Microstory 1009: Ira

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No, Bertha didn’t say that, did she? What a jackass. I’m glad she finally recognizes how terrible she is with people, but she’s living in a nightmare world if she thinks I am too. It’s true, I read and watch a lot of science fiction, but I’m smart enough to know the difference between a character, and a real person. Fiction is a great resource for understanding how other people work. Simply seeing that it’s possible for a separate individual to have a different perspective than one’s own can be enough to fuel your empathy for others. Writers take a lot of liberties when it comes to characterization, but just because the character is made up, doesn’t mean we can learn nothing from their experiences. Each character is created by a writer, and at the very least, that writer is drawing upon their own lives, and those of the people they know. So, let’s just assume every character a given writer comes up with is essentially the same person, because that writer somehow managed to become successful enough to get their work out there without anyone noticing how one-dimensional their stuff was. There are still thousands upon thousands of other characters in the world, created by different writers. Compound that with the fact that most that are created by the same artist are going to have different perspectives. Now compound it with the number of people who contribute to that characterization: writing partners, producers, actors, editors, etc. A lot goes into making a piece of performance art, or a written work. There’s a lot more collaboration for the former, but that doesn’t mean the latter type doesn’t hold its own lessons. Plus, any given story is going to be interpreted differently by each audience member, and now with the internet, it’s not only easy to share these thoughts with others, but helpful. I’m doing just fine in this world. I have lots of friends, and though I probably couldn’t have counted Viola as one of them, I’ve still been impacted by her death. Sometimes I use nomenclature that makes it sounds like I see the people around me as characters, but that’s but an extension of my love for art, and does not reflect an indifference to them. Like I was saying, I didn’t know her well, but I did know a lot about her. Socially, she was a lovely person, who was nice to most people. If she didn’t like you, she surely had good reasons, and that should give others pause when considering their own feelings towards you. She loved people, and always seemed to try to give them the benefit of the doubt. She was a lot like me in that way. I try not to judge people until I know more about them. I’ve known Bertha most of my life, which is why I can tell you with absolute certainty that she has a lot of growing up to do. I know I talked a lot more about myself than Viola, but I hope it helps. I’m looking forward to reading your story.

Microstory 1008: Bertha

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Hi, my name is Bertha, and I don’t want to be here right now. Oh, sorry about that, let me try again. Hi, I’m Bertha, and I don’t want to be here. Yeah, still sorry, but I just can’t bring myself to say something that doesn’t ring true. I have a huge problem with the media. Your original job was to report the news; the facts. You’re not meant to investigate crimes, or inject your own flare. Tell me what happened, and that’s it. Look, I can’t tell you whether they solved the crime, or not, because like you, that’s not my job. I’m not saying to never question the system, but at some point, you have to resign yourself to the fact that we may never know the truth. And yeah, that sucks for the person imprisoned for something they didn’t do, but I have to believe that such a thing happens very rarely. Our justice branch was designed to lay everything out, so that nothing is missing. If you have all the facts, and all the witness testimonies, and all the parts of something, you should be able to put it all together into a full story. You want my reaction to Viola’s murder? You want to know what I think? I think that it’s a terrible tragedy, and also that it’s none of my business. I didn’t know Viola, I don’t know Maud, and I don’t know what happened. I can only tell you about myself. I was born in Coaltown, but my family moved here when I was three years old, so Blast City is all I’ve ever known. I’m a fair to middling student, with mostly Bs, sometimes a couple Cs, and one A. I love history, and always excel in the topic. I don’t care if we’re talking about the 1880s, or prehistoric times. Hell, I can get down with some dinosaurs, if you talk about them from an historical standpoint, rather than a biological one. Maybe that’s why I’m so cold with people, because they exist right now. I can’t relate to someone if they haven’t lived their whole lives, and died. Wow, I guess I never realized this about myself. Does that make me a bad person? Or rather, does that make me antisocial? Part of being human is connecting with others, so if I care most about strangers from the past, am I even human? I suppose it’s better than only caring about fictional characters. Yes, I saw your list, so I know you’ll be talking to Ira next. He’s a huge nerd, who I believe reads a book a day. Now, that is someone who can’t relate to others. He’ll have lots of thoughts on the murder, and they’ll all be stupid.

