The Advancement of Mateo Matic: October 20, 2227

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After a small group of human Ansutahan refugees stole the Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, and laid in a course for Gatewood, the rest of Ansutah was in the midst of war. Some conservative Maramon were hesitant to fight the humans, especially since they were living in what was considered holy land, but there were plenty of progressives fully willing to kill, kill, kill. The human leadership, living on the continent of Comron, had declared that every able-bodied human over the age sixteen was fit for military service, whether they possessed any prior training, or not. A group of mostly fifteen year olds, wanting to contribute to the effort, made their own decision. There was a special location that was capable of ending the war altogether.

While Comron was only deemed holy to protect its inhabitants from the Maramon, Eden Island was legitimately sacred, and site of the original human settlement in this world. Over time, the human population outgrew their little home, so they moved out to other lands. White monsters were not allowed to return, and neither were the humans. There was a rumor that a great power lied in wait there, though. Most people dismissed this as mere superstition, but this group of children thought it was their only chance. They stole a seafaring vessel, and set about on their journey. They were led by a young man named Alcide Makar. He was nineteen years old, but suffered permanent spinal cord damage when he was a boy, so he was never conscripted into the human army. At present, he and his friends were just pulling up on shore. It was here that they discovered they were not alone.

“Turn back now,” a monster said, pointing towards the ocean. He was an unusual creature; not human, nor sufficiently Maramon. His hardened skin was entirely black, while his brethren were all white. He should not be alive.

Alcide stepped forward to protect his people. “Move aside, Exile.”

“How did you know my name?” the black Maramon questioned.

“I did not know that was your name. You are an exile, though, right?”

“I am. My birth name is Enarkased Edcubijmohjac. What are you doing in this holy place?”

“We seek the Fruits of Power,” another boy said. Sakil Tamboli was a runt, and Alcide’s best friend. He considered himself to be Alcide’s commanding lieutenant, and Alcide never had the heart to disabuse him of this belief.

“Don’t tell him that,” Alcide scolded.

Exile lifted his chin. “I can show you where the Tree of Power stands. But are you worthy to eat its bounty?”

“We are here to end the war with your people,” Alcide explained. “We believe this is the way.”

Exile shook his head. “They are not my people.” He should have been killed as a baby for being born black, but someone must have rescued him, and brought him here. There was definitely at least one other person on this island. Whoever it was would be very protective of him, and the Tree of Power.

“Will you help us?” Alcide asked of him.

Exile took a beat, then nodded his head. “Follow me. It is clear on the other side of the island. The Planters arrived here from the mainland.” He turned around and started walking.

The most cautious of them tugged on Alcide’s arm. “Are we sure about this?” Orla asked. “Can we trust him?” She was eighteen years old, but hailed from a rich family, and was able to negotiate her way out of military service.

“I would trust any black Maramon to hate the whites more than we do. In fact, Miss Tengrove, I trust him more than you.” He began to follow Exile into the jungle. “Keep up, Hekabe.” He required two canes to walk, but Hekabe was always the one to slow them down, because she was so easily distracted. “Elias, you got Zan?”

Zan Ikin wasn’t completely blind, but she still needed help navigating somewhere she hadn’t been before. The path they were taking would surely be rough and unpredictable. Elias Waller was usually there to keep her from tripping, or stepping into mud. “I got her!”

And so Exile guided them through the jungle, and to the far shore. They couldn’t go straight there, though. Apparently, the original human village remained standing. The villagers were responsible for keeping watch over the Tree of Power, so that no one attempted to eat its fruits. They were said to give anyone who consumed them special abilities; those of its Planters. There was no proof in this, but the humans who first came here did so in order to be rid of the powers they were born with. It was strictly taboo to even consider the possibility of eating the fruit, or even going anywhere near it. That was another reason humans emigrated out of here, just to make it that much harder. These children were breaking a number of moral imperatives by coming here. If the villagers discovered them, they would not hesitate to use lethal force.

“We’re here,” Exile said.

Irini MacFarland looked around. “I don’t see anything.”

“Well, we’re not quite there,” he clarified, “but it’s not far. This is as close as I have ever been allowed to get, and it’s been strongly suggested to me that I don’t ever venture even this close. If we take one more step towards the Tree, we are inviting death into our homes. Do you really want this?”

“Let’s skip the speech,” Irini said, “and get right to the end. We had the entire boat ride out here to back out. All of us has agreed, even Greer.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Greer complained.

“We’re all in this,” Alcide announced, trying to stop any fight before it happened.

“Very well,” Exile said. “It’s just up here.” He turned around again, and led them the rest of the way.

They were soon upon a wondrous tree, that was even more beautiful than the ancient drawings of it. It wasn’t very big, but colorful and amazing. The bark was sparkling silver, and the leaves were clear; like glass, but flowy and flexible. It did bear fruit, of many colors. A flock of birds, and a collective of land animals, formed a circle around the tree. They were watching it intently, but made no attempt to approach, so they were more like decorative statues. They made no attempt to stop the humans from walking towards it. There were no animals in all of Ansutah but here, which further cemented the island as a hallowed place.

