The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 29, 2022

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The woman at the train station ticket counter gave Mateo a hard time about his identification. But since the train was leaving in less than 15 minutes—and he had purposely made himself look like a nomad—she gave in. He scooped up his bag and ran for the platform, boarding just in time.

He found his seat on the upper level and sat down. He took out a map and a calculator. When he was in Las Vegas, he jumped at midnight according to the central time zone, which meant that it was only ten o’clock where he was. The map said that the train would get into Salt Lake City at 11:05. That was five minutes too late. He would have to get off at Provo instead. Which was fine. He didn’t know much about Utah, but one city didn’t sound any better than the other, and they both existed within the “loci non grata” category. The trip was incredibly boring. Everyone else around had tablets and phones to play with, but he had to shed himself of such things. He didn’t know how easy it was for people to track him with technology. Leona would normally keep him up-to-date on world progress. He was missing out on so much. He decided to make a habit of going to the library every day and find a recap of each passing year. Perhaps he would just live at the library. It wasn’t like anyone could logistically stop him, and he would have to sleep somewhere.

Throughout the ride, they had to make frequent stops, and not just at other stations. They would wait, sometimes for nearly an hour at a time in the middle of nowhere. Freight trains held priority over passengers. No wonder people didn’t take the train anymore. It was an absolute nightmare. He was growing more and more concerned. The longer they were taking, the farther he would be from his stop when he had to get off. He shuddered to think what might happen if he were on a moving vessel during the timeslip. But then he had an optimistic thought. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to jump at all. Maybe whatever force was causing him to go through this would keep him tethered to the timestream in order to protect him. Afterall, you can’t throw someone through time if they’re dead; or rather, it would be pointless. In the end, it wasn’t worth the risk, though. He kept his map out and pulled back his departure station by station as necessary.

A voice came on the intercom after a particularly long wait. “We do apologize for the inconvenience. I would just like to mention that we are all in the same boat, so to speak. The crew is tired and hot and miserable, just like you.”

The man on the other side of the aisle laughed. He and Mateo locked eyes. “The difference between us and the crew, is that we are paying for the misery, while they are being paid.”

“So true,” Mateo replied.

“What is your final destination?” he asked.

Mateo had to think about his answer. He couldn’t say anything about Salt Lake City, or Provo. He tried to remember which station was his last before midnight. It wasn’t in Utah, this much he knew.

“I didn’t know it was a trick question,” the man said jokingly.

“No, sorry. It’s Grand Junction, Colorado.”

“Business or pleasure.”

Mateo breathed in deeply. “New life.”

“Ah, interesting. Running from, or just running to?”

He tilted his head and thought this over for a second. He wasn’t trying to get away from his family so much as he was trying to keep them away from him. And he had no real destination. His life was completely meaningless at this point. Part of life was dealing with the consequences of your actions day to day. But for him, each day was a pit stop before the next. There was no connection between them. He was in a constant state of flux. As a Catholic, he believed in hell, but had never trusted the depictions of it in art. It was at this moment that he realized what was really going on. This was his hell. If he died of old age, it wouldn’t be for another tens of thousands of years. Would humans even still exist? Would he spend most of his time alone on the planet, statistically likely to skip over any disaster that might consume the population? He took another deep breath and exhaled. “Both.”

“Well, I’m rooting for you. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“Thanks,” Mateo said genuinely. The train finally started moving again. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a physicist. The name is Duke Andrews. I assume you don’t have a career at the moment. What’s your name?”

“Mateo.” He smiled. “I don’t have a last name anymore, though.”

“Full commitment,” Duke smiled back. “I respect that.”

There was one more delay a little while later. All in all, they were almost nine hours behind schedule. He looked back at the map and determined that he would have to get off at the next train station in Glenwood Springs, Colorado. As he was double-checking his math, he could feel himself nodding off. His eyelids felt so phenomenally heavy. He couldn’t keep them open. He couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d last slept; at least a couple years.

