ago to now? I’m not entirely sure how to read this section of the blog service. Whatever, I’ll take it, I trust the analytics. For years, this is what I wanted, for people to read my stuff, and to keep coming back for more. I’ve never been great at non-fiction, so I didn’t think it would turn out like this, but I guess I didn’t think I would travel to a different world either. Or different worlds, as it were. I wonder how many readers I would be able to get if people in all of the universes that I’ve been to could navigate to the site as well. That would be a lofty goal, and I should really just be focusing on what’s here and now. Thank you. Thank you for reading. I’m sure my alternate self on my homeworld is super envious of me right now. Oh yeah, he’s pissed. I can feel it. His readership still sits at approximately zero. He would take a million of anything if it also meant a million readers, even slaps in the face. I’m not going to celebrate this milestone, because I have a binge eating disorder, which is triggered by the mentality that positive events should be marked with food, but I’m glad anyway. Let’s see how long it takes to get to two million, and then after that, I think the next one should be five billion?

Microstory 2148: Wokest of Folk

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I agreed to have dinner with my neighbor yesterday evening. She framed the invitation as a friendly stranger passing by me in the hallway, but she knew who I was, and has read some of my blog. She’s not a crazy stalker, though, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’ve just been pretty good at marketing my site in the local area. There’s a bulletin board in the lobby of our apartment complex, for instance, where people can post lost animal flyers, or musical instrument lessons. I printed out a slip of paper that just gives my address, and tacked it up there. It doesn’t even say what the site is, so people have to try it to see. There aren’t enough people living here to make much of a dent in my readership—especially not these days—but marketing is all about cost versus return, and it cost me almost nothing. Anyway, the dinner went well, she was very nice, and a really good cook. She’s a vegetarian too, so I didn’t have to worry about making her feel bad about making something special on my account. She prepared us sweet potato and black bean enchiladas with avocado crema. Sweet potatoes are one of those foods that I had to grow to like later in life, and I’m glad I did for this situation. I’m sure you’re all wondering if sparks were flying, but please don’t. Where I’m from, it’s annoyingly taboo for a man and a woman to be friends. Even the wokest of folk think that it doesn’t work, but as an omnisexual, I say, what even is a man, and what is a woman? Your “theory” may stop making sense when you answer that. There’s nothing romantic going on between us, and there wouldn’t be even if I weren’t loyal to Cricket.

Microstory 2147: That I Hate You

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I’ve lived here for—how long have I lived here for—I don’t remember, and I don’t want to look it up. As usual, I didn’t bother meeting my neighbors. This isn’t ever some kind of intentional effort on my part, where I avoid them like the plague. It’s not that I think that we won’t get along, though let’s be fair, we probably won’t. It’s just that I don’t give it much thought. The first day when I move into a new place, I’m busy doing that. The second day is about figuring out how my daily behavior is going to change. The next few days are about implementing those changes, seeing what works, and rethinking accordingly. After that, I’ve established a routine, and while I can alter it as necessary, I pretty much stick to what I know until it becomes too inconvenient, and I have to come up with new solutions. Other people don’t factor into it unless they were a part of it before, such as my family back on my homeworld. Meeting people is not something that I’ve ever been interested in. I’ve tried to ask a number of neurotypicals what the point of getting to know new friends is. Not one of them has been able to explain why exactly they like it. They act like it’s a biological imperative, like eating, or propagating the species. And it’s true to some degree. Evolution favors life-preserving traits, and humans have survived through tribal collaboration. But that’s not really what that is, is it? The only tribe that I need is currently around five billion strong. If I need a coat, I know where to go. If I need help getting a door open because my hands are full, someone nearby will likely oblige. I wouldn’t expect to have to foster some strong relationship with that person. In fact, if true connection is something that they required before helping in such a small way, we would all probably consider them not that great of a person. I’m not going to become friends with people just so they’ll open the door for me, because I don’t want to be associated with someone who won’t open the door for a stranger. My point is that whatever joy you experience by getting to know others is not inherent to your survival, which means that it is not necessarily universal. To be sure, it’s not even true for me, and I’m sure there are plenty of others. It doesn’t make us misanthropic hermits either. I think it’s perfectly reasonable for a beekeeper to only want to be friends with other beekeepers, for instance. Of course, this kind of mentality has the potential to lead to prejudice and otherism, but it doesn’t have to. I’m not a beekeeper, I’m just me. My interests don’t align well with others. For one, the things that I used to love don’t exist in this universe, such as Stargate. But also, loving Stargate has never been my entire identity, and I didn’t find myself enjoying being in the company of other fans, for reasons that I won’t get into. I think that I just don’t want to be around people who are like me any more than I want to be around people who aren’t like me. Again, it’s not that I hate you; it’s just that that’s not how I choose to live in the world. Anyway, my neighbor suddenly invited me to dinner tonight, so we’ll see how that goes.

