Microstory 1095: Wanda

< > Table of Contents

Your five minutes are up. If it were up to me, we wouldn’t separate you from Ralph at all, but Della’s worried you’ll start working on an escape together, and we can’t have that. I suppose this is the part where I sit you down and explain our dastardly plans, isn’t it? It looked like Julius was already filling you in on the ritual we’re going to perform today. He wasn’t really meant to do that. But I do want to talk to you, because...well, you’ve talked to just about everyone else in our graduating class, haven’t you? I’m fully on board with this project, but I don’t think we have to be mean to people. The truth is that Gertrude and I really were friends. We lied to the cops, and said that we were all in a group of friends together, but my friendship with Gertrude is a hundred percent real. Homer even had to do some witchy woo to prevent people from realizing they had never even seen us all together before. That was the opposite of the original plan, which was to stay as far from each other socially as possible, so no one would suspect we were the killers. Of course, the whole thing went awry when Viola showed up to stop us, and we had to improvise. You may be asking yourself, why would Wanda sacrifice Gertrude if she liked her? That’s precisely why I had to do it, and also precisely why I hesitated when it came time. You see, Homer claimed that it was only a sacrifice if we were losing something, which makes sense, when you think about it. You can’t really sacrifice a stranger, and expect the universe to be impressed by it. Annoyingly, it appears that this was a total lie as well, and Homer was just doing it to be cruel to his own people. We’re not actually sacrificing someone to the universe, but creating a new balance between life and death, which means the targets could have been anyone. This is where you and Ralph come in. I still don’t love that we have to do it at all, but at least the distance between us will make it easier. I intend to wield one of the holy blades again, and I intend to carry out my mission, without question this time. Even though Homer lied to us, I know that he has a pure soul, and this will herald a better future. Climate change, the refugee crisis, wage disparity, homelessness, disease, racism. These are all human creations, and the only way to fix the lunacy is by accepting the leadership of someone who is not quite human. But Homer can’t do it on his own. He needs more people to be like him, and the six of us are the start of that. Why six? It has nothing to do with the ritual itself, but Sidney apparently came up with that number for strategic purposes. He says, if you want to surround a building with a tactical team, you need a minimum of seven people, so you can box them in on all three dimensional axes. I don’t know exactly where he came up with that, but Homer seemed to agree, which is why he recruited five more people, and stopped there. Anyway, you better prepare yourself. The end is nigh for you, while the beginning of a new day is at hand.

Microstory 1094: Julius

< > Table of Contents

If it makes you feel any better, I don’t like this any more than you do. I’m not as unfeeling as Clyde, or as twisted as Nannie. I’m just trying to make my life better, and unfortunately, that means yours has to end. When Homer first approached me with his offer, I...well, I just didn’t believe him. But when he showed me what I could do, I still turned him down. I’m not a bad person, Alma, I promise you. I know these chains don’t make it look like that’s true, and I understand there’s no way you and I could ever be friends, but we’re all just doing our best here. Homer explained to me that the universe only exists through balance. There is no way for everyone in the world to be happy; it just doesn’t happen like that. Everyone’s fine with corporate executives firing their minions left and right. They’re fine with protected presidents sending poor soldiers to die in an unjust war. But they get all up in arms when we make a human sacrifice or two. Can you tell me, what exactly is the difference? In all three scenarios, people die, so why is it so much worse what we’re doing? I’ll tell you why, because we and Homer aren’t part of an institution. You’re only allowed to hurt people if you’ve gathered enough others who want to hurt people. Isn’t that sickening? We’re killing two people, while world leaders regularly kill by the thousands, but somehow, we’re the monsters. Priorities, am I right? Well, I’ve been through enough, and I’m not going to take it anymore. This town may accept me as the token gay jock, even though I’m definitely not the only one, but it hasn’t always been like that. I had to learn to filter out a lot of hate when I was a kid, growing up in the deep south. I’m one of those gays who can’t contain it, even if I tried—my mom knew who I was before I even did—so I had a huge target on my back before we moved up here. The only thing that kept me alive was football. You might think my opponents would be too homophobic to even touch me, but they were always itching to knock me down. They underestimated me, though, because I hit them back, and I hit them harder.