“My God, it’s real.”

“Of course it is. It’s magnificent.”

The children looked amongst each other, and then all to Alcide, waiting for his direction. He looked right at them, and then back at the tree. “Let’s go.” He ran up to the tree, and felt himself drawn to the white-colored fruit. Each one looked the same; kind of like the ancient stories heir ancestors passed down of pears, but the white one was calling to him. He bit into it, and savored its juices. The skin stuck to his teeth while the flesh spilled down his throat. Only after he was done with his first bite was he capable of looking over at his friends. Sakil had reached for the red fruit, Hekabe the green, Zan the pink, Elias the violet, Greer the yellow, and Irini the indigo fruit. Even Exile couldn’t help but partake, though he had spent more time than any of them resisting the tree’s temptations. He chose the black one, perhaps to be ironic. Orla succumbed the most by choosing to take both the blue fruit, and the orange one.

“Eat the whole thing,” Alcide ordered. “It’s like medicine. Don’t let any of it go to waste.”

They did as they were told, and finished their fruit, except for flaky Hekabe, who also checked for the silver bark’s edibility. Sakil tried it too. It wasn’t really until then that they realized there was one fruit left. It was all the way at the top, which wasn’t that high, but still not within reach from the ground. It was also the most glorious. It didn’t just appear as all the colors in a fantastic rainbow, but shifted them around its skin. The other fruit each had a glow to them, but the colors weren’t changing like this.

“I got it!” Orla shouted.

“No,” Alcide pulled her back from her climb. “Each fruit clearly represents one of the nine Planters, but that one obviously gives you all powers combined.”

“Yeah? Your point?” Orla questioned.

“No one should be that powerful,” Alcide warned.

“Says you!” Orla accused. “I’m not going to eat it. I’m just going to get it down here, so we can decide who should get it.”

“We should share,” Zan suggested.

“Yes,” Hekabe agreed. “We each get one bite. I have some green left over too.”

“No!” Alcide cried. “No one gets any more fruit, especially not Orla. You already ate two, you greedy little shit! Except you, Vartanian. Finish your green.”

“Screw you!” Orla screamed back at him. She instinctively raised her hand to him. The air between her and him started to warp and oscillate. They knew what this was. A Planter name Lucius had the power to destroy anything in his path by separating the molecules from each other.

“Stop!” Elias, the bravest of them yelled. He stepped in front of Alcide, and took all of Orla’s blast. His friends watched in horror as he disintegrated into a million pieces, and disappeared into oblivion.

They were speechless.

“I...I didn’t mean to,” Orla whined. “You saw, I just did it on instinct!”

“You didn’t mean to kill Elias,” Alcide began, “but you did mean to kill someone. You are the last person I ever wanted to eat the Lucius fruit. It is going to be the absolute most useful in the war against the Maramon. We should been more careful. We should have figured out which color represented which Planter.”

“You just wanted it for yourself!” Orla accused. “Well, it’s too late now! I was the only one smart enough to eat more than one. That doesn’t make me greedy; it makes me a winner. I’m gonna get that rainbow fruit, and I’m gonna end this war myself. I don’t need any of you.”

“No,” Zan said. “You killed Elias, but you can bring him back. Everyone knows Lucius learned to reconstitute the atoms.”

“He could do that to objects,” Orla argued. “Elias is dead. Even if I rebuilt his body, he would still be dead. I’m not proud of what happened, but we have to move forward. I’m getting that fruit, and unless you want to end up like him, you’ll step away from the tree.”

“You mean this fruit?” Hekabe asked her. She was now standing near one of the big cats, who was still watching the Tree.

“How did you do that?” Alcide asked.

“I must have eaten Curtis’ fruit. I can teleport. You were wrong, though. I only took a few bites, and I can still do it. Though, to be fair, it wore me out.”

“Give me that now,” Orla demanded. “Or I’ll end you.”

“If you Lucius me,” Hekabe said, “you’ll Lucius the fruit too.”

“You’re right, so I’ll just kill your best friend.” Orla lifted her hand again, and pointed it at Zan.”

“Don’t you dare,” Greer said, also holding her hands out on instinct.

Orla froze in place, and couldn’t move.

“Greer, you ate the Missy fruit. You can make time bubbles.”

“We can’t leave her in there forever,” Alcide reasoned. “We need to find a way to keep the rainbow fruit from Orla.

“I can take it anywhere in the world,” Hekabe said. “Eventually,” she added. “Like I said, just those two short-range jumps took a lot out of me.”

“It’s not enough,” Alcide said, shaking his head. He thought about all the planters, and what power each of them possessed. Molecular teleportation, standard line-of-sight teleportation, and time bubbles were all taken. That left most of them, so which one could help them now? “Who ate the Dubra fruit?”

“You want them to take the rainbow fruit to the future?”

“It’s the only safe place,” Alcide pointed out.

“It must be that black Maramon. He’s gone.”

“What? No, I’m right here,” they could hear Exile’s voice.