Microstory 1007: Minnie

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As unofficial class social director, I would like to apologize a thousand times for not speaking with you sooner. It is my job to make sure every new student feels welcome at Blast City Senior High, and I have failed you in this. Hi, nice to meet you. My name is Minnie, and you can ask me if you ever need anything. I may not be able to provide it, but I’m always available to listen. Like most people in this town, I was born and raised here. I love horseback riding, specifically dressage. If I’m not at school, I’m on the fields, or in the stables. Oh, you want to know about me and Viola? Well, she and I were inseparable, I’m just heartbroken that she’s gone. I know a lot of people think that the mystery is still there, but I am here to tell you that they’re wrong. I have always hated she who must not be named. Everyone thinks that Viola and she were the best pair, but that’s absurd. Viola hated her too, she told me. The only reason they ever hung out together was because of their parents. Now, I know it sounds like I’m lying, but Viola and I had a very special—very secret—relationship. Not like that, get your head out of the gutter. We would talk on the phone all the time, leave notes in each other’s lockers. She said her parents’ business dealings made it so she had to pretend to friends with that approximation of a human being, but she and I were the real deal. I would show you proof, but we didn’t take any pictures together, and we used a message deleting app, so no one would catch onto us. I probably shouldn’t be telling you any of this, even though she’s dead, out of respect for her. But I know the truth, and that’s all that matters. This is off the record, by the way, retroactively.

Microstory 1006: Ralph

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Hey. I heard it through the bovine that you have this crazy idea to interview everyone in the senior class, to get their reactions to Viola’s death. Do you have any battle plans laid out, or do you intend to just run around blind. I have this school wired. I know who is who and who they do. You should start with the kid here who knew her the least. Let’s see, we have a few contenders, but I’m gonna have to go with Edna. She’s the newest student after you, so she doesn’t know much of anyone yet. In a town this small—so tight-knit—it’s hard to break in if you’re an outsider. Next, you’ll want to get the Vance interview out of the way. He’s kind of a douchebag, and he rejects everything about Blast City, so he’ll have little to contribute to your investigation. Blanche should technically come after that, because she’s a sociopath, and doesn’t care about anyone. But I worry if you talk to her, she’ll depress you so much, that you’ll just give up. Louise was overprescribed anxiety medication—but you didn’t hear it from me—so she’ll lift your spirits high enough to handle the Blanche storm. After that, you got Giorgia. She’s a lovely girl, ultimately from Italy. She had a lot of problems when she moved to town a few years ago. We don’t get a lot of visitors, you see, and people can be quite insensitive and ignorant. We’re all a lot more woke now, but she’s kind of been soured on us. She and Viola weren’t close, but she’ll have nice things to say about her, which you’ll need, again, after the Blanche storm. I know this is a lot of information, and I’ll write it all down for you. Maybe I could help on a more permanent basis. I can set up microphones, and transcribe your notes, or whatever you need. I don’t work for the newspaper, but like I said, nothin’ happens in this school I don’t know about. Oh, a little more about me? Well, I’m pretty quiet, and almost invisible, like the janitor. I talk to a few people sometimes, but only because they think I have some weird secret, like I’m a vampire, or a narc. Mostly I just observe, which is easy when nobody notices you’re there. Don’t worry about me, though, I’m totally fine. I’ve never tried very hard, and was always just biding my time until college. Viola’s death showed me that this is part of real life too—that the stakes are real—and I will always be waiting for the future if I don’t start living in the present. Anyway, I wish I had realized that before, and put myself out there. As much as I know about this place, there’s still a lot that I’m not privy to. If I had just been more open, she and I might have been friends. I got to get to class, but I’m looking forward to working with you. I’ll have that list ready for you tomorrow morning.