We’re not going to sit back and let people come after us anymore, and we’re not going to be silenced. I’m sorry you won’t be around to see it, but Homer is building a better world, with more logical rules. He’s recruited some terrible people to help him, and I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but they won’t be around to see it either. I think we can all agree that there is something seriously wrong with this world, and if our species is going to survive, something has to change. The process is not going to be easy, and it’s not going to be pretty, but it starts today, and I wish you could be proud of what you’re a part of. It’s my job to explain what we’re going to be doing to you, and the first thing you should know is that each one of us went through the same thing...except that your ritual ends differently. First, we have to submerge you in water, and hold you there until but one air bubble remains clinging to your nostril. Then we pull you out, revive you, if we have to, and lather you with mud. We’ll set you on the ground next to a campfire. If you’re up for it, you can be sitting, like Maud was, or you can be lying down, like Gertrude. Homer will then use his wind magic to blow the fire towards your bodies, until the mud hardens. After a little bit of chanting, which I suspect isn’t truly necessary for the ordeal, you will reëmerge from your cocoon a new person. This is where things change from the rituals we experienced. One of us will be chosen to kill you, while another will be chosen to carry out the second sacrifice. We don’t know who that’s going to be yet, but I will almost certainly be chosen. Wanda and Della were chosen last time, while Clyde and Sidney were responsible for protecting the sacred grounds. The girls hesitated, which gave Viola the opportunity to interfere with the ritual. The guys got distracted in an argument, and were unable to stop her. Nannie and I will probably have to wield the holy blades, while Homer takes matters into his own hands, and prevents any Viola-like magician from stopping us this time. Like I was saying, I get that none of this is going to make sense to you, but things are going to get better. If ghosts exists, which it seems like maybe they do, perhaps you’ll even be able to watch humanity’s magnificent transformation from the other side. Hell, we still don’t know what all of Homer’s powers are, so he might even be able to bring you back. Oh, we should stop talking. Wanda’s here with the second sacrifice. I believe that you and Ralph have become friends, right?

Microstory 1093: Clyde

< > Table of Contents

So, I’m driving in the big city—well, the suburbs—when I find myself behind this guy who just won’t drive fast enough. I mean, the dude’s going fifteen miles and hour on a thirty-five. I just can’t stand it, so I finally pass him. It wasn’t technically legal for me to do that, since there was one lane each one, and the street was adjacent to neighborhoods, but I hate driving that slowly. I didn’t have anywhere I needed to be, but he didn’t know that, right? What a jerk. So now I’m in front of him, which pisses him off; enough to make him start tailgating me, and honking his horn nonstop. It’s funny that he couldn’t go over twenty while he was in front of me, but now all the sudden, he wants to go fifty. Well, that sort of thing might have concerned me back when I was driving a little sedan, but I have a gigantic SUV now, so I’m not sure what he think he’s accomplishing. We keep going, and he stops honking long enough to whip out his phone and take a photo of my license plate. Whatever, man. The cops aren’t gonna hunt me down and arrest me for a minor offense they weren’t around to see. They have better things to do, and I don’t even think that’s legal. They have to catch you in the act when it comes to a traffic violation. Anyway, we keep going, and it’s starting to get a little suspicious that he’s still following me. It’s not completely out of the realm of possibility that we’re still heading the same way, but I have to be sure. I make a sudden right turn into a neighborhood. He does too. I make a right turn out of the neighborhood, onto the next main street. He does too. I make yet another right turn; he’s still there, which is insane, because we’re literally going in a circle. I start thinking the guy’s a serial killer, or a CIA assassin, and I’m not meant to know who I’m messing with. But he’s the one who doesn’t know who he’s messing with, because I’m a diagnosed sociopath, and I just don’t give a fuh. I lure him to an abandoned part of town, and pull over. I keep thinking he’ll just drive off, because he don’t want no confrontation, but he’s not that smart. We both get out of our cars; him with a tire iron, and me with nothing. He pulls into a golf backswing, and prepares to knock out my taillights, but his weapon doesn’t make it that far. I take it off his hands, and swipe his chin with it. I’m fully prepared to leave it at that, but then he has the nerve to cough blood onto my new shoes.

