Microstory 1158: Sila Demir

< > Table of Contents

When Sila Nacar was thirteen years old, she was sold as a wife. All things considered, her husband was a nice man. He treated her kindly, and never abused her, except when he did. He wasn’t violent or cruel, but he did have sex with a child, regardless of Turkey’s stance on child marriage. The fact that they even refer to it as child marriage proves that they know it’s wrong. Before he was even sure Sila was pregnant, her husband decided he wanted a better life for them in the United States, so they immigrated to Oklahoma. It wasn’t the most lenient of states when it came to child brides, but it was a little less racist than some of the others, and he wanted to be insulated on all sides. Sila birthed her first son, Serkan in 2009. Four years later, she was pregnant again, with Alim. Over the years, living in North America changed Sila’s husband worldview. It happened slowly, but steadily. He started to actually change as a person, and the birth of his second son pushed him over the edge. He came from a society where his behavior was socially acceptable, to a degree, but he never thought that women were inferior, or that he was entitled to a young wife. He had rationalized that she wanted to be with him, and it took a long time for him to learn that this was not entirely true. The more he woke up, the more he saw how unhappy she was, and the more he wanted to do something about it. He figured the best thing he could do was to leave. He gave her practically all of his money and encouraged her to move far away from him. He even suggested she legally change her and her sons’ names, so he would not be able to find them. In his mind, this was what was best for the three of them. While he didn’t think he would hurt them if he could find them, he no longer wanted to support the distasteful practice that he once believed in. She was grateful for what he gave her, but didn’t take it that far. She retained his name, trusting that he would stay away, and wanting to honor him for having become a better person. Years later, after both of their children were teenagers, Sila’s husband broke his promise, and found her in Kansas City. He had met someone age-appropriate, but his marriage to her was still technically valid, so he needed a divorce. The judge was disagreeable, and didn’t consider their long estrangement to be good enough reason to grant divorce with only one-party consent. The two of them did not have to reunite with each other, though, as this could all have been done through counsel, but Sila wanted to see him again. They had both grown since then, and she kind of wanted to know how things turned out on his end. She never intended for either of her children to be there when it happened, but life doesn’t always end up how you like it.

Microstory 1157: Kivi Bristol

< > Table of Contents

The entity known as Kivi Bristol is an anomaly, even amongst all other people who experience time beyond the norm. There is no one in time or space like her...except for all of her copies. The smartest, and most well-versed, in the salmon-chooser underworld don’t even know exactly how she works. Every once in awhile, a new version of her will pop up. One is a lawyer, the other a waitress, yet another a nomadic wanderer. This version will have her own background and memories, and won’t necessarily have any knowledge of her single-timeline alternates. She always looks the same, and she always has the same name. Her personality is always about the same too, but not exactly, because environment influences an individual’s character as much as—if not more than—nature, which explains some people’s radically different life choices across alternate timelines. No one is sure how she came to be, or what the point of this all is. Sometimes it appears she was born, but other times, we think she was just randomly called into existence. Is she a chooser, or is just a salmon? She doesn’t appear to have any control over this, which would suggest that someone else does, but some have posited a different answer. They believe there is one Kivi who is the real one, and she is the one who ultimately created her own alternates. At some point, a copy’s memories and knowledge will be integrated into this master copy, but not shared with the others. This is theoretically her variation of immortality. None of the copies lasts particularly long themselves. In fact, some only appear for a duration of minutes. But, depending ultimately on how many Kivis there are, the master could carry with her the cumulative experience of thousands of years, or more. Of course, again, no one even knows if this person exists. People tend to think there are only two basic types of time travelers: those who control time, and those who are controlled by people who control time. It’s perfectly reasonable to suspect, however, that it’s possible for time itself to impose its will upon someone. After all, that’s how it works for most people. The majority of life in the universe only sees linear time, and has no choice but to see it that way. It’s clearly possible to see it differently, yet they are bound to the one way, and perhaps the only reason this is considered normal is because it’s the most common, but that doesn’t mean it’s correct. All accounted for Kivis don’t know who they are, or why they are the way they are. They just try to live their respective lives to the best of their abilities, and maybe someday, one or more of them will get some answers.

