Voyage to Saga: Flipsides (Part V)

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Vearden was sleeping soundly in his bed. He was dreaming of getting Saga back. All his efforts led to success, and they were happy. But then suddenly the dream started draining from him, and he woke to find himself becoming increasingly wet. At first he thought it was sweat, and then he thought it might have been something else, which was weird because he had never thought of Saga like that. After a few more seconds, though, he realized that the wetness was not coming from him. His hotel suite was gradually filling up from water, presumably coming from some other time and place. It had soaked through his mattress, and was overcoming his body. He jumped out of bed and started wading through the water in an attempt to get to the door. The water was up to his waist when he finally gave up trying to open it. He struggled over to the bathroom door. It did open, but it was filling up with water as well. It was then that he decided to give up. He lifted his feet and started floating on the rising surface. The Shepherd probably wasn’t trying to kill him, but if she was, so what?

The water was salty, burning his eyes as little drops splashed into his face. Before he reached the ceiling, he took a deep breath, and then let it out so as to sink back down towards the floor. He opened his eyes just enough to see the furniture disappear little by little. The walls broke away, and the floor turned to sand. Then the sand dropped away from him, leaving him in the middle of nowhere. The ceiling was gone as well, so he finally swam up and broke through to freedom. All around him he could see only ocean...and also some kind of platform. He instinctively swam over and pulled himself onto it. A machine buzzed over and started looking at him. There appeared to be a camera on it. Must have been some kind of surveillance drone.

Two people reached down and pulled him farther from the edge. “Are you okay?” one of them asked.

“Can you breathe?” asked the other.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Vearden answered. “Where am I?”

“Well, we don’t know,” said the man.

“They don’t tell us these things,” the woman added.

Vearden coughed a little and sat up. This was only one of a whole bunch of platforms, floating varying distances from each other, with no real land in sight. “Were you kidnapped?” he asked.

“Heavens no,” the man said. “This is a challenge.” He helped Vearden up and pointed at the drone. “Smile, you’re on camera. Millions of people are watching you crash this party. Where the hell did you come from?”

“This is a television show?”

“Well, it’s a web broadcast, but yeah,” the woman confirmed. “More specifically, it’s a reality competition.”

Vearden looked around again, for no reason in particular, just to get his bearings as best he could. Another drone zoomed in from the sky. It opened its aperture to release a holographic image of a man. “Contestants,” the hologram said. “This is an unexpected visit, and I recognize the novelty in it. The producers and I have decided that, since there is no rule against it, this newcomer may help you in this challenge, if he so chooses. He can only, however, help one of you. You have five minutes to plead your case, at which point you must get back to the challenge, regardless of the decision. If you’ve not left this platform by then, you will forfeit the challenge.”

There was a brief pause after the hologram flickered out when they didn’t know what to do, or say. Then the woman scoffed. She started stretching and warming up. “I don’t need any help. I’m a freakin’ fish. You’ll just get in my way. She dove into the water and began to swim to the next nearest platform.

“I could use your help,” the man said. “Philomena is a surfer; I’m a judge. I have no idea what I’m doing here.”

“What’s your name?”

“Daniel.”

“Daniel...I’m Vearden. Do people die in these challenges?”

“It’s not happened before.”

“So this isn’t like, you win or you’re executed type of thing? This isn’t some post-apocalyptic sport that the new authorities have imposed on the impoverished?”

“Of course not. Have you never heard of Flipsides?”

“I guess not.”

“It’s like Survivor meets Big Brother meets the NCAA Championship Tournament. So will you help?”

“That’s why I’m here. Tell me what to do.”

Daniel protected his eyes from the sun and looked out to the horizon. “Do you see that sky-slash-ocean-colored blob on that platform over there?”

“Uh...kinda.”