One man was there as witness, and I’m thinking I’ll have to take him out too, but he approaches from the darkness with a smile, and I realize it’s none other than Homer Durand. That’s right, Viola didn’t save me; he did. All the way out here I run into a kid I go to high school with. He tells me he appreciates my work, and wants to know if I would be interested in collaborating on a project with him. I have no clue what the hell he’s talking about, but I’m intrigued. When I tell him I’ve never hurt anyone before, he says that’s okay, and he can teach me how to do it better. He likes that I managed to find someone I was motivated to kill, but who I can’t be tied to. He warns me the building we’re parked in front of has a security camera, though, so I need to be more careful next time. Don’t worry, he took care of it, so that’s all over. Why am I telling you all this when I know it could get me in trouble? Why did I not listen to Sidney when he told me you have the ability to make people tell you the truth? Why am I not freaking out that it’s working? Because I know you can’t do anything about it. You wanna hear the truth, Alma? Here’s the truth. Viola interrupted a delicate ritual Homer and we were performing. It’s important, but not irreproducible. We’re going to do it again, and this time, we won’t fail. This interview series you’re working on won’t see the light of day, Alma, because Homer has chosen you. You won’t be in any position to stop us, and once it’s all finished, neither will anyone else. You’ve been wasting your time. This is it for you, Julius is here to escort you away. We just need to find one more victim. Any ideas?

Microstory 1092: Sidney

< > Table of Contents

My mother worked her whole life on the farm, while my father worked there for most of it. He was a ranch hand when they met, and he was looked down upon, because he was so much older. They didn’t start dating until she turned sixteen, and didn’t get married until she was eighteen. Love is love. For all the sex positive messages people these days keep trying to spin, they sure don’t think it’s right my dad happened to be an adult when he met the girl he would only one day end up happening to marry. Nothing happened when she was five. Anyway, our lives have been pretty tough, so you can’t blame me for trying to make it better. Farming is a dying industry. People are only interested in eating organic, free from pesticides, and grown in laboratories. Ugh, it disgusts me. Who cares how much wilderness we destroyed to accommodate our pigs, and who cares how many hormones are in our milk? If it tastes good, and it keeps you alive, what more could you possibly want? I tell you, this world is going to hell, and we’re being forced to go along with it. We had to literally sell the farm, so we wouldn’t starve to death. Where was Viola then? She’s helped everyone else in town, but somehow we’re not worthy? Am I supposed to feel bad for her? I’m not happy she’s dead, and I think it was a tragedy, but she shouldn’t have gotten in the way. My God, why did I just tell you that? I mean, we had nothing to do with her death—except that we did. Why can’t I lie? I mean, I’m not lying. Or, I mean...I am lying, because we’re not not responsible for her death. Christ on the cross, this is ridiculous. You did something to me. You’re making me confess to something I didn’t not do. There I go again. You’re just like Viola and Homer, aren’t you? You’re one of them. I can’t believe I agreed to this interview. I should have known you could control what I say, like a freak. No, I couldn’t have known, but Homer should have warned me. He agreed to protect us if we helped him. Sure, we didn’t succeed, because like I said, Viola got in the way. But that wasn’t our fault; we’re not the ones who can do magic. We have to find a way to make it up to him, and complete the ritual. If Gertrude and Maud are no longer viable candidates, then we need to find someone who is. I’m leaving, and I’m warning all my friends about what you can do, so don’t even try to use your magic to get them to talk. Not all of them are as strong-willed and disciplined as me. Goddamn, I didn’t mean to tell you that. Get away from me!

Microstory 1091: Maud

< > Table of Contents

My name is Maud Benson, and I am not innocent in all this, but I did not kill Viola Woods. Welcome to jail, Alma. I hope they’re treating you well. I certainly can’t say the same for me. I’ve been in here for months, awaiting trial, knowing that I should not be here. This crime totally freaked out the town’s local law enforcement. They watch a lot of television, and were worried about the feds coming through and taking over, so they were real motivated to find someone to book for it. I’m not saying they didn’t do a thorough investigation, because the reality is I have no clue what they did. All I know is that they picked me up the day her body was found down creek, and held me until they thought they had sufficient evidence to arrest me officially. They’re not incompetent, but they’re scared, yet I can’t sit here, and honestly tell you that they had no reason to suspect me. I was there that day, and unlike Gertrude, I remember everything that happened to us. First of all, I wanna talk a little bit about me and Viola. I know what she was, but I didn’t always. Once she turned five, she started using her amazing gifts to help people. She would always stay pretty close, but not too close, to Blast City. She didn’t want to be too far from her family, but she didn’t want to be recognized either. She was wise to begin with easy missions, so she would know what she was doing by the time she got older, and they started getting more dangerous. Her parents realized early on that there was nothing they could do to stop her. She was destined to do this, and when she told them she knew for a fact she wasn’t going to get hurt, they believed her, because she had long ago proven herself to know a lot more than a normal child her age should; or anyone, for that matter. But at her seventh birthday farm party, which I attended, they sat her down and told her that she needed to take a break. They were worried, not that she wasn’t being safe and careful, but that she wasn’t enjoying her life. If she spent all her time only trying to help others, she could lose sight of why it was good to help them at all. They said on the day after her eighth birthday, she could resume her duties, if she felt so inclined. This was, I guess, like one of those soul-searching adventures that Amish people go on, to decide if they want to stay in the city, or go back home.