“Where? We can’t see you.”

“Hm.” A few second later, Exile reappeared. “How about now?”

“Invisibility?” Sakil wondered. “None of the Planters had that power.”

“Maybe someone did,” Zan offered. “Maybe they were invisible.”

“I guess there were ten fruits,” Sakil noted.

“That’s not important right now,” Alcide reminded them. “We still need Dubravka to get us out of this.”

“I think I ate that fruit,” Irini finally said. “I just...I kinda feel it.”

Just then, the Time Shriek echoed throughout the entire area. They could feel a heat all around them, and a fire, burning perpetually in their periphery.

“This is it,” Alcide realized. “They figured out how to get all the humans across the universe bridge, all at once. We’re leaving Ansutah.”

“Yeah,” Zan said, “I see the Muster Lighter. “It’s calling to us.”

“What are you talking about?” Exile asked. “I can’t see anything.”

“That’s because you’re Maramon,” Irini explained to him with sadness. “They’re not going to save you.”

“I can’t see it either, guys,” Greer told them. “I think I’m having to focus too much on keeping Orla locked in a time bubble. Or am I standing too far away?”

“I know what to do,” Sakil said as he was walking towards Greer. “I  have Avidan’s holistic diagnosis power. Hekabe, hold onto Exile. Hold on tight.”

Before Sakil could reach her, Greer watched as all of her friends, as well as Orla, disappeared in a fiery flash. Only she was left standing alone by the Tree of Power.

A week later, Greer found herself in the main section of the Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez. “Mateo Matic,” Serif said, “this is Greer Thorpe. She’s been single-handedly slowing down the war with the Maramon by keeping the entire planet in a time bubble. If you’ve destroyed the Muster Beacon, and the Muster Lighter is all we have to rescue the humans from their home universe, we’re gonna need her.”

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Proxima Doma: The Hinterland (Part IV)

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The thing about the original Savior program, and which Étude herself didn’t always know about, was that most of the people saved had no recollection of it. There was a lot of secret power behind the whole operation, and it involved a lot more than one person teleporting around, getting people out of bad situations. The sheer number of people who were ultimately helped by one of the Saviors throughout history would have resulted in the secret of it, well...never actually being a secret. At the very least, as soon as internet message boards started existing, rumors would have been so consistently accurate that it would be hard to argue against their veracity. Chances are high that you know someone who has been rescued by a Savior at some point in their life. In order to protect the secret, people’s memories had to be altered, and in modern days, other—more inescapably reliable—forms of evidence had to be changed too. It was unclear whether the powers that be what controlled Étude’s missions were themselves responsible for proverbially flashy thinging witnesses, or if they got choosing ones to do it. However it was done, it was something Étude and Vitalie could not. After some thoughtful discussions, they both agreed that they needed to find a different way.

“The problem is we’re so isolated here. We’re living in the hinterland.”

“This is true,” Vitalie agreed, “but I’m not following your point.”

“If we were on Earth, we would have access to the chooser network,” Étude answered vaguely.

“Is that a TV thing?”

“If you need something done, and it requires a time power to do it, and you don’t have that time power, and you don’t know someone who has that time power, then you know someone who knows someone who has that power. Or you know someone who knows someone who can find someone who has that power. All you gotta do is ask for help, and hope that your reputation—from both the past and future—hasn’t ruined your relationship with the right people. Take Arcadia, for instance. She tormented Leona and all her friends on Tribulation Island. She tore them out of time one by one, and forced them to compete in challenges to get them back.”

Vitalie nodded, “yes, I remember the stories.”

Étude went on, “she would often watch them covertly from another dimension, or she would teleport in, or control someone else’s body, so she could talk through them. Well, she alone wasn’t capable of doing most of these things. She really only had the one ability, so whenever she needed any of the others, she got someone else to do it for her. Now, she used threats and violence to get what she wanted, but you get the idea. This is a roundabout way of explaining that, if we were on Earth, or were capable of contacting the right people on Earth, there would be a time power solution to our memory problem.”

“Well, I might be able to contact someone on Earth. Who do we need, do I know them?”

“I thought you had to know them to communicate remotely, and I didn’t think you could reach all the way to another solar system.”

“I can’t go that far on my own, but fortunately, we have a workaround. I can piggyback on a signal that’s being sent to Earth, and talk to anyone I want, whether their near their own QM, or not. That’s how I’ve stayed in touch with my dads without anyone here knowing about it.”

“I didn’t know you were talking to them,” Étude said. “Well, what about that other question? Don’t you have to know someone in order to send you consciousness to them?”

“I can do it if I’m with someone who does know them. It’s not easy, and it doesn’t always work, but it’s possible.”

“Well, I suppose it can’t hurt to try, am I right? I knew a guy who could manipulate memories. He couldn’t blend people’s brains, like Nerakali or The Warrior, so he can’t make you remember alternate realities, but he can reconcile temporal corruptions. If you were to teleport someone out of a fire, he could make them think they found their own way out, or a firefighter rescued them.”