“That’s called a jelly frog. It’s a genetically engineered amphibian with a severe health defect. If it sits—oh, there it goes,” he interrupted himself when the blobby thing jumped up and fell into the water. He went on, “if it sits in one place for too long, it’ll die. The weight of its own little organs start to crush each other, so it has to frequently get back in water. Unfortunately, its gills don’t work if it doesn’t keep moving, and they suffer from diminishing returns, so it has to jump back onto land to breathe regular air again.”

“So it’s constantly on the move.”

“Yes, and the object of the game is to catch it.”

During Daniel’s explanation, Vearden was watching Philomena swim from platform to platform. She couldn’t just swim right to the one where the frog was, because she wouldn't be able to see it, and she couldn’t stay in one place too long, because the frog wouldn’t. It was designed to be tiring and frustrating. Maybe it wasn’t even winnable, but it looked like Philomena was getting close, so they better get going.

It was then that Vearden was able to see it. There was a distortion above the platform that the jelly frog was on at the moment. He started looking at other platforms to see if it was just an illusion, and found another distortion above a second platform in a different direction. But it was just these two. “Can you see that?” he asked.

“We better go, or I forfeit.”

“The blur just above the frog. Can you see it?”

“No, I can’t see anything. Maybe you just got too much water in your lungs.”

“No, this is for me. This is why I’m here. Come on.” Vearden jumped into the water.”

“That’s the wrong way,” Daniel called down to him.

“Just trust me.” He began to swim past the next platform over.

“Can you predict its movements?” Daniel asked.

“Just trust me,” Vearden repeated. He could hear a splash behind him. Apparently Daniel was following his advice.

Evidently, the platform they had started on was the starting line, because it was far more stable. He was able to pull himself on it, and stay standing, as needed. These other platforms were a lot more trouble, though. Every time he pushed down on the edge to get himself onto it, it would just turn up and slip him off. “This is impossible!” How was Philomena even doing it? She wasn’t struggling at all. Oh, that’s right, she was a surfer. “She has an unfair advantage!” he cried once Daniel had caught up to him to try to get himself on.

“She has a literal advantage. She won an earlier challenge, which gave her the opportunity to pick the place. Not all challenges are in the ocean.”

“Well, we have an advantage too,” Vearden said. “We have each other. Go try to get on the other side. I’ll hold this side down.”

“Good idea.”

Their plan worked, and once Daniel was on, he spread eagle on it to hold balance while Vearden climbed on as well.

“Okay, now what?” Daniel said. “Do we just wait for it to come?” He looked out to spot the frog. What he saw was Philomena, who had just reached the platform the frog was presently on. “Oh no, she’s gonna win!”

“Remember what I said about trusting me?”

“I did, and I lost because of it. Even if the jelly frog gets back in the water now, she won’t have far to go. It physically can’t swim this far out.”

“I want you to jump...that way.” He pointed towards the distortion, which was a couple of feet away from the platform. The other distortion had followed the frog to its new platform, confirming Vearden’s suspicions about it. Daniel clearly still couldn’t see either of them.

“The hell are you talking about?”

“If you jump, you’ll win. But you gotta go now, or you really will lose.”

“This is stupid. What’s that going to accomplish?”

He decided to change tactics. “If you do what I say, you could win this. If you don’t believe me, then you’re too far away to win, so who cares whether you jump or not? Might as well take the risk.”

Daniel looked back to Philomena. She was pulling herself onto the frog’s platform. She was this close to getting it.

“Fine,” Daniel relented. He prepared himself, then jumped right towards the temporal distortion, disappearing into it, and suddenly appearing through the exit distortion in the distance. He was surprised for a few seconds, and needed the time to find his balance, but he knew he had to get over it. He bent down and scooped up the jelly frog just before Philomena’s hand was on it. Fanfare rang out from the hovering drones. Daniel had won. Vearden smiled as he sat down on the platform. He then let himself slip into the water, but instead, he found only his hotel bed.