Microstory 2146: To Participate

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There are consequences to your actions, people. Never forget that. I’m not saying that I’m being punished here, but my website does get read by a number of people, including the jail’s personnel. Based on my weird last two installments, it has been suggested to me that I start to struggle more when I’m unable to have my usual weekly therapy session, for whatever reason. I don’t think it always matters so much what she and I discuss, just that I have time to talk to someone who has been trained to listen and try to understand others. I think that’s a fair assessment. Just looking back on my past posts, and reflecting on my recent life, it sounds about right that I go a little crazy sometimes. I think I was meant to have group sessions all along while I was in jail, but I sort of forgot about it, and the expectation is that I manage my schedule myself. No one is going to force me to talk to anyone about anything in particular. Some people are given more detailed sentences in this regard, but mine was purposefully vague. Even so, it’s a good idea, so I participated in group on Saturday. I didn’t really want to participate directly. In fact, I think maybe it should be expected that a newbie keep their mouth shut on their first day, and just listen to the veterans first. I don’t mean to imply that no one has anything worthy of being heard during their first session, just that it might foster a safer and more welcoming environment to not introduce people so shockingly suddenly to an established group. Give us time to acclimate, ya know?

Well, I was forced to talk, because as I’ve explained, I’m kind of famous. Some were not happy that I was there, and/or not happy about the developments on my website. Due to my belief that I’m a traveler from another universe, they think that I should be given stricter rules when it comes to my personal mental health journey. I’m obviously crazy, and need to be medicated, heavily therapized, and maybe locked up 24/7. I must say, I totally see where they’re coming from. If I’m so convinced that time travel is real, then a group session where I talk about how much I miss my dog—who is supposedly being taken care of by an alternate version of me—is probably not enough. It might be taking time away from people who have more grounded problems. If I were trying to work through what they perceive to be my delusions, that would be a different story, but since I’m holding firm to them, and the group leader is making no effort to change that, I imagine that that can get pretty annoying. That’s one reason why I didn’t want to talk the first time, and why I don’t know if I ever want to talk at all. I am from another world, and I’m never going to claim otherwise, because it would be a lie, and that would be worse. I hope that my fellow patients can learn to accept that, as I make an effort to accept their drug addictions and domestic violence issues, which I’ve never had a problem with personally. For now, I have no reason to believe that I won’t be able to have my regular private session with my own therapist this coming Wednesday, so hopefully I can get back on track then. Oh, and one more thing, for this Sunday’s social media post, I wrote this cryptic question about a snake eating its own tail in real life. There’s no hidden meaning behind that. I just didn’t have anything real to say, so I just kind of randomly started typing words, and that’s what came out. If you interpreted it as a puzzle, or thought experiment, or something, don’t worry about it anymore. I just don’t like to skip days. Maybe I should talk to my therapist about that.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 26, 2447

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Olimpia looked like she was about to follow Marie back to the magic tree. “No,” Leona stopped her physically. “It will be much easier for us to protect one in our group for breaking the rules than for us all to have to defend ourselves equally. So just let her go. She’s on her own.”

“Understood,” Marie said back through comms before disabling the connection. She was standing before the tree, as well as Princess Honeypea.

“You have the patience of a hummingbird.”

“I’m as fast as one too.”

Honeypea sighed. “We are obviously all pacifists. This place survives on the goodwill of others. We cannot protect ourselves. We are uncomfortably open for attack.”

“I’m not here to attack you,” Marie insisted. “I just want one fruit. You may see it as an act of aggression, but it is truly one of love. I need to put my family back together.”

Honeypea nodded, and pulled a fruit pod down. “Results not guaranteed.” She reached out to hand it to Marie, then pulled it back at the last second. “We believe this tree has a consciousness of sorts, and if it does, its intentions and motivations are unclear. It could be an amalgam of disparate identities. It might want to kill you for all we know. That’s why we asked for time to study it.”