The Advancement of Leona Matic: October 5, 2212

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Leona found herself floating around the exit bay of The Vosa. She could feel a deep tingling throughout her whole body, and the saliva on her tongue boiling away. Other debris was floating around her, and she could hear nothing. Life was tearing itself away from Leona’s body, and there was nothing she could do about it. She was about to lose consciousness when a gust of what felt like wind forced her against the back wall. Then the wind receded, and pulled her through the exit.

A person was helping her up, and catching her own breath. Leona was still in pretty bad shape, so it sounded like this other person said something like, “he aft two bet who adopter.”

Then she finally passed out.

Later, Leona woke up in a hospital bed, but it didn’t look like she was in a hospital room, or at least not one she recognized. This looked more like a fancy executive suite that rich people demanded when they needed medical treatment. A woman rushed into the room to check on her condition. It took Leona a moment to wake all the way up, but then realized it was Danica Matic. She was Mateo’s cousin, who had been working in a special location underground in Kansas called The Constant for billions of years. “What happened?” Leona asked. “How did I get here?”

“I can answer the second question, but I was hoping you would fill me in on the first,” Danica said. “Saga opened a door, and found you dying in what she assumed was a spaceship. The pressure change sucked you into a broom closet, and when she opened it to get back to your friends, she came out here. She went to get you some towels, but never came back. My assumption is that she opened another portal.”

“How long have I been out? What year is it?”

“October 5, 2212. You’ve only been out a couple of hours. We have pretty good medicine down here.”

“We?”

“The royal we. I still live here alone.”

Leona struggled to sit up. “I suppose you’ll need me to leave, since I wasn’t really invited.”

“Nonsense,” Danica said. “You’re family. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for the wedding. I’m not allowed to leave.”

“You remember that? You remember Mateo?”

“I remember everything. Literally. My mind cannot be corrupted.”

Leona looked around the room, paranoid. “My stuff. Did my stuff come through? I had very important objects with me!”

“It’s okay, they did. Your bag was over your back.” She handed Leona the page from the Book of Hogarth that had the instructions for how to put the ingredients together. “I made this for you.”

“You made...” Leona was confused. “You mean you assembled all the objects?”

Danica smiled triumphantly. “Yep. I don’t have a lot of things to do. Again, always alone.”

“Did it work? Is he back?”

“I didn’t turn it on,” Danica said, almost offended. “The instructions don’t say what it does, so that’s your job.”

“I thought you knew everything.”

“Not everything, everything.”

“Okay, cool. I’ll do it now.” She tried to get out of bed, but Danica stopped her.

“Hold on, I need you to stay for now. I called a specialist, who should be arriving shortly. I could treat your vacuum exposure, but I need her..to...”

“To what?”

“I will explain myself.” Dr. Mallory Hammer was standing in the doorway. “After the examination.”

“What’s going on?” Leona asked. “Why the hell is she here?”

“You should go,” Mallory solemnly said to Danica.

“I’ll be in my office,” Danica promised. “Shout if you need anything.”

Mallory sanitized her hands, and fitted herself with sterile gloves. Then she started out by feeling Leona’s lymph nodes and thyroid.

“What aren’t you two telling me?” Leona asked.

“Patience,” Mallory answered calmly. “Trust the process.”

Leona kept quiet while Mallory continued. She ran vitals, took some samples, and used futuristic equipment to test for whatever. Finally, she pulled her stethoscope out of her ears, and draped it over her shoulders. “You have been through a significant trauma.”

“Right...”

“You survived.”

“I see that...”

“Unfortunately, you were the only one. Everyone else on that ship was killed. It was sabotaged by someone named...” She consulted her notes. “Hargesen.”

“The cargomaster.”

“We still don’t know why he did it.”

“Holly Blue is dead?”

“She wasn’t on the ship. We’ve no clue where, or when, she is.”

“Why did Danica need you to be the one to tell me this.”

Mallory took a deep breath, trying to remain gentle. “Leona, you were the only survivor.”

“You’ve said that.”

“Including your children.”

“What?”

“The pressure change was just too much for their little developing bodies. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Leona said in denial. “They can’t be dead.”