Welp, she needed a guide, and I was the most obvious choice, because I was one of a handful of her peers who had any clue what she was up to. I actually hadn’t know anything about it until the party, and accidentally overheard their conversation. Looking back, I probably wouldn’t have believed any of it if I hadn’t been so young and impressionable. I taught her how to be a kid, and ignore all the terrible things that were happening in the world. She couldn’t completely shut off her absorption of the world’s troubles, but I helped her learn to filter out all but one at a time. She couldn’t be in two places at once, so there was no point in her dwelling on all the missions she would never be capable of even attempting. If you think FOMO is bad, you should walk a meter in Viola’s shoes. It would drive you insane. Harriet and Clarence would go on to serve these kinds of roles more permanently, and in a more official capacity, but I was her first true friend. I would have never killed her, even if she had asked me to. There were a number of times where she would give me a little job, and it was oftentimes really weird out of context, but it would always make sense in the end. But there are some lines you don’t cross, and though I can imagine a world where she knew she was going to die, and in fact, thought she had to die, but I wouldn’t have allowed myself to assist her with that. It may seem random of me to even volunteer that information at all, but when you start interviewing all the other kids that were at the creek that day, they’re gonna do everything to make you think I was at fault. Some may say I did it maliciously, but most will probably just claim I thought I was doing the right thing. I am here to set the record straight before those creatures have the chance to fill your head with their lies. Here’s what really happened that awful day—

[Reporter’s note: Maud Benson was escorted back to her cell the moment she opened her mouth to reveal her truth regarding the day of Viola’s death; suggestive of a cover-up at the police station. They have not allowed me to continue my interview with her since, but I will go on with this series—with discerning skepticism—and update if I speak with Maud again.]

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: October 22, 2229

« < » > Table of Contents

While Mateo was gone, Greer Thorpe managed to alter the time bubble, so that the entire continent of Comron was experiencing real-time, while the rest of the universe was moving at an incredibly slow rate. Some Maramon warriors and spies were free on Comron, and some human prisoners were stuck on the other side, but this was never going to be an easy or perfect fix. The idea was to give a few smart people enough time to come up with something more permanent, so that eleven billion humans would survive. As for the outliers, they would have to deal with that later. Serif was spending her day mulling over some plans for rescue missions, but they would not be practical until the majority of refugees were all the way in the Gatewood cylinders.

Mateo had nothing to do. A better man might be able to contribute significantly until the timejump, but he wasn’t qualified to help with anything. Leona could do more in one day than many engineers could in a year, but Mateo was useless in the attempt to expand the power of the Muster Lighter. He had new experience as a world leader, but Ramses and Goswin were already working on that. He decided he would just wander the primary centrifugal cylinder, and see what was out there. He couldn’t get too comfortable, though, because every time he tried that in the past, some new enemy reared his or her head. So far, so good; this place was beautiful. And impressively expansive. They said it could hold nearly three billion people.

He went up to the platform on top of one of the gigantic megastructures; a design adopted from the ones built on Earth. He then stepped onto the automated train, and asked it to take him on the scenic route. All the arcs looked exactly the same, but they were surrounded by majestic vegetation. This was basically an entire continent in cylindrical form, and possibly the coolest thing Mateo had ever seen. He was enjoying his solitude, which he hadn’t felt in decades, when he noticed some light coming from one of the living units in a tower down below. He instructed the train to stop, then carefully made his way towards the light. It was pretty difficult figuring out exactly which unit he was looking for, but he eventually did, and knocked on the door.

The person who opened the door was none other than...someone he did not recognize. She was even more shocked to see him than he was to find her. “Who are you?”

“Mateo Matic. And you?” The safest way to speak to someone who was where they weren’t supposed to be was politely.

“Cassidy.”

“How did you get here, Cassidy?”

