Seeing is Becoming: Boarders (Part IV)

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“You want me to do what now?” Vearden asked.

A Gondilak doctor was standing in front of him, hands on his hip. “I would like you to cut yourself. With that knife. It doesn’t have to be too deep, but it can’t be too shallow either.”

“I’m not into that.”

“We just have to see what it looks like.”

“You do it.”

Dr. Reeder—translation unclear—rolled his eyes. He moved shockingly like a human. “Fine.” He took the knife back and carelessly ran it across Vearden’s arm.

“Oh my God!” Vearden screamed. “Does it always hurt like that?” The cut sealed up almost as quickly as it was created.

“For us, we get used to it,” Reeder replied. “Especially for those of us living so close to the Orothsewan border.”

“I was to understand that Orothsew was the name of the entire planet?”

Reeder cut Vearden on his other arm.

“Ouch again! Jeez, you never told me you were going to do it again.”

“Did I not?” He stabbed Vearden in the leg. “The Orothsew and the Gondilak evolved on two different continents, separated by a treacherous ocean. Each culture had named this planet on its own before the Orothsew progressed enough to discover us. We’ve been warring for decades. They only recently made claim to their sliver of land on our continent, which they were able to do with slightly superior technology.”

“Do you get aliens on this side too?” Vearden dodged a few more attacks, but a stealthy archer shot him with an arrow from behind.

“We do occasionally,” Reeder said while he was breaking the arrow. “But humans only ever help the Orothsew.” He pulled the back end of the arrow out quickly. “We do not know why.” He lowered his gaze, obviously preparing to drop the knife on Vearden’s foot.

“Let’s...stop this for now,” Vearden said, gently taking the knife. “I think you have enough data for the day. And I need to contact my partner.”

“She is still with them.”

“Well, it’s not my fault that you only took me.”

“Not my fault either. That is not my job.”

He sighed. “Do you have a telephone, or a carrier pigeon, or something?”

“I have no idea what those words mean.”

Vearden thought about his options for a moment. “Okay. She’s going to try to find me. But she doesn’t know the terrain, so she would request a guide or a search party. Assuming they agreed, where might we be able to intercept them? Where would they start their search for me?”

“Well, they would go back to where the ambush was, probably. But that’s still in their territory. Our operatives took great risk to get you but that’s only because they value you. For her, the leaders would never agree to cross that deep past the boundary. Your next best chance is in the Diamond Forest.”

“You have a forest of diamonds?” Vearden was excited.

“It’s shaped like a diamond,” the doctor condescended. “Calm down. Anyway, I doubt they would let you go. You are, as I’ve said, valuable to them.”

“I don’t need their permission. I am not a prisoner here.”

Reeder shrugged. “Semantics.”

“Can you help me or not?”

“I can’t help you, per se. But I can lead you to someone who can.”

He gave him directions on where to go, but it wasn’t necessary. His new liaison-slash-bodyguard took him there. They walked into a tent and found themselves with a crowd of both Gondilak and Orothsew. One such of the latter was clearly in some kind of position of authority.

“Ah, the human,” she said. “What is he doing here?”

“I was told that you could help me get back to my partner. She’s with the...um, you know, with you guys.”

She laughed. “Don’t look so surprised. This war is based on land; not race. The Orothsewan government would like you to believe that they are following a singular vision, but they are most certainly not. The majority of the population on both sides disapprove of the war, and a few of us have temporarily defected in hopes of forming a new culture, composed of the entire planet of Orolak, free from segregation.”

“Ked rihl,” one of the other Orothsew muttered in his native tongue.

“Quiet, Mujel. It isn’t a pipe dream. And please speak English in front of our guest. Those are the rules.” She looked back over to Vearden and extended her hand. “I am Uhyiopa.”

“I can’t help but notice,” Vearden admitted, “that there is a surprisingly high number of people here who speak my language. Even with the supposed hundreds of human visitors, most of you should not be able to speak it, especially not so fluently.”