“I’m sorry,” Mallory repeated. “I should have...” She hesitated. “I kept trying to get back to you, but no one would take me. And anyone willing was blocked by something. Somebody didn’t want me examining you. I don’t know if that was related to this.”

“You don’t understand, they can’t be dead.”

“I know this is hard to hear, but—”

“You’re not getting it, I remember him.”

“Remember who?”

“Mateo. My husband. I only remember him, because these are his babies.” She rubbed her belly. “If they’re gone, my memory of him should too.”

Mallory shook her head. “Maybe the memories can’t be undone. Maybe it takes awhile to fade. I wouldn’t mind discussing this more with you, over the course of—”

“I’m not one of your case studies!” Leona argued.

“No, of course not. I apologize.”

“Even if my memories aren’t proof enough, my kids have to be born. They have a future; a destiny. They’ve already impacted the timeline, because they’re time travelers!”

Danica ran back into the room. “That’s enough, Hammer.”

“I would like to stay. I need to be here a year from now, so I can see how the time jump effects her body.”

“Go home, Hammer,” Danica ordered, “before I make you.”

An understanding Mallory stood back up, and left the room. By the time Danica made her way back over to the bed, Leona was already bawling her eyes out. She took her cousin into a hug, and held her there forever.

She must have cried herself to sleep, because she woke up again hours later. Danica was sitting in a chair next to her. “I’m fine,” Leona told her when she tried to help. “I need to get up and move around.”

“I’ll make you something. You need energy.”

“That would be lovely.”

She followed Danica out of the room at a much slower pace. Danica was already rounding the corner to another room when Leona made it to the main living area. A crazy contraption was erected on top of a table. Every ingredient that Leona spent the last two years gathering was there in some fashion. They were held together by auxiliary parts, ending at a wall where Danica had taped the LIR map.

Leona went over to the beginning of what ultimately looked like a Rube Goldberg machine. The first object was the Incorruptible Astrolabe. Though it was designed to correct corruptions to reality, it was evidently not strong enough to do it on its own. Leona reached up and instinctively spun it with her finger. It started spinning, and didn’t stop, even after it should have lost momentum. The Rothko Torch attached to it flickered as they spun faster and faster, until the light was at full power. It shone though the Jayde Spyglass, and out towards the open cosmic sextant, which magically split the light into two beams. Each beam passed through one of the eyepieces from the HG Goggles, which bent the beams back together. The energy passed through the flame of  the Muster Lighter, and shot straight to the LIR Map on the wall. After a moment, a circle had been burnt on the map. The object machine then stopped on its own, letting the astrolabe and flashlight slow naturally.

The Escher Knob, sitting loosely at the end of the table, began to vibrate and glow. Leona tapped it with one finger to make sure it wasn’t hot, which it wasn’t. When she picked it up, it tried to reach the wall, like a magnet. Leona reached over, and let the knob attach itself to the map right at the burn mark, which was the exact same size.

“Did it work?” Danica was standing in the doorway again, holding a sandwich plate, and a glass of chocolate milk.

“I don’t know,” Leona said. Frightened and nervous, she slowly reached up to the knob again, and took hold of it. She pulled it away from the wall. The map came all the way out, at the end of what turned out to be a large drawer. Leona peeked over, and found a body resting inside of it. It looked like a morgue drawer, but deep inside, the walls looked more like a the padding of a casket. “Mateo!”

Danica set the food down, and ran over to help. Together, they pulled him out of the drawer, and laid him on the couch. Leona checked for a pulse, but found nothing. His skin was cold, and very dirty. She tried to perform CPR while Danica ran off to get the defibrillator, but nothing worked. Mateo was back, but he was dead.

“Did I not set it up correctly? Are we missing a piece?”

“I don’t think so.” Leona got the feeling that, if she didn’t find a way to bring him back to life quickly, he would be gone forever. She pulled Hogarth’s instructions out of her gown, and looked them over. No, Danica assembled them all exactly according to specifications. Then she remembered one of the last things Hogarth said to her. She flipped the page over. It was still blank at first, but then ink spontaneously started appearing. Place Insulator of Life on chest. “Oh my God, you’re right. We didn’t get everything. The Insulator of Life wasn’t on our original list.”

