Microstory 537: What Will Happen When Mosi Jengo Dies?

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It has been a couple decades now since Bellevue—the organization responsible for collecting and distributing people with extraordinary abilities—first revealed its truth. Since then, we’ve all had our ups and downs, but in the end, true progress was made. Each anomaly was placed in a particular department, with only a few left over who chose some other vocation, or existed on the fringes of society. Today, I’m going to talk about Mosi Jengo. Jengo was born to a poor family of wheat farmers. Misunderstanding the properties of his own power, he inadvertently killed his mother with lightning in an attempt to protect her from an attacker. Following this traumatic event, he was taken under the wing of the leader of the gang that first attacked them. Together, they used Jengo’s abilities to alter weather patterns across all of Tanzania, eventually fixing the entire country’s economy.

Jengo was soon recruited into Bellevue, like many before him, and expanded his power. He ultimately developed the strength and focus to monitor and adjust the global climate itself, and this is what he does with his life on a regular basis. But what happens when Mosi Jengo dies. Other anomaly abilities have been studied and recreated using technology. Francis Deering helped doctors and scientists understand how to perform more advanced sex reassignment operations. Extremely reliable augmented reality was developed on the basis of Quang Phan’s ability to superimpose information on his environment with his eyesight alone. Bree Nolan’s ability to inherently understand family trees led to instantaneous genetic testing techniques. For some reason that this writer cannot understand, Mosi Jengo has never participated in such experimentation. It would seem that Bellevue, and the world governments, are content to have him control the weather for them. What’s the endgame here? How can this method be at all sustainable? The important question here is the one I asked that caught your attention to this article...what happens when Mosi Jengo inevitably dies? What will the world do then?

Microstory 536: Meganexa Completed, Core Construction Finished

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Two-thousand and four hundred years ago, the largest project in the Lactean galaxy began. Over the course of the millennia preceding this endeavor, races from many planets started finding each other. We shared technologies, initiated trade agreements, and started a few wars; nothing too serious. Faster-than-light travel is practically effortless. Put a little energy in, flip over to a simplex dimension, and regain all the energy you lost while inside...enough to get you back out, and then back in again later. Still, it would never have been the difficulty of interaction that bothered us. The fact of the matter is that we love each other, and we wanted to be closer together. And so a plan was formed. We would abandon our respective planets, for the most part, and move into one solar system. But what system could that be? An average of 3.4 planets can be found within the habitable zone of any given solar system. That’s technically enough space for everyone, if we were to be really clever with megastructures, but we didn’t want to have to do that. We wanted space, and we wanted it to be perfect. Nature just doesn’t accommodate such a dream, and as they say, if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.

Fortunately, with our combined technological prowess, and our capacity for patience, we didn’t need to find a solar system large enough for this new culture. We could just build it ourselves. We spent about a hundred years doing nothing but drawing up plans. Architects from all over submitted their visions. Discussions and bureaucracy took up a lot of time. Public perception needed to be adjusted, and acceptance achieved. Just because a group of dreamers thought something was a good idea, didn’t mean that everyone would, or like what we came up with. We would have to play the long game, and not all of us have chosen a post-organic virtual immortality lifestyle. Some people still choose to eventually die, so asking them to help with a project they won’t be alive to see completed is not entirely reasonable. After the planning stages were finished, though, we could finally begin construction.

We formed an entirely new star, one generated by siphoning off energy from the simplex dimensions. This allows us greater control over solar weather, and ultimately creates a more hospitable environment. After that was done, we started building planets and moons. When you can manipulate gravity itself, you don’t have to be limited to a single planet in a single orbit. You can squeeze them in together, and watch as they perpetually follow each other around the star, neither one ever catching up with the other. All in all, we built 121 planets, with a total of 400 moons. Some of these carry atmosphere, while others rely on self-sustaining enclosures. Some are for living, some are for food, and one planet is just for parties, and other special events.