She shut her mouth tight, as if leaving it open would risk letting a truth out that she wanted to protect.

“I can help you, Cassidy, but I need to know what the problem is.”

“I woke up like this,” she answered.

That wasn’t that weird for him. “You went to sleep in your own bed, and when you woke up, you were suddenly in a strange place?”

“I wasn’t in my own bed; I was in a hotel, but pretty much, yes.”

“What year is it?”

She didn’t like hearing this question, but she wasn’t too confused about it, so this kind of technology must have already caused her to question her reality. “I don’t know.”

“I mean...what year should it be, for you?”

“2019,” she finally answered. “I assume that’s...wrong?”

“2229,” he said simply.

“How long have you been here? Did it happen to you too?”

“A couple days. No, I...well,” it was hard to explain that he came here suddenly as well, but did so on purpose.

She squinted at him curiously, but decided to put a pin in it. “The sun looks different.”

He looked in the general direction of the ground, outside of which was outer space, and Barnard’s Star. He couldn’t actually see the sun from this vantage point. I’m afraid...that’s a different sun.”

“I assumed, but I couldn’t be sure. How far is Earth?”

“Five-something light years. Maybe six. I forgot my tape measure,” he joked.

“You seem to know a lot for having only arrived two days ago. I’ve been here for almost two months.”

“What have you been eating?”

“I figured out how to work the food synthesizer. This place is ready to be inhabited, but it isn’t. Are we alone?”

“There are a few others, back at ops.”

“Ops?” she questioned. “You military.”

“No. Look, I don’t know how much you know, but you are what we call a salmon.”

“What, I’m part fish?”

“It’s just a nickname, for people who travel through time against their will.”

“Are you a salmon too?”

He nodded. “Yes. So I only came here a couple days ago, but I’ve been doing this for...” That was even more difficult to explain, what with all the detours, and alternate realities, and time bubbles, and being torn out of time. So he just settled on the vague word, “longer.”

“I’ve been exploring, even though the internet always says to stay put and wait for rescue, but I couldn’t get that train to work. I thought I heard it moving over my head, though. Were you on that?”

He nodded again. “We would just need to put you in the system, and authorize voice control.”

“What the hell is this place?”

“Giant space station. Lots of people need a place to live, so my friends built this place, and a handful of others like it.”

“They did it on their own?”

“Robots did most the legwork.”

“How do I get home?”

“You complete whatever mission the powers that be want you to complete.”

“And what would that be?”

He shook his head. “Most of us don’t ever know. We usually just try to do the right thing, and help people any way we can.” He went on when she didn’t respond to this, “you’re not random, though. You must have something that someone here needs. What do you do for a living? What are your hobbies? What are your skills?”

“I’m a stripper, I don’t have any skills.”

“You can dance,” Mateo said.

“I can swing around. I’m not one of those trained dancers trying to pay her way through nursing school. I’m just a stripper.”

“Hm. Maybe you’re distantly related to someone here, or you’re destined to fall in love with someone? There’s gotta be a reason. Either the PTB wanted you here, or you wanted to come. No one travels through time and space on accident. Unless...”

“Unless what?”

“Well, there are naturally occurring tears in the spacetime continuing. Some people can access them, but they usually use some device. I’ve never heard of anyone falling into one unintentionally. Otherwise, it would happen all the time.”

“I could be a statistical anomaly.”

“Possibly. There’s one person we can ask, but he’s hard to contact, and I don’t know if he’ll be willing to come all the way out here.”

“I don’t suppose I could talk you into trying?”

“Nah, I’m glad to do it. But I’m going to need to borrow your synthesizer.”

She stepped to the side, and let him in. “It’s not really mine. This was just the apartment I woke up in.”

He took his notepad out of his bag, and handed it to her. “This is a list of every time traveler I know, organized by salmon, choosing ones, and other. Let me know if you recognize anyone’s name.”

She took a cursory glance at the list. “What does the cross symbol mean?”

“It means stay away. They’re bad guys.”

“One of them has a cross symbol, but it’s crossed out.”

Mateo chuckled. “Horace Reaver. We made up.” He walked over to the synthesizer, and requested it build for him two replicas of the game jenga.

“You wanna play a game.”

“It’ll all make sense once I have it set up.” When the printer was finished, which was faster still than the ones Leona used in the 22nd century, he started setting up the blocks. “Any luck?”

“Well, I recognize this one, but not as a person.”