“I know where that is; Alpha Centauri C.”

“Proxima?” Leona questioned. “Brooke and Sharice were headed that direction. Of course! Bungula is inhospitable to life. Something called the Insulator of Life could, well...insulate their lives!” She panicked. “He’ll probably start decomposing. I’ll never get there in time.”

“Yes, you will.” Danica went back over to the contraption, and pulled the cosmic sextant off of it. “Hey Thistle, show me the southern hemisphere sky.” The floor disappeared, and revealed the night sky below them. Danica adjusted the sextant where she wanted it, and found the right place on the floor screen. “Come on.”

Leona got up, and gladly accepted the sextant from her cousin.

“Wait here. I’ll give you a care package.” She ran out, and came back a few minutes later with Leona’s bag, and a gurney. She placed a small black object against Leona’s chest, and it stayed there on its own. The two of them pulled Mateo up onto the gurney. “Point the sextant at that point of light right there.”

Leona did as instructed, and waited.

“Safe travels. I love you.”

The map of the sky suddenly zoomed in at a very fast rate, all the way until she could see the ground below her. When Leona looked up, she realized she was on the ground, and The Constant was gone, as was the sextant. This was Proxima Doma, the primary planet in the Proxima Centauri system. The black objects on their chests were emanating a forcefield to protect them from the vacuum, which was something she could have used to prevent her miscarriage. She had lost them, but she wasn’t going to lose her husband. She took the Compass of Disturbance out of her bag, and found her bearing. Then she took hold of Mateo’s gurney, and started running. Then she kept running, until it was 2213.

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Brooke’s Battles: Bailout (Part XIII)

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As it turned out, the ship that appeared in their cargo bay was not a ship at all, but a machine called The Prototype. Old friend and Brooke’s mother figure, Leona was on it, along with a few other friends. They had just been traveling the multiverse, looking for various objects that were apparently meant to help Leona find her husband, who was erased from the timeline. The last object they were looking for was the Cosmic Sextant, which Farhana happened to have in her possession. In a major personnel change, Ecrin and Relehir took the Prototype on their own new mysterious mission to battle Maramon in other universes. The Vespiarians decided to return to civilization on their refueled ship. A Freemarketeer cargomaster defected, and chose to go with them, as did Leona and Holly Blue, who wanted to see her family again. Vitalie, the astral projector from Durus, who helped Ecrin find Brooke after the latter had a breakdown years ago, wanted to come with them to Bungula. And so everyone left Vespiary at about the same time; The Vosa to Earth, and The Sharice Davids to the Alpha Centauri triple-star system.

Sharice was not chosen as captain because she had leadership qualities, or years of experience. She was chosen because she was the most intelligent entity on board, and was already ultimately most responsible for the ship’s operations. With an artificial intelligence like her, no human crew was truly necessary, especially not now that Sharice had access to an assorted complement of android bodies, some with nimble fingers. While in android form, she maintained contact with the ship proper via vocal and manual commands, just like anyone else would. After clearing Vespiarian space, the ship went off on what might have been its final mission, moving at eight times the speed of light. While it would take the light from the sun 4.37 years to get to Alpha Centauri A, it was only going to take the ship four and a half months. Unfortunately, fate—or perhaps some enemy—had other plans for them.

Four months into the trip, just about everything that can go wrong on a ship, did go wrong. The cylicone exploded, killing three Freemarketeer crew members, and six passengers immediately. Weaver acted quickly, and jettisoned the back third of the vessel to protect the rest of it, which sadly killed the four Freemarketeers who survived the initial explosion. That was not their only problem, however. Entire systems shut down, including navigation, internal power, and thrust. They were out of FTL, drifting roughly towards their destination at a fraction of the speed of light, operating only on the momentum they maintained.

