Monday, February 8, 2016

Microstory 251: Perspective Twenty-Six

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There’s a guy in my psychology class at college who just cannot keep his mouth shut. He takes every opportunity he can to show us just how ignorant and stupid he is. He’s one of those people who don’t own a television set, and who believe themselves to be superior because of it. TV is a form of art; to deny that is both ridiculous and insulting to the thousands of jobs the industry supports. He’s constantly spouting of statistics that are in no way true, claiming that smartwatches cause psychopathy, or that sharks are now smarter than apes. I feel like this kind of thinking is fostered in society today, that he’s allowed to think the way he does despite being totally wrong about everything. Because “everyone is special” and “their ideas are valid”. Just the other day, he says that he doesn’t trust hospitals, and that “women were having babies for millennia before modern medicine.” Yeah, they did, and ya know what happened? They died. There were babies dying all over the place back in the old days. Just because we’ve traditionally done something a certain way, doesn’t mean it’s the right way. You know what else we “traditionally” did? Slavery. Should we go back to that? No, of course not. We've moved on from it, progressed to a better way. Though, I guess that's not a perfect argument, because not everyone agrees. There’s another girl in my class who claims that slavery was ultimately a good thing because—and I quote, I swear—”now all the black people are here in America and get to have all the opportunities that we have”. Oh man, that was infuriating. I wanted to punch her in the face right then and there. Fortunately, we were talking through an internet chat, and I was able to cool down before I saw her again. But I’m definitely blocking her after the semester ends. Now that I think about it, she’s always been an idiot. Back when we were in middle school together, I remember that she was the one who said she was pro-life because abortions were often performed following birth. She actually thought that doctors delivered babies, and then drowned them in a tub. This is why the rest of the world hates us, and why China is winning. Maybe I should just block her right now.