“I’ll risk it.” She took the pod, pulled one piece of fruit off of it, and tossed it in her mouth. It was an unsettling and unpleasant experience. She expected juices to flow down her tongue when she bit into it, but this was not what happened. First off, it was bitter and oddly spicy, like a combination of paprika and ginger. And instead of juices, fibers spilled out. The insides must have existed in a pocket dimension of their own, or something, because these fibers continued to grow and spread like slime mold. Tendrils reached down her throat, into her lungs, and down her esophagus to her stomach and intestines. They broke through the tissue, and circulated into her blood, her nerves, and even her bones. Her veins popped out and glowed the same brilliant blue as the Magnolia’s leaves. Her hair stood on end, and an energy surged all around her skin. A glow filled her eyes, blinding her to her surroundings, and when it receded, she wasn’t standing on the conflux anymore. She was on the floor of a great indoor expanse, accompanied by a ton of other people, none of which was paying her any mind.

It took her a few seconds to realize that the hundreds of people moving about were mostly duplicates of each other. There were only a handful unique individuals, with dozens of copies scattered about. And a lot of them were part of the crew who stole Angela from them. Yeah, this was the right place. She took one version of Briar by the arm, not worried about hurting him. “Where’s my sister?”

“I didn’t even know you had a sister, Leona.”

Marie was so confused by this, she didn’t even try to stop him when he ran off again. “Leona?” she whispered. What was that gesture that they taught her? The suit could change to any color. Every single pixel could hypothetically be its own shade on the spectrum. But there was also this one particular setting that was different than the others. Remembering how it went, she half-crossed her index and middle fingers so that the former was right under the latter. Then she tapped on the inside of her elbow three times before separating the fingers by a few centimeters, and dragging them both towards her wrist. A mirror appeared all along her forearm. Her eyes were not staring back at her through the reflection. She looked like Leona now. She was holding a holographic impersonation without even realizing. And she couldn’t drop it, even if she wanted to, suggesting that Honeypea was right that the tree was sentient.

She took a deep breath. This made more sense, and she probably should have thought of it herself. None of these people knew who she was, or that they should trust her, but they knew Leona, and they probably all loved her. By the time she could reach out to another one of them to ask after Angela, she felt another pull, and found herself back at the tree.

“How did that go?” Honeypea asked.

Marie reached up to massage her neck. “Whiplash.”

“Interesting, interesting.” Honeypea licked the tip of her pin, and wrote that down in her notepad. “Tell me more.”

Marie was anxious to get back to her search, but she could spare a few minutes. She certainly wasn’t eager to eat another fruit. She explained why, which Honeypea found fascinating, and also helpful. Being able to explain to people how caustic—and perhaps even traumatizing—the experience was could make it easier to discourage others from attempting it themselves. Marie had no problem with this tactic, and would even be prepared to exaggerate the discomfort to prevent a flurry of people from coming to this delicate world, hoping to travel the universe and the timeline. She needed to be able to do this, but she didn’t need anyone else to. Once the brief debrief was over, she reluctantly pulled another piece off, and made a second trip. This time, there was less glowing, but it felt exactly the same, and maybe even hurt a little more? The strain on her body was only going to increase each time.

She pulled a version of Goswin aside, and showed him an image of Angela to ask if he knew where she was, but he had never met her before. Only one copy of this group had taken her away, and it was going to take some time to figure out which. It would be a hell of a lot easier if they stopped moving around so goddamn much! Each time she ate another fruit, and went back, she had to hope she wasn’t talking to someone she had already tried. It happened a couple of times, but the more she went through this, the more she picked up her speed. She asked the question in the most succinct way possible, and she quickly learned that Eight Point Seven was the easiest to get through to, and Briar the worst. He questioned being questioned, but the android always just got to the point. Yes or no, that’s all Marie needed, and some understood that better than others.

Those four main people had the highest number of copies, but there were also others, and she occasionally spoke to these people too, just in case they happened to know something. Their presence amongst the rest was too noticeable not to include them to some degree. One group of four in particular didn’t appear to have any alternates. They lorded over the crowd from a balcony above, and started making proclamations about how they were going to literally move mountains together, or some shit. Marie obviously wasn’t paying much attention to that, and she hoped they wouldn’t pay any attention to her either. She continued to jump back and forth, but started to whisper. “Are you the ones who took Angela?” she asked another one of the Goswins.