Four years ago, primary architect, Cillian Hême reluctantly stood before a press conference, and announced the official completion of our great new system. But he was not satisfied with this. He felt that something was missing. Then he saw it. The vorther planets. Two sentries floating farthest from our host star, used for deep space telemetry, and not much else. They’re also only marginally more helpful as a warning system than anything else we have, and only if a threat arrives in realtime from a limited set of directions. They were really only built for the symmetry. But Hême realized that they could be used for something else. Though intergalactic travel can be done with a ship, it still takes some time. Our most efficient form of travel is using a Nexus machine. Unfortunately, these are rather small, and accommodate only a handful of people, or minimal cargo. If, on the other hand, we altered the plans by several orders of magnitude, we could drill a giant hole in the vorthers, and create a new kind of Nexus. We call them the Meganexa, and they allow vast numbers of ships, or one gargantuan ship, to travel to the far reaches of space nearly instantaneously. Today, Cillian Hême stood proudly at his podium, and announced that this marks the true completion of the Core project. We now have a fully functional star system, and we couldn’t have done it without the hard work and sacrifice of people who died long ago. A system wide party is being planned on Arion within one month’s time. Details will arrive at a later date, but literally everyone is invited. Somehow, we’ll fit all hundreds of billions of us on one planet.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 3, 2118

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Over the course of the next couple of hours, the first immortal remained motionless on the ground. Mateo felt bad about hoping he was dead, but was also sort of over that kind of guilt. It wasn’t really helpful to strive for what he was before becoming a salmon. He needed to move forward, and sometimes, in a world like this, certain deaths can produce benefits. While he was waiting for confirmation, Mateo fought against his chains, little by little wearing them down. They were crudely bolted into the wall of the sorry excuse for a cave, and he was actually having some luck, but then the first immortal woke up, and it was over. Without even looking up, the immortal crawled over to a stake in the ground, pulled the chain attached to it towards his chest, and eventually managed to lock it around Mateo’s leg. Mateo didn’t really know what the point of that was. He wasn’t making that much progress with his current chains, and either way, he would be free of whatever the immortal used after the jump into next year. Well, he was wrong about that last part.

The immortal released him from his wall chains, and let him roam in a few meter radius, presumably because it would be easier to construct five sides of Mateo’s new prison, rather than having to contend with a rock face. Following the jump to 2118, Mateo found himself in yet another cell, this one made of wood and lashings. It wasn’t as roomy as the one Reaver threw him in a long time ago in an alternate reality Australia, and it wasn’t as hospitable as the government sanctioned Topeka jail cell his cousin, Danica kept him in. It was, however, sturdy and impenetrable. The immortal had been provided an entire year to perfect it, so he had taken advantage. It actually wasn’t technically just the one cell. The cube he was in was probably nine foot by nine foot, with a shallow pit dug into the center. It was surrounded by another cube about eleven by eleven foot. The third was likely thirteen by thirteen. They weren’t completely hollow either. Each cube had a narrow passageway that wrapped all the way around until reaching the door to the next one.

“Redundancy,” the immortal said while sipping something out of a coconut-like fruit. “You might get out of one cube, but then what are you gonna do? How much time do you think it’ll take you, and how much time do you think I spend hunting away from camp?”

“I get it,” Mateo responded. “You’re a clever boy.”

“That I am. I have been around for...quite awhile.”

“How old are you?”

“All the old. Every old.”

“Cute.” He did his best to look apathetic, when in reality, it was nice to have some conversation. “Got a name?”

“Ambrosios.”

“Ambrosios what?”

“Just Ambrosios. We didn’t have last names when I was born.”

Mateo nodded. “I see. Well, it doesn’t seem that we were properly introduced. My name is Mateo Matic. They did have last names when I was born.”

He didn’t say anything.

“What do you want with me?”

“I’ve not yet figured that out. All I know is that this is my island, I want to leave it, and you may be able to help me with that.”

“I am salmon. I cannot go anywhere. We're stuck on this island, and this planet…together. Like a cross between Hell in the Pacific, and Enemy Mine. You may as well let me go. I neither can, nor would, hurt you. Besides, if I’m free from here, I’ll be able to feed myself.”