He looked at where she was pointing. “Yeah, her parents didn’t live on that street, but we think they liked it as a name. We don’t have the full explanation, though. You live in Kansas City?”

“Lawrence. Is that important?”

“Is Kansas important to time travel? Actually, it is. Lots of us are from there; we don’t know why. I lived in Topeka.”

“Speaking of lots of people; this list is long. What are the asterisks?”

“Those are people who I’ve heard mentioned, but never met. There are more empty pages than filled ones. No one seems to know quite how many of us there are in total.”

When Mateo was Patronus of Dardius, one of his constituents sought audience with him, and spoke of a way to contact The Delegator. He was considered middle management between salmon and the powers that be, and since he didn’t own a cell phone, he could only be reached one way.

“That’s what you think!” he uttered in feigned outrage.

The wall disappeared, and revealed Stonehenge behind it. The Delegator stepped towards the portal, but did not cross over. “Mister Matic, I’ve already told you, I’m not sending you back to Bungula to get your girlfriend.”

“Wife,” Mateo corrected. “And I’m not here for that; I’m at Gatewood, and she’s already on her way. I just need to know who this person is.”

The Delegator looked over at Cassidy. “Hell am I supposed to know?”

“She’s from 2019, and I don’t think she’s a chooser.”

He was growing more irritated, as he fumbled with his glasses. “Step closer.”

She took a few steps forward, but was wary of the portal, as she should have been.

“No, no clue. It must be a mistake. I can take her off your hands.”

She stepped back again. “Wait a minute.”

“You don’t wanna go back?” Mateo asked her.

“Well, it’s just...”

“Go on,” he prodded.

“I do recognize another name, and I don’t just mean Juan Ponce de León, which I would love to hear about.” She was pointing at one of the asterisked names.

“Asuk? I don’t know much about him, except that he was Paige Turner’s friend, and lived, like a thousand years in the future.”

She shook her head. “It’s very familiar. I mean, it’s not exactly a normal name, and I can’t place it, but I feel like I know it. I know it. I have to find him. See, I even know it’s a him.”

Mateo looked up to the Delegator.

“What, you want me to give you permission? I don’t care. She wants to stay, she stays.” And with that, the portal closed.

“Umm, if you change your mind, I can’t promise I can get him back. I didn’t summon him, I just called him. Sometimes he screens and ignores his calls.”

“I understand,” Cassidy said. “I have to find out who this Asuk is, and how I know him, and my answers must be here.”

Paige wasn’t here, though he didn’t really know where she was at this point, since the last time he saw her was in Leona’s memories back in the last century.

“I can’t promise we’ll find him either. Space and time are very big and long.”

“Well, in the meantime, maybe I can be in charge of entertainment. If you work at a place called ops, I imagine people need to relax.”

On the train ride back to where all his friends were working, he filled Cassidy in a bit more about his life, and what he had been through since leaving 2014. He introduced her to everybody, and set her up with one of the grave chambers on the Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez. Come midnight central, he exited the timestream, and didn’t return until 2230, where he learned Cassidy had exited and returned at the same moments.”

« < » > Table of Contents

Proxima Doma: Split Level (Part VI)

< > Entire Story

The first spacecraft that humans came up with were unmanned. They were sent up to study the sky, and gather data. The first manned craft had a capacity of one individual, while other early designs allowed for only a few people. These are all incredibly dangerous, and resulted in a number of deaths. Safety was always priority but humanity did not always know what that took, so they added two more pillars of spaceflight; compartmentalization and redundancy. If one system failed, another needed to be able to take over, and possibly another, if the second were to fail as well. Sections of vessels needed to be capable of being completely cut off from the rest, either to insulate it from them, or insulate them from it. If a fire, for instance, could not be put out, the crew needed to at least isolate it as much as possible. But these three pillars could not do the work on their own. Even later in history, scientists determined they needed a fourth pillar. Modularization. It wasn’t good enough just to be able to quarantine sections. These sections needed to be able to operate independently as well, and the vessel as a whole needed to be able to adapt to virtually any new dynamic, save for its total annihilation.