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Microstory 520: Lone Survivor of Plane Crash Missing

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Since the dawn of man, there have been two questions that no one has ever been able to answer. The first, what is death? And the second, why can’t people die on the eighth day of the eighth month of every year? For however long in the ancient world, people were not even aware of the phenomenon of The Day of No Death. It wasn’t like people were keeping track of such things. If somebody died, and they weren’t a part of your life, you probably didn’t even hear about it. Long after we had come up with our standardized calendar system, based on the rotation and revolution of the planet, people started noticing, however, that something was different on the eighth day in Asher. Had we noticed before, we probably would have based our entire perspective on time around it. As it stands now, the Day of No Death has become a multinational holiday, set aside to remember those we’ve lost to the devastation of war; a day of observance that we call Verren. It is a day marked by fasting, solemnity, and spirituality. It is also when it’s literally impossible to die.

Most people accept the Day of No Death without question. They go about their lives without thinking about it too much. They drink their tea, get on public transportation, and go to work. Some, however, are more curious. Cults have sprung up here and there, trying to push the boundaries. But most of them end in tragedy. First off, a day without death says nothing about a day without pain. Furthermore, it is possible, and quite common, to ultimately succumb to injuries, and die on the ninth day. In fact, most countries consider mortal boundary testing to be illegal, and will prosecute any violation on life, regardless of what day it is. Still, after all these attempts, not a single person has ever died on Asher Ashto...that is, until last week.

Drummond Breckenridge is a salesman from Oklahoma who was just coming back from a business trip in Jacksonville, hubbing in Kansas City, when something happened that never has before. He woke up in the wreckage of the airplane, having not seen what happened. The plane had crashed, and everybody was dead. Everybody...except for Drummond. One hundred and twenty-one people were on Flight 5683, with service to Jacksonville, and only he had survived, even though it was Asher Ashto. Academics from all fields—from biology to religious studies—have been trying to figure out why anyone was able to die on the one day out of the year when that should not be possible. They have come up with nothing in the last few days. Nor can they explain why Breckenridge survived. Nor can they ask him now.

Breckenridge was being interviewed by a group of reporters near his Kansas City hotel when he suddenly disappeared. Some of the reporters claim to have seen him literally vanish before their eyes, while others saw some kind of flash. Though it was dark at the time, and no one knows for sure what happened, what we do know is that Mr. Breckenridge has not been seen since. Below, you’ll find a picture of Drummond Breckenridge, and a tip line to call if you have any information regarding his whereabouts.

Microstory 519: Humans Claim to be From Another Galaxy

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Yesterday, a mysterious space vessel appeared in the upper atmosphere of Slrdr. It managed to land in the middle of a bloodfield, and suffered a great deal of hull damage, but all occupants have reported nothing more than superficial wounds. Several passengers and crew members stepped out of the ship, all of them human. They were immediately taken to the nearest infirmary and treated, but were soon able to meet with an emergency council for a debrief. They claim to have traveled to other galaxies before, but originate from one they called Lactea. The council has released an initial statement on their findings, as spoken by Vizir Shalie Yorton.

Apparently across the entirety of these other galaxies, humans are the only intelligent species. Subspecies, tangent species, and superspecies live alongside their standard form of human, but they are all derived from the same basic genetic code, and were all ultimately genetically engineered. The visitors had never heard of Slrdr, nor could they fully understand that we are not genetically related to humans, but they were not shocked by the news. They’ve all been raised with the idea that they were created in their God’s image, and had simply never had any reason to wonder whether God might want to create a peoples unlike herself. I found the visitors to be kind and accommodating. We first wanted to know if they were stranded in our galaxy, but they said that it was their role in the universe to go wherever fate took them. They treated their arrival here as a sort of planned accident, and currently have no intention of leaving anytime soon. They asked us questions as well, and were particularly fascinated by the idea that Slrdr have eight genders in total. I remember learning in history class of the first time Slrdr made contact with humans, and having to explain our weird alien genders to them. Not in my lifetime did I think I would have the wonderful opportunity to experience a similar scenario.