Microstory 1156: Kyle K. Stanley

< > Table of Contents

Kyle Stanley first learned that some people had special abilities when he was thirteen years old. Two men broke into his house, presumably because they thought it was empty. But Kyle was an unruly child, who never considered the consequences of his actions, and just didn’t feel like going to school that day. It was his parents’ fault for moving within walking distance of his school, he figured. At first, he hid in his parents’ closet, but then he started thinking about how he would explain that to his friends. He knew his parents, and any other adult, would commend him for staying out of sight, but his peers were harsh, and would have teased him for not having protected his territory. He would grow up to realize that they would have hid as well, and would have also grown up to recognize that that was the best call, but right now, it felt like cowardice. As he heard them approaching the bedroom, he sought a weapon nearby, and settled on this long plastic thing he would later realize belonged to his mother, and that he should not have touched it. He burst through the door with his warcry, hoping to scare them off before they got into a real fight, but it just spooked one of the intruders, who instinctively pulled a gun. Kyle heard the shot, and saw that it was pointed right towards him at pretty much point blank, but it did not hit him. The other intruder had one hand up towards him, almost protectively. He noted to his partner, the shooter, that Kyle was but a child, and they needed to get out of there. The shooter took his partner by the shoulder, and they both disappeared. A neighbor two doors down claimed to have heard the shot as well, but there was no evidence of it in Kyle’s house. They couldn’t find the bullet, or the shell, or anything. He guessed that the non-shooter had powers, and used them to teleport the bullet somewhere else. The police guessed that he was just using blanks, but they didn’t see the partner’s face. He was distraught about having nearly been an accomplice to some form of murder. They also didn’t see the two of them teleport from the room.

For the most part, temporal manipulators are hard to find. When they discover what they can do, they’re almost always alone. There’s this theory going around that, even though the powers that be don’t have control over choosing ones, they exercise as much control as they can to prevent one’s secret from getting out before they even have a chance to understand it themselves. No one suddenly appears in that moment, and hands them a guidebook, or gives them a list of time travel rules, but they usually don’t want anyone else knowing about them anyway. Most of them automatically know the unwritten rules, because they’re pretty obvious. They generally reason that they can’t logically be the only ones, but they’ve also never heard of anyone else, so it’s probably meant to remain a secret. Still. Once a human does encounter enough evidence to be sure of the existence of time travelers, it becomes easier for them to spot, because they’re making a point of looking for it. Kyle didn’t tell anyone else about what he had seen, because he wasn’t being blamed for the robbery, so it just wasn’t necessary for him to have an excuse they wouldn’t believe anyway. He started researching the phenomena, and seeking others like the burglars. He ended up stumbling upon the very man himself. He was still distraught over what happened, and confirmed Kyle’s suspicions about how he had spirited the bullet to some otherwise inaccessible dimension. Kyle was okay, especially after seeing how this guy lived. He was practically homeless. He had hooked up with his partner a month before the incident, but didn’t know him that well. He was a teleporter, and a thief, whose life was totally fine without it. The Ostracizer, on the other hand, was just trying to get by. He could banish things to this other dimension, and retrieve them later, but he was not a seasoned criminal. Kyle and the Ostracizer became friends, and years later, after the former passed the bar exam, he helped his friend with some legal trouble. Kyle realized he was in the perfect position for this; protecting people with time powers against a system that doesn’t know they exist. That was when he opened his own practice. He didn’t have to do it alone, though.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: November 4, 2242

« < » > Table of Contents

The present leader of Varkas Reflex was a transhumanistic individual named Eliseus Bulle. He would not be in this position for long. The governmental structure of the world was somewhat chaotic, but not anarchical. Anyone could campaign for the position. There was no voting, but the process happened quickly, and relied on popular opinion. A single entity could hold the position for up to four hundred system years, which was equal to about three Earthan years. At this point, they would have to cede to new leadership, no matter what. They could not campaign again for another three thousand years, though the people could request their return at any time. Similarly, a leader could be recalled if consensus was that they should. The government was largely a formality, and not too relevant.

