Tuesday, June 16, 2015

Microstory 82: Chemtrails


Have you heard about these things called chemtrails? They’re the streaks in the sky you see after an aircraft passes by. The common scientific explanation for them is that they’re simply contrails; condensation left behind when water vapor in the engine interacts with the air around it. But this is a lie. There are chemicals in the trails that are designed to manipulate a fraction of the population’s brains. The government will routinely deny that conspiracy theories are true, but there is no way to dismiss them entirely, so they need a way to allow them to exist, but minimize their effectiveness. That’s where chemtrails come in. They target people born with a certain gene that predisposes them to paranoia and misinformed judgment. The chemicals released from the jets harness the fear in the conspiracy theorist’s weak mind, and encourages their unhealthy thoughts. But they also bend their rationale, and impair their communications skills, so that they appear to be crazy nutso cuckoo to everyone else. If these chemtrails did not exist, then the conspiracy theorists would actually be able to run legitimate investigations, and the public would be more likely to believe them. Then where would we be?

Monday, June 15, 2015

Microstory 81: Eternal Fall

If you are going to travel faster than light, then you’re going to need a few things. First, you’ll need a vessel capable of withstanding and protecting you from the plex radiation. Next, you’re going to need a machine called an astral collimator. This will tilt your ship over into the desired simplex dimension. Gravity is much, much stronger in the simplex dimensions than it is in mithgarther (where you live). As soon as you enter one, you’re going to start falling, and the only way to navigate to the location you want is to use gravity transfunctioners to direct your fall. You can fall towards any degree of a sphere, because there is no up or down. If you don’t want nature deciding which direction you’ll go, you have to control it. One amazing thing about simplex dimensions, is that they’re full of energy. If you have a tuplodeler, then it will gather this ambient energy, and essentially keep your vessel in working order indefinitely. This is important, because crossing dimensions will potentially use nearly 100% of any energy stored. This is why travel to a complex dimension—which will have no ambient energy—is a one-way trip unless you have a power source on the other side.

One day, a ship named Tresteria was making a journey between galaxies when they suffered a cataclysmic failure. Their collimator was overheating, and needed to be jettisoned, so they were unable to tilt back into mithgarther. Their gravity transfunctioners were damaged, so they were unable to navigate. Their communications were down, not that it mattered; no one was around to receive a message anyway. To save lives, they decided to enter stasis pods, and wait for help. But there weren’t enough pods for everyone. After plex travel was discovered, suspended animation was largely considered unnecessary. Those left out sacrificed themselves so that others could live, but they perhaps were the lucky ones. The Tresteria has been uncontrollably falling through astral red for the last few billion years.