He jolted awake after what felt like only a few minutes.

“Welcome back to us,” Duke said. He was holding a newspaper.

“Where are we?” Mateo asked in a panic.

“Don’t worry. You haven’t missed Grand Junction yet,” Duke answered in a fairly comforting voice. “You can go back to sleep. I promise to wake you up.”

“No, I made a mistake. I meant Glenwood Springs. I’m supposed to go to Glenwood Springs!” His voice woke up other people in the car, including a now crying baby.

“Oh, well you’ve missed that. But it’s okay. You’re starting a new life. Does it matter where? You won’t be that far off course either way.”

“What time is it?” Mateo pulled his sleeve back and looked at his watch. It was a couple minutes before the jump. “Oh my God. It’s almost midnight.”

“No, it’s eleven o’clock.”

“I mean a different midnight!”

Duke looked like he was about to tell Mateo to calm down, but he didn’t get a chance. The train screeched to a halt. “We apologize once more,” said the voice on the intercom. “We’re not sure why the train stopped this time, but we are looking into the matter and will have you back on track in no time.”

“I have to get off!” Mateo screamed.

“You won’t be able to,” Duke said. “We’re on a bridge over the Colorado River.”

“I’m still on the upper level!” He was making the rest of the car very nervous. He tried to pull his bag from under the seat, but it was stuck on something. He gave up on it and ran for the door. But it was too late. At midnight central time, he jumped forward. The train disappeared and he started to fall several feet, breaking his leg upon landing. He cried out in pain. He looked up and could see lights approaching. The year 2023 train was headed right for him.

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Mr. Muxley Meets Mediocrity: Part II

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Mr. Muxley sat impatiently in the passenger seat. “Why is this taking so long?”

“It’s a common land vehicle,” Monty explained. “It can’t even go a hundred miles an hour.”

“What’s a mile? What’s an hour?” Mr. Muxley asked.

“That bridge we passed a couple minutes ago is about a mile back that way,” Mervin said. “A minute is sixty times the length of time it takes for me to say...one mississippi. An hour is sixty times a minute.”

“I see,” Muxley huffed. “That is quite frustratingly slow.”

Mervin pressed the pedal to increase his speed by just a little. “We have things that go faster, like trains and planes. But this thing is cheap. We can’t all afford spaceships.”

“The spaceships we do have,” Monty furthered, “haven’t gone any farther than the moon, except for a few unmanned vessels. But it takes them a really long time either way.”

They were finally at their destination. They stepped out of the car and into the diner. There were a few other people in there. They took one look at the alien then went back to their meals. Despite having never seen an alien before, this was a ghost town, and people didn’t really care about anything. Monohon was small lake town that lived and died in the span of a century. In its place was a completely different city. A few decades ago, however, Monohon came back to life. If you drove on the streets, you would remain in Sammamish. If, however, you drove on East Lake Sammamish Trail while flickering your lights and keeping your radio on static, you would end up in Monohon. Half of the residents were dead; but half were alive, like Mervin. Why they chose to live there was kind of a mystery. Few people, Monty included, lived outside of the ghost town but were aware of its existence.

Miss Milly’s Mess Hall at the Mill was one of two major businesses in Monohon. The sawmill had burnt down and was rebuilt so many times, that people theorized that time itself eventually got used to the idea of the mill’s existence. Instead of waiting for someone to rebuild the town, it invoked the buildings on its own. The only people that worked at the mill were the ghosts. They never seemed to get tired. At the end of the day, they would eat dinner at the Miss Milly’s, and then eventually fade into oblivion. The next morning, they would reappear at the hotel and start all over again. On the weekends, they could be found fishing on Lake Sammamish. They would mouth words and pretend to talk to be polite, but were seemingly incapable of forming sounds. All the living residents worked at the diner, hotel, and post office. The train depot was completely out of use, but there were a few people, both living and dead, who wandered around and received payment to do nothing.