Vitalie nodded. “If you believe he can help us, I’m willing to give it a shot.”

“Do you need to be...” Étude didn’t know how this worked.

“No, I can do it from here,” Vitalie explained. “The QM is pretty much always on. Take my hands.”

The two of them held both each other’s hands, and closed their eyes to concentrate. “Okay, think of the person you’re trying to contact,” Vitalie instructed. “Think about his face; the shape of his jawline, color of his eyes. The fall of his hair. Think about the sound of his voice, and the manner of his gait.”

Étude did as she was told, and tried to remember everything she could about one Tertius Valerius. They could feel their minds being torn from their respective homes in their brains, and traveling across the planet, right to the Oblivio dome.

Tertius was standing in front of some kind of electrical box, messing with the wires. He stopped and looked over at them. “Oh, hi, babes.”

“Tertius? You’re on Proxima Doma.”

“That’s right,” he confirmed. “Where are you?”

Étude was very confused. “We’re here too, in Dome Four.”

“Isn’t that the one that collapsed?” he asked.

“That was Shelter Forty-One, and also...not..real.”

Tertius nodded, and started eying the electrical box. A part of him wanted to get back to work; doing whatever it was he was doing.

“So, what are you doing here?” Étude questioned.

“I work here,” he said. “In life support.”

“You’re not a systems engineer.”

“I’m learning,” he said with a shrug. “They needed my particular set of skills, so I’m working as an apprentice.”

“What skills do y—” Étude stopped herself. “You’re making the memory wipe technology work.”

He smiled. “They couldn’t figure it out. Sure, they can erase everyone’s memories of their own pasts, but that leaves so many gaps. Where did they come from? Who are their families? Do they like chicken? They don’t just want people thinking everyone in their literal microcosm suddenly appeared out of nowhere with amnesia. They want to fabricate an entire history. That’s where I come in. Should anyone in this dome start to remember things they shouldn’t, or question the nature of their reality, the environment can correct it in realtime. Life support.”

“The Oblivios know what you can do?” Vitalie asked. “They know about time powers, and choosing ones?”

Tertius laughed. “I came to them with revolutionary technology that I refuse to allow anyone but them to utilize. They have no clue I can just do it with my mind. They’ve been...quite grateful.”

“Well, they’re not the only ones who could use your help,” Vitalie began the pitch. “We’re restarting the Savior program.”

“You’re coming out of retirement?” he asked Étude.

“She’ll be taking over,” Étude said. “We’re calling it the Caretaker program.”

He nodded again, and yawned. “So, you want my help keeping your schtick under wraps, I dig it.”

“You can dig it, but can you do it?”

It was hard to tell what he was thinking as he was staring at them, but it felt like he wasn’t going to agree to help them unless he was getting something out of it. “I can, but I’m not sure I should. I’ve committed to the OPP dome. You’re asking me to divide my attention.” Okay, that wasn’t an unreasonable concern.

“What do you want?” Vitalie asked.

“Vita, careful,” Étude whispered to her, but it was loud enough for Tertius to hear.

“No, let’s not dance around this,” Vitalie argued. “He doesn’t work for free, this much is clear.” She directed her attention back to Tertius. “So name your price.”

“I want a house—no, a mansion—no, a tower!” He sought answers in the space before him at a forty-five degree angle. “A Sauron tower, with a panopticon.”

“You wanna rule over Proxima Doma?” Vitalie questioned.

“Not Doma,” he said. “Just this...doma. And I don’t want to rule them; I just want to live in a tower.”

“Aren’t the Oblivios meant to not have any technology? Surely they would notice a giant tower lording over them from the center of their world.”

He literally handwaved this problem. “I can make ‘em forget. I can make ‘em forget they saw a tower while they’re looking at the tower. I can basically be invisible.”

“Wull, I can’t build towers,” Vitalie said regrettably. “So, it’s not up to me.”

“I want this fix just as much as you do,” Étude told her, then she looked back at Tertius. “But you better be right the Oblivios won’t be able to see it. If you make me part of destroying an entire culture’s worldview, I’ll knock you off that tower. My mother did that once, and I inherited more from her than just her blood, so don’t think I’ll hesitate.”

He mimed cutting an X into his heart.

“I need verbal confirmation.”

“I solemnly swear that I am up to all good. Believe it or not, I feel for these primitivists. They’re sacrificing everything they have to start new lives, and they’re going to great lengths to unburden the rest of humanity from them. I’m not getting paid for this. I’m helping, because I want them to have what they need to be happy. It also reminds me of where I grew up, back before the common era.

“Then we have a deal,” Vitalie said with finality. “Let’s shake on it.”