“Who?”

“That’s a no.” She turned away to see if she could squeeze in one more.

He stopped her. “Wait. What does she look like?”

She held up her palm to show him the holographic photo. “A core crew was on our ship, and when they left, she disappeared along with them. She’s not here, so they left her somewhere else in spacetime, but if you don’t recognize her, then it wasn’t you.”

He looked at his group. “Let’s find her. Just like Misha.”

They nodded in agreement, and suddenly, Angela was standing next to them. “Oh, thank God,” she exclaimed, hugging who she believed to be Leona.

That was when Lord Tamerlane Pryce noticed that not everyone was listening to his speech, which Marie was sure he thought was pretty damn good. The helpful Goswin tried to explain to him what was going on, so Marie and Angela just decided to shrink away, and try to be as inconspicuous as possible. They held each other tightly, though Angela wouldn’t know that this was for a specific reason. They should have disappeared by now. Something was stopping her, and it was probably her worst fear, which was that she would not be allowed to return to the others. The fruit could only transport one person, with no hangers-on. Still, she hung on, because if they couldn’t go back together, well, then she wouldn’t go back at all. At least Angela wouldn’t be alone anymore.

Tamerlane and the helpful Goswin continued to argue with each other. The Lords had apparently erected some kind of time barrier, which prevented anyone from being able to leave, which explained why no one was trying, despite the fact that they clearly didn’t want to be here. The defiant Goswin was up on the balcony by now. He approached the railing to address the audience. “Do you all wanna be here? Raise your hand if you do.”

A few people actually did raise their hands, apparently into this whole being conscripted for the Reality Wars in the Sixth Key.

“Then be free.” Goswin!Prime swept his hands forward from his chest.

Marie and Angela saw everyone begin to disappear before they too were spirited away, finally to the Garden dimension.

“It worked,” Honeypea noted with a wide smile. “And just in time too.” She nodded down towards the pod. There was only one fruit left.

“Not quite. “I still need Ramses. I made a promise. I just...I don’t know how. Honeypea, I didn’t bring her back. Goswin had to do it for me. This was before he lost his power I guess. How could I get Ramses? Goswin won’t be there this time.”

Honeypea looked for answers in the clouds. “I don’t know. We need time to study it. That’s what I’ve been saying. That’s why we were asking you to wait.”

Marie took a breath, and reached up to turn her comms back on. The real Leona would know what to do. But her finger never made it to her neck. She had to do this herself. She made this choice, and Leona made it clear that she was on her own. Marie turned away, and walked down to thoughtlessly splash one foot in the water several times. Then she walked back up the hill. “Tell my sister where to go, to the others. I can figure this out.” She pulled the last fruit from the pod. “I just need to test it first.”

“There’s no time to test anything!” Honeypea exclaimed, but it was too late.

Marie was home, or at least what passed for a home as she was growing up. If she aimed right—which she expected to have, since she was always right on the money in the Nucleus—this was 1816, following her death at the hands of Milford. She wanted to marry Ed Bolton, but her father had other plans, so she had always partially blamed him, as well as the actual murderer. Plus, there was that whole owning slaves thing that she could never forgive him for.

He walked into the kitchen to find her standing there. “Angela, my precious girl. You’re here. You’re alive.”

She waved her hands in front of her, and sarcastically howled, “I’m a ghooooost!” As he came towards her for a hug, she reached over and grabbed their cast iron kettle. She swung it around, and smacked him right in the jaw, knocking him to the floor. “Black lives matter, bitch.” She had mixed feelings about this word choice.

He was not liable to change his ways from this one short experience, but it felt cathartic on her end, and there was a chance that he would shout her return from the dead on the rooftops, which might land him in an insane asylum, and that would be retribution enough. The Magnolia fruit forced her back to the Garden Dimension. Angela was still there, having presumably been worried about what her sister was doing. Marie dropped the kettle on the ground.

“Is that what I think it is?” Angela asked.

“Yeah. He doesn’t need one this big now that I’m dead.”

“Why did you take it?” she pressed.

Marie interlaced her fingers, and cracked them. “It’s about the same weight as the pocket dimensional generator.” She reached up to harvest another fruit pod.

“No!” Honeypea shouted, in a far more serious tone than she had ever exhibited up until now. “I never said you could take a second fruit! I’m putting my foot down!”