Colony ships were no exception to the SCR&M rules, which was pronounced like scram. Each ship had a maximum capacity of 168 people, though it was only designed to carry 147 at a time, seven of which were crew members. Each section, which was shaped in a hexagonal prism held seven—eight in an emergency—passengers, and could conceivably travel to the nearest star, going ten percent the speed of light. Based on stellar distribution in the Milky Way Galaxy, one such of these trips should take a maximum of twenty-five years. This wasn’t an ideal situation, but preferable to death. Four sides were lined with sleeping capsules. According to necessary conditions, a passenger could sleep in one of these capsules like normal, or they could activate stasis mode for longer journeys, or they could access virtual reality constructs. Each capsule also acted as an escape pod, and could traverse the breadth of a solar system. It could theoretically orbit a star indefinitely, maintaining perpetual stasis for the passenger, until help could arrive.

Proxima Centauri was a red dwarf, which was, by the far, the most common class of star in the galaxy. But it was also a flare star, which meant it frequently experienced magnetic fluctuations, resulting in bursts of volatile energy. Through the magic of science, these flares can usually be predicted, so as to effectively schedule space travel. Unfortunately, the technology wasn’t perfect, and there were still a few surprises. No matter how well someone followed the four pillars of spaceflight, life in the vacuum would always be dangerous. And they did not work when they were not followed. When the first of the Oblivio-primitivist Pioneers arrived in the Proxima Centauri system, Proxima underwent one such of these unpredicted solar storms. A normal colony ship would be able to handle it and survive, but the Oblivios requested special modifications, so as to better align with their ideals. They were already sacrificing much about their principles just by being in outer space at all, so the engineers and regulators felt they owed them something.

Colony ships Doma 01 and Doma 02 were already within range of the star when the storm erupted. Doma 01 was able to effect repairs on the fly, and enter a safe orbit around the planet, but 02 was not so lucky. It was forced to separate into its constituent parts, and scatter in different directions. Normally, an independent artificial intelligence could pilot each section towards safety, but the Oblivios insisted the crew consist of purely biological humans. Not every member of the crew was qualified to pilot a section; not that it mattered, since most sections at the time of module separation weren’t occupied by a crew member anyway. This left dozens of Oblivios stranded in interplanetary space, totally powerless to navigate their way to safety. At least one section was destroyed immediately, and evidence suggested another lost life support within the first ten minutes. Vitalie and Étude were equipped to solve just about any emergency on the ground, but did not have the resources, nor the time powers, to help Doma 02. And then it happened. Sensors witnessed two terrible tragedies occur almost simultaneously.

Two sections were decoupled from the main vessel, which was what they were meant to do. They started drifting away from each other, but a man in one section apparently started feeling his convictions a little less deeply, and attempted to pilot to safety. Of course, with no training, he was unable to do this successfully, and ended up crashing into one of the other sections. That wasn’t terrible, because Vitalie could go back in time, and the two of them could easily steal an interplanetary cargo ship. Sadly, though, at almost the exact same time, an unaccounted for escape pod from Doma 01 burned up in the atmosphere of Proxima Doma, killing two children who were too afraid to sleep apart. Of course, Vitalie and Étude did not know any of these specifics at the time. All they knew was that fifteen people died, and they were the only ones who could stop it. But how? Étude could teleport anywhere on the planet, or within a very low orbit, but these two incidents happened much farther apart than that. She could not be in two places at once; not even when Vitalie was there as well. They were presently discussing options.

“We have to travel back in time,” Vitalie realized.

“Right, but that doesn’t solve our problem.”

“No, I don’t mean my consciousness. You have to take us back in time physically.”

“No, I’m not doing that,” Étude argued.

“It’s the only way. We need a teleporter to save the people in the rogue section, and we need a teleporter to save the person in the pod. Since we only have one teleporter, we need to double you.”

“I’m not going to allow two different Études to run around the same timeline.”

“So, you’re fine just letting these people die?”

“We can establish contact with that rogue section, and talk the wannabe Oblivio pilot down. We can convince him to not commandeer the controls, and then I can send you to rescue the pod person.”

“You can’t be sure that’ll work. We don’t know anything about this guy. He might not listen to reason. Maybe if we had time to study his profile, or even just get his last name, someone could talk to him, but not you. You’re not a trained hostage negotiator. We can’t risk that. We have to go back.”

“Why would we have to go back? It would just be me. You said we needed two teleporters, but you can remain safe in your singular identity.”

“I want to help,” Vitalie said.

“And you will. One of you will; because there will only be one of you.”

Vitalie was getting sick of how negative Étude always was about this. She took her by the shoulders, and shook ever so slightly to emphasize her words. “You talked me into this. You made me The Caretaker, when you were fully capable of doing it on your own. I’m tired of all these cryptic little hints about how I’m meant to take over for you. I’m done talking about this.”

