Microstory 579: Rangers Assure Public ‘Vampire Uprising’ Unlikely

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For the last few weeks, whispers of a “vampire revolt” have been spread across the country, and the world. For as long as history records it, vampires and humans have been living alongside each other with few issues. Amber humans began sporting their special abilities several centuries ago, while werewolves showed up in the 17th century. Other than a few territorial squabbles, this diversity has not created any significant level of violence or oppression. Not a single major war has been fought over race, even while certain extremist hate groups attempt to instigate them. As far as the general public is concerned, we all accept each other. Whether you survive on blood donations, or you can see in the dark, or you are descended from wolves, we’re all just people. Some believe, however, that one of the fringe factions has decided that enough is enough, and that it’s time to make a change to how society operates. In the central west of the Usonian state of Utah lies one of the sunniest regions in the world. With very little natural covering like trees and mountains, the Canary Desert sounds like the last place one would find a vampir. This is exactly why the Utah Militia, which is run exclusively by vampirs, decided to stake its claim there. With seemingly unlimited funds, the UM imports fresh blood from Idaho, the number one exporter of human blood, every day.  They are said to inject themselves with ten times the recommended human blood dosage for the average adult vampir. They train tirelessly when the sun is at its highest, they are built to live amongst humans in even the most dangerous of environments for their ilk, and their manifesto includes the line that “no human is safe”.

The UM started as a frustrated few, tired of relying on humans to provide for them the necessary dietary requirements for basic survival. It has since morphed into a horde of angry vampirs with a goal of human domination, believing them to be nothing more than walking bags of bloodfood. Conspiracy websites have begun disseminating claims that this hate group has shown uncomfortable signs of escalation, and that they may have found a way to infiltrate the mainstream. Conspiracists cite unverified evidence that the Utah Militia has purchased, or stolen, particularly suspicious products. A specially formulated skin dye has recently hit the market—as of now unapproved by the any nation’s health regulatory body—with the potential to hide any vampir’s natural purplish hue. Supposedly, copious amounts of the lotion has been shipped to a small town near Canary Desert. A product not yet on the market at all, that is still in the testing phases, has also gone missing, with trails reportedly leading to the UM. The as of yet unnamed clothing line, nicknamed The Blood Jacket, is a proprietary medical device researchers hope will one day counteract the effects of the infrared radiation to which vampirs are vulnerable. Though the Vampire Rangers generally provide assistance for other law enforcement agencies, they often take it upon themselves to investigate threats that come from vampirs. They have released an official statement, assuring the public that they are taking every lawful precaution when it comes to the Utah Militia, and also that they have found no evidence that any claim of their intentions to “take over the world” is true. Only time will tell, but if it turns out this group has access to this kind of technology, not even the human isolationists along the equator will be safe from their wrath.

Microstory 578: Operator Cult Growing Every Day

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We’re going to be doing something different today. We’re going to start questioning our reality in a way that most people seem to be too afraid to. It has been just over a year since our new overlord, known only as Operator came into our lives and took control of us. Besides her codename, we know that she is a woman. People aren’t entirely sure why we know this fact about her, but it would seem that she wanted people to know. Her identity as a whole, on the other hand, remains a mystery to the public as of this writing. Statistics have not been calculated, but I’m guessing that most people do not appreciate what Operator is doing. Sure, for the most part, she lets us go about our lives as we wish, but everyone knows that if she wanted, she could kill us all. And we would be powerless to stop it. In fact, I sit here now, wondering if Operator is going to force me to reach over to my letter opener and jam it into my neck. Or perhaps she’ll just make me bang my head against my computer until I die from whatever kills people who do that; electrocution, or blunt force trauma, or whathaveyou. Maybe she will yet, and is now only letting me write these words to amuse herself, knowing full well that it will never be published. If you’re reading this right now, then Operator has either been defeated by the remnants of Bellevue, or she has simply let it pass. Afterall, no matter what I write, no matter how you feel, in all likelihood, she can never be defeated. She is, for lack of a sufficient archetype, now our God.