“We teach it in schools now. We have determined it to be the most widely spoken language in the galaxy.”

“It is?” he asked. “How is that possible?”

“You have heard that Orolak is some kind of natural hub for alien visitors?”

“Indeed.”

“In the spirit of that, Earth seems to be a sort of ambassador homebase. It’s true that only a few hundred have come here total, but a not insignificant number of those few hundred have been transported to planets besides ours. You’re like a colonizing race, but without all the conquering. The strange thing is,” she paused for effect, “not a single one of you appears to have any control over it.”

Vearden took a second to process the information. He had already known that he and Saga weren’t the only ones. But it seemed to be so much bigger than that. The people in charge had some kind of grand design. They plan these missions, and they send their unwitting minions out into the field. No one knew who they were, or why they were doing this, but there was clearly a consensus that they existed. No one was even so much as entertaining the possibility that there was no plan at all. What if it was all just random? What if these...what should he call them, powers that be, aren’t there at all? What if people just didn’t realize that this was how the universe worked; a strange form of chaos theory where sometimes you’re simply teleported somewhere else?

“I need some air,” Vearden said, nearly hyperventilating. He walked over and pulled the flap of the tent back. What he found there was a change in scenery. He had been transported, just like before to Orolak, but this time he was back on Earth. At least, he assumed it to be Earth. He saw no Orothsew or Gondilak. The buildings looked more familiar. And he saw humans.

“Vearden?” came the voice of his sister.

“Allison!” he cried out. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too,” she agreed. She didn’t act like he had been missing at all. “I honestly thought that you would crap out on me again. But you’re here. On time. And on the day that I asked.” That wasn’t right. Not only had he spent a few days on Orolak, but he had set out for this summer camp a day later than he had promised. Even if the powers that be had moved sent him back to Earth the moment after he first left, he would have been late, according to his sister’s schedule.

“What day is it?”

“What are you asking, V?”

“Just humor me. Please.”

She eyed him suspiciously, but felt like it wasn’t worth arguing. “It’s Tuesday, May 19.” That was the proof. He left for Orolak on Wednesday, and had already been scolded by Allison about that. He had traveled back in time.

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Microstory 80: Mob Psychologist

Most people were enamored with Tucker Everett because of his superpower. By it’s very nature, however, people were not capable of recognizing that he had a superpower in the first place; but they were certainly susceptible to it. He had the power of persuasion, but only at massive scales. He could not, for instance, convince an individual to act like a chicken. He could, however, run a promotional video for one of his company’s products, personally asking people to buy it. If enough people saw the advertisement, the majority of them would be compelled to make the purchase. The larger the crowd; the more successful his message would be. But nothing had a 100% success rate. Not only would any given message only ultimately capture a certain percentage of the crowd, but there were a select few who were apparently immune to his powers. Some of these people started noticing the strangely steady increase in Tucker’s followers. They formed a group of concerned citizens, led by a man named Erik Schuler who called Tucker the Mob Psychologist.

One night, Tucker infiltrated their meeting. He sat quietly throughout most of it before standing up and approaching the podium. The crowd screamed, and some even took out weapons. “Have no fear, my dear friends,” Tucker said. “You have already discovered that my ability does not work on you. But I would like to clear something up. I did not know I had this ability at all until a few years ago. I started realizing that too many people agreed with my words, and that the numbers did not add up. And it was for this reason, that I decided to use my power for good. This world is sick, and I can heal it. But I need your help. I need people who are capable of disagreeing with me, to make sure that we’re making the right choices. This man, Mr. Schuler, has been lying to you. He is like me. You see, even though you’re immune to my persuasion, you are vulnerable to his.” Tucker smiled to himself as the mob turned on their former leader, Erik. It turned out that they weren’t actually immune to Tucker’s powers. He just needed to get them all in one room.