Sunday, February 7, 2016

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 7, 2061

When they woke up the next day, Leona had some questions. “Why did you not tell me about The Cleanser before? How often have you spoken to him?”
“Just a couple of times. I don’t know why I didn’t tell you,” Mateo replied honestly. “We just got done with Reaver, and I guess I didn’t want to burden you with the next thing.”
“We’re in this together,” Leona said before amending, “at least, we’re supposed to be.”
“I know that.” And so Mateo told her about everything; his meetings with the Cleanser, him witnessing her and Prince Darko’s private conversation, and a few things from his past he figured he’d get off his chest. In the end, it was comforting to let her all the way in. She was right. They were a team, and they needed to be honest with each other.
She shifted the subject a bit after that was all done. “Is The Rogue interested in acting out the tribulation period from the bible?”
“Might could be. I don’t know.”
“Well, what’s meant to happen during this period? What are the tribulations?”
“I don’t know.”
“How can you not know?”
“Well, Catholics don’t really believe in the tribulation period. Not really. And I’m not exactly a scholar on the matter.”
“They don’t? You’re not?”
“Yeah, there are different interpretations of the text. Some believe what you read in those books, or see in those movies. But those are dramatic interpretations. Those are glamorized. Things are a lot more simple in the original book. People don’t generally realize quite how much humans supplement the Word with their own personal beliefs. There is not as much detail as you would think, and so people sort of make things up to fill in the gaps; try to make it more clear.”
“What do you believe?”
“Just like with most people, my personal beliefs are just that, mine. I don’t follow every single thing the Church does, and I don’t listen to everything the Pope says. He’s a leader, not a god. And he’s definitely not God. Personally, I try to ignore anything the bible says is going to happen, and focus more on what it says happened. I treat the book as an historical record with flourishes. These stories were written before the computer was invented.”
“What does the computer have to do with anything?”
“I just mean that it’s hard to predict what’s going to happen when you can’t so much as fathom future development. They didn’t say anything about the computer being invented, much less vehicles or electricity; not even almost, not even a little. I find it hard to believe they knew what will happen when Christ returns, if he ever does.”
“So there are parts of the bible you just straight up don’t believe?”
“Yes, of course. There are tons of examples, and I would have more if I had chosen to dedicate myself to studying it. But the major problems I have with it are, like I said, when it tries to predict the future with so little understanding of it.”
Leona nodded her head consistently while she was processing. “Well, what might that mean for the Rogue’s intentions?”
“If he has plans to act out the coming of Christ, then I suppose he’ll have to reveal his power to the whole world, which I doubt the other powers that be would allow.”
“I mean just in terms of what he does to us. The tribulations.”
“If he wants to act out the tribulations, he’ll have very little to go on. The text is vague and brief on that matter. It tells us what life is going to be like for seven years, but it doesn’t go into specifics, and you have to gather this information from a number of different places. There’s no single scripture that just lays it all out for you.”
“Oh.”
“I think we may be overthinking this whole thing.”
“How so?” she asked.
“I would assume his use of the word tribulation was more general. It probably has nothing to do with the bible. I think he just means we’re gonna suffer.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” she conceded. “I guess I was just hoping we would have a road map for where this was going. So we could plan accordingly.”
“I doubt the man would be so obvious, even if he were borrowing concepts.”
“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” The Rogue interrupted.
“Um...” Mateo replied with a scowl. “This is a private conversation. We would appreciate you waiting your turn.” He swept his fingers through the air, palm down so as to incautiously send him away.
The Rogue laughed. “I like you, kid. You show me no respect. I don’t get that from other people.”
“I know what you are,” Mateo lied.
“What?”
“I know your secret, what you’re trying to keep from us. I know why you’re doing all this. I know where you come from.”
The Rogue was notably distressed by this, but only for a second. He was determined to keep his guard up.
Mateo was hoping to glean some information from him by pretending to already have it. But instead, all he learned was that there was something to be learned. And if there was anything he learned since falling into his pattern, it was that the truth always comes out.
“You’re lying,” The Rogue said, but was unsure.
“You’re right,” Mateo replied. “But I know someone who does know what you are. I just need some time.”
“Well,” he said. “You have today, at least. That’s what I’ve decided. Every other day will be a tribulation, and you get breaks in between.”
“That’s so generous of you,” Leona said sarcastically. “What happened to Prince Darko?”
He was annoyed. “It was not my intention to show you what The Cleanser did, but I could not control that. I can, however, control what you know from this point on. I shall not explain Prince Darko except to say that he lied about his pattern. It would seem that lying runs in the family.”
“So he really is my brother, though?” That wasn’t much, but it was something to remember.
“Each tribulation will come with a reward,” the Rogue went on, “besides the not dying part.”
“A reward?” Leona asked. “Like being able to survive multi-day spacecraft trip?”
“Like a pizza party, or something,” the Rogue corrected. “I don’t know, I’ve not thought much about it. I doubt you survive this next one.”
“How can you not know how it turns out?” she pressed.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re a time traveler, and one who is not bound by a pattern. Can you not just skip ahead and see whether we survive or not?”
“Leona,” Mateo warned, “don’t poke the bear.”
“I could do that, yes,” the Rogue said. “But I much prefer to be careful.”
“Careful of what? Disrupting the spacetime continuum?”
“No. Careful of spoilers,” he answered in a British accent, which was another pop culture reference. This man liked his movies and TV shows. That was important, because they might be able to use it against him in the future. If only there was a way to communicate with Leona without anyone knowing. They could never be sure if they were being spied on from another dimension. What was that about virtual telepathy?

Saturday, February 6, 2016

Overwritten: Trust (Part VI)

