The Advancement of Mateo Matic: November 19, 2257

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In movies, people often remained standing when a cop or surgeon had to deliver bad news to them. Their knees always buckled, and they always regretted it. She still had hope that what her friend was about to tell her wasn’t the worst news she could receive, but Leona still sat down, just in case. “What is it?”

“We found Mateo,” Eight Point Seven had the unfortunate task of telling her.

On the surface, that sounded like good news, but Leona knew it wasn’t. “Where?”

“At the bottom of a cliff.”

Her breath escaped from her, and she had to steal one back. “This was last year?”

“Yes.”

“Where’s Trinity?”

“I know what you’re thinking.” Eight Point Seven reached into her pocket, and removed a dog tag. “She already tried.”

Leona knew exactly what that dog tag meant. “It was murder?”

“Trinity watched it happen from a distance, but she was unable to change it.”

“She has a rule that there are no time powers on this planet.”

“She made an exception, and she’s heartbroken that she couldn’t stop it.”

“Where the hell did Briar get the hundemarke?”

“How did you know it was Briar?”

“He’s the most likely suspect. My guess is he thought he was protecting me, or something.”

“That’s exactly what he said.”

“Where is he?”

“Briar? Or Mateo?”

“Briar isn’t relevant anymore. He can go jump off his own cliff, for all I care.”

“Mateo is in a stasis pod. We figured you would want to see him before...”

“Before he had a whole year to decompose?” Leona guessed. “That was thoughtful of you. I’m not sure if I want to see his body, though.”

Eight Point Seven nodded sadly. “Whatever you want.” She waited a respectful few minutes before continuing, “do you know what his wishes were?”

“It doesn’t matter what he wanted. He signed a contract.”

“Oh?”

“When he became Patronus of Dardius, he agreed to have his body transported back there upon death. They have this whole ceremony planned for him. They say it’ll be bigger than our wedding.”

“Oh, wow. How will you do that? Do we have a means of reaching Dardius? The reframe engine would still take four thousand years.”

“Thanks to Hogarth, we have a much faster way.”

“What did she do?”

“She’s on Glisnia right now, making sure everything is ready for the colonists when they arrive in four years. She sent a message to me using Ellie’s radio program, saying she discovered a Nexus replica there.”

“Really?”

“And according to the system, the Dardius Nexus was rebuilt, and is now fully operational. Hogarth hasn’t gone anywhere, but all connections are ready.”

“So, we just need to get to Glisnia.”

“Yeah, but there’s no rush. Mateo didn’t say specifically how long his survivors have to get the body there, but what are they gonna do, fine me for being late? I would like a small service here, just for us.”

“That can be arranged,” Eight Point Seven said.

“Maybe I do need to talk to Briar...for practical purposes. I need to find out who gave him the hundemarke.”

“That can be arranged as well.”

Leona was numb as Eight Point Seven led her down the hallway, towards where they were holding Briar. When she left to clear the air with Cassidy, she never dreamed she would never see Mateo again. She even said she was going to forgive him one day. It was never her plan to leave him in the dog house forever. Now she wasn’t going to get a chance to heal, and more importantly, he died thinking she might never come back to him. Was this all part of the plan? Cassidy was now on their pattern. Did the powers that be decide to make her the convenient replacement character; like the female analog of Mateo? Were the two of them meant to be new partners? There was no evidence that Briar was salmon, so they couldn’t have dispatched him to kill Mateo on their behalf. But they could have dispatched someone else.

She dangled the hundemarke in front of the bars. Briar looked at it briefly; not out of shame, but more like he didn’t recognize its significance. “Who gave you this?”

“Who cares? It’s just some antique. Why don’t you look at the name?”

Leona did look at the name, but as a reflex. She knew exactly what was on it. “I know Anatol Klugman. He’s a killer, but he’s not a murder, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have manipulated a child like you to do his killing for him. Someone else gave it to you, and I wanna know who.”

Briar sighed. “Why does it matter? Don’t you wanna know about your husband?”

“This is about my husband. You were wearing this when you pushed him off the cliff, right?”

“Yeah, so...?”

“What made you think you would succeed at killing him?”

“I never planned on keeping it a secret,” Briar admitted. “I always knew I would end up here.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. You know time travel is real, so why did you think no one would go back in time, and stop you from killing him?”

He shrugged. “I guess I didn’t think it through that much. Is that what you’re gonna do?”