Microstory 79: Pot

I am a pot. I am part of a set of pots and pans, created in the late 1970s. We were a wedding gift to a couple of crazy kids getting married at 18. We were a staple of their lives for years. We helped cook their children’s favorite meals. We were there when the daughter was learning the art of spaghetti. The son occasionally helped by stirring the stew in one of us. When the daughter was old enough to move out, she took us with her. And we continued to provide food and joy for her and her friends. When she moved out of the country, we were passed to the son who had just found an apartment of his own. And he did not cook. We listened from under the oven that he used as counter space to the breeze released as the freezer opened, and as the buttons on the microwave beeped and booped. We heard the ding of the toaster oven. And we heard the crinkle of fast food sacks. But we were never used. We had lost our purpose. Months later, the son was moving to a new place. He cleared out the entire unit; in the deep closet, under the bathroom sink, and even the storage space in the garage. But he left us there. He had forgotten about us. A cleanup crew came in to prepare the unit for someone else to use. A young worker, just recently married, found us simple pots and pans and took us back home with him. So now we continue our purpose, providing happiness and satisfaction to a new loving and growing family.

Microstory 78: Self-Abandon

I’m cradling my assortment of unhealthy snacks when I look outside and see a figure start to step into my car. I’m normally religious about locking it, but since I was only going to be a second and I parked in front of the door, I figured it would be okay. What kind of crazy person steals a car from a convenience store in the middle of the day? The man takes something out of his pocket and turns the car over. He must have had a key, because it didn’t look like he hotwired it. I drop my snacks, letting the slushie spill all over the floor. As people inch away from the ever-spreading pink liquid and give me funny looks, I pad myself down, feeling the familiar sharp edges of my keys, so I know that the thief didn’t pick my pocket. “Oh my God!” I exclaim. “He’s stealing my car! Somebody stop him!” But no one does. I remember this as the bystander effect wherein nobody in a crowd helps in a crisis because each person will assume that someone else will help instead. I rush out the door and try to stop the man. As he backs up, the tires squeal, crying out their need to be replaced. I could not before see the man’s face from the tint of the windshield, but the window is down and I can see him clearly now. It’s me; from an alternate reality, or the future, or something. He looks at me like this absolutely had to happen. I let him go, because I must have had a good reason. I walk back inside to assure the bystanders that it was just my jerk brother, playing a prank.

Microstory 77: Suspension

The citizens of Earth in an alternate reality were having the same problems that we are. Climate change, inequality, violence, and disease affected everyone’s life. A group of radical scientists realized that the main threat to the planet was humans. They devised a plan to fix all of the global problems. Their plan was to give themselves more time to come up with actual solutions. So, using a little bit of magic and a little bit of science, they froze the entire planet; not as in ice, but as in the inability to move. Every single human outside of the think tank was put into suspended animation exactly where they were. Some were halfway through dying, and some halfway through birth. Some were driving, but others were just sleeping. During this animation, their eyes remained open, but they were rendered completely unconscious. For the better part of the last four decades, these scientists discussed the global issues. They generated computer models, and thought experiments. They even managed to deploy a couple of their solutions; one in particular was designed to clean the air of pollution, and it was working. A couple years ago, everything was going according to plan, and they were considering bringing everyone out of suspension. After all, many of the issues couldn’t really be solved without practical application involving the people. Before they could come to a decision on the matter, a small asteroid fell to Earth and killed the entire think tank. The suspension remains today.

Microstory 76: Night Training

As soon as I go to sleep...

...I wake up. I immediately inject myself with a serum that keeps me from needing sleep. I go over to the corner of my room and open the secret passageway that leads me to a second basement, inside of which is a teleporter. It only goes to one other place, and I’ve never been told exactly where that is. My trainer is always there waiting for me. I’ve been developing my skills in hand-to-hand combat, weaponry, explosives, and wilderness survival. If I need to wake up in the middle of the night, it means that I will have to go back through the teleporter and temporarily slip back into bed. I receive multiple injuries throughout the training sessions; cuts, bruises, and even broken bones. One time, I was sent into the field before I was ready, and was shot in the chest. I had to undergo surgery for a heart transplant, which is why I “slept” 15 hours that night, and missed class. On a normal night, once the session is over, and it’s time for me to wake up for good, I receive medical treatment that heals me almost completely. I go back to my house and inject myself with a serum that suppresses my memories of that night. As soon as I go to sleep...