Presumably because of my ultimate failure to kill Mateo back in 2023, and more recently because his family kidnapping did not go well, Reaver began to lose faith in me. He still seemed to have no idea that I was working against him, but he did gradually tease me from his life. I remained in the employ of Reaver Enterprises, but in a more general position, working as a security officer with all the other grunts. In the year 2034, we’re in one his newest facilities, the purpose of which has never been clear, and was likely irrelevant. It was built over the ruins of a house that had been just completely wrecked by some sort of artificial intelligence malfunction. Immediately upon Mateo’s return to the timestream, I realize the AI malfunction had something to do with him, and the facility was built for the sole purpose of keeping him contained.
At the moment, alarms are going off around the building, and I’m leading a team of two other security guards, neither of whom I trust. For a while, things are going all right. We’re just wandering the hallways, no idea where we’re going, and only one of us knows why. But then the target of our pursuit shows up. He’s with two other security guards. I don’t know them very well and, of course, do not trust them either. “Status?” I ask as part of protocol. I still carry weight in the department, and am respected by all.
“We’re showing this newbie the ropes,” one of the guards says as he’s motioning to Mateo.
Mateo lifts his hand and tips the brim of his hat down as a greeting, but does not speak. That’s smart of him. It’s harder to tell when someone’s being deceptive if they don’t say anything.
I’m not sure what to do. If they’re loyal to Reaver, once they find out their “newbie’s” true identity, they’ll turn him in for sure. Then again, I do not recall any new conscriptions. Assuming these two do not know what they have in their hands, then Mateo is a very good liar, and I have a responsibility to play along. But if they do know him, and they’re helping him, then I should secretly assist. This can go one of two ways. I can order them to station themselves in an area of the building I know there to be fewer obstacles, or I can order them into the lion’s den and hope they go against these orders. It all depends on their relationship to Mateo, and they’re impression of me. I trust my instincts and remain in character, ordering them to the basement. They stand there awkwardly after accepting their new assignments, so I usher my team through the doorway, allowing Mateo’s team to make the right decision.
Not long afterwards, though, things get complicated. Reaver gets back on the intercom. “That’s it! I’m calling in the cavalry. Boys, this is who we’re looking for!” My heart sinks as Mateo’s face appears on the walls. Now everyone knows who we’re looking for. What’s worse is that my team knows that we just encountered him. But there’s nothing I can do about that. Now that the entire building knows what they’re doing, I have to get back to Mateo and protect him personally. It’s my only choice. Reaver continues, “bring him to me and I will write you a blank check!”
As we reenter the stairs, my team tries to head down, but I start to go up. “What are you doing?” one of them asks.
“I have to go this way,” I say. Maybe they’ll shake it off and let me go.
“You told him to go down, remember?”
“You go ahead,” I order my team. “I’m gonna check up here in case they ignored my orders.”
“That makes sense,” the other one says. “If he’s trying to get away from us, then he’ll make a point of subverting orders.” These guys are too smart for my own good. I won’t be able to get away from them, so together we rush upstairs.
Both luckily and unluckily, we do find Mateo and his possible accomplices again. I block their path, still not sure how I should proceed. Who are these two? Are they trying to help Mateo too? Or are they on their way to Reaver right now?
One of the guards in this other team holds up some kind of cannon. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“What are you doing?” I ask, weapon pointed where they would expect it to be. “Why is Reaver so interested in him?” I’m still trying to get a feel for whose side they’re on.
“Stop us and you’ll never find out,” Number One answered.
I shake my head in disbelief, still needing to hold onto my cover. “That sounds like the opposite of the truth.”
All of the sudden, some random guy appears from one door while a girl comes out of the door on the opposite wall. They each force one member of my team through the other one’s door. It’s like they knew this was going to happen, and were waiting for them. “What the hell?” Curious, I reopen one of the doors to find the room empty. More time travelers. Awesome. Or awful. I lower my weapon towards the floor, so I can gauge the remaining guards’ reaction. And then I see it in their eyes. They’re not trying to bring Mateo in. They are trying to help. I still don’t know why, or who they are. But I know I can trust them.
Before I can reveal my true intentions to them, a man comes out of nowhere down the hall. But he’s not actually in the hallway. It’s some kind of mashup of the real environment and another place. Outside. I guess I might call it a portal. “Excuse me?” he asks. “Have you ever been to Stonehenge?”
This is my chance. This guy seems different than Kyle, or Reaver, or even those two mysterious door-walkers. He is in some kind of position of authority. I have half a moment to make a choice. Either I continue to help Mateo, or I take what might be my one opportunity to get some answers. Mateo seems to be in good hands with his friends, so I leave them to it, and walk towards the strange man who has the ability to form a teleporting bridge to Stonehenge.