“Who said I’ll be feeding you?”

He thought about this for a cool minute. Obviously that was entirely up to Ambrosios. He could let Mateo starve, and probably wouldn’t even be bothered by it. But it was possible he would, with a little encouragement. “Your heart told me.”

This made Ambrosios legitimately smile, which was probably something he rarely did in a place like this.

“Please,” Mateo continued. “I’m only here for one day every year. You’ll only have to worry about me during those days. For the rest of your time, you’ll be completely safe.”

“I won’t be safe, not from the rhinos.”

“There are rhinos on this planet?”

“They’re not actual rhinos, that’s just what I call them, because they have no name of their own.”

“Well...you’ll be completely safe from me. In fact, you’re safe even while I’m around. I am not a violent man. Xearea can attest to that.”

“Who?”

“Just a friend. You never knew her.”

Ambrosios didn’t speak for some time as he was chowing down on what could have been alien rhino meat. “I worked really hard on that cell,” he spoke with his mouth full.

“And it’s very impressive. We could use it for something else, like a cage for your livestock, or bait for the rhinos.”

“You really want out of there, don’t you? It’s been, what, five minutes? Wuss.”

“I have this thing about being locked up. It is not my first time.”

Ambrosios set down his food and approached, still chewing. “My immortality is wearing off.” He paused. “But it has not worn off yet. You will not be able to kill me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I really wouldn’t.”

“Get in the fetal position in the pit. Close your eyes.”

Mateo did as he was told and waited as Ambrosios slowly unlocked the series of redundant openings. He didn’t unlock the last one, though. Instead, he threw the key into the pit with Mateo. “You can do the rest.”

As Mateo was standing back up, he could see Ambrosio make his way out of the cage maze. Mateo unlocked the final padlock, and started following him, but was careful to not make any sudden movements, or appear at all threatening.

Ambrosios grabbed his bow, and some arrows. “I’m going hunting. When I get back, all of my belongings better still be here...and you better not be. If I ever see you again, I’m shooting you on the spot.”

“Fair enough.” Once Ambrosios was gone, he stole a few pieces of fruit that he couldn’t see growing in the nearby area, and ran off in the opposite direction.

Shelter. He need to find shelter. He didn’t need it to be that great, but it needed to stand up for years, and it needed to already exist, because he didn’t have much time on his hands. It was growing dark, and Mateo was starving, having long ago finished the last of what he decided to call lionfruit. He came across a few signs of life; wooden cups, broken handcrafted chairs, an empty lighter. Either Ambrosia had come here with a few things, or others had been here at some point. He started thinking about what else would be on this planet. Leona said it would have to be about the size of Earth in order to have the same gravity and temporal durations. Xearea had said something earlier about the mainland. Was it inhabited? Was this just a regular planet with natives, going about their days with no clue that humans were in a few disparate places? What kind of technology did they possess. Were they aware of time travel? Were these thoughts at all useful to him? They did at least protect him from dwelling too much on his hunger, so that was something.

As twilight was nearing its end, he found a short tree with more lionfruit. He grabbed a few and started carrying them in his shirt before continuing on. Shelter was still number one priority. He couldn’t build a fire until he knew where it should go. As he was savoring every moment of one lionfruit, he nearly ran into something. No, it wasn’t something, it was someone. The newcomer had presumably been focusing on the Compass of Disturbance, but it wasn’t The Navigator. No, it was Mateo Matic himself. He had run into his own doppelgänger. The two Matics stared at each other for a few seconds. The true Mateo cleared his throat and wiped some juice from his chin. Navigator Mateo looked back at his compass and walked past without saying a word. Mateo found his breath again, and then moved on as well. Leona’s fourth rule for time travel, avoid alternate versions of yourself. He would try to forget about the encounter as best he could, paranoid that anything short of total obliviousness could result in the collapse of the spacetime continuum.