...I wake up. Throughout the day, I notice a few subtle hints of injuries. Bruises that I don’t remember getting in the first place are nearly gone. I find small cuts and scratches all over my body. My arms and legs are inexplicably sore. One time, I discovered what looks like a scar on my chest, just under my heart. And I was exhausted for no reason for weeks afterwards. It was only then that I started getting suspicious about myself. I can’t prove it, but I’m pretty sure that someone has been erasing my memories. I must find out who. And I must find out why.

I think my lower self is getting too close to finding out what’s going on.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 2, 2026

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As soon as Mateo jumped back into the timestream, Leona was ready with a needle. She injected him with a substance that she claimed to not know, but that would apparently clean his system of the virus for good. He began to feel sick during the car ride, but they had a bag ready for him. He was sweaty and dizzy, but was still able to understand as they told him about how the virus that he brought back from the future spread throughout the entire world. Almost everyone showed symptoms at some point, and to some degree, but they only ever lasted for a few days. His mother was the only one who died from it, presumably because she made skin-to-skin contact with Mateo. He was responsible for the deaths of both of his parents, and he couldn’t tell whether the vomit was from that guilt, or because of the injection.

The car drove them up to the small airport where they got into a private jet that evidently belonged to a close friend of Duke’s who owed him a favor. He spent the next few hours vomiting, shaking, and sleeping. He had nightmares about what his mother must have gone through, and was grateful for having been given the gift of feeling a fraction of that pain. They first took him to Leona’s father’s home in Topeka. He wanted to go straight to the cemetery to pay his respects to his mother, but they refused. He was in no position to argue, especially not after passing out on Leona’s bed.

When he woke up, he was still sweating the toxins out, but he felt much better. It was fairly late in the evening. A young boy was staring at him at the foot of the bed. “Are you doing okay?” the boy asked.

“You must be Theo. All grown up.”

“Not grown up enough,” Theo sighed. “I am sorry about your mother. She was a fine lady, and I wish I could have known her when I was more myself.”

“How are you not now yourself?”

“I’m getting there,” Theo admitted. “But I still need a little more time. The memories are returning quicker now. Soon, I shall have them all back.”

“How did you lose your memory?”

“I died,” he answered mysteriously before standing up. “Come on. It’s near time to go see your family.”

“All right.” Not feeling up to pursuing a line of questioning, Mateo got out of bed, took a shower, and followed everyone to the cars.

Duke, Leona, her little brother, her father, and her step mother all stood in front of the graves of Carol and Randall Gelen. There was another man there too. When Mateo asked Leona who he was, she explained that he was a doctor, and had treated Carol while she struggled with the virus. Each of his friends spoke words of kindness about his parents. He was surprised to find out how close Carol had gotten with Leona’s parents. He was missing a lot, and was growing more frustrated by the fact every day. He chose to not say anything about them, preferring to keep it all to himself. But it wasn’t much. He didn’t know what to think. For the first time in his life, he was seriously considering killing himself. The main thing that stopped him was the likelihood that the powers that be would not allow it to happen. They were going to force him to watch everyone he loved die. What he did wrong to deserve this curse, he couldn’t say for sure.

While the crowd headed for the cars, he remained behind to be alone. He desperately wanted to pray, but he was losing his faith, and the part of him that doubted the existence of God was presently winning. Instead, after only a few moments, he stood up and turned around. But he was no longer in the cemetery. He was in a different one. He was in the small graveyard outside the city’s borders. Everyone was gone; everyone, except for little Theo Delaney. “What just happened?” He looked around. “Daria!”

“She’s not here,” Theo said.

“How did we get here then?”