He, almost lovingly, sets his hand on my shoulder and smiles. The walls of the building melt away, and all that’s left is Stonehenge. He opens his mouth to begin his speech, but then he sees something in me. He crooks his neck. “Who the hell are you?”
“I am Lincoln Rutherford,” I reply honestly.
“Are you a salmon, or are you a choosing one?”
Dowhatnow? “Neither. Both. What are those things?”
“I can sense that you’ve been separated from the timestream, but you’re not on my list. What happened?”
“I was in an alternate timeline,” I explain, “with Horace Reaver. Someone snuck into his prison cell and pushed him backwards in time. I was just caught in the crossfire, I guess.”
He lifts his chin but keeps his eyes on me. “I’ve not heard such a thing. An accidental salmon. When was this?”
“Four years from now,” I say, “and eighteen years ago.”
“Interesting, tell me everything.”
For some reason, I feel that I can trust this man with my story. And so I do just what he asks and go over my entire life’s story. I tell him what I remember from the other timeline, and also what has already been overwritten. I explain the blog, what I believe to be my job to stop Horace Reaver from causing further harm. I bring up Brian and Kyle and Duke, the train, the other train, Mateo’s family who Reaver kidnapped, the door-walkers; everything. This guy just pulls the information out of me. Brian knows everything, and I’ve discussed some of this with others, but only to a low degree. It’s nice to get all of this out to a second person, and possibly gain some perspective.
After I’m done, he again says, “interesting.”
“What happens now?
“Horace Reaver is becoming a problem for us. We are preparing a response to his actions.”
“Just now? He’s been screwing with the timeline for years now. How could you let it go this far?”
“Oh, they don’t really care about the timeline. Everything can be corrected, one way or another. It’s not hard for the people I work for.”
“You’re not the time police, or something?”
“Oh, heavens no.” He laughs. “I don’t know exactly what the choosing ones are, but they’re not that.”
“Huh?”
“We estimate twenty-five years before Mateo finally apprehends Mister Reaver and brings him to justice.”
“That’s over three weeks in Mateo-time. You don’t really think it’ll take him that long, do you?”
“Why not?”
“He’s smarter than you give him credit for. And now that he has Leona, he’ll be unstoppable.”
“That may be true, but either way, we’ll need your help. Reaver isn’t our only problem.”
“Tell me what to do.”
“You’ll be in your element. We’re building a security team, and we would like you to be in charge of it, as Head Guard.”

Friday, February 5, 2016

Microstory 250: Perspective Twenty-Five

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Perspective Twenty-Four

I hate the term “luddite”. I’m not a huge protester, or anything, I just don’t personally like technology. I wear an analog watch, I don’t own a television, and I still use a feature phone that I don’t always carry with me. I read somewhere about this movement called neo-luddism that is attempting to overthrow present-day technologies and return society to a more primitive state. I’m not part of that, but if you read up on some of their literature, I think it may give you a shiver. For instance, the invention of the personal computer has ultimately resulted in the loss of hundreds of thousands of jobs across the country. I bet you didn’t know that. Such technology is also associated with overdevelopment of cities, resulting in ecological devastation around the entire planet. It can’t be a coincidence that rainforests are being destroyed 30% faster today than they were in the 1990s. I read that somewhere. As technology progresses, so does the desolation. But like I said, I do not belong to that movement. I just don’t see the point of owning all these fancy new gadgets. My great grandparents did just fine without electricity. Well, I mean, they had electricity. But not much. People think that technology makes our lives better, but does it really? Humans were having babies for thousands of years before hospitals were even invented. And now we have 3D imaging of creepy sonar babies, and we can manipulate our babies’ DNA, and I heard this one story about a woman whose baby was delivered entirely by a robot. Tell me, exactly what is wrong with just giving birth in your bedroom with a midwife? And it’s not just health and environmental concerns. Tech is also responsible for nuclear war, GMOs, and I even read somewhere that says smartphones cause autism. Just look at the statistics; approximately zero people were diagnosed with autism a hundred years ago. If I recall correctly, this lines up nicely with the so-called Industrial Revolution. And now they’re all over the place. How many autistics are we gonna have a hundred years from now? Huh? And it’s not just that. My uncle is lucky to be a mailman, what with all this electronic mail going around. Soon he’ll be out of a job, thanks to robots. That’s right, I’m not crazy. Companies are already looking into having drones deliver packages. Drones, my God. Flying heralds of death is what I call them. Ya know, most drones have guns on them, I swear. I read that somewhere.