A very specific type of person volunteered to be a colonist for this heavy world. Anyone unlike this type was strongly discouraged from applying. There were humans, transhumans, and artificial intelligences, but they all wanted one thing: to just hang out. They weren’t researchers, or explorers, or really even adventurers. They didn’t care if this rock was ever terraformed, and they weren’t interested in gathering knowledge. They fully embraced the automated lifestyle, and saw almost no value in work. Fortunately, the technology was there to support their ideals. Besides AI that could think for themselves, which were known as IAI, there was also the kind of general AI that possessed no personality, nor self-awareness. It was capable of calculating optimal resource distribution, and detecting technical malfunctions, but it had no drive of its own. That, along with the robots themselves, industrial and food synthesization, raw material mining, and base ingredient growth, meant no one needed to work.

Back on Earth, and in other colonies, people had jobs because they wanted to fulfill themselves. They wanted to contribute to society, make a name for themselves, and develop a legacy. They still had automation, and currency was based on reputation, just like in the Star Trek franchise, or the Orvilleverse, but they continued to make decisions for themselves, because they didn’t want to feel useless. The people of Varkas Reflex had no such qualms with inutility, and were perfectly happy just swimming around in their tanks, playing games, and enjoying free entertainment. Earth assumed that these colonists would shoot off into space, and do their thing alone. They failed to predict how enticing this would be for others. Just like in those science fiction series, it turned out there was a demand for a vacation planet. It would be nothing more than a gigantic resort, designed to help people relax, and forget about their responsibilities. Eliseus Bulle had his eyes on making this happen, but they needed a few things first.

“Your chair technology,” Eliseus began, “that the girl uses.”

“Her name is Sanaa,” Hokusai answered.

Leona was present as well, along with Loa, while Sanaa was in the restroom. They thought they were just having a chat, but apparently Eliseus was just waiting for an opportunity to talk about his true motivations. Leona and Loa independently decided on respectful stillness, and just listened.

“Right. Why did you build that for her when you seem to have artificial gravity in your laboratory? Or rather, you’ve discovered anti-gravity.”

She should have been more careful. Hokusai’s lab technically existed in another dimension, so it wasn’t bound to the gravitational pull of the planet. In fact, parallel dimensions didn’t possess gravity at all, and relied on an electrostatic field to stimulate it. She couldn’t exactly give this kind of tech to the people, because what would happen when they figured out how it worked? Dimensional mechanics were a tricky thing to mess with, and very dangerous. The galaxy was fairly peaceful at this point, after Brooke and Sharice Prieto put down most of the remaining criminal elements with Paige and Holly Blue, but dimensional technology could be weaponized, and that might regress civilization. “The chair allows her to move across the surface,” she replied simply.

“Okay, fine,” Eliseus accepted for the sake of argument. “Why haven’t you done whatever it is you did for the rest of the surface? Why did you not offer this to us?”

“I didn’t build it for you.” Hokusai felt cornered, so it was best to keep her answers short.

“Again, okay, fine. Can we have it anyway?”

“No.”

“You don’t have to do it for us. Just teach someone else to do it, and we’ll take care of it ourselves. Contrary to public perception, we’re fine with work as long as it’s necessary to achieve our goals.”

“It’s not that I would have to do it for you, it’s that I don’t want you to have it. I don’t want anyone to have it. It’s...complicated, and I can’t let it out. I shouldn’t have done it at all.”

“Well, it’s out there now,” Eliseus reasoned. “I don’t know what you’re worried about, because I don’t know how you did it. But you have changed the game, like it or not. You realize how much fuel we can save with this? It would help us build the space elevator. The reason we need it is the same reason it’s taking us so long; because surface gravity is so goddamn heavy. No one who has come here has ever wanted to leave, but that’s the worst part about it; that they have no choice. We can’t lift off from here.”