As I said before, I feel like most people do not want to live like this. Case in point, the majority of us communicate via a vast telepathic network brought about by rival anomaly, Blossom Sadler. Though Operator is able to see and hear what we are doing from wherever she happens to be, she cannot read our minds. And so Bellevue has provided us with an avenue for secrecy. Sadler’s telepathic network allows any one person to carry on a conversation with any one else with as little effort as it would take to speak with that person through voices. Ten, twenty, a thousand people can all converse as easily as we did in the old days, but now we do it with our minds. Through so-called private lines, Sadler lets us keep our secrets, and prevents anyone from listening in, which is something nature never even let us do. But Operator does, which is the real question. As irrelevant as Bellevue may be, this reporter knows that they still exist. They convene at their original hotel headquarters, and discuss the state of affairs, however dull they may be. Surely they are simultaneously working on a plan to locate Operator, and put an end to her...operations. Aren’t they? If they aren’t, then someone is, so why is Blossom even still alive? Why are we permitted to keep secrets from our ruler. A certain new religion believes they have the answer: that Operator truly is the new God, and that she is good.

The Operator cult’s sentiments are not without their merits. The average crime index globally was sitting at around a healthy 40 before Operator showed up. Now the crime index everywhere is—let me just consult my notes...oh yeah, zero. Not a single crime has been committed since Operator took over. Every time someone attempts to commit a crime of any kind, Operator steps in and makes them stop. Pull out a gun, and you’ll immediately just set it back down again, which is assuming she lets you take it out in the first place. Want to rob that store? Sorry, you’ll literally just keep driving past it. Though Operator does not know what you’re thinking, she can tell what you’re intending to do, and if she finds it distasteful, why she just won’t let you do it. Even accidents have gone down, rendering fire stations and hospitals irrelevant. This is why the Operator cult exists, and why it’s growing every day. Not everyone agrees with them. Former member of Bellevue—and one of the few people naturally immune to her control—Cambrio Yates has been loudly outspoken against Operator’s brave new world. I will paraphrase his words. Free will is paramount to the human experience. Life is meaningless if we are nothing more than God’s chess pieces. Yet that is just another example of free will that Operator lets us have. Sure, she keeps all the bombs locked up—when previously anyone willing and able would be free to set them off, unless they were stopped by someone else—but she lets us believe what we want. As far as I know, no religious gathering, contradictory or not, has been interfered with by Operator’s choices...unless they were violent.

I guess what I’m really asking here is why...—...—...this is your captain speaking. I have temporarily taken control of this writer’s actions so that she can spread my words effectively. I want to make it clear that everything she has written up to this point has been completely of her own accord. I only take over now so that I can explain myself...to her, and to you. Why have I stopped you from using your guns, but left you to your words? Why do I pick and choose your free will? Is it true that you are not chess pieces? I began this endeavor to change the world, to stop the violence, and the hate. I am using the skillset that God gave me. I will not always be around, nor would I want to be. I’m trying to create a society free from not only this violence, but from the inclination towards it. Generations from now, I will no longer be needed. Children are already being born who will never know a life of suffering. They will be raised to love and respect one another. And in all honesty, anyone who experienced a world unlike this one, must die off to make room for something new. I could have just done this myself; let you all stick the proverbial letter opener in your neck, but I chose to take the long way ‘round, because I need to maintain my own integrity. So go on and be angry that I’ve taken your guns, because you’re children’s children’s children will have no interest in them, and those are the people I care about.

Microstory 577: Evidence of Illegal Human Experiments Uncovered

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This is a confidential internal report. Authorized personnel only. Any unauthorized persons reading this document will be pursued by the law. Illegal and preliminarily declared unethical scientific experiments on human subjects have been discovered in Romora. An agent of this organization has infiltrated these laboratories and found evidence that humans are being tested on by a number of integrated, but still separate, research factions. These factions are part of a single entity, but have branched off in order to pursue different ideas. They are all attempting to modify the natural genetics of human beings, but each are doing so independently, and to sometimes only vaguely related ends. Our agent has yet to make contact since transmitting several documents from the rogue scientists’ central facility. Though these stolen documents offer proof of what the rogue scientists are working on, they do not have enough information in order to design effective countermeasures. This report is an attempt to garner volunteers from anyone in our organization willing to risk traveling to, and infiltrating, these laboratories with very little information. Desirable skills include mountain climbing, stealth action, hand-to-hand combat, old world alarm systems, cyber intrusion, and extraction. Anyone with significant experience flying aircraft or piloting sea vessels is urged to contact their handler as well. Due to the uncertain nature of this mission, no guarantees can be given in regards to safety or return. All agents with children have been automatically disqualified from involvement. The repopulation of the planet remains Imperative Two. It is important to understand, however, that gathering intelligence on these scientists could potentially lead to progress towards the completion of Imperative One. If we are not somehow relieved of the floodwaters, these hypothetical superhumans may end up being the only species left on these planet within a matter of centuries, if not decades.