Sharice slipped herself into an android body just in time to protect herself from code corruption as the ship continued to fail. Artificial gravity was slowly losing power, and life support would probably only last them another five minutes, or so. She ordered everyone to congregate on the bridge deck, which could theoretically be separated from the rest of the vessel, in case of emergency. Étude took it upon herself to teleport all over the Sharice, looking for stragglers, or the immobile injured. The deck was packed with a few dozen people, but neither Brooke nor Sharice knew what they were going to do. Étude came back, and waved at them for attention.

“Did you get everyone?” Sharice asked.

She shook her head, and motioned for her to come with.

Brooke stepped forward and took Étude by her other shoulder, and the three of them teleported to an airlock in the cargo hold, which was about to be torn apart. Two Freemarketeers were ready for them, holding firearms, which they weren’t meant to have.

“What’s going on here?”

“Keep them away from me,” President Treacy ordered his men.

“What are you doing?” Sharice demanded to know. “Did you hack into our quantum messenger?”

“How do I work this thing?”

“There is no point in sending a message. We are light years away from civilization,” Sharice told him.

“Actually, we’re only about nine hundred astronomical units from Proxima Doma.”

“Do they have an interstellar ferry, or something, at the moment?” Sharice asked her, half-rhetorically.

“I don’t think so.”

“I’m not calling for help,” Treacy explained. “Got it. Hargesen, Hargesen!” He shouted into the mouthpiece. “Come in, Hargesen.”

“This isn’t one of our scheduled meeting times,” one of the guards told him.

“I know that, asshole!” Treacy cried.

“You’re not supposed to be using this at all,” Sharice said angrily. “How did you get past my sensors?”

Treacy ignored the question. “Fine. I’ll leave a message.” He went back to the mouthpiece. “Hargesen! We were set up! Operation Pyrethroid is a go!”

“Stop!” Sharice commanded him. She knocked the gun out of one of the guard’s hands, which prompted the other to shoot Brooke right in the forehead.

Brooke stood there for a moment, watching the light around her shrink inwards to the blackness. She felt her own systems shutting down, and the life draining from her body. As durable as she was, it was still possible for her to die. She could have survived a pedestrian bullet, but this was some kind of burrower. It continued to work its way through her brain, destroying everything in its path.

“No!” Sharice screamed. “Computer, initiate Operation Conflux!”

Brooke suddenly felt the life returning to her. Or rather, it was more like she was following her life somewhere new. It reminded her of what it was like to interface with an external system, which was something she hadn’t done in a long time. Her consciousness was being lifted from its original substrate, and transferred into another. She was becoming part of the ship. It took a few moments to acclimate to her new environment, and she had to figure out how to work the ship’s sensors. When she finally woke all the way up, she found herself watching the humans back on the bridge deck.

“You killed them all?” Weaver asked.

“I had to. They tried to kill my mother.”

“I’m not judging you,” Weaver said. “I just need to make sure no one else is going to be a problem.” She looked around at the rest of the Freemarketeers. “Is anyone else planning to stir up trouble, or do y’all wanna live?”

The head Freemarketeer engineer, Ramses Abdulrashid pushed himself through the crowd. “We will do anything you say. Won’t we?” he asked of his people.

They agreed, mostly out of fear. Of all of them, only Ram seemed reasonable.

“Good,” Weaver said. “Because I have a plan. But first, we have to break away from the rest of the ship. Unfortunately, that can’t be done in here. Only the console on the other side is functioning. It’s also a two person job. Since none of you is a transhuman, I’m going to need the strongest person to help me.”

“How are we supposed to get back over here?” a random person asked.

“Étude will teleport us back at the last second,” Weaver replied.

“She’ll what?”

“I can go,” Sharice said. “I’m stronger than anybody.”

Weaver shook her head. “Impossible. You will basically have to hold the doors closed all by yourself. I need a human volunteer.”

“I’ll do it,” Ram said. “I know more about how the ship works than anyone but the real crew. I’m the obvious choice.”

“Okay,” Weaver said. “Let’s go.”