The Vizir has also said that their conversations are not over, and though the visitors do not represent Lactea in any official capacity, that this marks the beginning of relations with our exciting new neighbors. Historians and experts are currently looking through records to find out whether this Lactea actually refers to the same home galaxy as our other most recent visitor decades ago, Amelia Earhart. The visitors are unsure of this. Meanwhile, they have already expressed an interest in seeing more parts of our galaxies. A tour is presently in the early planning stages. Check back on our domain to find out if your planet is lucky enough to have made it on the list. You may one day soon meet an entirely breed of humans.

Microstory 518: Heavy World Subspecies Created

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Decades ago, a group of scientists and entrepreneurs set about to lead the human race towards a new industrial domain entirely. This was the very beginning of asteroid mining. No longer would we rely solely on the resources found on our one planet. Nor would we need to worry about harming its fragile environment. We could finally set the world onto a path towards health and harmony. But asteroid mining has its limits. Not every material we need, or want, can be found in the Forza Asteroid Field. The time has come for us to reach even farther out in our solar system. Colonization and terraformation are well on their way on the third planet, but those resources belong to the Keresites, and it would be morally objectionable to use them. If we take them unlawfully, we risk war. If we form some kind of trade agreement, then we may be dooming the Keresite descendants to a future riddled with pollution, and other environmental concerns, the likes of which we experience here. Some have expressed interest in exploring the first planet from the sun, but all attempts have either failed, or been cancelled. So, what other options do we have? Well, we call it Darrow; after the discoverer’s daughter’s childhood imaginary friend.

Located just beyond Forza, Darrow is what’s known as a heavy world. It’s much more massive than Keres, or our planet, but still smaller than the gas giants, or  the outer ice planets. Darrow has a stronger atmosphere than Keres, and even a magnetic field. In order to breathe on Darrow, a human would need specialized oxygen equipment, and a few regular acclimation injections, but would otherwise be fine. The real problem with Darrow is that it’s just too massive. The gravity is so high that a normal human being would not be able to survive. Even transhumanists with certain body modifications would have a hard time moving around. They would simply weigh too much for it to be a practical endeavor. Scientists at the company UI but a few months ago completed the final stage of creating an entirely new race of peoples. They are tentatively known as dwarves, but representatives from the company say that name may change, as it has already sparked some confusion with Saratta, the tenth and outermost planetoid in our system. It is sometimes known as the dwarf planet. Dwarves, as in the biological kind, have been genetically engineered to survive on Darrow. They have two sets of lungs, each of which is tailored to the composition of one of the atmospheric planets in question. They are short and sturdy, which gives them the ability to tolerate their own weight on Darrow. The dwarves will be sent to form a new colony, with mined materials being their primary export.

Some on social media have expressed outrage over the development. There appears to be two major concerns. The first is about the morality involved with genetic engineering in the first place. An unborn entity cannot give consent to be born differently. Ivor Leonardson’s granddaughter and actress, Showboat Sharon had this response: “neither can anyone else, [expletive deleted]s.” The other major problem with this project—and one that holds a little more water—is how questionable it is to create a race adapted for the planet they weren’t born on; move them to it, as if they have any legitimate choice; and then ask them to do a particular kind of work that hypothetically not one of them wants to do at all. One commenter, @MagnusImmortalityJunior pointed out, “With advances in AI and robotics, there is no need for a biological entity to work, let alone be an indentured servant. #darrowdwarves”. The Confederacy is already loading up the court system with inquiries into the company’s newest enterprise; this on top of the mountains of litigation that UI is already going through. Hearings are set to begin next week. The UI spokesman, Fred Rinter has declined to release an official statement regarding the organization’s legal troubles.