“You’re right, it would help lift spacecraft,” she agreed, “but it could also destroy them. If you focused this energy to a single point, you could cut a hole in an enemy ship, and tear it apart within seconds.”

“I don’t have any enemies,” Eliseus argued, and it wasn’t just hyperbole. He almost certainly didn’t have any enemies. He probably didn’t even dislike anybody. The power of the post-monetary world was even more powerful for people who were deliberately casual about life. War was so passé.

“I’m obviously not talking about you specifically, or probably even anyone on Varkas Reflex. Secrets get out. How would we stop it from being stolen, and eventually used this way? What happens when we meet an alien species, and they’re not so friendly? How could we resist not just ending them in the blink of an eye?”

Eliseus understood and appreciated her concern. He was a thoughtful person, which was why he was elected in the first place. In a world where the laws were so lax that they didn’t even bother coming up with a title for the global leader, people still recognized the importance of finding leaders who were a little more considerate. Carefree did not mean careless. If this were high school, they would be voting for the most responsible candidate for class president, rather than the guy who promised brawndo in the water fountains. Eliseus sat for a good long while, thinking over the options. He wanted to make this happen, but he knew she wasn’t just being an asshole. “It’s a delicate dance,” he said finally. “I’m up for recall in thirty years.” He wasn’t being recalled in the same way a president would be impeached, and removed from office, but it was the best term they could come up with to indicate the natural end of a leader’s tenure.

“Okay...” Hokusai nodded.

“The second-most promising candidate is an AI named Motherboard. She is pushing for a declaration of independence.”

Hokusai widened her eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah, she won’t win, because we enjoy the Earthan entertainment they allow us to have, certain shipments of resources, and military assurances, but she could be given an advantage if I endorsed her. I’m pretty popular.”

“Why would you being independent matter to me?” she questioned.

“We could protect your technology if Earth had no right to inspect it. They would not be allowed to take it if it belonged to an independent state.”

“That doesn’t make much sense,” Hokusai began. “I see your logic, but aren’t you hoping to use this to build a vacation planet? Would Earth allow any of its citizens the sixteen-year minimum vacation time they would need to come here, and go back?”

Eliseus bobbed his head side to side. “We’re not asking to become rivals. Hell, we could even say it’s to protect our—meaning your—technology. That doesn’t mean we wouldn’t be able to negotiate the modern equivalent to free trade.”

“So, you want to cede control to Motherboard, let her declare independence, ask me to build more anti-gravity structures, construct hotels and roller coasters, and whatnot inside of them, negotiate a new and unique relationship with Earth, and open your proverbial doors to long-term vacationers. Did I get everything?”

“That sounds about right,” he said.

“That may—may—protect my tech from Earth, but not from anyone here. One spy, and it’s over. It just takes one person to make a mistake, or to deliberately share the design with the wrong person. And by wrong person, I mean anyone else.”

He did not deny this. “Hypothetical. How long would it take you to build more?”

“Of course it depends on how many square meters you need. I can’t un-mass the whole planet, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Eliseus shook his head. “No, no, no; just enough to get us started. We’ve not really drawn up any plans, but let’s say a one-block hotel, two olympic-sized swimming pools, and a concert venue. No roller coasters for now.”

Hokusai considered this. “How long would it take to build those, ignoring the AG tech?”

“With our limited resources?” he asked rhetorically. “Probably a whole Earthan year.”

“A year,” she answered. “I would have to incorporate it into the designs, but the process wouldn’t extend your timetable. The more you want to do, though, the more it stretches, because I could never allow a single other entity to even so much as take a peek at the designs, let alone help me work. The only people I trust are in this lab right now, and there’s one person here that I don’t trust.”

He looked away to give it thought. “Two blueprints. One official, and public record, and the real one, which only you four have ever seen. I think I can work with that.”

“I still don’t know,” Hokusai admitted.

“I can dig it,” Eliseus said. “So, let’s keep talking. Personally, I don’t care how it works. You could be an advanced alien from Pi Canis Majoris for all I care. I just want us to build something here. I want the rest of the stellar neighborhood to stop looking at us like a big joke. If we have something they don’t, they might take us seriously. So, you see, I don’t want the technology getting out any more than you do.”