“So am I,” Marie replied calmly. She stepped up, took Princess Honeypea by the shoulders, and teleported her halfway across the dimension, to a random spot, which happened to be in a cluster of delvidians.

“Don’t do this,” Honeypea begged.

Marie didn’t respond. She jumped back to the tree to carry Angela to the inn. Then she went off to her own random spot to avoid detection. She ate one more fruit even though she was quite full, and sent herself to the Vellani Ambassador.

“Marie, where were you guys?” Ramses asked. “What happened? I lost your comms signals. My probes have been looking for you for two years.”

“Get in the pocket dimension,” Angela ordered.

“What?”

“Get in the pocket before it’s too late. I’m taking you back, but you’re too heavy.”

“Well, I need to uninstall it from the door frame first.”

Marie had by now figured out how long she could stay before the fruit called her back, and her time was now up. “I’ll come back in ten minutes. Be ready.” She thought that she would return to where she had last left, but the fruit forced her back to the tree instead. Honeypea was there, and she was not alone. Everyone was there too, including Team Matic, the Horticulturalists, and Goswin’s crew. Most of them were not happy.

Onyx immediately snatched the pod out of her hand. That’s enough of that.”

“Please. I just need one more fruit for one more jump. That’s it! Ramses will be ready to go, and it will be over. Just let me go.”

“You lost all the goodwill that you had,” Storm argued. “You will never be allowed back in this dimension.”

“That’s fine! Just let me go get Ramses first!”

They shook their heads, determined not to change their minds, but the tree had other plans. It began to glow and pulse, and then it sent Marie back to the ship one more time, fruit not required.

« < » > Table of Contents

Orthogradient: Azura and the Transit Army (Part I)

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Azura of Ansutah ran towards the crowd that was forming to overwhelm her ward, Treasure, Treasure’s bodyguard, Quino, and the native historian whose name she couldn’t recall at the moment. Before she could get close enough to help, Treasure screamed, and disappeared. She was a natural-born bulk traveler, who could travel to any nearby parallel universe, and as the only one here who was able to power the Transit, her disappearance came as a great loss. Azura looked around in case Treasure came back. Bulk travel inherently meant time travel, and there was no reason why she couldn’t spend countless years elsewhere, and still return to this very moment. But she didn’t, and she might never. Azura and her new makeshift crew might have to get out of this predicament on their own. Before the bewildered mob found her too, she ran off, and ran back to her spacetrain.

The man who was quickly becoming her second in command greeted her at the entrance. “Where are they?” Kaolin questioned.

“They’re gone. She screamed,” Azura answered.

“We thought we heard that.”

“Yeah.” She walked past him, and headed down the car.

“Well, is she coming back?”

“Doesn’t look like it,” she answered.

“How the hell are we gonna get out of here?”

They had power, they just had no way to escape this brane, and travel to another. This thing was built with the ability to process the bulk energy required to perform the operation, but it was intentionally stripped of some vital components, by someone who didn’t want the machine to fall into the wrong hands. It was not yet clear whether theirs were the right hands, but they were the only ones here at the moment. Azura reached for the nearest intercom. “Harbinger crew of the Transit, and founding members of the Transit Army, we are trapped in this brane. Our power source was forced to flee a potentially deadly situation without us. We have to move on under the assumption that she will never return. Her destiny is taking her on a different vector. But all is not lost. The engineers have been working on a contingency. They’ll need a little time to complete diagnostics, I believe, but we will get out of here...eventually. For now, please pilot us off of this planet. I at least want to get away from the natives. Once we’re in space, I’ll lead an official briefing for details. Thank you.” She hung up.

“What’s the contingency?” Kaolin asked.

Azura took a breath. “Time,” was all she said.

As explained, the Transit wasn’t designed to need Treasure Hawthorne in order to work. But without all those missing parts, it was not capable of accumulating enough energy to make even one trip in any reasonable amount of time. Fortunately, time was relative, and they had untold amounts of it, as long as they took precautions. The crew was placed in stasis while the ship wandered through space. Bulk energy was constantly popping into existence out of nowhere. This was, in fact, what explained the persistent expansion of the universe. With the right equipment, the energy released during these infinitesimally small events could be harnessed and stored.