Microstory 517: A Brief Look at a Crew Ship

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A lot of questions come up when one is discussing the concept of ship-based space travel in this day and age. Automated probes, deep telepathy, virtual reality, and nexa seem to make the whole idea of even building a ship that can carry people pointless. If you want to communicate with someone, you can just send them a telepathic message. If they’re too far away from you, you can connect to the same virtual network. You could even temporarily transfer your consciousness to a different body on the other side, if you absolutely needed to feel what they were feeling in regular space. And if all that fails, you could always just transport yourself through the nexus nodes; a collection of interconnected machines that provide near-instantaneous plex travel. Scientists aren’t 100% sure, but it’s believed that every single star system in this galaxy holds at least one nexus node, and other galaxies are probably the same. So if all this is true, and it’s more efficient and easier than flying in a spaceship, why would anyone do it? The short answer I’ve received from members of a crew is because we can. There’s something to be said for a level of redundancy. Afterall, none of the nexa in the galaxy of Sontea were ever hidden and in need of being uncovered, so ships were simply never invented. This became a problem when a nasty virus spread through the system, blocking all nexus travel for an extended period of time. It would have been nice if they had had some other means of connecting to each other. But there are other reasons for necessity of ships. For one; not everything we want to do takes place near star systems. There are a lot of interesting things happening in interstellar space, and even in the intergalactic voids. In order to study, or enjoy, these things, a ship is the only option.

But just what exactly goes into a crew ship? Well, interestingly enough, every crew ship is fitted with its very own standard nexus transporter. Crews can be exchanged across vast distances at any random point in time, and it also acts as a catastrophic escape plan. On that same tier, you’ll find other transportation; four-passenger flappers, four quantity 108-passenger tetra ships, which are capable only of interstellar travel; five quantity 72-passenger pancha ships, which are small enough to also fit in standard nexa; and also a few drones and probes. To round that all out, you’ll also find the hock. It’s unclear who decided prisoners should be kept so close to so many different means of escape, but it’s the way it is. The next tier up will vary according to individual vessel specifications, but will always feature the main computer core, the engineering room, and a garden. The third tier is all about daily living and work. There is a kitchen, mess hall, infirmary, main conference room, presentation room, and storage rooms. There is even a bathroom, in case the crew encounter someone who can only expel waste manually…like an Earthan. The top tier is where everyone sleeps. Standard configuration provides only a few hundred rooms, but this can be altered. Each room is keyed to its own artificial dimension, which allows it to be almost as big as necessary, and for rooms to overlap with each other up to the plex frequency limit. The tier above this is designated for the bridge, and nothing else. It can, of course be raised and lowered on the z-axis at will. And lastly, we have the astral collimator. Most collimators people use every day can, at most, travel to a star within a single galaxy. This puppy, however, can take a crew ship across the void, into a neighboring galaxy. It’s as tall as a ten-story building, and produces so much heat when powered up, that standing within ten feet of it would result in the immediate death of any biological entity. For a virtual look into every facet of this incredible piece of technology, please access this article using your standard bionic conduits.

Microstory 516: Dasha Sinclair Interview Transcript

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This is the initial interview with Dasha Sinclair, the woman who tore a planet in half with nothing more than her own telekinetic power. We hope to speak with her in more detail at a later date. Click here for the main story...

Diederich Jäger (interviewer): When did you first come up with the idea to tear a planet in half?

Dasha Sinclair: Well, believe it or not, it came from a very short story I read from Earth. I was at a cloud party over Arion when I noticed a crowd huddled around a halo, reading something together. Apparently there’s some prophet, or refugee, or hacker there who knows about what’s going on in the rest of the universe. He writes stories about our history, but he also writes entirely fictional stories, and posts them online. I wouldn’t call him my favorite writer, or anything, but some of his content is kind of interesting. One story in particular caught my eye. Honestly, I don’t remember the details all that well; mostly just what happened at the end. The planet is torn in half, leaving two separate Earths to orbit the sun next to each other. Of course, this would screw up the gravitational pull of each of the halves, and they would probably decay and burn up in the sun, but I was never looking to do this to a habitable planet. I just thought...why not? As it turns out the Martians is why not. It took me forever to get permission.

Jäger: Tell me more about that.

