The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 20, 2105

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“You met Juan Ponce de León!” Leona screamed like an anime fangirl. “I’m named after him, did you know that? Did I ever tell you that?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Aw, man, what was he like?”

“Like a guy. Like a normal guy. He didn’t even act like he was from the fourteenth century. He spoke Modern English.”

“Fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. How did you survive high school?”

“Kinda like this,” Mateo said, and then he froze, because the fact was that he barely did survive high school, and in fact, didn’t know how.

“I wish he would have stuck around so that I could meet him,” she said forlornly. Then she became more excited. “Oh, but you need to meet Horace’s husband, Serkan.”

“He’s finally here?”

“Well, we’re finally here. Actually, I met him last year. He was waiting for us in 2104 . He couldn’t travel through time with his daughter.”

“That means you’ve been waiting for me for a year?”

“What? No, that was just yesterday for me.”

“If he can stop people from using their time powers, then you should be free of our pattern.”

“Oh, well, I obviously didn’t want to leave you behind, so we made sure he was far enough away from us. He has a limited range.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I believe I just answered that. I’m not going to have the discussion again where I explain that I’m never going to leave you again. Not even time and space can keep us apart. You understand?”

“I do, yes, I just want you to be safe.”

“When I’m with you, I’m safe. And that is that.”

“Okay.”

Mateo and Leona left the house and walked over to Horace and Serkan’s place. Gilbert was already there, helping put the final touches on Horace’s world famous quiche.

“Mister Matic, you’re finally gonna get a chance to try this,” Horace said.

“I can’t wait.”

“I promise not to try to kill you guys afterwards. Not this time. Maybe in the next reality.”

A dark-skinned man who could only have been the man of the hour wiped his hands on a towel and presented one for Mateo. “Don’t mind him. Even being around me doesn’t stop him from remembering the alternate timeline. Hi, I’m Serkan Demir. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“You as well. I hear you’re gonna save our lives.”

He looked almost, but not quite, bashful. “That’s the plan. But for now, do you think you could do me a favor and set the table? I have to go out and find my daughter.”

“Not a problem.”

The five of them, along with Paige, had a lovely breakfast together in a nice little dining room. Everyone already knew pretty much everything about him, and each other, so only he needed to get to know them better. As Cleanser would have it, the special running apparel that he had worn during the 16 Blocks Tribulation had originally belonged to Serkan. He was a locally famous racer in the 2020s who participated in this fascinating competition known as City Frenzy. Teenagers would race across the city, using not only speed, but also parkour and and gymnastics. They didn’t have the same starting points, nor the same finish lines. Apparently, Serkan had won a few times, and it was during one of these races when he literally fell into the world of choosers and salmon.

Serkan was known as a chosen one, a special and incredibly rare breed of temporal manipulators. They were akin to salmon, but instead of being controlled by the powers that be, they were created by choosing ones. He didn’t know which chooser had made him what he was, but whoever it was had made no obvious effort to actually control his actions. He was always, at least seemingly, free to make his own choices. He said, however, that he had this feeling that he had been created for a very specific purpose. In fact, he had never needed to bother with any sort of anti-aging techniques, or physiological upgrades. His rate of aging had been slower than usual since he first became a chosen one.

“If you’re a good person,” Mateo began, “and you’ve only ever done good things, then I suspect I know who your choosing one is.”

“Who might that be?” Leona asked, not convinced.

“Well, I’ve only ever met one good chooser. There are those who are rather neutral, like Dave, or even decent, like Baudin. But I’ve only seen the one who has ever actively tried to help.”

“Meliora,” Leona said, because they could read each other’s minds. That didn’t mean she completely agreed with his hypothesis.

“Ah,” Gilbert said, shaking his head. “It can’t be her. Choosers only get one...um, chosen one. She already created Lincoln Rutherford.”

“The Gravedigger mentioned him once I think,” Mateo said. “I didn’t know he was all that special. Who is he?”

“He’s helped you quite a bit, actually,” Horace said, wiping his lips with a napkin. “In the other timeline, he was a powerful opposing force for every time I tried to hurt you. He gave your new physicist friend your bag after you jumped to the future in the middle of a train ride, so there would be no evidence that you were ever on it. He took care of your mother and her family in California, and sent you the address to their location so you could save them.”