Just before it was too dark to really see where he was going, he noticed a glint of light. After clearing some reddish-green brush and other debris, he could see that it was coming from the metallic surface of a vehicle. The car was just sitting here on the edge of the woods, possibly from having been left for decades. Rust had formed on the all around, and the engine wouldn’t start, even with the key in the ignition. According to the gauge, there did appear to be gas in the tank, but the battery must have died. Welp, there was no way to charge it here, and it wasn’t like the gas could still be potent after all this time? Could it? No, probably not. It was, however, a good enough shelter. He also found a few supplies in the trunk; a first aid kit, jump starter cables, a blanket, a case of bottled water, and a few miscellaneous items. Someone must have been driving around one day when they accidentally fell into a temporal rift, ending up here. This 1985 Toyota Camry could have been new at the time of arrival, but right now, it was just going to be where Mateo slept.

He built a fire on the beach and sat there for a few minutes before realizing that it was kind of pointless. There was nothing to boil the water in, because what did plastic do when heated again? Heh, science, right? He just drank it plain, and hoped he wouldn’t get sick. Or he could get sick, whatever. Did it really matter at this point in his life? He put the fire out, grabbed the blanket, and crawled into the backseat.

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Voyage to Saga: Character Assassin (Part VIII)

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The Shepherd was sitting in a chaise in the corner of the suite when Vearden woke up a few days after his last challenge. “What are you reading?” he asked.

“This little story called Seeing is Becoming.”

“Is it any good?”

“Not as good as the sequel...which isn’t as good as the third one.”

He nodded politely, but she surely knew that he was just making small talk so that he could get into something more serious. “What was that?”

“That was a dark reality. You saw the beginnings of the end of the world on that plane earlier, but you didn’t really see an apocalypse scenario. You didn’t see what people become when they lose everything they have, including their sense of truth.”

“Is God real?”

She squinted and tilted her head. “God and reality are tricky things. You’ve seen first hand that other realities exist. Other universes, that is. Each of these potentially follows a different set of physical laws...but they can’t be too different, can they? I mean, laws are laws not just because that’s how it happens to be, but also because they follow a certain level of logic. Gravity pulls things together. No universe exists without it. Well,” she amended, “not habitable ones. What I mean is that it wouldn’t make sense if gravity pushed things apart, because then nothing would be there at all. So that’s a constant. It may be stronger or weaker from one universe to another, but it’s always there. What other constants may there be? Well, when molecules speed up, heat is released, and when they slow down, that’s what we perceive as cold. There’s no way there’s a universe where the opposite is true. Check off another constant. What about life? Well, you’ve met aliens. Hell, you were dealing with humans in the universe where you donated blood, but they too were aliens, because they weren’t from Earth. Is life any more different across universes than it is within them? Not really. Those constants I was telling you about can have different properties, and that can alter evolution, but in the end, life is life.

“So when you ask me whether God is real, you might as well ask if ghosts are...or if there’s a universe out there where little boys and girls ride a train to a school that teaches them how to do magic. Or if there’s a galaxy far, far away where people—mostly men—have space magic, and fight each other for no fucking reason. Yes, these things are real. Of course they’re real. But some things are less real than others, because they’re formed uniquely by a different variable. Some of these variables are strong, while others not so much. Some God variables make magic, but others make time travel.”

“God variable?” Vearden was more confused than ever.

“Yes,” the Shepherd confirmed. “That’s the best equivalent I have for your linguistic comprehension. God as the rule-maker.”

“Are you a God?”

She smiled. “No.” She closed her book and set it on the ottoman. “But I am a variable.”

“So, what now?”

“You just saw first hand how strange other universes can be, and I’m glad we had this conversation, because it actually fits quite nicely with where you’re going now. The world you are about to enter is not unlike the one you lived in before you found out that you were a salmon. There is one person in it, though, who is...different.”

“How so?”

“He perceives fictional realities as real. He superimposes his corrupted perceptions onto his environment.”

“But you’ve said that fictional realities are real.”

“They are...and they aren’t. He’s managed to pierce that veil, so to speak, and it’s driving him insane. He’s hurting people because of it.”