Sunday, June 14, 2015

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 3, 2027

Mateo opened his eyes. He was on the side of a hill. The sky was swirling with beautiful shades of purple and orange. Lightning danced across the clouds. A light mist overcame him. The wind was simultaneously moderate and powerful enough to make him feel like he was flying. A gentle stream began to roll from his left side; the dirt separating to give it room. It continued to flow listlessly in circles around him. In the unpredictable stream, he could feel the distant comfort of his family. He sat alone on the hill for fourteen years before the water concentrated in a singular mass and began to form the figure of a person. Details of the mass appeared little by little, until he could recognize it as that of his Leona.
“You’re here,” he said to her.
“It’s about time,” she replied.
“I’ve only known you for a couple of weeks. But I kind of think that I’m in love with you,” he divulged.
“It has been much longer for me,” she said sadly. “There is no question that I’m in love with you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m now closer to your age. Had we met at that hospital, for some other reason, you would have ignored me as a child.”
“Is that why I’m jumping through time? Was I just waiting for you?”
“Have you considered that?”
“So...you think I’m done? Do you think they’re going to let me stay, now that we’ve found each other?”
“Might could be.”
“That sounds like wishful thinking.”
“It’s pronounced optimism.”
He laughed.
“Thank you so much for the kidney.”
“I think I would have given my heart. Had you needed it.”
“Theoretical hero.”
He laughed again. “You have my heart anyway, though, I suppose.”
“Don’t be so sappy. I really mean it. You’re giving me the gift of life. Truly. That is a debt I could never repay. I will be forever grateful for you.”
“Wait. Are you here?”
“Of course I am.” She gave him a strange look. “Hell you talkin’ ‘bout?”
“I mean, are you real? Is this not just a dream?”
“Oh. Yeah, it’s my dream.”
“No, it isn’t. It’s mine.”
“I think we’re sharing a dream, Mateo. We must still be in surgery.”
“That explains why I’ve been in the same place for a dozen years, and why you used to be a stream of water.”
“I used to be a what huh?”
He hugged her tightly from the side. “I feel like it’s time for me to wake up now. I’ll see you soon.”
“Have fun. Thanks again. I shall begin to repay you in the real world.”
When Mateo woke up, Dr. Sarka was standing over him. “How are we feeling today?”
He struggled to get his eyes open. He just wanted to stuff himself into the covers and disappear. He whimpered a bit, and felt the urge to whine like a baby. “How is Leona?”
“She’s perfect. There were zero problems. Her new kidney is already doing its job. You did an amazing thing, Mateo.”
“Why are you covered in blood?”
Sarka looked down at his own chest. “Oh, sorry about that. I was a field medic in World War I for a few weeks while you were sleeping. I just got back here.”
“I thought you were only a doctor for salmon.”
“The entire battalion was from the future. The Central Powers won in the original timeline.”
That was an interesting bit of information, but Mateo was far too tired to delve deeper into it, so he just fell back asleep. It seemed like sleeping was one of only two things that he was doing with his life.
When he woke up again, he had been moved to a much larger bed. Leona was lying next to him. “She insisted on it,” Daria whispered to him. “She said that your kidney wasn’t quite ready to be that far away from its counterpart.”
He kissed Leona on the forehead. “I agree.” He looked over to his aunt. “When did you get in?”
“I’ve been here for a couple hours,” she answered. “It would seem as if the powers that be have set up visiting hours for you. Your father is here as well.”
Mateo looked around the blurry room. “Where?”
“He stepped outside when you started waking up. He isn’t sure that you want to see him.”
Mateo took a deep breath. “Seeing as that I can’t get up, could you please inform your brother for me that he needs to get his ass in here. He’s missed twenty-eight years. A few minutes isn’t asking much.”
“You know it wasn’t his fault, right?”
“Yes, I do. That doesn’t mean he should waste what few opportunities he has.”
“True,” Daria said. “I’ll go get him.”
Mateo woke up again hours later. Leona was gone from his side. “What happened?”
“You fell asleep again, honey.”
“Is that normal,” Mateo struggled to say. “I have dry mouth. Am I about to teleport?”
Daria took a noticeable step back from the bed. “I sure hope not. But I do believe dry mouth to be a side effect of morphine. You were in quite a bit of pain. You were screaming and crying. I’m glad that you do not remember that.”
“My father was here.”
“I still am,” Mario said from the other side of the bed.
The morphine was starting to become more obvious for him. He was talking in a way that was unlike him. But he couldn’t help it. “Mario. Mario!”
“Yes?”
“Mario! Answer me.”
“I’m here,” Mario said patiently.
“Mario. What’s your middle name?”
“I actually do not have one,” his father answered. “It’s not a part of our family’s tradition.”
“It’s not a part of mine either. My father never gave me a middle name.”
Mario couldn’t help but laugh. “No, he didn’t. You’re right.”
Mateo rubbed the sheet between his hands, and then pounded on the mattress with his fists.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to start a fire! I’m hot! This place is dangerous!”
Daria and Mario looked at each other, not knowing what to do. “This doesn’t sound like morphine,” she said.
“Isn’t it supposed to make you feel happy and calm?”
Mateo narrowed his eyes and looked between them with caution. They were conspiring against him. “What are you two talking about? You sons of bitches are gonna pay. I hear you whispering over there. You think I can’t, but I can. Where’s my mother!?” he screamed. Where’s my mother? Where’s my mother? Where’s my mother?” Mateo started freaking out; thrashing around in the bed, tearing up the pillow case, and screaming obscenities to Mario and Daria. They tried to hold him down. “It’s your fault!” he yelled up to him. “You were supposed to protect her. You were supposed to be there for her. You were supposed to be there for me! Where were you? Where did you go? What was so important that you have to travel through time instead of taking care of your freaking family!”
“Mateo,” Daria comforted. “Please calm down. Everything is going to be okay. We can explain things to you. But you have to be still.”
“He’s supposed to be with her,” he spat.
“I know,” Daria agreed. “And he would have if he could have.”
“He says he loves her, but how can he? How can a man love a woman when he’s only there one day out of the year? Leona has to spend all that time alone, and what does he do? He just runs out on her. What kind of man leaves the woman he loves? She was just fifteen years old. She was just a kid! How could he do that to her? How could he get her mixed up in this? Leona doesn’t deserve this.”
“He’s pretty messed up,” Mario said. “I don’t know if it’s an allergic reaction, or what, but Sarka better get back here fast, or we’re screwed.”
A young man burst into the room. “I’m here!”
“Who are you?” Daria asked.
“I’m a healer. I was told that this is my latest appointment.”
“Sarka is the doctor,” Mario said.
“I didn’t say I was a doctor. I said I was a healer.”
Daria was struggling to keep Mateo from kicking her in the face. “What does that mean?”
“He just needs a transfusion.” The man opened a drawer and began to draw blood from himself.
“I know you!” Mateo yelled in paranoia. “You were there; at my party. I saw you. I met you. You shook my hand. Did you do this to me? It was you, wasn’t it? You piece of crap! What is it? What did you do to me? Take it back! I don’t want it anymore! I just want to stay in one place!”
“He didn’t do this to you.” Mario turned his attention to the stranger. “What exactly are you doing?”
“I’ve been spending the last year, going around the country and healing people with my blood.”
“I’ve never heard of someone who could do that,” Mario said skeptically.
Even through the protests of Mateo’s father and aunt, the man injected Mateo with his own blood. He immediately felt better. His paranoia dissipated, and tranquility spread across his body before settling down the drain and leaving him in a state of normalcy. The debacle was over.
“It’s something I picked up from another planet,” the man explained. And with that, the wall behind him changed. It turned into some kind of portal to another location. It was in the middle of a forest. The wind even blew a few leaves into the recovery room. The man looked back at it and breathed a sigh of relief. “And they are finally letting me go back. It sucks there, but I left my best friend, and I need to find her again.” He started to walk towards the portal.
“Wait,” Mateo said. “What’s your name? Just so I know who to put on the thank-you note.”
The man smiled and stepped outside. “It’s Vearden.”
After the portal closed, Mateo fell asleep once more, and didn’t wake up until next year.

Saturday, June 13, 2015

Seeing is Becoming: Boarders (Part IV)

“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.

Friday, June 12, 2015

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.

Thursday, June 11, 2015

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.

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

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.

Tuesday, June 9, 2015

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.