Microstory 576: Construction on Verge Planet Complete

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Seven hundred years ago, the global public learned of the existence of interstellar space travel. The government had been using faster-that-light technology to study systems all over the universe for nearly a century, and kept this fact secret. After the great revelation, private companies began to invest in transdimensional technology, and established territories, claiming planets as quickly as possible. Fast forward a few more centuries and the Astral Military Force is initiated to regulate this travel. Fortunately, this control is not the hardest feat to accomplish. Every single vessel, no matter what, and no matter where its passengers intend to go, always has to first travel to the center of the universe first. Only then can they enter a second of what we call astral lanes and head for their final destination. It is at this central point that the AMF set up their base of operations. A space station was built to receive, log, and police all travel throughout the galaxy. They called it The Verge. But it quickly became clear that this station was never going to be a sufficient means of regulation. Travel was slow and tedious. Smuggling was, honestly, not that difficult, with the few staff that could even fit on the station far too overwhelmed to institute effective procedures. And so they got to work on the largest endeavor the galaxy has ever seen. Imagine slicing a standard planet in half, and removing the remaining dome until you have a relatively thin disc. This is The Verge Planet, as it were. Boasting an area of about 18 dolmas, this “planet” is the largest manman structure in the universe. It is capable of accommodating the hundreds of millions of officers, support staff, travelers, and visitors...and then some. An entire index of soldiers (268,435,456 units) will be posted here at any one time, which is currently under the command of Commander Harzel DuFrise. At the moment, the original space station—still orbiting a golma from The Verge Proper—has official control over astral travel, but power is set to be transferred to The Verge Planet tomorrow. At this point, thousands of astral collimators will be opening and closing astral nodes from every planet in the system, allowing Verge staff to decide exactly who can even enter Verge space in the first place, rather than handling whatever comes on an ad hoc basis. A grand opening celebration is scheduled for one week from today.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 11, 2126

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About a week and a half after Mateo and Leona left the timestream, most of Vearden’s injuries showed few signs of improvement. There were lots of things to do on his and Angelita’s side of the merge border, and he was constantly trying to stand up so he could do them. This would exacerbate the damage to his body, and Lita would have to try to get him to wait and rest. He had already built for her a crib for her daughter, Brooke, so she was perfectly capable of gathering firewood and berries on her own. Unfortunately, though none of them had any real medical experience, there was a general consensus that nothing could have been done about Vearden. He was going to die no matter what they did, or what he did. The angry alien animal had just been too strong for him, and on day eleven, he succumbed to his injuries and died.

Lita spent most of the next day digging a grave using the sort of bamboo sort of shovel sort of thing that Vearden had fashioned awhile ago. She wrapped Vearden’s body palm-like leaves and laid him to rest. Since none of the others could cross over to the other side of the merge border, Lita picked up several handfuls of dirt so that she could ceremoniously toss them into the grave in their stead. She then filled it back in with her makeshift shovel.

“Did you not try to contact The Gravedigger?” Mateo asked at the memorial service they were holding for his and Leona’s benefit.

“Oh,” Mario said with a lot less energy than Mateo was used to seeing. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair unkempt. His separation anxiety from Lita and his child was getting worse and worse. “I didn’t even think of that.”

Mateo looked around for approval from everyone else. If they were wanting to just leave him as he was, then he would respect that. Honestly, he didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it last year. They didn’t need a dead body to dig an open grave. The Gravedigger would come to their aid regardless, and might be their best way of crossing the merge barrier. He and Leona started reluctantly desecrating Vearden’s grave while Lita nursed Brooke. Once it was deep and wide enough, Mateo took a deep breath and jumped back into it, careful to not land on Vearden’s remains.