“And you want me to stop him?”

“I want you to do whatever you can do when you get there.” She climbed onto his bed and gently pressed his shoulders back down. “For now, I just want you to count down from ten.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

“Okay. Ten.” He was starting to feel sleepy. “Nine.” He could barely keep his eyelids open. “Eight. Saga, Saga...”

Vearden felt like he was dreaming, but he knew that this was all as real as anything he had experienced in the last however much time had passed. At first he couldn’t move. He was just sitting and staring forward, drool dripping out of his mouth. He could hear two people talking—no, arguing—somewhere to his left.

“No, you have to let me go so I can help this man.”

“You were supposed to help people, but you were selfish. You only thought of yourself. You can’t make up for it now.”

“Please, he needs medical attention.”

“He’s had it. And you are about to experience the same thing. You deserve worse. I hear the procedure is quite peaceful.”

“I don’t think that’s true, and I don’t deserve it. I did nothing wrong.”

“You hurt people. I’ve seen it.”

“That was a TV show! That’s not really me!”

“You think I don’t know that! I know that! But...but, you—this has to be done. I’m sorry it has to be you, but you’re the closest thing I have to the real thing. Ian is real...and I have to get rid of him for you, so you’re just Jason. You can be a doctor again.”

“I’m not a doctor, I’m an actor!”

“Yes, but you are quantum entangled with your character. Look, I know you can’t see it, but I can, and you have to trust me. You’re the only one I can actually help. The others were evil, but you’re both evil and good. I can make you whole again.”

“You’re gonna tear out my brain, how is that gonna make me—” They stopped talking.

Only then did Vearden realize that he was standing up. In fact, he had been slowly trying to regain control of his body the entire time.

“Let me out of here so I can help him, ‘cause I know you’re not gonna do it,” said the one who was clearly the good guy in this situation.

“I’ve already helped him. I told you this. I will not say it again.”

Vearden was able to finally turn his head and assess the scene. Things were a tad bit blurry, but one of them was strapped to a medical table of some kind, while the other was wearing a labcoat. Vearden couldn’t speak.

The fake doctor smiled at Vearden as he approached. “The procedure went better than even I could have hoped. You were an excellent practice run. For an invader, you’ve actually helped our reality immensely. If only you knew.”

“Sir, sir!” the hostage yelled. “If you can run, just go. Get out of here before he hurts you again. Don’t try to help me.”

Vearden tried to speak again, but more drool fell out. The fake doctor pulled a towel from his pocket and wiped Vearden’s face. “There, there. Why don’t you sit back down? You obviously have an innate urge to see what’s going on around you, so I will let you watch me work.” He helped Vearden back down, then turned the wheelchair towards the hostage.

“No! Just run!” the hostage pleaded again.

“Quiet, Ian!” the fake doctor ordered.

“I’ve told you as well. My name is Steven Pasquale. I played a character named Ian Price, but none of that is real. And even if you’re right, and he’s real in some other reality, how does that have anything to do with me?”

“You two...well, three, have been infused with each other.”

“Wh—” Vearden struggled to say. “Wha—who?”

“You can speak,” the fake doctor said with excitement. “A little. Well, if you wanna know, I’ll tell you.” He walked back to the hostage, who was apparently named Steven Pasquale, and gestured towards him. “This man portrayed a character on a television series called Do No Harm. But this wasn’t just any character. It was about a man with a split personality. He was actually two people. One was evil, and the other good. Now people think that none of that is real, but it is. They all exist in a different universe, and for some reason, our universes have collided. Some of the evil people from those other universes have possessed the bodies of their doppelgängers; the actors who played them. I call them the avatars.”

“That’s insane!” Steven argued.

“Of course you would say that,” the fake doctor argued back. He looked towards Vearden once more. “You see, my friend, this is not your universe. You belong somewhere else.” He looked back down to Steven. “And so does he.” He reached behind him and grabbed a long tool that looked like an ice pick from the little surgical table.