“Why would he do these things? We’ve never met.”

“It was less about helping you, and more about stopping me. He was one of my prison guards in the other other timeline.”

“Ya know, if you had tried to say all this seven years ago, I would have been confused as hell. But it makes perfect sense. And I guess now it makes sense that people often call her Meliora Rutherford Delaney-Reaver.”

“Exactly, Horace agreed while Leona shifted uncomfortably in her seat at the mention of her name...and her daughter. It was only then that he realized how much in common he had with Meliora, and how much in common Leona had with his own mother, Aura. Both children erased themselves from the timeline, and both mothers had no recollection of a child they had made with a man they had never been with in this timeline.

There was a knock on the door before Mateo could ask more questions. Serkan jumped up to open it. The rest of them could hear inaudible voices, and then he returned with a visitor.

“No!” Gilbert cried.

“Peacemaker,” Horace muttered, technically under his breath, but loud enough for all to hear, including the newcomer.

“We’re not doing this,” Gilbert insisted, providing the oblivious rest of them with no context.

“This will resolve their issues once and for all,” the visitor said, maintaining the vagueness of the conversation.

“He is not ready, Uluru.” Gilbert countered.

“I was waiting for them to come to me on their own,” Uluru said. “Their issues have spread far and wide, and the rest of the choosers are fed up. This is happening.”

“They’re fed up with what?” Mateo asked. “Who is not ready for what?”

“You,” Gilbert began to explain. “You and The Cleanser, Zeferino Preston. You’ve been fighting for too long, so Uluru here has called upon you to resolve your differences in one final battle.”

“A battle?” Leona questioned.

“A literal battle,” Horace jumped in. It’s not a game, or a tribulation. This is physical combat. Sometimes to the death, but that’s not a rule.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Mateo said with a smile of exasperation. “There’s no way I can best him, not with all his power.”

“Ayer’s Rock is a special place,” Gilbert continued. “It will put you on equal footing. Either his powers will be removed, or you will temporarily receive everything he has for yourself.”

“I tried to take control of Uluru in the other timeline, but that facility I held you and Gilbert in was as close as I could get.” Horace still seemed upset about it, even though he was a changed man. Mateo tried to imagine him having control over a location powerful enough to remove or bestow time powers. That would not have been good.

“If I do this, the tribulations end?” Mateo asked.

“If you win, he will not be able to harm you ever again. A younger version of him cannot hurt you in the future, and if you allow him to survive, he will not be able to go back in time and hurt a younger version of you. The decision is final. I don’t have to say that this rule applies to you as well, if you lose. I imagine you have no interest in that anyway. I feel the need to note, however, that this is not—”

“I’m in,” Mateo interrupted.

“—optional,” Uluru finished anyway.

“Mateo,” Leona began. “I know this seems like a good idea, but is it? How amazing would that be, for it all to end in one final boss fight. But that’s not how life works. We shouldn’t be playing into his game mentality. We should be trying to escape.”

“This will escape it,” Mateo said. “One way or the other. I know it sounds stupid, but like the man said, he ain’t asking. Just look at it like any other tribulation. This is our life now, ‘member?”

“I ‘member,” she answered.

“I suppose we’ll have to get far enough away from Serkan so you can teleport me there,” Mateo said to Uluru.

“This isn’t going to happen until tomorrow,” Gilbert said while standing up. He placed his hand on Mateo’s shoulder like an overprotective father before his son’s first high school party. “Right?” He gave Uluru a formidable death stare.

Uluru was not happy with Gilbert’s one condition, but also did not look up to a battle of his own. “I suppose I can accommodate this. One year.”

“Come on,” Gilbert said, wrapping his arm all around Mateo’s back. “I have less than a day to teach you everything I know about time duels.”

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Rogue Possession: Absolute Corruption (Part IV)

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Gilbert Morley Boyce was born in the District of Columbia in 1987. His parents were both low-level civil servants, providing support for a number of different politicians. He saw them work their asses off every day for very little. In his teenage years, he began to feel angry about the government. He believed in taxes, but not in the way they were actually implemented. Rich people had too many loopholes, and not enough responsibility. Meanwhile, the lower classes suffered, sometimes even being unable to maintain even simple law-abiding lifestyles.