Upon opening his eyes, he could see immediately that he had been transported to The Graveyard. The dirt itself looked like it was composed of a different mixture than anything that could be found on Tribulation Island.

Mr. Halifax, the Gravedigger reached in and pulled Mateo out. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said quietly.

“He needs to be buried with all the others,” Mateo said back. “So thank you for coming.”

“I’ve told you that I always will. It was a frightful long distance, though. I’m not sure I’ve ever been this far out.”

“How far?” Mateo asked.

“Millions of lightyears,” Arcadia said. He didn’t know if she had teleported in, or if she had just been there waiting for him.

“You killed him,” Mateo said to her.

“I did no such thing,” she defended herself.

“Saga was a nurse. In order to fulfill her expiation, I had to deliver Lita’s baby. But that only took a day. When I came back a year later, you needed to give me a different expiation...something else that a nurse might do, such as treating someone’s injuries.”

“I did not hurt your friend, Mateo. Vearden took it upon himself to search for food on the island. That animal was native to that planet, and evolved its behaviors on its own, and according to its environment. I did not create it, I did not place it where it was at the time, and I did not force Vearden to be that close to it.”

“You expect me to believe that it was just a coincidence?”

“Yes.”

“Arcadia, Leona and I are around literally once a year. Mighty interesting coincidence that he spends that entire year being perfectly fine, only getting hurt on the day of our return to the timestream.”

“He was not perfectly fine,” Arcadia argued. “He got hurt all the time. All of them do. Bug bites, hypothermia, insomnia, sprained ankles. These things are happening throughout your interim years. You just don’t know about them because your friends and family don’t want to burden you with them.”

“I don’t doubt it, but these were mortal wounds. No one else has died before.”

“They haven’t, no,” she agreed, “but they have been terribly hurt. Why Téa and Horace both suffered such injuries while they were Saviors. She fell from cliff, and he was hit in the head by a hovercar taking off. Fortunately, they were close enough to medical attention, but not all of them were. Aura almost died from some kind of pathogen in 2113, and Paige was this close to losing an arm when they were cutting down a large tree for its timber. So, you see, Mateo, no world revolves around you. That you were not there to see these happen does not mean they didn’t happen.

“I was intending to force Lita back to the other side of the merge border so you and Leona would have to care for Brooke on your own as part of Saga’s expiation. And then this year, I was going give myself a deadly virus, and subsequently give you a choice. You could either take care of me and save my life, or you could let me die, at which point everyone you had lost would have been returned to you, and the expiations would have stopped. Those were supposed to be your challenges, but once Vearden got hurt, I knew I couldn’t do them anymore, so I just left you alone. Treating him wasn’t technically an expiation, but something you just had to do because of the kind of people you are.”

“Okay,” Mateo said. “As long as you’re telling the truth...okay.”

“You need to remember that coincidences and freak accidents do happen, Mateo. You’ve spent all this time being controlled that you’ve forgotten how random life is. Bad things happen, and I am sorry you had to go through it, as evil as you think I am.”

“I don’t think you’re evil,” Mateo said truthfully. “Just misguided. I want you to know that my offer still stands. You can stop this at any time. If you do, I won’t pursue you.”

“I can’t have that.” She took him in another hug. “What would I do without you, Mateo Matic?”

“So...?” Mateo asked as the hug was leaning a little on the long side.

“So what?”

“Does this mean there’s no expiation this year?”

“Not so fast, buckaroo. Close your eyes.”

Instead of arguing, Mateo just closed his eyes. When she instructed him to, he opened them again to find himself in a third location. He was standing in an upscale Italian restaurant. The tables were all set but no one was there, except for a patient water, and Arcadia. She was now in a sexy but classy champagne-colored dress, holding a black clutch with both hands. She had let her hair down, and applied some tasteful makeup. She smiled at Mateo and snapped her fingers, which magically turned on music.

“I looked up the twenty most romantic songs, found 400 of them throughout the decades, and put them all in a playlist.”