“You needed to be here.” He pointed behind Mateo’s back. “And so did they.”

Mateo turned back around and saw that his parents’ graves were still there. They had been moved here to the other cemetery. “But why?”

Theo smiled. “This place is for us. It’s for salmon. But, I suppose the powers that be made two exceptions. You must be pretty important to them if they allowed your parents to be laid to rest here.”

“What are salmon?”

“You and I. And Daria, and Mario, and your birth mother. That’s what we’re called. Well, that’s what I like to call us, at least.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re going the wrong way.”

“Aren’t you a little young to have a pattern? Leona hasn’t so much as hinted that you’re one of us.”

“Leona has been keeping a lot from you, but of this she knows nothing. Right now I don’t have a pattern. Before I died, I was moving forwards in time according to the Fibonacci sequence.”

“You died and came back to life?”

“As Theo Delaney, yes. Like I said, I have to regain my memories. I don’t remember everything yet, but I remember dying.” He paused for a bit. “And I remember your birth mother.”

“You knew her? When?”

“We were...friends, for a long time. At different times.” He nodded his head. “She’s over there.”

Mateo looked to where he was indicating. He saw two small gravestones buried deep in the ground that were not there before. He knew this for a fact, because the markers were older than he had ever seen. “Laurel and Samuel. 1744. You’re telling me this is my mother, Lauren?”

“Yeah, she used different names for different jumps. We spend a lot more time in one place than you do.”

He fumed. “Will I ever see her again?”

“It’s not likely. Her and her boyfriend’s pattern is to go back in time in a geometric progression with a ratio of two. One year, two years, four, eight, etcetera. My records suggest that she survived her death, like me, and continued backwards. I have no idea how you would encounter her again. But you know what they say...stranger things have happened. For instance, this graveyard. It doesn’t exist just outside of Topeka. It doesn’t exist anywhere. It moves to when and where it’s needed; a sanctuary for us when we are at our worst. So, you see, Mateo, you were born a salmon. Even before your 28th birthday, you were part of the plan. That’s why the graveyard has always been there for you.”

The doctor from the other cemetery appeared. “Teddy? Is that you? Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”

“Dr. Sarka,” Theo said with a smile. “They let you come back here? No one is hurt, far as I know.”

The doctor pulled out a device from his pocket and looked over it. “I’m here for a consult with a...Mateo Matic.” He looked up. “That’s you.”

What the hell was going on? “A consult for what?”

“Kidney transplantation.”

“My kidneys are fine.”

“Yes, exactly. You’re a donor.”

“I never agreed to that.”

Theo looked like he finally understood. “You’ll agree to this one.”

“Why? Who is it for?”

The doctor scrolled through his device. “I don’t have that information at this time. I just need some samples now that you’ve had time to push the virus out of your system.”

“I do,” Theo said. “It’s for my sister. She is very ill, and has been waiting for a kidney for about three years. They can make certain organs with 3D printers, but kidneys are extremely complicated, very expensive, and at the highest demand.”

“How do we even know I’m a match?”

“I wouldn’t have been sent here if you weren’t. My machines probably checked your compatibility in the cretaceous period while I was stitching you up from the explosion, but I don’t see that data until the powers that be disclose it. Need to know, and all that.”

“So you’re a...what did you call us, Theo? Salmon?”

The doctor laughed. “Yes, I am. I’m the resident doctor. They send me in when one of the others gets hurt.”

“What about when I broke my leg?”

He shook his head. “I wasn’t vital. I’m sure whatever treatment you received for that injury was good enough. I only go where I’m needed.” He looked back at his scheduler. “And I’m needed for a transplantation in one year’s time. It’s technically illegal, so they can’t just have any surgeon perform it.”

“Do you know anything about salmon deaths?” he asked of Dr. Sarka. “Theo here says he was reincarnated. My parents were moved here with all the other salmon. Is it possible that they will come back to life too?”