Vearden tried to scream no, but nothing came out. Or very little, he couldn’t really tell the difference at this point. The fake doctor had really messed up his head. Was this permanent? Seems cruel, even for the Shepherd.

The fake doctor wasted no more time, and started slowly aiming the long tool at Steven’s left eye. Steven protested and yelled for help as loud as he could, but no one came. The room didn’t look particularly sanitary, so it was probably in an abandoned building on the edge of town. Vearden certainly couldn’t help. He felt like he would have trouble keeping his tongue from the back of his throat if he were lying down.

He watched as the fake doctor reached over, presumably trying to find another tool. Suddenly, he turned the sharp tool around, and jammed it straight into his own eye. Blood spurted out and onto Steven’s face.

“Oh my God!” Steven screamed, but his cry was no match for the fake doctor’s howls of agony.

“I did not think it would hurt that much!” the fake doctor yelled. “Dear God, I think I pushed it too far in. Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah! I need to leave! Get me out of here, I’m done! Oh wait, no, that’s right. He pawed at Steven’s wrist restraint with his one free hand, while the other kept pressure on his eye. After some struggle with the restraint, he was able to pull it loose enough so that Steven could free himself even more. “Please get him out of here,” the fake doctor asked Steven, pointing to Vearden.

“Uhh...okay?”

“One more thing,” he approached Vearden a little, but didn’t seem to want to be too close. “Vearden. A word of warning, do not accept anything from The Superintendent, except for Saga, and the car. Remember that. Saga and the car. Those are the only things you want. Anything else is straight out of a say no to drugs ad, you hear m—?” The fake doctor jumped a little, interrupting his own sentence. “What the hell is going  on, what just happened to me?”

Steven still hadn’t gotten himself quite out of the restraints.

“How did you get out of that?” the fake doctor demanded to know.

“Shit,” Steven muttered. He grabbed a hammer from the surgical table and bashed it over the fake doctor’s temple.  “Ah, damn, I didn’t like that.” He went back to undoing his second wrist restraint before moving on to his legs. He then hopped off the table, and took hold of Vearden’s wheelchair. “Let’s get out of here, buddy.”

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Microstory 535: Suspended Animation Essentially Achieved

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For decades now, many science fiction stories have attempted to tell stories about the unreal through a lens of realism. Writer take a hard position on what’s possible, and try to include real scientific data as much as they can. Sure, for every realistic portrayal of advanced technology, there is an example of something ludicrous. I think we all don’t remember the short-lived series Thunderriders, wherein the characters travel to other planets using inexplicably instantaneous interstellar lightning. Bear in mind that this wasn’t released in the seventeenth century, or something. This was only about twenty years ago, when such nonsense would have been easily debunked by any preliminary school student. There is some fiction, however, that is so revolutionary and innovative that they inspire real inventions. Some have been minor, like the fact that television sets themselves used to be perfect squares, until the primary director of the android matriarch series Motherboard, Osildr Herro—no scientist herself—pointed out that human eyes are evolutionarily designed to see the horizon. She’s famously [mis]quoted as saying, “kaida are too dumb to watch TV...why do we design it for their vertical eyes!” Other fiction-inspired inventions include the use of radar for driverless vehicles in the Whirly Anthology, flexible computer screens from Red Balm comics, and the prediction of a particle accelerator in the 1175 epic, Two Hearts by a River.

The most recent of these extraordinary advances comes in the form of something called suspended animation. While certain astrophysicists are working hard on both discovering, and developing, faster-than-light technology, others are solving the problem of isolation without it. Instead of traveling to an exoplanet using a tensor drive (or with interstellar lightning) a team of researchers at Pathelay-Alben University propose remaining within subluminal speeds. Travelers could theoretically reach the stars in a more realistic timeframe, but not have to actually experience the time it takes to do so. It’s called a sleeper ship, and it keeps its passengers in a deep state of hibernation. While in stasis, travelers do not age, or metabolize. They do not exercise, or interact with each other, or do anything other than sleep. Perhaps they dream. This concept has been a staple in harder science fiction for decades, and the truth is that we’ve been able to put humans in stasis for awhile now. The only problem...is getting them back out. “Cryopreservation,” according to lead scientist Haxel Jones, “is just a fancy way of saying death. That’s the easy part. Our kind has been killing since literally the very beginning. What we couldn’t always do was prevent tiny ice crystals from forming in the body’s system, which ultimately ruptures tissue, and leads to irreversible damage. Now we can.”