“I can’t! Because you were wearing this!”

“I don’t know what that is!” he yelled right back.

“The hundemarke,” Leona began to explain. “It creates fixed moments in time. No matter how many times I travel to the past; no matter how many realities I make, this will always happen. His death can’t be undone. So I want to know, who gave it to you? I know why you wanted him dead, but there’s someone else; someone smarter, who knew exactly what would happen if you had this around your neck. Give me a name.”

Briar sighed. “I don’t have a name. I wouldn’t even be able to describe him to you. I keep getting Trinity and Ellie mixed up, because I just don’t separate faces very well.”

“You have prosopagnosia?”

“Is that what it’s called?”

Leona’s nostrils flared. “Side effect of you only knowing your mother’s face for most of your life. Eight Point Seven!” she yelled through the door. “Get back in here, please!”

Eight Point Seven returned.

“Open his cell.”

“I’m not going to do that,” Eight Point Seven said. “Look, we’re all very frustrated right now.”

“Ugh.” Leona was fed up with everyone trying to protect her. She lifted her leg, and kicked the lock as hard as she could. It didn’t tear like tin foil, but it was damaged enough to be opened with a good tug.

“What are you doing?” Eight Point Seven exclaimed.

Leona put the dog tag on herself, and pulled Briar off of his cot. Then she removed her pocket knife, and placed it right against Briar’s neck. “I can either kill him right here, or you can read his mind.”

“What are you talking about?” Eight Point Seven questioned. I can’t read minds.”

Leona drew a little blood. “Don’t lie to me! You can tease fragments from his long-term memory, and convert them to visible images.”

“Leona, that could cause permanent neurological damage, or kill him.”

“I don’t care. I need a name, and if I can’t get it, I need a face. Find out who gave him the hundemarke, and we’ll be done!”

Eight Point Seven was analyzing the situation, trying to determine if there was anything she could do to prevent this, but helping Leona was her only choice. She took one last swing at it, though. “Mateo wouldn’t want you to do this.”

“That’s actually not true at all. But it doesn’t matter what he would think. Mateo is dead, and he’s never coming back, thanks to this asshole. Now, dig into his brain, and show me who he met.”

Meanwhile, in the future, a pair of strong hands was dragging Mateo away from the cliff, and into a dark room. He couldn’t see anything but a flurry of shapes and silhouettes. He couldn’t hear anything but muffled voices arguing with each other. He couldn’t smell anything but the sickeningly sweet stench of his own blood. He couldn’t feel anything but the pain of death. He couldn’t taste anything but the irony. And before too long, he couldn’t sense anything but the slow progression of time. Until he woke up.

He fell out of the bed, naked except for the bandages wrapped around his various body parts. He didn’t feel any more pain, but also didn’t feel the squeezing lightness of pain management narcotics. This was some futuristic medical shit right here. “Baxter! Baxter, where are you!” He was still moderately woozy.

A woman ran into the room. “Thistle, lights to eleven percent.”

The lights turned on, but not too brightly. “Setting the lights to eleven percent,” a voice came from the aether.

Now Mateo could see the woman’s face. It was Ellie Underhill. He tried to catch his breath, and gather his bearings. “Report.”

“You died,” Older!Ellie revealed. “We brought you back with an extraction mirror. I’m sorry.”

“Do you know how I died?” Mateo asked.

“We do. Do you remember?”

“I remember everything. I just didn’t want to give anything away that would fuck the timeline. Where is he?” He was referring to Briar.

She knew exactly who he was talking about. “He died a long time ago.”

“What’s a long time? What year is it now?”

“Classified,” Older!Ellie said plainly.

He understood. “What can you tell me?”

“Very little,” she said. “We’re sending you back, to 2258. After your memorial.”

“I appreciate that. How did you catch Briar?”

“He confessed, as soon as he got back,” she explained. “You have to understand that he didn’t grow up with other people. He didn’t know how to—”

“I don’t need to hear his defense. Any shitstain knows to not push people off cliffs. This is on him.”

She nodded in agreeance. “You’re right. I just don’t want you to kill him right back the next time you see him.”

“Is Sarka still here?”

“No, he had to answer another call.”

“Well, if you see him before I do, would you thank him for me?”

“Yes.”

They sat in silence for a few moments.

“Are you okay?” she finally asked. “I don’t mean physically; that man is a wizard. I mean emotionally. Most people don’t live past their own deaths.”