Sinclair: Back in the old days, if you were living on a deveiled planet, all you had to do was put in a simple request with the Masco police. Each request would be run up the chain, and either be rejected, or reviewed. It might take a long time, but it didn’t require a bunch of extra work on the requester’s end. But now that we’ve all come together to form a single community, a whole lot of different people have to approve illegal exceptions. I didn’t send in my proposal once; I sent it in dozens of time, constantly tweaking the language to accommodate all these different divisions’ needs. Fortunately, I had a lot of help.

Jäger: So the Palomino Temple was heavily involved, or just in support of your dream?

Sinclair: Oh, they were completely on board. Yeah, they put me in touch with the right people to actually make the dream a reality. There are so many different facets of our government, and so much compartmentalization. You can’t get anything done if you don’t know who to talk to, when to talk to them, and what to say. The Temple made sure I didn’t make any mistakes.

Jäger: I’ve heard Palomino Shore is kind of your family now, but how is your relationship with your birth family?

Sinclair: We’re okay. They’re not thrilled about what I do. I mean, to them religion is this backwards concept. I can’t blame them. It’s been the root cause of countless wars for single-planet, and even single-system, civilizations. Aitchai is different, though, as there is proof in the power. We’re not just making this up and going on blind faith. Telekinesis is a real thing, and so I guess, if I were going to belong to any religion, they’re glad it’s at least this one.

Jäger: I’ve heard that your youngest brother is interested in telekinesis as well.

Sinclair: He is, yes, but not the germ. He wants to be a pilot. He was inspired by the renegades who saved all those stranded people during the invasion.

Jäger: That’s great. Speaking of non sequiturs, could you tell me real quick about the trench? You first tore it all around the equator. Why was that?

Sinclair: That wasn’t technically necessary, but I had two practical choices. Either I could do the whole thing myself, and start with a trench, or I could use augmented reality technology. I didn’t want any assistance, except for a space suit, of course. What the trench did was allow for a cleaner cut. If I flew back in space and then tried to just start tearing Malcomicron apart, it would be jagged. At least that’s how I understand it. A bunch of geologists told me to start with what they called a pilot cut.

Jäger: I see. So what’s next for Dasha Sinclair? Are you going to keep tearing apart planets, or what?

Sinclair: Well, one thing some people may not know, is that Aitchai is about more than just moving things with your mind. That’s just what people use for it on a regular basis. Something that germ TK users are hypothetically capable of is more fundamental molecular manipulation. I would like to explore what other things I can do with this power. Who knows, maybe someday I’ll even put Malcomicron back together.

Jäger: Now that is something that I would like to see.

Sinclair: Yeah, if we can learn to harness matter on a subatomic scale, nanotechnology will seem as ancient as machines that you have to plug into a grid. We would be able to do anything with that kind of technology. We might even learn where the Aitchai comes from. That’s going to take a long time, though, and lots of people will have to be interested in exploring it. Right now, though, I’m going to be taking a sabbatical. I might even ask permission to visit Earth

Jäger: How long would that be for?

Sinclair: I’m thinking just around a decade, which means don’t expect any results on my new endeavor tomorrow [laughs].

Jäger: Wow, well we’re excited about the next chapter in the Dasha Sinclair story. I know you have to get back to meeting your fans, but is there anything else you’d like to say about this latest adventure?

Sinclair: I do need to make sure I remember to thank everyone who turned this into a reality. I feel so grateful for everyone involved. Many people had to come together to make this thing even possible. I especially want to thank the representatives from Exile for advocating for me so vehemently. They didn’t have to do that, but they showed me a kindness that I can only hope to somehow repay them someday. I would like to thank the Core leaders, my fans, and of course, the Palomino Shore Aitchai Temple, which became part of my family.

Jäger: Thank you, Dasha.

Sinclair: Thank you.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 30, 1945 (Reprise)

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It was like looking at himself in the mirror. Except that there was no mirror, and he was literally looking at himself. Arcadia had placed him into the body Makarion while Makarion was already being possessed by Gilbert Boyce, a.k.a. The Rogue. Possessionception. This was no ordinary adventure with Gilbert, though. This was the day that everything changed; some things for the better, others not so much. This was the 30th day of April in 1945. This was the day that Adolf Hitler died. This was the day that Mateo Matic made a conscious and dispassionate decision to kill him.