“I can dig it,” Hokusai echoed.

Leona left the timestream at the end of her day, after which Hokusai and Eliseus kept talking. By the time she returned a year later, they had come to an agreement. He was still leader of Varkas Reflex. They changed the government itself in order to maintain a better level of continuity, which was always going to be their biggest problem using the original system. Today was their Independence Day.

« < » > Table of Contents

Bungula: Blue Skies (Part V)

< > Entire Story

On the 27th day of July, in the year 2236, a man named Belahkay Teel stepped out of his protective dome on the planet of Bungula, and breathed in the air. It wasn’t the absolute first act of respiration on an alien planet, but it was the first time to be carried about by an organic human. Belahkay was only seventeen years old, which meant he was born on Bungula, but only ever knew an artificial environment. He was never given transhumanistic upgrades, or even acclimatization treatments. He was just a normal person, breathing off Earth, and that is what made him special. Sharice picked him out somewhat at random, but there were criteria that not every colonist fit. He was of the right age, in good health, adventurous, and a little wise beyond his age. Plus, he had a pretty cool name, so that certainly wasn’t working against him. It could have been anyone, but it wasn’t; it was him.

The composition of the atmosphere is nearly identical with that of Earth’s. At the moment, there is slightly less oxygen, though in time, there should be slightly more. The skies are blue, and the clouds promise rain. Belahkay is smiling upwards, thankful for having been chosen for this gift. He spends fifteen minutes out here, mostly standing in one place. He’s then pulled back inside, where he spends another fifteen minutes, closely monitored by doctors. He goes out for thirty minutes more, and then it’s back in for the same amount of time. No ill effects. No trouble breathing. No worrying changes in blood pressure. No drop in body temperature, or rise, for that matter. One hour, then two, then four, then eight, then the pattern falls away, and he gets to stay for an entire Earthan daily cycle, sleeping under the stars. Then, and only then, is he joined by the next test subject, who goes camping with him for two full days. Two additional pioneers join them two days later for four days, and then four more for a week. They’ll come to be known as the Auspicious Eight, and be cherished throughout history. They didn’t do anything special, except not get sick or die, but that won’t diminish their fame. To some, they are the first true aliens, for this is the month that unaided survival on a second planet is proven possible.

A whole new way of life will have to be debated, and decided upon. Up until now, all colonists have remained on an Earthan schedule, with sixty minutes to an hour, twenty-four hours in a day, etc. Sure, they’re living on other worlds, but since they’ve been relegated to covered habitats, there was really no point in adjusting that dynamic to a new planetary cycle. It didn’t matter how fast the planet was spinning, or how long it took to revolve around the sun, because most of the time, they weren’t seeing it happen. This has now changed, but that doesn’t mean they can just automatically switch to something new. They still need to communicate with other worlds, and consider the evolutionary status of organic entities here, whose biological clocks aren’t so easily altered. But that is a problem for tomorrow. Today...is for dancing.

After the test month is complete, the doors are opened, and all colonists are free to cross the threshold at will. Word is sent back to Earth, and all other neighboring exoplanet colony sites of their accomplishment. There is at least one party on each world. The one on Bungula itself is the most epic, except for a few that took place on Earth, but that’s no big surprise, since there are tens of millions times more people there. The three leaders of this enterprise are sitting in their private habitat, enjoying a night of quiet reflection, away from the hubbub, when there is a knock on the door. It’s Belahkay.

“Mister Teel, what a pleasant surprise,” Brooke says after she answers. “Come on in. Would you like something to eat or drink? We keep some provisions here for visitors.”

“No, I’m stuffed,” Belahkay says. “I just wanted to hand you this.” It’s a physical piece of paper, which is obviously rare these days. On it is a photographic representation of famed actor, Keanu Reeves. Superimposed on the top is text, what if air is actually poisonous. The punchline appears on the bottom, and it just takes 80 years to kill us? “One-twelfth of one year down.”