Thursday, February 4, 2016

Microstory 249: Perspective Twenty-Four

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Perspective Twenty-Three

I love dogs, and dogs love me. That whole stereotype about dogs hating mail deliverers has more to do with someone encroaching in on their territory. It’s not the fact itself that we deliver the post. It’s just that the dogs have never gotten a chance to get to know us and make sure we check out. But there’s something different about me. I never consulted an expert or anything, but I did read some things on the internet. Some people were just born lucky, and give off the right pheromones to make animals feel at ease. Dogs just know that I’m not a threat, and I don’t even have to introduce myself to them. Though, sometimes I do, because I like making new friends. Most people would probably think my job is extremely boring, but its tedium is exactly what drew me to it. I get a ton of exercise, and I listen to music all day. As I’m walking by the houses, I like to come up with little stories about them; what kind of people they are, and what problems they’ve been dealing with. One resident hunts vampires at night. He’s cut ties with everyone he knows so that he can focus on his calling without worrying about people asking questions. The couple next door secretly knows what he does, but they’ve never spoken with him about it. A woman who lives on the next block drowned in her bathtub, but somehow figured out how to recorporalize her ghost body. So she’s just kept going with her life as if nothing happened, and never told anyone. Things get awkward when people ask her out to dinner, because she can’t eat food anymore. These stories have been going on for weeks, and I often go over them again when I’m not on shift. It’s like watching TV, but without all the worry about my brain rotting away. But there’s this one woman. I don’t have to make up a story for her. I think she peeks through her blinds and tries to find some contrived reason to be outside when I come round. She’s the town gossip, always trying to tell me all the current juicy goings-on. What’s worse is that she thinks, as a mailman, I have great gossip to tell her. At first I pushed her away, but now I’ve started relating to her my fictional daydreams. Obviously I stick to the more believable ones, leaving out the supernatural, and she certainly eats them up. I feel a little bit bad about misleading her, especially if it could end up doing harm to her innocent neighbors. But it’s just so fun. What should I tell her next?

Perspective Twenty-Five

Wednesday, February 3, 2016

Microstory 248: Perspective Twenty-Three

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Did you hear about the woman down the block? The one who lives in the house they clearly can’t afford? I heard her husband covered up a rape at work and he’s about to go to prison. At least that’s what I heard. It’s just terrible. I don’t like to gossip of course, but that’s just such a sad story. I mean, how do you marry someone and not know what kind of man he is. My word. My friend had this friend in college who went to court claiming that her roommate’s brother’s friend raped her, but then while in court, they found out she had raped somebody. True story, I swear it. At least that’s what I heard. This is the same friend—my friend, not the friend of my friend—whose daughter sat on a toilet at a gas station and got pregnant. And AIDS. I think. It was something like that. Somebody sat on a toilet and then something happened, but I don’t like to gossip. I know this girl at work who gossips all the time, just nonstop. She’s a hoot and a half, though; her stories always make me laugh. She was telling me about this one time she found a dead cricket in her sauce. Well, I suppose that’s better than a live cricket, she tells me. What a riot. Anyway, she tries to complain, but ya know she was at a Chinese restaurant, and those Chinese, you know? So she complains but they try to pass it off as a delicacy. Can you believe that? A delicacy! She wasn’t fallin’ for it, of course. I don’t remember what came of it, but it was really funny. Those Chinese people, though. I’m not racist, but you have to be careful. I used to get my nails done on Eighth, but I had to stop going there because it was owned by a Chinese family. Well, I think they may have been Vietnamese or whatever. But they were so rough with my fingers, and they are just criminals there. The prices were too damn high! The last time I went there, I refused to pay that woman for her shoddy job. I walked right out and said they could charge it to the dust and let the rain settle it. They were shouting at me in their weird language, but I just kept walking. What are they gonna do, kill my first born daughter? And that’s not racist, because they really do that. I saw a documentary on it once. Well, I didn’t really watch it. I saw a commercial for it, and my boyfriend at the time said he watched it. I can’t for the life of me remember why I dated him, though. He and his cousin lost their virginity to each other. At least that’s what I heard.