“That’s why I’m fine,” he said, completely sincerely. “I survived it. I actually feel grateful...for you, for the good doctor, and for anyone else who was party to this that you can’t tell me.” He wasn’t at a hundred percent, however, so an affectionate embrace from Older!Ellie was quite welcomed.

After the hug, Older!Ellie removed a syringe from her trusty bag of holding. “You need about another thirty minutes to recover more naturally, so hold off, but when you take this, it will give you the energy you need to spend a half day in 2258. When it’s time for bed, though, you’re gonna crash, and sleep for about sixteen or seventeen hours. Don’t fight this. It’s vital to your health, and you’re gonna wake up feeling a lot better in 2259.”

“Okay, thank you.” He took the syringe graciously, and placed it on top of the stack of new clothes his rescuers had laid out for him on the nightstand. “What can I tell them...tell you?”

“Rule number two; no names. Tell them you were extracted, to an unknown future date, by an unknown individual or group, who never introduced themselves. Tell them you found the clothes, and directions to the time chamber, which was apparently preprogrammed to return you to your life.”

“All right. That’ll be easy to remember. Most of it isn’t a lie. I might start crying when I see Younger!You, though.”

“I’m used to people knowing things about my future that I shouldn’t, and vice versa. The younger version of me will be okay. Just don’t say anything, and she won’t ask you any questions.”

“Okay.”

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Source Variant: A Bridge Too Far (Part VIII)

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After the deed was done, there was no more talking for a good deal of time. They took their showers, ate separately, and went to bed. For the following week, they didn’t bother keeping up much with the Gondilak. They could be in the midst of a bloody internal conflict for all they knew, but the humans felt it was none of their concern. They had just desecrated several graves, and violated holy law for both species. They were never really going to get over this; not even in time. They felt like they deserved a break, and the powers that be seemed to agree, or at least they didn’t argue in whatever way they would. Saga!Three and Vearden!Two kept opening doors—to the bathroom, the kitchen, other sections of the facility—and always ended up on the other side. Vearden!Two thought maybe they were being prevented from jumping through time again because they were avoiding each other, so the powers didn’t have any opportunities to transport them all at once, but he couldn’t vocalize his theory, because they were too melancholy to exchange even one word. One day, though, they all felt a jolt, but nothing in their respective rooms changed. Still, a quick query of the facility’s system told them that it was now indeed two hundred years later. Once they were all in the same room together, the environment changed again.

They are standing in the middle of Stonehenge, in front of The Delegator. He’s an intermediary between the powers that be and salmon, much like The Emissary, but in a more middle management-like capacity, rather than as an interdepartmental message delivery system. Both this version of Vearden, and this version of Saga are familiar with him. Vearden!Two was given his second assignment through the Delegator in the other reality, and Dr. Baxter Sarka had to go through him in order to recruit Saga!Three as his physician’s assistant in this reality. Being from a different universe, Zektene has no clue who he is, though.

“Are you three feeling better?” the Delegator asks.

None of them wants to answer, for fear of making the other two feel bad. The problem with not talking to each other this whole time is that they don’t know each other’s status. They’ve been internalizing their feelings too much.

“The powers that be did not see that coming,” the Delegator continues. He’s not any more comfortable here than they are. “They didn’t know what you were going to do. I think they predicted you would somehow blow up the entire facility, or learn how to reprogram the nanites.”

“We would never have learned how to program nanites, and blowing up the facility would have alerted the Gondilak to our presence,” Vearden!Two explains.

“True. Obviously your plan worked, and you saved however many lives, while also protecting the integrity of the experiment.”

Saga!Three scoffs and exclaims, “experiment?” This is the first word she’s uttered in five days. And the only reason she spoke before that was because she stubbed her toe on the food synthesizer, and involuntarily damned God to hell for it.

“Hey, don’t yell at me,” the Delegator pleads. “Neither I, nor they had anything to do with the creation of the Gondilak. Experiment might not even be the best word for it. I just don’t know what else you would call it. Endeavor?”

“It’s fine,” Vearden!Two tries to mediate. “We’re just on edge. What are we doing here?”

“What have you been doing on Gondilak this whole time, you mean, or in Stonehenge right now?

“Both,” Saga!Three clarifies.

“Hold up,” Zektene interjects. “Before you say anything about that, who are you?”