“What are we doing?” Mateo asked, even though he could clearly see the reality.

“This is our third date.” She sat down at the table and pointed to the chair across from her.

Mateo played ball and sat down too. “I’m engaged—wait, how would this be our third date?”

“I decided to skip the first two so we can get to the good part after dinner.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“This is an expiation, you have to do it.”

“You won’t give me Saga back unless I have sex with you.”

She took a drink from her wine. “Well, when you put it like that, it sounds like rape.”

“It is rape.”

“Don’t think of it like that, it’s more like prostitution.”

“Safe prostitutes can choose their clients.”

She flicked her hair over her shoulder to reveal a little more cleavage. “You wouldn’t choose me?”

“I don’t choose anyone other than Leona,” Mateo said.

“This isn’t an integrity test, Mateo. No one knows we’re here.”

“I do not demonstrate integrity only when people are watching.”

She took a particularly large gulp. “Coulda fooled me.”

“What is this?” Mateo prodded. “What do you really want out of this?”

“What? I’m not allowed to be in love with a man because it goes against feminist values? We still deserve love.”

He finally took a drink, but from his water. “We all deserve consent. And we all deserve to not be in toxic relationships. Even if I weren’t with Leona, you and I don’t work. You’re literally torturing it.”

“There you go again using language to make me sound more twisted than I am.”

“If everything you’ve been doing is your sick way of flirting with me then it’s exactly as twisted as I’m making it out to be, maybe even more.”

She authoritatively gestured to the waiter who reached under the counter and retrieved their dinners before walking them over and setting the plates on the table. Arcadia went on, “this is a variation of the virus expiation I had originally planned this year. Instead of death, your choice is love. You can either run off with me, or stay where you are. If you come with me, I’ll give you the rest of the immortality water, and return all those who were lost. You won’t, however, ever be able to see them ever again, ever.”

“That’s a lot of ever.”

“I’m serious.”

Mateo lifted his plate and, without looking, tossed it to the floor like a frisbee, much like he had during the Gulliver’s Travels tribulation. “Oh, me too.”

“If you insist in moving forward with the expiations, they’re gonna get hard. You risk losing that person forever; that is, if you even survive the physical dangers themselves. Can you handle that? If you come with me, at least you’ll have memories of Leona. When I take her from you—and I will one day—and you fail, she will be lost forever.”

“So there’s a chance these things could kill me?”

“Of course,” she said. “Life is just as precious as it’s always been, even with mind uploading.”

“What happens to my friends if I die.”

She shook her head like she hadn’t really thought about it before. “I’d probably just bring them back and go home. If no one misses them, then what’s the point?”

Mateo grabbed his steak knife and stuck it through his own throat before she had any chance to stop him. The blood running down his chest felt colder than he thought it would. His instincts forced him to grasp at his wound and attempt to close it back up, even though this was his choice. He had never been suicidal, but technically he remembered being alive for over four thousand years, so maybe that was enough life for anybody. If it meant protecting his friends, he had to try. The shock of his own actions caused him to lean back and tip over in his chair.

Arcadia lifted the table and pushed it to the side with all her strength, just so she could reach Mateo without going around. She bent down over him. She didn’t even try to stop the bleeding, fully aware that no amount of cloth napkins would be good enough. He was going to die, and there was nothing she could do about it. Or maybe she could. She left him lying there to bleed out, and instead started furiously tearing pictures of famous people who had supposedly dined there off the wall. She wasn’t just being destructive, she was looking for something. Finally, she found it, a big red button that Mateo had never seen before, but looked familiar. She adjusted a few knobs under the button. “Time for another hard reset.” And then she pushed it.

After giving him time to say his goodbyes to Mr. Halifax, and to what remained of Vearden, Arcadia popped in and apported Mateo back to Tribulation Island. Sadly, she transported him to the main side of the merge border, leaving Leona, Lita, and Brooke alone. He spent the majority of the rest of the day walking that border, hoping to find a way back to her, but he never did. When they returned to the timestream the next year, Lita was gone, but her now-talking three-year-old child was still there.