Perspective Twenty-Four

Tuesday, February 2, 2016

Microstory 247: Perspective Twenty-Two

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Perspective Twenty-One

My husband is about to be fired. He’s been incompetently ignoring his responsibilities in an attempt to protect his friends’ interests. He’s been justifying these actions through a series of incoherent babblings. They finally figured him out. He’s not a bad person, just bad at his job. Serves him right. I’m leaving him. If you think that’s bad, you haven’t heard what he’s done at home. He’s wrecked two cars completely, and he’s been involved in any number of other incidents. Sometimes I think he’s come home from a hit and run and never tells anyone about it. There was one time when we lived up north that he slid on the ice and ran over a stop sign. No, not into it, over it. Then he just drove on someone’s lawn until ending up on the intersecting street where he kept going as if nothing had happened. My God, what if he hits a child? What if he has hit a child? He can’t cook worth a damn. You should see what the kitchen looks like after he tries to slap together a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, I’ll tell ya that much. He’s late for literally everything. He can’t remember anything I tell him, but he becomes so immersed in novel series and television franchises that he’s basically an anthropological historian of fiction. I don’t know why I married him in the first place. It’s not like we were dumb kids who thought we had everything figured out. And we certainly weren’t pushed to it by influential parents, or something. We were pretty old at the time, and we thought we were making the right decision. He probably still thinks so, but I’m done. He’s so nice to me, and treats me well, unlike his friend from work who is clearly a rapist and must be dealt with accordingly. I’ve always thought that I would rather be with someone dumb and nice than smart and mean, but this is just too much. I settled, thinking I was too old for something better. But ya know what? Forty is the new thirty, right? I mean, age is different than it used to be. People are living longer, and scientists are working on longevity, age regression, and even immortality. So that’s what’s happening, my life is starting right now. Chapter Two.

Perspective Twenty-Three

Monday, February 1, 2016

Microstory 246: Perspective Twenty-One

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Perspective Twenty

This is just one more in a long line of complaints I’ve received about this one boss at my work. He’s been like this his whole life, as far as I can tell. He doesn’t see women as individuals. He doesn’t quite see them as objects either, but he certainly believes his priorities and goals to be more important than theirs. Honestly, I couldn’t tell you why I’m friends with him. I guess I just do it out of habit. I haven’t been corrupt or anything, but I would be I’ve been biased in my assessments because of my relationship with him. What I really need to do is pass the case off to another human resources team member. I feel so stupid for not having committed to such an action before. He’s done these women wrong, and he needs to answer for it. But should I? Was I complicit in his dealings by not pursuing the matter at full force? Yes, of course I was. I’m going to have to fess up to what I did. But what exactly is that going to accomplish? I’ll probably end up losing my job, and then I won’t have a chance to turn my life around. Perhaps the best thing I can do is pretend like I had nothing to do with. Make sure the department makes an example out of my friend, and then just never do it again. In fact, I should cut ties with all of my coworkers, just in case. That sounds rash. Most of the people I know are good, and wouldn’t have any problems like this. So it’s settled, I’m only going to stop being friends with this one guy. Then again, his wife and mine are really good friends. Is it my place to ruin that relationship as well? No, it doesn’t matter. I have to do the right thing, for the first time in my life. But the woman filing the complaint was sleepy from being overworked. Can I really trust her statement. I know this guy, he’s not a rapist. He’s rude and lecherous, but he’s never hurt anyone, has he? Uh...I don’t know. Maybe. Pass the case and let it go. Keep it out of my hands altogether. It’s none of my business. But then again...

Perspective Twenty-Two