They laugh.

“Technically, you only spent half a month out there,” Mirage points out. The other half was spent inside, making sure his lungs didn’t explode.

He shrugs. “One-twenty-fourth. Anyway, that’s not really why I’m here.” He takes a deep breath, as humans are wont to do, and now can more easily here. “What I really wanted to tell you is that I’m in.”

“You’re in what?” Sharice asks.

“I’m in to go with you guys to the next planet.”

“What planet?” Brooke presses.

“I dunno. What planet were you thinking? Teagarden? Glisnia? Or should we stay close, and just hop over to Proxima Doma?”

“Belahkay, what are you talking about?” Mirage is too intelligent, and thus rarely confused.

“You’re gonna keep doin’ this, right? You’re gonna terraform other worlds.” He looks at them like this is an obvious next step.

“Hm,” Sharice says. “We hadn’t planned on it.”

“You guys are sitting on a goldmine here, if..ya know, gold still had that much value since a shit-ton of it was found on TC 2211 OZ42. No one else can do what you do.”

He has a good point. They considered the ramifications of expediting the terraformation process, but never thought about what would happen next. If they stop here, things could become so much worse, because people might question why they aren’t sharing.

“We can’t do that,” Mirage says.

“Why can’t we?” Sharice asks her.

Mirage is shaking her head. “It’s the prime directive,” she reasons. “We can’t interfere in their development.”

“We already have,” Brooke argues. “That party out there is all about our interference. They’re celebrating our interference.”

“That was an emergency,” Mirage fights back. “If we keep doing this, what kind of galaxy are we going to be living in? When any world is habitable within fifty years, and you can go anywhere, what are people going to do? I can’t calculate those consequences, and I’m a genius.”

“Beaver Haven approved it,” Sharice reminds her.

“They approved this one time. They might not be so keen on a paradigm shift the likes of which you three are suggesting. What we did had an impact on the future, sure, but doing more would create a future no one has ever predicted, or tried to make.”

Belahkay clears his throat suggestively. “Um, excuse me? Are you aliens?”

“What makes you say that?” Brooke asks him.

“You’re talking about the prime directive, from the Star Trek franchise. That implies you’re from somewhere other than Earth, and you’re trying to decide how to deal with us.”

Mirage smiles at him. “We’re highly advanced inorganic superintelligences. We’re not aliens, but we’re of course, not human. That’s all we mean.”

“But...” he begins cautiously, “AI was invented in order to solve our problems. You fixed global food distribution, climate destabilization, and energy sourcing. You built interplanetary and interstellar ships. You mined resources on asteroids, and gave the Earth back to the wild. Now you’ve created realtime terraforming. The next step is to share it. That’s what you do.”

“We did none of that,” Brooke responds, indicating the three other entities in the room at the moment.

“I did some of it,” Mirage admits, theoretically referring to her time in the higher plane of existence.

“The prime directive doesn’t apply to you, because you wouldn’t exist if humans hadn’t come up with the technology that sprung you. So yeah, maybe you’re the ones who figured it out, but by extension, we were vital to it. The tech is ours.”

That’s not quite what happened, but this kid doesn’t know about observation dimensions and time travel, so he can be forgiven for his logic path. He simply does not have all the information. And that’s really what the conundrum is here. His logic is going to be replicated by others following this achievement. Most people are going to be thinking the same thing. They’re not going to understand why the three of them could do this once, but never again. “We have to leave,” Brooke decides.

“Right now?” Sharice asks.

“Not this very minute,” Brooke replies. “I mean, we still have to oversee the wilding effort anyway, but we can’t stick around much longer after that. Once this is completely complete, and self-sustaining, people are going to expect us to go somewhere else, just like he is. We have to disappear, and never be seen again. They’ll be pissed, but at least they won’t be able to pester us about it.”

“Where would we go?” Sharice continues. “I don’t just want to live on some dead world a hundred light years from the stellar neighborhood. I still wanna be in the mix. I wanna contribute.”