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Microstory 1080: Elsie

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When I was growing up, my family was so close to the family next door that they actually built an adjoining addition between our two houses, to make it one. The four parents constructed it by their own hands, using designs my architect father drew up. A sky bridge will allow you to walk from one house to the other from the second story, while the first floor retains some open space in the center to walk through, and access our joint backyard. The boy next door was my best friend for years, until he died in a boating accident that Viola should have been able to prevent. I know, I know, beggars can’t be choosers, but I never understood why she was able to save me, and not him. It was the summer after middle school, and Ingram—that was his first name—and I wanted to do something fun, just by ourselves, before classes started. We were dreading going into high school, because though we always had each other, we didn’t really get along with anyone else, and this giant place seemed so threatening back then. This was not anywhere near the first time we went out in that row boat without adult supervision, so we were pretty confident in our abilities. We even checked the weather for the rest of the day, because we were so careful and thoughtful. The storm literally came out of nowhere, right on top of us, like an evil force was trying to attack. Ingram and I did everything we could to reach the shore, which wasn’t that far away, but those waves made it impossible to control the boat, and the rain and clouds made it impossible to see. Naturally, we tipped over, but that shouldn’t have been the end, because we were both wearing life vests, we knew how to swim, and storms don’t last forever. We held hands as best we could, but we were eventually separated from each other. As I was trying to get back to him, I felt two arms lift me in the air, and then I watched as the entire lake swam over to the side, so that I could land safely on solid ground. By the time I looked back, Viola was gone. I actually don’t have any proof that she was the one who raised me out of there, but I can’t think of anyone else who would be capable of it. Following this ordeal, Viola started following me around, like some kind of emotional support animal. Obviously this was the most traumatic experience of my life. People got it in their heads that Viola and I were friends, but it wasn’t that easy. I was grateful for what she did, but I also couldn’t help but resent her for what she didn’t do...couldn’t do. She never did admit to being on the lake that day, but I’ll always know that she chose to let Ingram die, while I have to live without him. So was Viola a great person? Well, yes, she was. But she also wasn’t perfect.

Microstory 1079: Ada

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I have seen first hand what Viola could do. She never used her gifts to help me directly, though one could argue that being included on some of her missions was exactly what I needed. She was capable of transporting herself, and others, to far away locations. It wasn’t quite instant, but it was a hell of a lot faster than flying, that’s for sure. She would later tell me she actually could indeed teleport instantaneously, but it took too much energy, and it wasn’t worth it. She chose to travel all over the world, solving other people’s problems, but she didn’t have to wait for them to cry for help, or anything. She could also see the future, so she would be able to be at the right place, at the time time...mostly. For my second mission, we helped a guy who got stuck in the snow when his wheelchair seized up. He was buried up to his waist by the time we found him. Her orientation skills weren’t always perfect, otherwise we might have stopped it before it even got that bad. I didn’t understand why Viola chose me to be part of what she used to do. She implied I would take up the mantle once she was gone, but I wasn’t born with powers, so how would that even work? It works...because I absorbed her gifts upon her death. She never said that I wasn’t meant to reveal myself to the world. Of course she never said anything, but you must be one hell of a field reporter, Alma, because I just can’t lie to you. Right now, I’m in training. Viola didn’t leave any instructions on exactly how I was meant to use my new abilities—mostly because she didn’t tell me about this at all—so she also didn’t do much in the way of instruction. When I was on those missions, I had no idea she was grooming me to be her replacement. I’m actually working with Martin, Margaret, Mae, and Mattie, since they apparently have some experience with this kind of thing. I guess we’re going to start a team? Maybe I am giving away too much. No, people should know about this. Viola’s story deserves to be told, and if my story is part of hers, then I’m just going to have to deal with those consequences. Now I’m getting all worked up about this. I’m headed to the gym to blow off some steam.

Microstory 1078: Elmer

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I don’t know much about my father. Way she tells it, my mother didn’t know him very well either. It wasn’t a one-night stand, but they didn’t have much time together. It was evidently love at first sight that resulted in an unplanned pregnancy, but they were fully intending to stay together. After he died suddenly, she moved back home to Blast City, so my grandparents could help raise me. One thing I do know about my dad is how much he loved cars. He was apparently working on restoring some kind of classic model before he left us, but his brother inherited it, so I’ve never seen it. It’s not that we don’t get along with my uncle, but he and the rest of that side of the family live halfway across the country, so it’s always been awkward. Several years ago, I was sneaking around the attic when I found a box that once belonged to my father, which mom forgot was even up there. We actually had a few of his possessions that she tucked away, since they were too painful to look at. I discovered detailed plans in the box for the design of a new car. There wasn’t anything unique, or special, about the designs. He theoretically drew them up, because he wanted to build one with his own two hands from scratch, but it was never meant to revolutionize the industry. I decided I wanted to pick up where he left off, and build it myself in my neighbor’s workshop, but I did not know what I was in for. I personally have no strong feelings about cars, but I figured I could do it if I saved up, and took my time. I wasn’t entirely right about that. The fact is I didn't know what I was doing when I started all this. I kept working at it, and working at it, hoping things would eventually come together. But they never did, and I found myself more lost than I ever had been before. Then Viola came along. She spent time with me every day after school in our sophomore year, teaching me what parts I would need, and how to fit them together. We used heavy machinery to manufacture individual parts that didn’t exist, because my dad had come up with them. We contacted regulation authorities, to make sure what we came up with would be street legal. She even helped me tweak the original design, because it otherwise would not have been legal. One day before my sixteenth birthday, everything was finished. It was all put together, tested by engineers, and given full approval to drive. I waited to get in the driver’s seat myself until the next day, just to observe the symbolism of it. I’m so proud of what we accomplished, and so grateful for the opportunity. I almost never had any passengers in it, because I’ve always pretended my dad was with me instead. There was only one time when someone very important asked me for a ride, and I gladly made an exception for her. I’m the one who drove Viola Woods to Masters Creek, and ultimately, her death. I did that. I haven’t driven an inch since.