Mateo, now in Makarion’s body, was holding a gun to Hitler’s face. In just a few seconds, Past!Mateo would take the gun from Makarion’s hand, and do the dirty deed. The whole point of this exercise was to decide whether Mateo was willing to change the past, or let things play out as he remembered. If things went according to plan, Mateo would never be born, Leona would be raised by his adoptive parents, and Ed would be reincarnated as Téa. If, on the other hand, he prevented his past self from carrying out the mission, things would revert back to the reality before...or at least something more closely resembling it. Mateo would be born, be turned into a salmon, and accidentally piss off Horace Reaver. Horace would dedicate his entire life to getting back at him, and never get the chance to meet the love of his life, Serkan Demir. Oh my God, Mateo thought to himself. There are too many variables.

“Give me the gun,” Past!Mateo said to the Mateo in Makarion’s body. The first time this happened, he just took it from Makarion’s hand. The script had already been changed. There was no telling what consequences that would leave, and Mateo had yet to decide whether that was the preferable alternative. Past!Mateo spoke again, “I’m here to do this, so let me do it.”

“Wait,” Mateo said. “Maybe there’s another way.”

“If you know of a way out of this...” Past!Mateo trailed off before coming back to it. “Well, I was gonna say that I’m happy to hear it, but I’m not. Hitler has to die, so why are we even standing here?”

Hitler was frozen in place, not by some temporal power, but because he turned out to be a cowardly piece of shit little man with no strength of his own, and had always relied on millions of people following his rhetoric. He was the Donald Trump of the 1940s.

“This isn’t you, Mateo,” Mateo said to his other self. This was weird, even for him. “You’re not a killer.”

“I’ve killed before,” Past!Mateo boasted. “I killed the first Rogue.” Then his face turned, because of course, he wasn’t really proud of that moment.

Present!Mateo recalled what he was feeling in this moment. He was scared out of his mind, but also determined and righteous. That didn’t mean it was actually right. “That’s not the same thing. That was the heat of the moment. You also made that choice on your own. This is being thrust upon you, and that’s not fair. That’s entrapment...the worst kind.”

“Someone has to do it, so it might as well be me,” Past!Mateo said, likely realizing how impoverished the logic.

“No, it doesn’t.” Mateo took a deep breath. I’ll do it.”

“You can’t.” Past!Mateo had a nervous look on his face. Yeah, he did not like seeing himself like this. Was he always this broody? God, he would have to find a way to change that. “The Cleanser sent me. He won’t let it happen any other way.”

“Well, you...you let me deal with him.”

Hitler said some bullshit nothingness in German. Theodore watched them patiently, knowing that it was best to not interject.

“I know you’re trying to prove that you’re better than my first impression of you,” Past!Mateo began, “but you could make things worse. Let’s just go with the original plan. Go ahead and hand me that gun. You can look away if you have to.”

This was Arcadia’s design. She was giving him a choice. Presumably that was to kill Hitler, or to not. But it was more complicated than that. It was not binary. Few things were. It was true that Hitler had to die in this moment. He now knew that for sure. Whatever bad that caused to the timeline, it meant a few extra years without one of the most despicable humans in history. That philosophical hypothetical about whether you would kill Hitler as a teenager was something he would never be able to answer. But this was simple. This Hitler wasn’t a teenager, he was a grown-ass man. The satisfaction from having removed that man from the face of the Earth was too good to pass up. In fact, he was looking forward to do it again. But this was about second chances. He would go on with his life, however long or short that was, and know that he was the man who actually killed Adolf Hitler. Meanwhile, however, most people would believe it to be suicide. A select few—the other time travelers, that is—would think they knew the truth; that he was shot point blank by the Rogue, Makarion Dimitrios. No one else would ever know what really happened here today. He wouldn’t even tell Leona.