Though the team is keeping details secret for now, so as to protect their intellectual property, there are a few things that we know. They have created a perfect formula that places the traveler in suspended animation. One vital role it plays is protecting the body from ice using an otherwise completely harmless new chemical antifreeze. But that can’t be all there is. Different parts of the body will freeze at different rates, and simply injecting the formula into the traveler would never work. And so the team has also devised a delivery system ,with very little room for error, that transforms the body at the exact right pace. While travelers are asleep, an artificial intelligence (one that does not yet exist) would carry the vessel on the journey on its own, and revive them at the right time. More information will be published scientific journals starting next month.

Microstory 534: Cause of Strange Weather Events in Bellevue Found

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The day that the computer was officially invented is hard to pin down. It was a long and difficult process, with little solutions happening in succession. Most historians and other authorities on the matter agree, however, that the most vital breakthroughs occurred in the year 1724. And what everyone can agree on is that it changed everything. Not too terribly long after, the personal computer was invented, which allowed the common person to learn at literally the speed of light. After that, we started connecting these machines to each other, further allowing data to be transferred instantaneously. Suddenly, you didn’t have to live near Deko Garden Library to read anything you wanted. Philosophers and economists refer to this as the flatworld phenomenon. Whereas before you were limited by your geography, financial station, and access to education, you could now become anyone. Entire nations were lifted up to the level of prosperity previously relegated to the elite few. This was a slow and treacherous journey; one that we are still on, but for the most part, things have become better.

Unfortunately, the simplicity of data-sharing comes also with danger. Yes, if you aspire to become something greater, you can find the resources you need, even on your own. But this also means if you aspire to become something wrong, it’s difficult for anyone to stop you. For the last few months, the city of Bellevue—the so called heart of civilization—has been experiencing erratic, and sometimes deadly, weather events. Miniature tornadoes have appeared out of nowhere in the middle of a busy city street. Lightning has struck the exact same spot hundreds of times. It has not stopped raining in the Meltousey District for four weeks. The situation grew so out of hand that residents and visitors started evacuating. In fact, the more people who left, the more the weather calmed. There seemed to be a positive correlation between the number of people within Bellevue’s borders, and the intensity of the weather. This meant that the weather wasn’t so unpredictable...it was actually being controlled, by someone. Now all that was needed was to find out who these people were. A brave team of Detectives of Science reentered Bellevue. Apparently sensing their presence, the weather events increased to the highest magnitude than ever before, presumably in an effort to force the SDS back out. Yet they, equipped with specially designed protection, persevered. They were able to trace the source of the weather problems to a location, and quickly made an arrest. What they discovered was that the machine causing all this havoc was being operated by a single individual. Little is known about this person, or her motivations, at the moment. The only information on her that has been released has been a name. She calls herself...Meteora.

Microstory 533: Man Claims to Know Where Flipcoats Come From

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Approximately 117 years ago, something extraordinary happened. Now historical figure, Dooney Parks became the first flipper in the galaxy. He had just gotten out of the shower when he felt a searing pain all over his upper body. At first he thought he was having some kind of delusional episode, but then the shock subsided, and he realized that some kind of torture device had been wrapped around his torso, and embedded in his skin. He couldn't remove it, his doctor couldn’t remove it, and scientists could not explain it. By the time the story became interstellar news, a second individual, Mercy Grace Hillsboro found herself experiencing the exact same thing. She too was unclothed at the time. No one knew what to make of these developments, even after more and more people unwillingly became flippers. After a while, however, these flippers began to notice some changes in their lives. One of them happened to be a gunner during a war with a rival nation on her home planet. She discovered that she could not be hurt. No matter what, her fighter jet was never damaged enough to cause a crash, not even following a direct hit by the enemy. Another won the planetary lottery twice in a row, that is, before a law was hastily passed that disqualified all past winners.