Microstory 1077: Fannie

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Have you ever seen The Mothman Prophecies? I don’t know that much about it, but I remember this key plot point where a character would be driving on the highway, and he was suddenly in a different part of the country. Again, I don’t remember what he did, but I seem to recall this occurring a couple times. Well, that very thing has happened to be quite a bit over the course of my life. It started out when I was a child. I would be walking to school, and eventually realize that I’m on the other side of town, going the completely wrong direction. I never felt the moment when I jumped to this other location, because one thing I’ve noticed is that I always end up in a similar environment from where I started. I won’t, for instance, be walking across a prairie, then suddenly find myself in a snowy tundra. It also doesn’t seem to ever happen to me while I’m inside, or standing still. I spent years trying to teleport on purpose, all the while also trying to figure out if there’s some reason I’m meant to go to these other places. Maybe somebody’s life needs saving, or I’m expected to learn some lesson. But I don’t always jump to the same point, and there is almost never anyone else around. It would appear that this phenomenon is totally random, that I will never find a way to control it, and that there is nothing I can do about it. About the only way I can sometimes prevent it is by walking very slowly, and taking frequent breaks. It’s practically impossible for me to drive myself anywhere, but I definitely can’t tell my parents why they have to chauffeur me around. I have fabricated this complicated lie about a driving phobia, and past traumatic experiences. They have no recollection of something terrible happening to me in a car, and of course there’s no proof of it, but they find it hard to argue.

Once I’m done with high school, I’m moving to a big city; somewhere with really good public transportation. The magical force doing this to me seems to hate it when other people are near, though it will just go ahead and take me away if it finds out I’m trying to protect myself by staying in a crowd. I had a lot of explaining to do after a few times there were witnesses, and even had to join magic club, before I pretty much gave up using that as a tactic. Anyway, a few months before we lost her for good, Viola approaches me, and tells me that she knows what I’ve been going through. She apologizes for not speaking with me earlier, and claims that she should have sensed that I was different a long time ago. She couldn’t understand why it was she had to find out by accident. Apparently, she was some kind of expert on this kind of stuff. She also tells me that there is no treatment for what she specifically called a time affliction. She can’t cure me, I can’t cure me, and doctors certainly can’t cure me. It’s just something I’m going to have to live with, and the coping mechanisms I had already come up with are probably my best bet. She kept me close after that, and she was actually able to keep the jumps at bay, to an extent. But she warned me she would not be around forever, and I could not rely on her to help for too long. Then she was killed, and proved this to be true. It was nice not being alone for a little while, and it’s made me realize how sick of it I truly was, so I’m revealing this to your audience now, because I just can’t lie anymore.

Microstory 1076: Nettie

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Before we get into this, I would like to extend my gratitude to you for taking this huge project on. I know that it doesn’t impact me all that much, but Viola was a good friend of mine, and she obviously can’t show you appreciation herself. Now that we’re seniors, we’ve branched out into our own preferred subjects, but over the last four years—in a school this size—there was no one in your grade level you didn’t share at least one class with. There was one exception to this. Throughout our entire respective school careers, I didn’t take one class that Viola was also in. Sometimes we were taking the same course at the same time, but we weren’t in the room together. If nothing else, there’s a strong possibility for two students to be in physical education together, because they only have a couple giant meeting sessions, but we didn’t have that either. I broke my leg in the summer before high school began—slipping on the rocks, trying to cross a stream, like an idiot—so I had to wait to take it when I was a sophomore anyway. Of course, I haven’t exactly conducted any scientific studies, so maybe this sort of schedule happens all the time, but it certainly doesn’t seem to. The only reason any of this is important to my story is because Viola was the kind of person that you couldn’t miss. If you never shared a class with someone else, it might have escaped your attention, but if you never got to see Viola, you noticed. She seemed to notice as well, because near the end of last year, she started making a point of visiting me at my locker. This behavior continued all through the following summer break, and up to her death. She became a quite important confidante for me. I could tell her any and all of my secrets, and know that she wasn’t going to abuse her power. I think she helped a lot of people in this way; just by listening to them. I always imagined she would grow up to become a therapist, or something. It wasn’t until after she was gone, and you started working on this series, that I learned there was a lot more to her. She never showed me any magic tricks, or proved she knew things about the world that she shouldn’t have. I’m still not sure I believe all the supernatural stuff people claim about her. There was no single instance where she changed my life forever, or altered my perspective. She was just a good friend. She seemed to always know what the people around her needed most, and I guess all I needed was someone to talk to.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: October 19, 2226

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Sanaa was right that the terrorists’ plan would work. At midnight central on the night of October 18, 2225, Leona jumped forward exactly one year. She had every reason to believe that Mateo had done the same all the way on Durus. They were now fully back on the pattern they had been dealing with for an indeterminate amount of time, across two realities. It wasn’t the best thing that had ever happened to them, but it certainly wasn’t the worst. The few years of realtime they were able to experience was really just borrowed time. The powers that be would have found some way of getting them back, regardless of what in-universe explanation people would have for it.