“We just started talking.”

“I’m already done with it. You’re going to take us both in time, and once we get there, we’re going to explain the situation to our younger selves. And then the four of us are going to hash out a real plan. No one dies today. You want me to take over? Fine, but I call the shots now.”

“What happens after the mission? What do we do about our doubles?”

“I don’t know; I don’t have all the answers, but maybe all four of us can figure it out. Maybe one pair just heads off to Bungula. Maybe that’s what we end up doing; just constantly replicating ourselves until every inhabited planet has a Caretaker team. I’m only focused on the mission right now. Those people need us, so let’s stop talking, and end this before it starts.”

          Étude pulled her arms out of Vitalie’s grasp, and took her by the shoulders instead. “Fine. I hope you know what you’re doing.” And with that, she sent them both back in time one day.

Their younger selves were sitting at the breakfast table. They weren’t shocked or confused. They just patiently waited for a report.

“Eat up,” Future!Vitalie instructed. “We’re gonna need to be at maximum strength. This is the worst one yet.”

< > Entire Story

Microstory 1090: Lee

< > Table of Contents

Seventy-three years ago, I was having a pretty bad time, and I didn’t think I would survive. When I woke up, it was any normal day in the 1940s. Back then, I was working full-time at my family’s farm, having dropped out of school, because it wasn’t like I was going to university anyway. I completed my morning chores, and was heading back inside to eat when I noticed something dripping from my eyes. Back then, it was pretty much illegal to have hay fever, so I was very worried watering eyes would negatively impact our revenue. I reached up, and discovered it not to be tears, but blood. I felt a little moisture on my ears, and found them to be bleeding as well. Then I noticed it coming out of my nose, and filling up my mouth. I wasn’t coughing up any of the blood, but I did have to keep spitting it out. I won’t gross you out with the details, but I was eventually bleeding out of every orifice. I wasn’t injured anywhere, so there weren’t any cuts, but if an opening already existed in my body, I was bleeding from it. This would have frightened the strongest of us, in any time period, so I was scared out of my mind. Though I wasn’t very well-educated, I did intuitively understand that I was too ill to be around other people. Whatever was doing this to me was most likely contagious, so I needed to get away from everyone. Unfortunately, that also meant I wasn’t going to receive any medical treatment, because remember, this was ancient days, so I couldn’t call someone on my cell phone. We had just built a new barn, closer to the farmhouse, but the old one was still standing, so I ran across the field, and hid in there, so I could plan my next move. Suddenly, I wasn’t alone. A young woman about my age appeared out of nowhere with a frown. She looked me over, and explained that she was trying to invoke a cure, but quickly realized that there was nothing she could do. She was apparently not born with the qualifications for this kind of job. She knew someone who could help me, but it would require me to leave my family, and never see them again. Recognizing that there was no better outcome, I agreed to let her send me away. She literally pushed me into one of the horse stables. I closed my eyes as a reflex for one second, and when I opened them, I found myself standing on a city street.

Another young woman was there waiting for me. She placed her hands on my neck, and cured me, just like the other one couldn’t. I still don’t know what it was I had, because I’ve never heard of anything quite like that before. I never felt sick; I just could not stop bleeding. Anyway, the second woman was obviously Viola Woods, and she reminded me that I would never be able to go back home. Time travel is something she was capable of doing, but while going forward is easy, the further back you want to go, the more difficult it is. And so she set me up with a new life in the here and now, urging me to restart my schooling as well. It’s taken a lot for me to get up to speed with my peers, but luckily I look a little young for my age, and enrolled as a freshman. Viola tutored me over the last four years, and even adjusted people’s memories for me. People don’t actually remember me living here as a kid, but they kind of get the sense that I’ve always been here, and they don’t ever question the fact that they can’t recall any specifics. In an attempt to pay her back, I would help Viola whenever she came back from her missions with physical injuries. I would treat her wounds, and while we waited for them to heal on their own, I would apply makeup, so no one would notice them. I have a new job now, doing the same thing as before. I’m not sure if I’m allowed to say who it is, but someone we all know has replaced her. I hope we both make Viola proud, and I hope someone gets justice for Maud, because if there’s one thing I know, it’s that she didn’t do it. If you’re finally just now talking to me, then she should be your next interview. Get her side of the story before anyone else.