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Flurry: Looper (Part IV)

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Serkan and Ace had a new mission. Though Snowglobe was clearly guilty of something, if not indirectly the weather, they were not the present concern. The crystal rectangle that Effigy had given Ace could also be used as a holographic smartphone, giving them access to the internet. They navigated to the High Castle Corporation website while they were wandering through the abandoned mall. The company was first conceived in 1965, as the result of an address President Lyndon B. Johnson made to the nation wherein he warns the public of the threat of human-driven climate change. Keanu ‘Ōpūnui was so moved by the president’s words that he felt compelled to do something about it, and four years later, he found himself in a position to do just that. He founded High Castle Corporation in 1969 with the ultimate purpose of researching climate change, and finding ways to stop or reverse it. Today, the organization boasts several global locations, and the world’s top scientists, with their research being funded by selling weather-related products like raincoats and weather stripping. And then it goes on to talk about how it was acquired by Snowglobe Collective a few years ago as part of their vision to consolidate the world’s leading visionaries.

“We need blueprints for their building,” Serkan pointed out.

“Oh, that’s right,” Ace agreed. “Let me just click on the link on their website that says here’s what you need if you’re trying to break into one of our facilities.”

“Very funny,” Serkan said. “Doesn’t that thing give us access to things people normally can’t see?”

“I don’t know why it would.”

“Give it here.” Serkan took the device from Ace and started fiddling with it. “This is a skeleton key given to us by a hacker.”

“No, that thing was impersonating a hacker.”

“Either way, he said it was a modern version of the Escher Knob, which means it has to break into virtual environments too.”

“I don’t think that’s what that means.”

“Got it.” Serkan was no hacker himself, but he knew his way around an organization’s private intranet. From there, he accessed the deepest parts of their network, and found what they were looking for. A hologram sprouted from the screen, revealing an interactive map of the High Castle headquarters, which did look like a castle. Though constructed using modern materials, there were parapets, towers, and even a drawbridge over a moat. Why had they not heard of this before? It looked like an amusement park.

Ace took the device back and headed for an ottoman that had been left next to a dead plant. “I need some time to study this.”

“Okay,” Serkan said. “I need some time to get a good run in.”

“Just, be careful, honey. Don’t go too far.”

“You too.”

Serkan started to jog all over the building, dodging broken chairs and other debris strewn all over the floor. Everytime he saw something destroyed that was once whole, he frowned. Even though he didn’t personally care about the mall industry, he didn’t like seeing it fall apart either. It was unsettling to be in a place so hopeless that was once so vibrant. As he reflected on it...it reflected back. At first he thought he was just having some particularly vivid flashback, but the more the world refocused, the more he realized that this was all real. He was somehow going back in time to before the mall was abandoned, back to when there were shops, back to when there were patrons. He hadn’t fallen into an open grave this time, but there was just as little chance of him returning home. Someone upstairs didn’t want him finding happiness.

After resolving himself to make the most of his new situation, he calmly walked over to the cash register in a small shop and looked at the wall behind it where he found a paper calendar. August of 2013; about two years before the mall’s closing. He was four years old at the time, and his brother, Alim had just been born. This much was confirmed when their mother passed by the shop with her two children. He first tried to cover his face so she wouldn’t see him, but then realized that she wouldn’t recognize him anyway. His face had actually changed quite a bit since he was a child; more so, as he was told, than most people. Future!Serkan started following his younger self and family down the large hallway, towards the shoe store. He remembered this day. Though Serkan didn’t always know he would become a professional runner, he did run around a lot, exhausting his mother. He wore shoes out like they were made out of tissue, forcing her to buy new pairs regularly. She never complained or scolded him, but he didn’t understand until he was older what she was sacrificing for him.

As he was watching her now trying to maintain a hold of baby Alim while Serkan was insisting on a particular pair, a sales representative stepped in view. “Can I help you with anything?” she asked. “What kind of shoe are you looking for.”

It barely registered that she was talking. “Thanks, I’m just browsing,” Future!Serkan answered, trying to get back to watching himself.

“Well, if you need anything, I’m Cecelia.”

“Uhuh,” Serkan said out of instinct. “And what if I don’t need anything? Who are you?”

“Demetri Martin reference, I love it.”