After thousands of years of waiting, which only felt like seconds to everyone who was asleep, they finally had enough to make one jump. They had to make it count. Unfortunately, they had already exhausted their two best prospects for some real sustainable power. She was going to have to resort to the third. She got back on the horn to make another announcement. Most of the crew was in the same car as her already. “As you’ve already learned, I am a hybrid, made of human DNA, as well as Maramon. It explains why my skin is so pale, but real Maramon aren’t just pale, they’re white. They’re very white. The majority of my traits from that side of the experiment are internal, such as my physical resilience, and virtual immortality. The only Maramon I’ve personally met already knew what I was, for they were part of the program that genetically engineered me and my brothers and sisters. So I’m not sure whether a regular Maramon would recognize what I am, nor what that would mean for their impression of me. They may treat me as one of their own, or an abomination, or anything in between.

“My creators provided me with certain data regarding my world’s history, as well as their adventures throughout the bulkverse, but I don’t have the coordinates for every single brane they’ve ever recorded. I really only have one left, and it’s populated by Maramon. Their mission was to log new worlds, and move on, so the best one could be chosen for future settlement, but they decided to just take it for themselves. This is a last ditch resort. Our one fusion reactor that we stole has helped, but it is not enough. The time we spent on stasis will help us at least escape this universe, but we won’t be able to go anywhere else. Providence might not help us, and they may take the Transit for themselves. Unfortunately, it’s our only option. Anyone who wants to take their chances where we already are may leave in one of the pump shuttles that we discovered. For those of you who don’t know, they run on bulk energy too. It’s not enough to pierce the membrane, but it can jump to just about anywhere in the universe near-instantaneously. We’ll be crossing over to Providenciaverse soon, so if you’re leaving, let me know now.”

No one left, so Azura ordered that they use the last of their main power reserves to cycle up to lightspeed and pierce the membrane. The way the Transit was designed, it should be able to refuel while in the outer bulk by absorbing bulk energy through specialized ramscoops. Unfortunately, most of these were removed by the man who originally stole the machine. They either needed to be replaced eventually, or they would keep having to find other sources of power from the likes of the people they were on the way to see now. The journey this time took two weeks to reach their destination. To avoid being detected—at least right away—they entered the brane far from where Azura predicted the Maramon would have settled the solar system. She planned on going the rest of the way on one of the pump shuttles. These were large enough for a passenger load of around 24 people, but that number would shrink with gear, and other equipment, depending on the mission. The interior could be reconfigured as needed. She was intending to go on the away mission herself, but that was not possible. They found themselves coming through right next to a local ship. It was only about 40,000 kilometers away; more than close enough to be picked up on sensors.

They reached out immediately. “Unidentified operator of the Transit, this is the Providence Mining Explorer Denojuge, please respond.”

Azura cleared her throat. “PME Denojuge, this is Azura of the First Transit Army. We’ve come seeking power sources. Our siphon array was removed, so we require alternatives. Anything you have would be quite helpful. We’re not here to cause trouble. I was genetically engineered and raised by a secret sect of Maramon who were originally formed to protect your location from the general population, and the government. Whether you help us or not, we will not betray that directive.”

“Relax, half-breed, we’re not worried about being discovered anymore.” Half-breed. They knew who she was. “Prepare to be boarded peaceably.”

“Do we do that?” Kaolin questioned. “Do we accept them?”

“We’re stuck here,” Azura began. “Waiting in stasis for thousands of years isn’t going to work this time. They know how to find us, and they will find us eventually if we try to run. Yes, we do this peaceably, like she said.”

They synced flight paths, then the Denojuge connected to the docking car. It was no surprise that they used compatible technologies, since the Providentials originally came here through the Crossover, which was designed by the same team as the Transit. Captain Ouheliydi led a boarding party in, and down the cars to meet Azura and her people halfway. She nodded at them respectfully. “We hear great things of the Transit Army. I must say, there are fewer of you than we imagined.”

“This marks the beginning of it,” Azura explained. “We’ve not yet recruited.”

“We guessed as much,” Ouheliydi said. “Obviously, you find some way to repair this thing, or you would not become multiversal legends in your future.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Azura agreed.

Ouheliydi sized up the first members of the army. “Verteans. The records do not explicitly state that they were the first, but the implication is that they were from the Biverse. I suppose it’s half true. Anyway, we have what you need.” She snapped her fingers at a masked soldier behind her. He handed Azura a metallic cylinder.