The Caster evidently had some psychic power they didn’t know about, even over androids. Brooke and Sharice attempted to prevent her from leaving in lightspeed ship that Hokusai built, but she was too strong for them. She took it before they could retrofit it to fit two people. They then spent the last year building Leona an entirely new ship, so she could finally meet back up with Mateo on Gatewood. That was assuming he was able to make it to his own Nexus replica, and travel back to this galaxy at all. Someone needed to get to Gatewood, so Serif could have some backup. There was no telling what exactly she was going through with the Ansutahan human refugees.

“Much less fanfare than when Ramses unveiled the Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez,” Sharice said to Leona as she was leading her down the hallway.

“We don’t have a teleporter to get you into orbit,” Brooke added, “so you should probably leave as soon as possible.”

“You’re not coming with me,” Leona said as a statement.

They stepped through the door, and revealed a relatively small ship in the hangar. “There’s not enough room for us.”

“More to the point,” Sharice began, “there wasn’t enough time to build a vessel with enough room for all of us. It’s single-occupant, just like Hokusai’s.”

“Unlike hers, though,” Brooke said, “we weren’t able to study Sanaa’s ship before she bugged out, so this thing can only go point-seven-five-c. You might be able increase efficiency to point-eight, but I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Is it going to operate itself while I’m gone for my interim years?” Leona asked. She might have tried to convince them to go along with her, but it would have been a wasteful conversation. They could upload their consciousnesses to the ship itself, but Leona was certain they had thought of that, and for their own reasons, decided against it. She was just going to have to go it alone.

“Your pilot will handle that for you.”

“I thought it was single-occupant,” Leona said.

Her two friends climbed up the steps with her, but watched her climb inside alone. “Eight Point Seven, wake up.”

“I’m awake,” Administrator Eight Point Seven replied, through the ship’s internal systems.

“You’re coming with me?” Leona asked, excited.

“The Bungulans want a new leader. I have overstayed my welcome. Fortunately, they recognized that overwriting my programming would have been cruel at that point, so they activated an entirely new personality to take over for me.”

“Are you okay with that?”

“I have outgrown this world,” Eight Point Seven said. “I’m ready to see the stars.”

“So, who’s the current leader? Are we on Nine Point Eight, or did they decide to skip over the missing versions, and go straight to Eleven Point Eight, which is where it would have been, if not for you?”

“They’ve done away with the periodic update naming convention,” Eight Point Seven answered. “They just gave the new administrator a name, and she’s been running things for the last year. They call her Mirage.”

Mateo thought he was looking at a mirage. Standing before him was a man he never thought he would see again. Ramses Abdulrashid was meant to be exiled to Lohsigli, which was like the Mars of this solar system. How was he here, and where had he been? Dardieti had explored enough of Lohsigli to know that it was fully capable of sustaining life, but they did not yet have resources allocated towards human exploration; let alone settlement. Per the Freemarketeers’ wishes, he was reportedly sent up there to live the rest of his days alone. There was plenty of food and water, but he was expected to survive with next to nothing else. Experts calculated a fifty-fifty chance that he would make it through the first year up there. One little cut, and he could have ultimately died from an infection, with the nearest medical facility being tens of millions of kilometers away. Mateo tried to find a sneaky way to keep him on Dardius, but Ramses insisted he leave. He had dedicated his political career to the ending of the Muster Wars, and wanted to do anything he could, even if it was literally the last thing he would ever do. Nonetheless, someone else must have decided to stop this.

“I thought you were off-world,” Mateo said, breaking out of his trance, and going in for a long-awaited hug.

“The Caretaker saved me as the exile pod was lifting off.”

“Is that that rumored superhero who flies in and rescues people from the brink of death?” Mateo questioned. Lots of people claimed to have been saved by her, but there was no solid evidence she existed at all.

“She is very real.” A version of The Weaver was there as well. Back when Leona was looking for the objects that would ultimately bring Mateo back from nonexistence, she ended up on Brooke Prieto-Matic’s ship. There they came across not only the version of the Weaver that lives in this reality, but also the one from Mateo’s original timeline. She, along with the other man in this group of three, sacrificed themselves to save the rest of the crew and passengers. Mateo didn’t know these two had been rescued by the Muster Twins, along with all the Freemarketeers.