Mervin and Monty went over all this while they were waiting for their food, but Muxley was completely unimpressed by it. He shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, it’s a pocket dimension. Whatever.”

“Is that what this place is called?” Mervin asked. “So, you’ve seen a ghost town before?”

“Yeah, of course. We have them all over the place. You were supposed to show me something interesting.”

Monty laughed. “Did we not tell you that we’re not really equipped to be tour guides of Earth?”

“No.”

“Oh, well. It should be pretty obvious. I thought we’d start with breakfast, and hopefully come up with something to try afterwards.”

“What does breakfast mean?”

The waitress set the plates down and smiled. “It’s when you eat food in the morning,” she said.

“Eat food?” Muxley asked.

“Yeah, you put it in your mouth and chew,” she said. “How else would you gather energy for the day?”

“We lather ourselves with the sap of the miulwebirkovel plant. Then we set our body on fire, and when all the sap has evaporated, we have enough energy for the rest of the week.”

The other three stared at him in silence. “We don’t have any...” Monty started to say.

“Miulwebirkovel,” the waitress assisted.

“...plants on this planet,” Monty finished.

“Well no, of course not,” Mr. Muxley laughed. “It only grows on Mekajs. But any sokugni class vegetation will do. I’m not picky.”

“We don’t have any plants that will help you if you set yourself on fire,” Monty revealed. “I hope you packed enough of your sap.”

“You’re telling me that you put objects in the same orifice out of which you speak every day?”

“That’s right.”

“Where does it go after that? How would it even evaporate?”

The two men looked away uncomfortably. The waitress went back to the counter and tried to forget the last five minutes.

“Answer me,” Muxley demanded. “What happens after you do this strange eating food thing?”

Two minutes later, Mr. Muxley burst out of the bathroom and ordered them to take him away from that wretched place. “I want to go somewhere I haven’t seen before and that doesn’t make me want to tear my ears off and erase my memories!”

Mervin sighed. “Let’s try the space needle,” he suggested. Click here for the next installment...

Microstory 55*: Excerpt from [Redacted]

What interested [Redacted] the most was the fact that humans of different breeds were functionally incapable of conceiving children together. Two Earthans could make an Earthan. Two Universals could make a Universal. Two Legitimates could make a Legitimate. But they were unable to crossbreed with each other. By far, the most common breed was the Universal. No other species, subspecies, tangent species, or superspecies could compare to their magnitude. And she had met no one who knew where the Legitimates were, or if they were presently on hiatus. This meant that incompatibility was statistically rare, and usually just something couples dealt with on their own. But now, because of a death she wasn’t yet sure she believed, she was incompatible with the one man in the entire universe that she was predestined to conceive a child with. She was literally born for this, and it was impossible to follow through. It felt like God had reached down and flicked her in the face.

Microstory 54: Continuum Transfunctioner

The Continuum Transfunctioner is one of the oldest inventions in the history of the Universe. It was first created by one of the last remaining survivors of the very first populated galaxy, the name of which never made it into lasting records. The inventor diffused the plans for the Continuum Transfunctioner into an interversal conduit. When someone unwittingly comes across the plans, they find them to be so cryptic and complicated that the resulting device never turns out the same way twice. In fact, they usually misinterpret the plans to be original thoughts. Because of the cryptic plans, and since the Continuum Transfunctioner has so many different purposes, the replicating inventor ends up only ever discovering one major purpose. No one has ever realized quite how versatile the invention is. It is powerful enough to destroy, reconstruct, or replicate the universe itself. It is also responsible for minor inventions like tarot cards, magic 8-balls, and paper fortune tellers.