It proved to be heavier than Azura expected. She was stronger than the average human, but since her outside had to appear fully human in order to blend in, she couldn’t be as strong as a full Maramon. She had not seen anyone on that side of her ancestry in a long time, and forgot how much stronger they were.

“Apologies,” Ouheliydi said. “We forget how much weaker you are.”

“I understand,” Azura said as Kaolin was helping her stand up straight. She was capable of holding it on her own, but she had him open it for her. Inside was one of the longest coils in the multiverse. It had to be in order to taper down from a millimeter to an angstrom. “An atomic lance.”

Ouheliydi smiled. “You’re welcome.”

“We appreciate the sentiment,” Azura replied, “however most of our lances are functioning within normal parameters. It’s our aether siphon array that is missing.”

“Yes, well,” Ouheliydi began, “my people are strong, but not that strong. We have that for you as well, but automators will have to affix it to the front for us. It’s being couriered from the inner system as we speak.”

Azura narrowed her eyes, and looked down at the lance coil. “How much is this going to cost us?”

Ouheliydi smiled again. “Three cars.”

“We can’t remove three cars from the Transit,” Azura contended. “We need them. As you know, this machine is paramount in the war against the Ochivari.”

“You misunderstand,” Ouheliydi said. “We’re not asking for you to remove them. We’re asking for you to integrate a team of elites into the three cars. We’re asking to join the war as your first recruits.”

Azura was surprised by this. Obviously the whole point was to recruit for the impending war, but she had spent all this time just trying to get the Transit to work in the first place that she hadn’t been able to devote any bandwidth to that aspect. Who would she ask to join, how would she know who might agree to it, and how was she going to find them? She was able to travel to the last few universes because she had specifically memorized their locations. She wasn’t even supposed to do this, but every day while growing up, once she was finished with her studies, she would take it upon herself to conduct some unauthorized independent research. She could also get to the other universes that her brothers and sisters were dispatched to, but only one other beyond that. Probably her first stop once this machine was fully operational would be to Treasure’s universe, where a woman lived who could help them. She was not planning to recruit anyone until then. But if this was the price, could she say no? “I don’t know about this. Yes, I’ll need an army, but... Hold on, I need to ask, do you know who Thack Natalie Collins is?”

“No,” Ouheliydi answered.

“She’s a psychic who can witness events throughout the bulk. She could be listening to this conversation right now. If I’m going to do this; if I’m going to build this army, I need to be in her good graces, and she may have her own recruitment plans, which may or may not include you. I honestly don’t know, but I don’t want to upset her before I even meet her. You understand.”

Ouheliydi nodded. “No recruitment, no aether siphons. That’s the deal. This is not a negotiation. Why do you think we have this technology? We chose to stay in this universe, and let our brethren take the Crossover back on mission. We’ve never seen the Transit before. We don’t use bulk energy to power our ships. So why did we build them? For you. We didn’t know that you would be coming. We didn’t know that it would be you specifically. But we hoped, and we’ve been preparing for decades. The Ochivari already came here, and we fought them off, but we suffered losses. The only thing we regret now is not getting a single Providential out of here during the Ochivari’s retreat, who could have sought further retaliation for us. We probably want blood more than you. We’re not letting you go without us, so you have to decide whether this Thack lady is more important to you than skilled fighters. I may not know much about what’s out there, but I know that she’s not the only person who can help you recruit. Statistics don’t allow it. But there is no one like our elites. No one. They have been training for this for their whole lives, I don’t know if you know this, but we’re not immortal here. The proper physics forced our ancestors to give it up. We die of old age, just like humans. So time is valuable, and we’re not going to waste it like our ancestors’ ancestors did.”

Azura sighed and looked back at her own crew. None of them appeared to be against this idea, though to be fair, the only Maramon they had ever encountered before was herself, and she was only half. The Ochivari were the true bulkverse enemies, but make no mistake, Maramon could not be trusted either. That was why she ignored her initial mission, and tried to live her best life in Universum Originalis. Still, this was an impenetrable ultimatum. They were at these people’s mercy. But maybe she had one card to play. Maybe this was a negotiation. “One car.”

“Two.”

Azura nodded with a sigh. “Two.” She reached out for a handshake to seal the deal. “Welcome to the Transit Army.”

Ouheliydi reached back and shook it as she laughed. “No. You...welcome to the Transit Army.”

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