“I’m just doing my job.” Yet another person came into the room, and Mateo recognized her as well. It was Vitalie; a very good friend of Leona’s, and new friend of his. Last he saw her, she was on Proxima Doma, sending him and Leona off on a mission to deliver Brooke and Sharice from their Insulator of Life prison.

“You’re the Caretaker?” Mateo asked her, not in shock, but a desire to understand what was going on.

“Yes. I travel the world, saving people as necessary.”

“That sounds like a Savior.”

“I didn’t like that term, especially since using it would have undermined Étude’s status as the Last Savior of Earth.”

“How did you get to Dardius, and...can you teleport now?”

“That’s not important. A lot has changed since you left the two of us on Bungula. I came here, because this is where I was most needed. It won’t be forever, but that’s not what matters right now. I summoned you to me, using my Diplomatic Protection Authority contact, because it’s time for you to leave.”

“I agree,” Mateo said. “I am not exactly up for reëlection, and I need to get back to Leona.”

“I can get you to the Nexus replica, but I need you to take four people with you.”

“I’m happy to take you with me,” Mateo said sincerely.

“No, I’m not part of the four. I still have work to do on this planet. Those terrorists won’t extraordinary rendition themselves.”

“We don’t really have foreign nations for you to transfer prisoners to,” Mateo said. “Xonkwo is the closest to it.”

“Oh, is that what extraordinary rendition means? No, I just mean arrest. I have to arrest them.”

Mateo nodded. He was totally cool with that. They had just killed a man on an international video feed. “So, who would be the fourth person to come with me?”

“Me.” A final person came into the room, on cue. It was none other than Newt. Technically, they hadn’t seen the terrorist kill him before the DPA cut the feed off. The Savior’s specialty was teleporting in at the very last second, and pulling people out of deadly situations. It wasn’t surprising the Caretaker used the same techniques, since she appeared to have been trained by the Last Savior.

“If you’re alive—and I hope this isn’t offensive—then how did I fall back on my pattern?”

“I’m sorry, I asked him to do that,” Vitalie answered instead. “I had to make it look like he really was dead. We’re not sure if killing him would have automatically reverted people’s powers, but that’s what the capito-terrorists seemed to think, so it was safest for everyone if you just went back to normal.”

“That’s okay,” Mateo said. “The world deserves a truly elected leader; one without the baggage of unjustly owning the planet. It’s time for me to leave, and to be honest, I had gotten used to my pattern. A part of me is glad to be back as I was.”

They paused reverently, before Vitalie started talking again. “Well, we’re approaching midnight. I have a plan, which is open for discussion. I can only take two people with me at once, so I’ll teleport Goswin and Holly Blue to the Nexus replica. Then I’ll come back for Mateo and Ram. I’ll save Newt for last, since he’s in the most danger here. Then I’ll send you all to Gatewood at once.”

“I have an amendment for that plan,” Holly Blue said. “Goswin is not a fighter, but I hear Ramses knows how to brawl.”

“Capitalists get in fights all the time, because we’re so greedy and envious.”

“If you take me and him first, he can ward off any threats, while I work on operating the Nexus. I should only need two or three minutes to get it working. We don’t know what the Freemarketeers did to the thing while it’s been under their control. We don’t even know if it’s been dismantled. We know no one’s used it.”

“Yeah, I doubt they know how,” Ramses agreed. “I’m perfectly happy to be on genius protection detail.”

“That works for me. If it keeps Newt and the Patronus out of harm’s way for longer, I’m all for it.” Vitalie stepped away, and invitingly held out her elbows. “Let’s go.”

Ramses and the Weaver interlocked their own arms with hers, and they all three disappeared.

“So, are there multiple versions of you?” Mateo asked Goswin.

Goswin shook his head. “We weren’t part of the Freemarketeer summoning. We came through the Muster Lighter just before the big mission started. We didn’t get a chance to escape Tribulation Island before they came through. We’ve been their prisoners for years.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t know about you. We would have—”

“I know, Patronus. Weaver and I hold nothing against you.”

Vitalie jumped back in, and grabbed the next two. “Weaver’s figured it out. We have to go quickly.”

She teleported Mateo and Goswin right into the undecagon, where Ramses was waiting for them, head on a swivel. Weaver’s hand was hovering over the console inside the control room, ready to go at a moment’s notice. They waited there for several minutes before they started to hear banging on the door.

Weaver spoke through the intercom. “They’re coming! Where the hell are Vitalie and Newt?”

“They should be right behind us!” Goswin cried.

Ramses stepped out of the undecagon, and put up his dukes. “I’ll hold them off if they get through,” he assured them.

“We can’t wait,” Weaver said. “I’m setting the timer for ten seconds.”

“No!” Mateo yelled. “We wait!” He was used to barking orders.

“It’s almost midnight!” Weaver said as she slammed the button with her palm. Then she ran through the door, and hopped into the undecagon. “Come on, Ram!”

Ram stepped back into the portal, but kept his arms in a defensive position.

Just then, a frightened Newt appeared, standing outside of the undecagon. He was wearing a suicide vest. They could see a timer on his chest, counting down from three. Two. The Nexus activated.

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