“There are a few options.” Mirage’s face looks like she’s drawing from her godly experiences. “There are places in this galaxy where we would be able to hide in plain sight. People there could use our help anyway.”

“So, we just have to choose,” Sharice assumes.

“Not right away,” Mirage claims. “There’s a reason they called the collection of orbitals around Barnard’s Star Gatewood. It’s the entry point for numerous unrelated missions. Much of how the galaxy forms will be decided by what they do on Gatewood. We would go there first, and then decide where we go next.”

“Are we really doing this?” Sharice questions. “Are we abandoning the human race? I’m not convinced that’s the right call. We can do so much here. Screw Beaver Haven, and screw the timeline; let’s make our own destiny.”

“This is our destiny,” Brooke says calmly.

“Oooooohhhh-wa,” Belahkay exclaims, like he’s just had a revelation. “You’re not aliens. You’re time travelers. Now I definitely want in.”

Crap.

< > Entire Story

Microstory 1155: Jai Quelen

< > Table of Contents

When Jai Quelen was in the United States Army, he was always looking out for his fellow soldiers. Of course he did this in the physical sense, because he had a duty to do so, but he went beyond that, and protected their ethical standing. He was always concerned with filling out reports properly, and making sure the reality of a given situation was fully understood by those who were not there to witness it. This could have been annoying to them, but he wasn’t overbearing or nitpicky—he was a true advocate—so they were grateful for him. After he had served, he began college, and worked towards his undergraduate degree in Philosophy, with a focus on Ethics. Shortly before graduation, he was asked to participate in a presentation at a local middle school, to show kids that military service wasn’t only about guns and bombs. An eighth grader there named Cassidy Long took a liking to him, though of course, it was literally just a middle school crush. The feelings were not at all reciprocated, and in fact, Jai didn’t even notice she wasn’t really interested in service. He didn’t think much of it; meeting a 13-year-old when he was in his mid-20s, but he nearly killed himself when he encountered her again barely four years later—after she turned 18, and started working as a stripper—and developed feelings. He had moved on with his life by attending law school, earning his J.D. Degree, and then landing a job at Veterans Affairs. He wasn’t just surprised to see Cassidy again, but also that he recognized her. The age difference alone would have been enough to make him uncomfortable, but the fact that he knew her when she was so young was enough to push him over the edge. He had his service weapon against his temple when his roommate came home early, and got him some help. He spent a year in a mental health facility before he felt well enough to reenter the world. As it turned out, his attraction towards Cassidy was the least of his worries, and his counselors encouraged him to accept the fact that everyone who is at one point 18 years old was, at another point, also 13 years old. He moved on with his life yet again, deciding that the best thing to do was go back to school, and try to earn his PhD. Fate intervened once more, however, when he and Cassidy crossed paths a third and fourth time. He saw her in the grocery store, while she later noticed him in line for concessions at the movie theatre. They only learned of the coincidence when she connected with him on social media, and engaged him in conversation. Through all of this, Jai’s primary problem was loneliness. He was never that close with his family, and they did not approve of his career choices, which was how he ended up in Lawrence, Kansas in the first place. He finally let go of his hangups, and the two of them entered into a nonsexual exclusive relationship. They were living together, sharing rent and chores, and even sleeping in the same bed together, but they were not having sex. The nature of their unconventional relationship made things quite difficult for him when Cassidy disappeared from their temporary hotel room without a trace. Fortunately, that old roommate happened to be a practicing lawyer named Kyle K. Stanley.