A helpless Brooke watched as Weaver and Ram worked on separating the bridge deck. Time was running out as the integrity of the hull buckled under the stress. Weaver had to hold a button down on the console while Ram tried to pull the manual release lever on the other side of the hallway. He wasn’t strong enough, though. Suddenly, Étude appeared, holding Goswin.

“No!” Brooke tried to yell, but she still hadn’t figured out how to access the speaker system from the inside.

Goswin reached down and helped pull the lever, releasing the bridge deck in a way it never should have needed to. The two halves started moving away from each other at an incredible rate, and would be too far for Étude to teleport within seconds.

A figure appeared down the hallway, crawling towards them. It was Vitalie, who had come on board last second. Brooke had almost forgotten about her, and there had not been time to do a roll call. They were minutes away from losing life support, even if they all got back to the bridge deck. Ram instinctively ran over to her to help. He reached her just as Étude teleported there, took them both, and got them back to the bridge. Étude then tried to jump back for Weaver and Goswin, but something was stopping her. Technically, it was possible for a teleporter to jump into a deadly situation, like at the bottom of the ocean, or in the vacuum of space. Most were born with a sort of failsafe built into their instincts, which prevented them from doing this without trying really hard. For instance, a set of coordinates might send them to the middle of a wall, so the failsafe will kick in subconsciously, and land them at the closest relatively safe place. Étude could not get back to the other section of the Sharice, because it was already too far away.

“Computer,” Weaver’s voice came in on the speakers. “Initiate burst mode. AU level. Target Proxima Doma.” A distance of 892 AU meant it would take the bridge deck 892 seconds to reach its destination, or about fifteen minutes. Holly Blue long ago warned that the integrity of the hull would not last a few hundred, but perhaps she and Weaver reinforced it somehow. After all, Brooke had no idea that they were capable of teleporting at the AU range, because they never had before. The lone Holly Blue often worked on unauthorized projects, so it was no surprise that two Holly Blues together would do the same.

Things were not going well, though. Sharice’s android body was about to give out from the stress of trying to hold the door closed. The deck was threatening to break apart just as predicted. The humans were all freaking out. The only person who was at all calm was Étude. After treating Vitalie’s wounds, she casually walked over to the hidden safe in the wall, and input a code she had no business knowing. She removed the Insulator of Life, and handed it to Vitalie.

“Do you know what’s going to happen?” Vitalie asked her.

Étude studied Vitalie’s face for a moment. Then she nodded.

“Are we going to die?”

Étude looked at Ram, then back at Vitalie, and shook her head. Then she looked over at the rest of the crowd, and nodded.

“Is there nothing we can do?” Ram asked.

Étude shook her head again.

“Looks like Treacy was right,” Ram said. “He was paranoid the solar system leadership would sabotage this mission. They backed out of the original deal pretty abruptly.”

Étude shrugged her shoulders.

“Yes,” Ram said. “There are worst tragedies.”

Étude exited the main area, to the entryway, where Sharice was desperately trying to hold the outer doors closed. She gently placed her hand on Sharice’s shoulder. Then she nodded, as if to say, it’s okay to let go. She signed the word for insulator.

“Will that work?” Sharice asked.

Étude smiled.

Sharice looked back at the doors one last time after Étude left, then sent her consciousness back to the main systems, right next to Brooke’s. The doors broke open, sending the android body flying out, along with a couple Freemarketeers who had decided to wait in the entryway. “Mom,” she said. “We’re going to live.”

“No,” Brooke said back. “Étude, Vitalie, and Abdulrashid will. The ship won’t make it.”

“I should have held onto the doors longer.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered. Our mission is over.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

A minute later, the bridge deck was literally tearing apart at the seams. At the last second, Étude teleported herself, Vitalie, and Ram to the surface of Doma. The rest of the people crashed and burned.

The insulator was keeping the three survivors alive in an otherwise very inhospitable environment. They were miles and miles away from the habitat a nanofactory had built for this planet’s colonists a few years ago. But how did Brooke see that? She could sense the three humans around her, but she should have died in the crash too. Evidently, the Insulator of Life was keeping her and Sharice alive as well. That was great, but that still left one question. Now what?