He probably shouldn’t have said that. Now she thought that he was trying to flirt. He just froze and kept quiet, hoping that eventually she would get bored, and walk away. She did, and he was able to return to stalking his own family.

His mother was looking back and forth between her son who was ecstatic about the amazing pair of running shoes he had discovered, and her near-empty wallet. Future!Serkan took out his own wallet and removed a couple twenty-dollar bills. He gained some courage, and approached her. “Excuse me, ma’am, I believe you dropped these.”

She inspected the bills and laughed. “Nope. I don’t keep fake money in my wallet. Nice try, though.”

“What?”

“That’s Harriet Tubman, I recognize her iconic picture.”

“Yeah?”

“Andrew Jackson is on the twenty-dollar bill, smartass. What is this? Am I on a prank show?” She looked around for a video camera.

Oh, shit. He didn’t know all that much about history, but he still should have remembered that Harriet Tubman wouldn’t be put on currency for a long, long time. That was stupid of him. “I’m sorry, he said with a stammer. “I’m just...practicing my improv.”

“Oh, you don’t need any practice,” she said, but then added, “you should just give up on your dream right now.”

“Actually,” Future!Serkan responded, “I’m a runner. Those are some really good shoes.” He pointed towards Past!Serkan’s feet.

“Well, he certainly seems to like them,” his mother said.

“But they’re not necessary,” Future!Serkan tried to explain. He looked around a little and grabbed a much cheaper pair. “Cheap shoes do okay if you use them right. Invest in a shoehorn, and make him use it every single time...and also make him untie them instead of slipping them off. Every time he stretches out a shoe just to put it on, or take it off, he’s wearing it down. Put newspaper in them when he’s at home to soak up moisture. Buy a tube of something called shoe goo. It’s not that hard to use, and you don’t have to wait until they wear out. Stick some on the seams right away, and it’ll reinforce them for you.”

“That’s some...interesting advice. Do you work here?” she asked.

“Nah, I’m just experienced.”

“Got anything else?”

“It takes one to know one, and I can tell that your son is destined to be a runner. When he starts getting serious about it, buy a separate pair for him to use for training and races. Don’t let him wear them when he’s just sitting in class, or something. It takes a little extra cash, but both pairs will last longer than they would if you bought them one at a time.”

“I’ll consider that,” she said with a nod, taking the cheaper shoes from his hand and throwing them down at younger Serkan. “Try these instead,” she told him.

Past!Serkan pulled the expensive shoes off and started working on the other ones. One benefit of him only being four years old was that he didn’t have any cognizance of the price. He could be easily tricked into thinking that these were better.

Her back turned from Future!Serkan allowed him to look right at baby Alim. Of course he knew his little brother at this point, but he was just a child himself. He couldn’t appreciate the how precious life was, and how nice it was to see him like this again. This time travel was a terrible thing, yes, but could also be a gift. It partially counteracted the first time he traveled, which had taken him away from his family completely. At least he was now able to see them again, if only for a moment. As he was staring into baby Alim’s eyes, Alim stared back. Time seemed to slow down, and he started questioning the meaning of life itself, and whether there was any real danger to time paradoxes. But then his existential journey was cut short when baby Alim suddenly spit up his breakfast all over Future!Serkan’s shirt.

Their mother turned around. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I should never have let that happen.”

“It’s fine.”

She struggled through her baby bag with her free hand, obviously trying to find something to clean him up.

“Really, it’s okay. I have a baby sister,” Future!Serkan lied. “She does this all the time. It hasn’t bothered me since the first time it happened.”

“Well...at least let me pay for whatever you’re buying today.”

“Thanks, but I already have everything I need.”

“Serkan! Serkan!” Ace yelled from the front of the store.

“Your name is Serkan?” his mother asked. Its popularity had been waning in Turkey for the last decade, and he had never met anyone stateside who shared his name. The chances that both he and this child shared it were next to zero.

Thinking quickly, Serkan clarified, “he said Burkhart. It’s my last name.” He called back to Ace who was on his way down the aisle, “what did I say about calling me by my last name, honey? Ever since we got married up in Canada, we’re both Burkharts now.” Not his best lie.

“Oh, right.” He shook Serkan’s mother’s hand. “Hi, I’m Horace.”