Microstory 1154: Lamar Prebensen

< > Table of Contents

When the town of Springfield, Kansas was swallowed up by a portal, and spit out on a rogue planet that would come to be known as Durus, much of Earthan culture tried to go with it. Smith was an unfair tyrant, but he wasn’t particularly creative, nor intelligent. He didn’t come up with a new system of government and law; he just corrupted and exploited what he already knew. Over the decades—as society stabilized—many policies and laws had to be changed to accommodate the new environment. People with time powers, and people with the power to give people time powers, were not things any Earthan government had to deal with—at least not in an official capacity. As time marched on, and social equality was dismantled, the laws changed again, until the system only resembled its predecessor in superficial ways. They still had judges, attorneys, juries, and trials, but they were discriminatory, biased, and ineffectual. When the phallocracy was finally overcome, the Provisional Government worked to resolve these issues, but it was a slow and messy process, and their biggest problem was finding people who knew what they were doing. Law professionals from yesterday weren’t very good, because they were stuck in their old ways. New refugees from Earth weren’t all that helpful either, for Durus and Earth had diverged from each other around a hundred and fifty years ago. This meant law enforcement for them had become a streamlined process, which required little interpretation and daily interference; not none, but not much. Still, they did their best, and everyone just kind of had to be patient with the transition. One thing they had going for them was their newfound transparency. A woman with the ability to provide remote viewings to anyone in the world allowed court proceedings to be witnessed by the masses on LoaTV. This allowed for crowd-sourced checks and balances, and kept further corruption at bay. Lamar Prebensen loved to watch these, hoping to learn a thing or two about the field, because it was something he didn’t have the opportunity to do before. Of course, watching television, even of real life, is not an effective means of learning something new. The deck was stacked against him from the beginning, and he didn’t feel things would ever get better as long as he remained on this planet. Gender-based inequality was not the only kind of discrimination on Durus. Lamar chose to leave, because he was never afforded a decent education. But if he had asked, someone might have told him that lawyers didn’t really exist on Earth anymore. It would seem that he was wasting his time in the attempt to make a better life. On his way to his new home, however, he used his limited knowledge to help solve a murder, which earned him points with the crew. When they finally arrived at their destination, most of the passengers were given new identities, so they could live out their lives as they wished, but they decided to make an exception for him. Since he would not be able to fulfill his dream in that time period, they sent him back to 2019, and set his identity up there instead. He was then able to go to law school, pass the bar exam, and apply for a position at a law firm. He went on to have a full and happy career.

Microstory 1153: Elder Caverness

< > Table of Contents

Nothing in Elder Caverness’ life was ever easy, but he thought that was exactly how it needed to be, because he was always taught that hard work was all that mattered. He was raised with so-called traditional values, and it took him a long time to get over the terrible conventions his family indoctrinated him to believe. If it don’t hurt, his father would always say, you’re not doin’ it right. Well, being gay must have been the most right thing he could have done, because that same father sure made sure Elder was hurting pretty much every day. He was one of those people who claimed to be from a different generation, so even in time, he never accepted his son’s identity. But time should have worked, if nothing else, because it’s less about where you’re from, and more about where you are now. In the world of Elder’s day, sex positive was the name of the game, and no excuse for being anything less than a moderately compassionate individual was a good one. Nevertheless, he managed to get away from that toxic atmosphere, and move on with his life. He joined the Navy right out of high school. He served two years on active duty, four years in the reserves, and two more in IRR. When he wasn’t actively working in the military, he worked in private security, as many in his position will do. There he met, and formed a bond with, Kolby Morse. They connected with each other for their similar viewpoints on the world, and how people should behave in a civilized society. Their primary concern seemed to be corporate corruption, which they discovered in the company they were already doing security for. They felt they had to do something about it. To insulate them both from scrutiny, Kolby remained outside the investigation. While Elder was on the inside, should anything happen to him, Kolby would be there to pull him out. They weren’t trying to take down the people they perceived as criminals in any official capacity, so they had no further support in this matter. The executives they were monitoring had special temporal powers, which gave them a virtually insurmountable advantage over anyone who would try to compete with them. Elder’s assignment was long and taxing, but they were playing the long game here. They couldn’t just arrest anyone they thought was involved. He was carefully and delicately collecting evidence, while simultaneously preventing the rest of the world from uncovering the truth about their abilities. If these bad people had powers, then surely others would too, and Elder didn’t want those hypothetical innocents to be exposed if they hadn’t done anything wrong. It took a long time for him to make headway, but he did, and his efforts proved to be vital to sending the guilty to the other side of some heavy bars.