The Mateo in Makarion’s body took one last look at his past self and couldn’t help but give him a look of pity, like he was a puppy who couldn’t figure out where the ball his human had purportedly thrown had landed. Then, just like before, he pulled the trigger. From his memory, he had killed Hitler twice. Not even Dean Winchester could brag about such an accomplishment. And the best part about it was that everyone but himself, Arcadia, and probably Gilbert, would go on thinking that Gilbert was the one who actually did it. Hopefully Arcadia wouldn’t use this information against him at some point. And hopefully this slight change in history wouldn’t have some unexpected, and scary repercussions.

Mateo blinked and found himself somewhere else; a garden of some kind. Arcadia was bent over a few feet away, picking something off the ground. “Did I do something wrong?”

“This isn’t math, Mateo,” Arcadia said, standing up and examining her prize. “There is no right or wrong. You did what you did, and now it’s done.”

“You have a better perspective. How did that change affect the timeline?”

“Eh, dead is dead. Very little was affected, except for these.” She handed him what appeared to be reddish mushrooms.

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m joking, you didn’t do this. But what you did was similar to what created, and ultimately destroyed these little guys.” She took the mushrooms back. These are called rust mushrooms. They’re a variation of a different species, I don’t remember either of their scientific names.” She smelled the cap like one would a flower. “The powers that be sent someone back to the 16th century to study the last days of a peoples called the Mississippians. The salmon accidentally introduced a modern spore to his environment and created this...beautiful specimen. She held the mushrooms up to the sunlight. She then carefully drew her hand down at a particular angle and held them on the ground. “Do you see that? There’s some chemical or whatever that scatters the light in a special way, turning the surrounding grass a different color. No plant can do that...nor can any other fungus, for that matter. You see, the time traveling spore latched onto a preexisting species and created a new evolutionary branch, which eventually ended up like this. It’s not important. It’s not medicinal, or hallucinatory, and it’s completely inedible. But it is..beautiful.

“What I’m holding here is a carry-over from an alternate reality. We keep copies of all species from all realities in this dimension. It’s maintained by a lovely couple known as The Horticulturalists. They’re two of the oldest of our kind, and they have dedicated their immortalities to a cause that most people couldn’t care less about. A second salmon was sent to the seventeenth century to do some kind of whatever, carrying a modern seed—completely ignorantly again, of course. This seed mutated a new strain of plant that had a strange consequence for the rust mushroom. It choked the life out of it as it propagated itself. Within a decade, all rust mushrooms were so dead that botanists didn’t even bother recording them. No one knows that they exist, except for the Horticulturalists, and me...and now you.”

“What does this mean?”

“This kind of thing is happening all the time. Salmon and choosers are making minor changes that no one notices, and can’t appreciate. My family could, though. It used to be our job.”

“So this is about them?”

“No, this is about you.” She, both dramatically and casually, crushed the mushroom between her hands and let the spores float around to make more. “Memory is a funny thing. I’ve protected you from forgetting anything that happens from the beginning of the expiations, until the end. But now I’ve sent people into the past, and they’ve changed things. When you return to the island, you’ll find a few major changes you weren’t expecting. Don’t be upset, but you’ll be the one out of the loop this time. Others in your group made their own choices, and you had no control over them.” She stopped talking.

“Please,” Mateo asked of her, “just tell me.”

“Hitler is dead, just like before, but you didn’t kill him, which means your 1975 conversations were different, as were future conversations. This had a ripple effect that I won’t bore you by mapping out completely.”

“Stop dancing around it. I can handle anything now.”

“Your daughter, Kivi. Her origins were complicated, but also now moot. You’ve still erased yourself from the timeline. You were never born, and Leona didn’t meet you until the 2080s, but just the simple act of letting Makarion do what you were meant to do resulted in Kivi never having been born either.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry. I truly am. When you go back to the island, you’ll have memories of her, but no one else will know what you’re talking about. Likewise, you may not recognize everyone there.” Was that last part good or bad?

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