Microstory 53: “Mar” Laws

• Martial Law: state of emergency when the government is taken over by the military.
• Martian Law: a set of laws developed and enforced by the Mascos.
• Marshal Law: when the government is decentralized and each region is run by local militia.
• Marshall Laws: a set of amendments designed to limit law-making so that local law enforcement does not contradict, override, or otherwise interfere with parent-state law (named after primary advocate Frederick K. Marshall).
• Marshell Law: commonly used slang term to describe environmental laws and regulations specific to bodies of water and adjoining land (marshell is a synonym for seashell).
• Mere-shill Law: derogatory term used to describe incompetent elected officials who rely too heavily on advisors (not necessarily the mother), and who are merely a mouthpiece for the true leader.
• Marital Law: a set of conventions specific to married persons.
• Marcia Clause: the only in-text amendment to the constitution, clarifying child labor to be any work performed by persons under the standard age of 12 that is either paid, or resembles a position that is more often paid (created after the case of Marcia Atenheim v. Blanchard Atenheim in 1746 which involved household chores that were unreasonably strenuous for Marcia's age).
• Margin Laws: set of laws that regulate both the physical and virtual distances an adult-oriented product or service must be from children or child-oriented products or services. It also established a "half the age plus six" rule that governs age of consent (with a minimum age of 13).

Microstory 52: Dream School

Centuries ago, there arose a group of people with extraordinary abilities. They were the remnants of developments and human experiments from millennia before. The technology that ultimately made them possible already existed, but what these people and their abilities brought the world was a new perspective. Just because a particular technology is possible, doesn’t mean there is anyone around creative enough to come up with the full range of its uses. One of these anomalies was a man named Mandy Alto. He could enter other people’s dreams, and share experiences across a network of sleepers. While some considered the possibility of using this for espionage and mind control, a contemporary of his named Valary had a different idea. She realized that Mandy could create 100% lucid dreams, meaning that the dreamers were able to recall what had happened to them upon waking, sometimes even to a higher degree than with real life events. As a visionary, Valary founded a new league of education. During their five hours of sleep, students would study in a world of endless possibilities and resources. This left time to do whatever they wanted during their waking hours. The practice continues today. In fact, learning while awake is becoming exceedingly rare.

Microstory 51: Range

I woke up yesterday afternoon with a single thought. I had to go somewhere I hadn’t been before to hike and take photos. I’ve been working on a phone app, and one thing I’m planning on having is a photo of the day. I already had a couple hundred just from living life that fit the bill. I try to use ones that don’t show people’s faces. The legal issues that could potentially arise just aren’t worth it. I like to walk to get my exercise, so this was killing two birds with one rifle. I found some a trail that looked good, and drove out there. I got lost once, but it was easy to get back on track. As I was walking along the lake, listening to music, I could hear loud snapping sounds. I pulled up the map again and discovered that there was a shooting range nearby. I decided to keep going and take a look. The man at the booth agreed to let me watch, and even gave me some earplugs. There weren’t very many people there, so it wasn’t that exciting. As I was sitting there, I realized that I recognized the place. It’s where I first learned to shoot while I was in scouts. I joined the troop just in time. At some point after that trip, the leaders decided to keep guns out of the hands of minors, and we never did it again. There was talk of paintball, but even that scared the helicopter parents. After a few minutes of watching a father teach his son, as well as a woman I believe they had just met, they turned on the cease-fire lights. While they went down range to check out their work, I went up the hill to the side so that I could get a good picture from the other direction. What I discovered was that there was a second section on the other side of the hill, and they were not in cease-fire mode. They were able to get the bullet out of my shoulder, though, so everything’s fine.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 28, 2021

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Mateo was devastated to find out that he had killed his father. His mother assured him that he was “an old man” and it had absolutely nothing to do with the time jump. This was, of course, completely ridiculous. Old or not, Randall had died at the exact moment that he had tried to travel through time by holding Mateo close. Leona pointing out that he didn’t die until getting to the hospital, but that did nothing to dissuade Mateo from his position on the matter. He had ruined Kyle’s life during the first jump, and he couldn’t be sure as of yet that retaining his friendship with Leona wasn’t detrimental to her happiness. And now this. He needed to get away from those he loved. Things would only get worse. The leaving part wasn’t what was hurting them. It was the constant returning. It was time to rip off the band aid. As long as they didn’t know where he was come midnight, they would never be able to find him.