One day in his college literature course, he learned the truth behind the legend of Robin Hood. As it turned out, he wasn’t simply stealing rich people’s assets and giving them to the poor. He was stealing from the government and redistributing tax money to the people who had originally paid it. This inspired Gilbert to right the crimes he felt the government was making. But he couldn’t put on a mask and ransack Fort Knox. Nor did he have the taste for the political life, and he had already made certain decisions in his life that prevented him from being a successful candidate anyway. His only option was the private sector. But in order to succeed in the business world without starting at the bottom and doing a bunch of work, he knew he would need capital. He didn’t have any particular skills, nor was he born into a wealthy family. He needed to get creative. Quite simply, he became a burglar.

For years, Gilbert would break into rich people’s homes when they were not at home, steal whatever cash he could find, and leave. He did this all over the country so that they couldn’t be connected, never worked with a team, and never got caught. During the FBI’s investigation, and the court’s trial, nobody ever uncovered evidence of his origins. Even to his dying day, not a single person who wasn’t some kind of time manipulator ever discovered his life as a petty criminal. He had told almost no one about it. Once he had enough money to start his company, he hired a hat-switching hacker who went by the name of Micro to cover his tracks and make it look like the money came from legitimate sources. Only she had any clue as to who he really was, but not even she knew exactly where the money had come from.

After careful research, Gilbert decided that the most lucrative and economically beneficial industries would be healthcare, and hospitality. He founded H&H&H Holdings. Through takeovers and mergers, he would go on to ultimately provide employment for hundreds of thousands of people in hospitals, hotels, and housing developments. All and all, he should have been richer than Horace Reaver, but he was not. Instead, he chose to lead a minimal lifestyle, and pour all personal capital into his organization. He formed an unusual business model where most profit not used for expansion was rerouted back to the employees in the form of raises and bonuses. Employees were made aware that, because of the unpredictable nature of the market, all wages were subject to constant raising and lowering. Most of them were okay with this, because they were still generally making at least ten percent more than national average for the position.

This was all well and good, except that a not insignificant amount of all this maneuvering was actually illegal. He managed to stay out of the crosshairs of the authorities for as long as he did because he did not resemble the average white-collar criminal. In the end, he wasn’t taking any money for himself, and so no one really suspected that he was doing anything wrong. Still fed up with the government and tax law, Gilbert took every chance he could find to screw over the man. Despite all the raises, they were making more money than they knew what to do with. Well-paid workers tend to have high morale, and do their jobs better, which in turn satisfies customers, which encourages them to return and spread the word, which raises profits. Knowing that at a certain point, you’re just paying your workers too much for the job their doing, and potentially damaging the economy, Gilbert took new risks.

He started funneling profits into various charities, attempting to hide his practices by spreading the wealth so thin that no one would notice. Except that people did notice, and he was ultimately sent to prison for his crimes. What he did was noble, but still fraud. And though his methods contributed to a boost in the nation’s and world’s economy, it had done little to actually change the way the law handled tax brackets.

Gilbert thought his experiences as a businessman would be invaluable once he became a powerful chooser, and possessed the body of President Donald Trump. It was true that this made it easier to pretend to be Trump in the first place, because he could understand what people around him were talking about. His knowledge, however, much like with the real Trump, was not sufficient for helping the populace. Still locked in a struggle with the original inhabitant of his new body, he failed as a president more often than he succeeded. He managed to stop Trump from dismantling everything that previous president, Barack Obama had accomplished, but this left him no energy to accomplish much of anything himself. By all accounts, he was a terrible president, but he did get through it. In the year 2019, he announced that he would not be running for a second term. This was met with no argument from the real Trump in the back of his mind. He honestly was not capable of being a 77-year-old head of state. On January 21, 2021, just to be safe, Gilbert Boyce finally left Donald Trump’s body, and started looking for a new life.

Years passed from Gilbert’s perspective. He continued to jump into random people’s bodies across time and space, not really bothering to focus on a certain destination. He never even considered trying to go back to his own past and correct his mistakes. He wasn’t worried about destroying the continuum, or creating a paradox, he was just ultimately content with how things turned out. He was dead and reborn, and that was good enough. After spending a literally unknowable amount of time in the body of a salmon who uncontrollably perceived time so quickly that he couldn’t make out objects, he found himself in the possession of The Apprentice. “What makes him an apprentice?”