“Sila,” she said back. “Sila Demir. This is Serkan, and Alim.”

“Well, we best be heading for the exit,” Ace said impatiently. “I found our keys.”

Future!Serkan understood. “Okay, good. It was nice meeting you,” he said to his own mother.

They smiled at each other, then parted ways.
“Did you send us back here?” Ace asked once they were out of earshot.

“I have no idea. I didn’t even know you came with me.”

“Well, the outside looks different than it should. There aren’t any cars in the parking lot...and it’s snowing...in August. I think all we have to do is walk out of here, and it’ll loop us back to our time.”

“All right, good. Did you study enough of the blueprints?”

“Yes, I know where we need to go.”

« < » > Entire Story

Microstory 575: Sunken Russian Passenger Submarine Found

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Search parties yesterday completed their search for a Russian passenger submarine that went missing two and a half weeks ago in the Baltic sea. The vessel was transporting primarily refugees from St. Petersburg to Stockholm, Swede...but never arrived. At last communication, the submarine crew reported a malfunction with the main hatchway, and informed a nearby Finnish military outpost that they were attempting to remedy the situation. Communication with the submarine was cut off suddenly, with its last verified position just West of Estonia. Many of the passengers’ homes were destroyed by, or under threat from, a terrorist known as The Destruction. The Latvian Coast Guard, which led the search mission, wants to assure the public that the submarine sank due to equipment failure, not as the result of an attack. Professionals were sent to the wreckage to examine it, and recover the captain’s logs, as well as catalog the passengers and crew. According to the sub’s manifest, four people are missing from the wreckage and presumed dead, while all other bodies have been accounted for. The names of those not found have not yet been released to the public so that the victim’s families could be properly notified. Government officials are currently debating whether to investigate the matter further. As stated previously, no evidence suggest that the submarine sank due to a criminal act, or crew error. Latvian authorities are unsure at this time whether it would be feasible to continue dedicating valuable resources to a deeper investigation underwater. Many of the victims’ loved ones have expressed a strong desire for closure, but still others have expressed a need to simply move on from this terrible tragedy. The leaders of the semi-legal Russian travel company that owned the submarine has been taken into custody by the police, and will be giving a statement tomorrow. Their punishment, if any, has not yet been said. Lastly, the families and friends of the victims wish for your patience and understanding in these trying times.

Microstory 574: Infamous Amadesin Refugee Rescuer Identified

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A century ago, this world was divided. Law-abiding citizens sat in the center, while the rest were on the fringes as criminals, terrorists, and rebels. They hurt people, and they took what did not belong to them. One of the worst groups of these people were the Amadesins. Amadesis was a spiteful religion based in an unhealthy hatred of any who did not believe as they did. Many of the religion’s sect’s were more or less peaceful, but others were much worse. Anyone wishing to defect from the faith could suffer terrible consequences, sometimes even death. A multinational organization was formed. This organization was unsanctioned by any government, highly underfunded, and poorly staffed. Those a part of it had dedicated their lives to a cause. That cause was to rescue, protect, and relocate Amadesin defectors. But there was one member who was different than the others, with previously undisclosed interviews having referred to her as their superstar. She had the anomaly ability to hide people in special stones that she created. Others might have used this power to create tiny foolproof prisons, or to trap people they didn't like, but not one Patience Cooney. Before working with Bellevue, Cooney worked with the Refugee Relocation Association, ultimately transporting thousands of Amadesin defectors all over the world, almost entirely in secret. Her guests, as they were called, were placed in an artificial simplex dimension, with one of these Cooney stones as its focal point. She could remove them anytime she liked, or they could exit themselves, while anyone with a special password could do so as well. She would take her stones on the road, on trains, and in aircraft, with no one but her and her team being at all aware of the extra passengers. Once at their new home, refugees were given new identities, and some startup money, after which the team would move on and find someone else in need. Cooney did this job with very little thanks, and lived her whole life with only a few people having an understanding of just how impactful she was to the world. Her identity remained a secret in order to protect her rescues. With recent events surrounding the decline in Amadesis membership, however, it has been decided that it’s time the world knew just how amazing and courageous Patience Cooney really was.