Sarka walked over and examined the gravestones thoroughly. He even took out another device and scanned the ground. “They appear to actually be here, and not just part of the transition between jump points.”

“What does that mean?” Mateo asked.

“It means that it is entirely possible that your parents were salmon their entire lives without knowing it. I make no promises, but you may very well see them again.”

Later that night, Dr. Sarka prepared Mateo for surgery. As soon as he jumped forward to the year 2027, they were ready for him. He looked over and saw Leona next to him, under anesthesia.

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Seeing is Becoming: Champions (Part III)

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What the last Orothsew native had said to them was more of a joke than a threat. But it was still partly true. The first thing they did was take baths and change into new clothes that resembled Ancient Greek togas, but were a little bit more form-fitting. They were led to a great hall full of delicacies. Each food they tried resembled, in more ways than one, something from Earth. The grape-looking fruit tasted somewhat like grapes. The pinkish meat with white veins tasted remarkably like ham. The bread tasted exactly the same. Saga voiced her concerns about edibility, but the natives assured her that many a human had sampled the food, and there had been no problems.

“How many of us have you encountered?” Vearden asked during lunch.

Their liaison, Fanelius, put down his drumstick and wiped his mouth with a napkin. He was assigned to answer questions and keep them safe. “Over the centuries? A few hundred, I would estimate. They don’t all come from the same time. There doesn’t seem to be a temporal link between the other planets and ours. An Earthling will show up from the 20th century, and then another from the 17th. We know very little of how it works, and none of them have a clue.”

“But aliens from other planets, besides Earth, also appear?”

“Yes, it happens quite often, actually,” Fanelius said with excitement. “It would seem as we are some kind of focal point for spontaneous space travel. People from all over the universe come and go on a daily basis, but none of them report such a high degree of visitors to their home worlds.”

“You say they come and go? At some point, do they just disappear again?” Saga asked.

“Yes. As soon as they complete their mission. Sometimes they know exactly what they’re supposed to do, like it’s just their jobs to travel around, and they’ve been given instructions. Others need to use their instincts. One thing we’ve learned, though, is that each visitor who spends their time only trying to leave, never succeeds. Several of them have died here, never having discovered their purpose.” Fanelius said that with a purely intellectual tone, but Saga and Vearden couldn’t help but interpret it as a warning. They weren’t going home, unless someone else decided that they were allowed to.

“Even if we did get back,” Saga began once they were left alone for a period of time, “what year would it be? It could be 2004, or it could be 4666. What year is it right now? How long does it take to travel across space? To us, it felt instant, but maybe that was an illusion. Maybe we’ve been gone for thousands of years!”

“Yes, that may be. But what do you want me to do? Not hope we find our way back? We have to keep going either way.”

“No I know, Vearden. I’m just...trying to get things straight.”

He took her hands in his and looked into her eyes. “I promise you this, Saga. If we never get home, or if we do, we will always stick together. We will get through this...together.”

That gave her some comfort, until later that day when they were headed for the capital and they were ambushed by the Gondilak. Saga survived, mostly unscathed, but Vearden was captured. A native who also survived the attack took her to the capital to speak with the Magistrate.

“Did they head North, or East?” he asked.

“I was knocked out cold,” the fellow survivor admitted.

“If by East, you mean away from the setting sun, then it was that.”

“That’s promising,” the Magistrate said. “He may be alive yet.”

“What are they going to do to him?”

“If he’s the one who somehow inherited their healing abilities, then they will experiment with him, and test his limits.”

“We have to get him out of there,” Saga pleaded. “Please. I know that to you we are nothing but humans, but he’s important to me. There must be something that we can do.”

“We already know that you two are important,” the Magistrate said, surprised that she would feel the need to beg. “You were already scheduled to come here. Another human told us that you would, and said that we must conscript you into our army.”

“What?”

“You were being brought to me because you are our new Champions. We need you to lead us so that this war may finally end.”

“I see.”

“You will have the full force of Orothsewan resources at your disposal so that you can return to us your partner.”

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