“He’s not an apprentice,” the woman explained. Gilbert didn’t always choose to keep his presence a secret, and this person clearly didn’t care one way or the other. “He’s the Apprentice. With practice, he can actually learn to adopt other people’s temporal powers.”

“Kinda like me.”

“Kinda...but he gets to keep his body and personality, as well as his new powers.”

“If he’s learning, then that makes you the teacher. What are you teaching him?”

“They call me The Weaver. I can make objects adopt temporal powers, so that conceivably anyone could use them.”

“That sounds like a recipe for disaster,” Gilbert said.

“It can be, which is why I’m extremely selective with my creations. We can’t have every Tom, Dick, and Mateo runnin’ around with a time mirror.”

“You know Mateo?”

“I know of him. He’s not been born yet. You, my friend, have leapt into the late nineteenth century.”

Gilbert took a look around at his surroundings. “That explains your rustic dwelling.”

“This is just for show. My true home is significantly more advanced. I’ll never show you, though. That is for me, and my apprentice.”

“That’s fine. I could also possess you.”

“Not while I’m wearing this.” She pulled her shirt collar down to reveal a symbol he recognized tattooed on her chest.

“That’s from Supernatural. It keeps demons out.”

“I repurposed it. The truth is, the design of the tattoo wasn’t important, just that I was the one who did it.”

“Interesting. I wish I could do that. Though, I suppose, if I remain in this body, that’s exactly what I’ll eventually be able to do.”

“I highly recommend you not do that. You don’t wanna test me.”

“All right, all right,” Gilbert stood down. After a pause, he continued, “I’ve seen people use objects before. Do you make all of them? What is that spike thing that I used when I was the Constructor? I never did figure that out.”

“It’s not a spike, it’s a bone stake.”

“What’s a bone stake?”

“It’s a stake made out of bone.”

“Couldn’t you have just made it out of wood?”

“It’s true that I had a hand in the creation of the bone stake, but I could not have done it with just anything, like the tattoo. The Constructor is of a special class, so it had to be bone. It had to be his bone.”

“You took out his bone?”

“Yep. His femur. Replaced it with a metal implant from the future.”

“Why would you do that?”

“He wanted me to. He could be the Constructor just on his own, but having a tool like that allows him to do so without expelling so much time and energy on his creations. After all, that’s what tools are for.”

“Yeah, but...still. A bone. That’s messed up, dude.”

“Well, we can’t all be Meliora Rutherford Delaney-Reaver.”

“No,” Gilbert agreed. Then he had a thought. It was not just his own thought, though. After so much time as Donald Trump—and so many other people with hopes and envious desires—his mind had become corrupted. He was aware of this issue, but could do nothing about it. The ability to possess the body of the most powerful people in spacetime was far too intoxicating. There was no way he was giving that up, even when the main reason he felt that way was because of the issue itself. He had actually once tried to possess Meliora, hungry for her power. Like Trump, she was strong enough to prevent him from taking over, but unlike Trump, she did so effortlessly, and never gave in. There was no way he was breaking that barrier, not in a million years. In the end, he was glad for this, though, because she was an important force for good, and corrupting her legacy might have been the worst thing he ever did. Still he needed to feel her power, and his only option was this body he already had.

The Weaver picked up on his intentions, and was not happy about it. “You are going to leave this body, and you are going to do it now.”

“Or what?”

“I am prepared to destroy it, if only to prevent you from keeping it.”

Gilbert reached deep into his new heart. With enough thought, he could figure out what power the body he was possessing at the moment had, even without asking someone else, or just guessing. It was true that the Apprentice carried with him a great deal of power, but he only needed one at the moment. “You’ll never be able to catch me.”

He teleported away, and began a lovely stroll down Central Park. Then he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and turned around. The Weaver was chasing after him.