Things were just working out for these people, if only despite the constant pain they felt from their flipcoats. Still, scientists were completely baffled as to how these seemingly magical devices worked, where they came from, and why these particular people were chosen. This ignorance has continued up to today, but if we are to believe one man, the wait is partially over. Alberto Kussen is not a formally educated scientist, nor does he have any connection to a flipper, past or present. He has, however, been studying the flipcoat phenomenon for practically his entire life, and has dedicated that life to understanding it on a metaphysical level. He believes that there is some kind of shadow reality that lies just beyond our perception. This reality contains alternate versions of everyone in our reality, and they are all aware of us. Perhaps they are able to perceive events as they occur for us, and maybe even influence them. Kussen thinks that society in the shadow reality has developed some kind of merit-based reward system. Those who prove their worth to the authoritative body are awarded a flipcoat. For whatever reason, though, they are not capable of wearing flipcoats themselves, and so their doppelgänger in our reality is given it instead.

Of course this theory can’t, or has yet to, be proven. And of course, it still doesn’t explain how they operate, and why scientists are prevented even from examining one without suffering fatal consequences. It doesn’t even explain the logical reasoning behind a society that would reward alternate versions of its denizens. All it does is provide one among many possibilities that have appeared over the years. We may never know the truth regarding flipcoats, or what would happen in a galaxy full of flippers. All we know is that they hurt to wear, and it’s hard to live without one.

Microstory 532: Government Approves Flashbacking Interrogation

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When people with special abilities were first announced to the world, there were mixed reactions. Some were hopeful for a safer future, while others were more skeptical. Some felt that time had been wasted while these people could have been doing extraordinary things for their communities, and some found interest in being part of it. One thing the primary organization responsible for these anomalies, Bellevue seemed to want to make clear was that their goal was not to save lives one at a time, but to do so on a global scale. They were concerned with improving the world through technology and enlightenment. They were actively working on ways to synthesize abilities, or at the very least, understand them, so that they could be replicated. Many such technologies exist today, and others are on the way, but we are already in the midst of experiencing a second—albeit smaller—wave of anomaly abilities. Odalis Salomon has been working with the Kansas City Police Department for a few years now. His job is simple. After a suspect submits to what has been deemed flashbacking interrogation, Salomon reaches into their memories, and determines whether they had any ties to the crime in question. There are regulations and privacy laws regarding this practice so that personal irrelevant personal details are not revealed. This doesn’t always lead to an arrest, but what it does do is allow detectives to rule out suspects with haste, leaving them free to chase down more pertinent leads. While he was working with the police, his ability was being studied by scientists and engineers.

A couple months ago, these researchers perfected a new technology that allows anyone to become a flashback interrogator. After much deliberation, certain policies were decided to protect civilians from potential abuse. Flashback interrogators, like Salomon, are only permitted to initiate approved flashbacks, and to only reveal relevant information, and to only reveal it to a particular chain of command. Details on education are still being worked out, but the researchers and government policymakers want to assure the public that every step in safety is being taken into consideration. Proper training and an intensive screening process will be required for anyone seeking to enter this new profession. Other limitations have been placed on these non-anomaly flashbackers. Artificial flashbacking ability wears off after several hours; about as long as necessary to finish a workday shift. Only flashbackers are capable of utilizing the daily medical doses. Not only are these doses heavily monitored, but anyone who did not undergo the initial modification procedure will experience no change in mental ability, if they were to happen to get their hands on the doses. This compartmentalization leads to a more robust level of security. For further information regarding the Usonian government’s approval of flashback technology, please contact your local legislative branch. For information regarding applying for a position as a flashback interrogator, flashback technician, or related field, we recommend you contact local law enforcement.