In the meantime, Carol gave him a suit so that they could visit his father’s grave. They were going to hold a belated private ceremony for Mateo’s benefit. They had asked the priest to carve out some time so that he could say some prayers. It was, afterall, the anniversary of the death, so it was not such an unusual request. After that was finished, they dismissed him so that they could speak of him alone. Mateo said a few words, “Randall was my father for my whole life, even though we’re not related. He taught me everything I needed to know to be a man. He taught me to be strong and careful, wise and spontaneous, interesting and deserving. He had always managed to take time out for me, and he was my best friend.

“When this...thing happened to me, he kept a cool head. Sure, I wasn’t around for the first year scare, but when I came back, it was almost like I had never left. I fell right back into place, and all thanks to his understanding attitude. We were spending a lot of time trying to figure things out, but not all of it. We made sure to get into our obligatory political discussions, and we were planning on fishing Sherwood Lake next week in 2026. Say what you will, but I will never forgive myself for depriving the world of more Randall Gelen.” The other two didn’t argue with him anymore about it. They walked away to give him some time to pray alone.

After the service, they went out for ice cream. There was a small shop downtown where Randall used to take him all the time. It closed down a few years before Mateo’s disappearance, but they kept going there anyway. They would buy cones from the chain that put their beloved shop out of business, and eat on a bench in front of where it used to be. It had turned into a toy store, but was now an electronics store. He and Carol spent the rest of the time telling Leona stories about Randall. To their surprise, she had a few stories of her own; of times they had spent together, apart from the other two. Apparently, she had thought of him as a second father.

Mateo hadn’t slept in a while, so they went back home and let him have a nap. But he didn’t go to sleep. Instead, he packed. He thought about what kind of essentials his aunt Daria would have. He knew that she always had water and layers of clothing. She also probably kept a supply of toiletries. A pocket knife, flashlight, headache relief medicine, and as many small bills as he could get his hands on were also on his list. He wrote a short note to his mother and Leona, apologizing to them, and claiming that he was opting for a life of anonymity in New York City. Lastly, he stole his mother’s credit card.

After sneaking out of the house, he knocked on Frida’s door and asked to borrow 200 bucks. She agreed, not having any clue that he would never be able to pay her back. It wasn’t his proudest moment, but it had to be done. After being declared missing, he lost his bank account. They couldn’t set up a new one because he wasn’t a real person anymore. The legal obstacles they would have to deal with would be just too much. Simply renewing his card or verifying information throughout the year would be functionally impossible. He was stuck with cash, which was a problem. Time was running out for paper money. Anyone who had chosen not to set up their fingerprint identity with the government still had a smartphone to pay for things. Paying with cold hard cash was still just as easy as before, but it made you stand out, and people were suspicious of you for it.

He walked all the way to Kyle’s condo and asked for a ride to the train station. Kyle was more than happy to help out, having gotten far beyond the point of recovery. He was the happiest Mateo had ever seen him. He and his husband were in the process of adopting a child. “It’s nice to see you, man! It’s been forever, so where the hell are you going now?”

“I have some business in Los Angeles,” Mateo lied. Once they arrived at the train station, he paid for a ticket to Chicago. He then went back to the car and handed Kyle the credit card. “Please get this back to my mother, whenever you get a chance. And apologize to her for me.”

“She doesn’t know you’re going?”

“Goodbye, my old friend,” Mateo said. Then he walked away. He turned back and watched as Kyle drove off. Once he was out of sight, he walked down the road and stuck out his thumb. He was only trying to go about 160 miles, but it took him the entire day to hitchhike. There were a few moments in between drivers that he was pretty sure he would be in the middle of nowhere for the jump, but several hours later, he was finally at the Lincoln, Nebraska train station. He found a corner to hide in. Midnight came and flung him one year into the future. At that moment, he raced around and purchased a ticket to Salt Lake City, Utah. It was the last place anyone would look for him.

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