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Microstory 470: Floor 16 (Part 2)

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Writer: Windows. What are windows? Well, they’re like doors, but clear. Windows keep us safe, but they also give us access to the outside world. Windows show us endless possibilities. They protect us from an uncertain future, and lift us from blind Plato-cavers to brilliant scientists, reaching for the stars...literally. Elevators. Elevators too lift us. They magically transport us to new worlds. You step into an elevator in one place, and when you next step out, there is no telling what you’re going to find. Unlike windows, which are clear, elevators hide us from the truth. They keep us from knowing what’s going to happen next. They are a mystery. Unless you’re in a clear elevator, those are different. Atriums. I’m not entirely sure what atriums are. An atrium I’ve seen, but I’m not certain I understand what makes an atrium. They are wide open spaces within buildings. They provide an ironic source of warmth and comfort, even while maintaining a great distance between two points. They allow us to see across these great distances, though, to look beyond our own little bubbles, and to question our reality. And buildings. Buildings as a whole. Buildings can be tall, or they can be short. They can be used for math, or they can be used for sports. Some buildings are good, and some are bad. This building is falling apart, which is sad. Buildings hold everything together, and protect us from the cold harsh truth of reality outside across great distances that bring us down to lower levels. Buildings are important, but are they the most important?

Audience: I don’t understand what this is.

Writer: It’s my essay. On the state of affairs of our company. It’s a scathing inquiry into our situation in this lockdown.

Audience: I imagine you mean indictment, but either way, you say nothing about the lockdown, and that part where you talk about clear elevators really takes the reader out of the narrative. And this whole thing makes no sense, and serves no purpose.

Writer: Art always fills a purpose.

Audience: And you’re not even supposed to be here. You were fired last week.

Writer: That was meant to be permanent? I thought it was just a suspension.

Audience: You’re not a cop, or a student. Nor are you a writer. I want you back out of here as soon as this lockdown is lifted.

Writer: —

Audience: And if you say one thing about elevators or lifting, I swear to God...

Microstory 469: Floor 17 (Part 2)

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Engineer 1: What are you talking about? How did I have anything to do with the construction of the elevators.

Engineer 2: You were the lead engineer for this building project, which means you’re responsible for all construction aspects of it!

Engineer 1: First of all, that is not what that means! Where did you go to school? That’s not what my job entails! I’m not responsible for everything! Secondly, the elevators were created, and installed, by outside contractors, like they always are! And two, I don’t like your tone!

Engineer 2: I don’t like your tone!

Engineer 1: Screw you!

Engineer 2: Screw you!

Engineer 1: You were the head engineer, which means that it was your job to contract the elevator...uh, contractors! This is still your fault!

Engineer 2: It is absolutely not my fault! This was group project! Oh, you think I built this whole building myself? Yep, that’s what I did! Derpa deepity doody doo! I’m just gonna set this brick here, and lay some cement on top of it, and boom! A goddamn building is born! Isn’t she PRECIOUS!

Engineer 1: That’s not what I was saying!

Engineer 2: You’re an idiot is what you’re saying! Words come out, but all I hear is “blah, blah, blah, la, la, la, I’m an idiot! I got my degree from, like, Wyoming...or something!”

Engineer 1: Yeah, that sounds JUST like me, jackass!

Engineer 2: What did you call me?!

Engineer 1: I sorry. English not so good. Perhaps a better translation is the biggest douche in the universe!

Engineer 2: Oh, you’re one to talk!

Engineer 1: What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Engineer 2: Just that maybe you could use a douche once in awhile!

Engineer 1: Oh my God, that is so sexist, and completely ignorant about the female body! I can’t believe you said that to me!

Engineer 2: I can’t believe you’re trying to blame me for an elevator crash! This is just like Tulsa Trip!

Engineer 1: That was a completely different situation! And I thought you didn’t want me to bring that up again, but here you are, trying to use it in an argument against me? As if.

Engineer 2: The 90s called, they don’t want their catchphrase back, because even they know how retarded you sound!

Engineer 1: What did I say about using that word!

Engineer 2: I have no idea! When you talk, I usually just tune out and hope you’ll eventually get bored, and WALK AWAY!

Engineer 1: Oh I’m walkin’ away!

Engineer 2: Good!

Engineer 1: Fine!

Engineer 2: Great!

Engineer 1: Perfect!

Engineer 2: Wouldn’t have it any other way!

Engineer 1: I’ll see you at home!

Engineer 2: I’m cooking chicken tetrazzini!