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Microstory 1005: Giorgia

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Contrary to popular belief at this school, I actually speak perfect English. See? I have a bit of an accent, but I play a pretty good North American. Lots of people seem to think I’m an exchange student, but I’ve been living in this country for nine years, so no. I kind of feel like a sitcom token foreign character, where when I say something, people just laugh and pretend I didn’t make any sense. This happened so absurdly often when I first moved here that I eventually gave up trying to connect with most people. I have my small group of friends, who all know me well, most of whom are in different grade levels, so I don’t really need anyone else’s validation anymore. I will say that Viola was one of the few people outside my friend circle who got that I’m an immigrant. I have full citizenship, as do both of my parents, and we didn’t even have to climb a wall to get it. I was born in Italy, but my family is very whimsical and spontaneous. We didn’t plan on coming to Blast City, per se. But after spending years in the city, our paperwork went through, and we felt we needed to make another decision. Since no globe would have a town this small on it, we couldn’t spin it like before, but my mom did close her eyes and point randomly on a map. So yeah, that’s how we ended up here. I think they wanted to leave again, but were worried about destabilizing my education, so that will probably be happening sometime next year, or even near the end of this year. I’m not going to college, which is one thing Viola and I had in common. You asked for a specific defining moment between the two of us, but there wasn’t really anything like that. She greeted me in the halls, and asked me how my cat was doing. She learned a few Italian phrases, but unlike others, who just want me to teach them curse words, she was doing it out of genuine interest. I think that’s probably why so many people think they had some kind of special connection to her, and maybe it’s even partly why someone killed her. She went out of her way to find common ground with everyone she met, even if it meant fabricating something that wasn’t there before. Fabricating isn’t the word I’m looking for. And again, that’s not because English is technically a second language; I’m just not articulating perfectly. Devising; that’s a better word. If for instance, she encountered someone who liked tennis, she would put on a pleated skirt, and give it a shot. She may not like it, and she may never do it again, but she will always have that bond with that other person. I guess, she doesn’t have it anymore. We do, though. We remember her, and we each have that one thing that she made us feel isn’t stupid, or uncool. In the end, I’m glad we weren’t really close friends. The light from a person like that belongs to us all, and I wouldn’t have wanted to bogart that.

Microstory 1004: Blanche

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I’m sorry, I don’t know what you want for me, but I’m not going to cry over someone I didn’t know. Thousands of people die every day, you expect me to mourn for every one of them? No? Just the ones in some arbitrary geographical radius? No, that can’t be right either, because I know people who live in Chile, and Mongolia. I bet you would care about them too, but not about all the other Chileans and Mongolians. Look, all I know about Viola came from rumors and second-hand conversations. I’m not going to comment on a topic on which I am not an authority. I have my own problems to deal with. My parents are worried that I’m a sociopath because I didn’t shed a single tear, or even attend the memorial service. Just because I’m not emotional about everything, doesn’t mean I’m not emotional about anything. But if you really need it, I will give you a story of a notable encounter I had with her. You’re new, so you may not know this. In a town so small, we basically have two stores. You can shop at the snooty rich joint, or you can come to the regular place that’s been here almost as long as Blast City itself. Viola Woods and her ilk do not shop at the old store, because it’s beneath them. They literally built the new store on top of a slightly taller hill, just so they could look down on us. Yet there she was one day in the valley, I guess to get a look at the funny little normal people who shop there, or in my case, work there. It didn’t look like someone had dared her to do it, but she didn’t look comfortable either. Maybe it’s just that her parents have never let her go in before, and she didn’t know where anything was, but she stood out like a sore thumb. And that’s about it! She bought a few single-serving boxes of cereal, some milk, and I think a magazine. She paid in cash, then she walked out. This was about a year ago, and she never came back. Real brush with grace, I know, I almost fainted. I sure do hope the rest of your interviews are more interesting than this, because you’ve just learned everything there is to know about the infamous duo of Viola and Blanche.