“Oh, sorry,” Vearden!Two says. “This is the Delegator. He gives salmon assignments. Though, he’s not particularly useful. The first time he showed up was over a year after my first assignment began. For the other Saga, it had been over three years.”

“I only go where I’m needed,” the Delegator explains. “You didn’t need guidance until then, and in this reality, you haven’t need guidance here until now. I came because of how terrible your last mission was, because we felt it necessary to clear the air. Like I was saying, we did not create the Gondilak. Nor did we create the dire situation you were in two hundred years ago. The powers that be are powerful, but they are not omnipotent. They don’t control every little thing that happens in this universe, and they don’t control what happens in other universes at all. Maramon technology is so beyond their purview that the only way to stop all the problems it’s caused here is by dispatching people like you three.”

“People like us?” Saga!Three echoes. “Are you saying there are others? Is there another team, somewhere else around here?”

The Delegator is taken aback by this. He clears his throat, but can’t think of what to say.

“Oh my God, there is,” Vearden!Two suspects. “Where are they?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the Delegator claims.

“He’s lying,” Zektene says. “But maybe you asked the wrong question, Vearden. Maybe it’s not about where they are, but when. Maybe there’s another team that comes every two hundred years as well, but always a hundred years before or after us.”

“I’m not so sure,” Saga!Three disagrees. “You’ve been through the Maramon’s computer systems more than any of us. Did you see any evidence that others have come through here?”

“No,” Zektene admits with a frown. “I guess I’ve not.”

“The Orothsew,” Vearden!Two says cryptically.

“Oh, that’s that other species, right?” Saga!Three remembers. “They evolve on that other continent, and come here once they’re developed enough.”

“Yeah,” Vearden!Two confirms, “or so we were told. Maybe we don’t have all the information. When we first found out about the true origins of the Gondilak, it was my assumption that the Orothsew were the native species here, and the Gondilak the invaders. But maybe that’s not the whole story. We always thought it strange how—I mean, don’t me wrong; the Orothsew didn’t look human—but they did look a little human. There’s another team on the other continent. No, there’s more than one team on the other continent. When the Gondilak captured me in the other reality, they said the human time travelers always showed up to help the Orothsew. Now I’m fairly certain I know why; because the Orothsew evolved from humans. They are the product of us, as altered by their own source variant.”

“What does that mean?” Zektene questions.

Saga!Three starts to work it out in her head. “The Orothsew came from humans, and the Gondilak from Maramon. They both came here, but were presumably unaware of each other, because the systems are all automated.”

Zektene seems to notice that the Delegator has been pretty quiet while Vearden!Two was trying to figure out the truth on his own. “What’s his motivation? What do the powers that be want with this planet?”

Vearden!Two shakes his head in disappointment. “We’re not here to help the Gondilak at all. The Gondilak are the enemies. I was never meant to make friends with them in the other reality; to...uncover their decency. Our objective has always been to destroy them, and we keep going off mission.”

It’s about this time that the Delegator would have let out an uncontrollable maniacal laugh, now that the three of them have figured out his secret. But he’s not an evil demon who’s trying to torture people. He’s just a soldier, following orders. So no laugh, but a bitter sigh. “You guys, like, totally tore this whole thing wide open. I didn’t let on what was happening; you just...logicked your way out of it. How the hell did you do that?”

“So, it’s true?” Saga!Three prods. “You want us to kill the Gondilak?”

“Well...that was the original idea,” the Delegator says. “It would have been easy for you to destroy the pods before they ever opened. I guess we didn’t quite realize how fond of them Vearden!Two became. I mean, they cut him dozens of times after learning he absorbed their healing powers. We also didn’t count on Ramses being here still, and filling your head with ideas of nobility. Have no fear, though, we took care of him.”

“What did you do with him?”

“That’s none of your concern,” the Delegator says. “The point is that you missed out on your opportunity. Every time you jump two hundred years forward, your job gets a little bit harder, and unfortunately, you get a little more invested in actually helping the monsters. My God, that was your first clue! They’re called..white..monsters! Why are you trying to save them!”

“Because that’s what people do,” Zektene jumps in. “I don’t know what things are like where you and the powers that be come from, but in my universe, we don’t kill people because of what they might do in the future. This isn’t even people; it’s an ever-growing population. They have a right to develop, whether you like it or not. You can’t just go back in time and nip their buds. What the hell do you think gives you the right?”

“Well, you know what Spiderman’s uncle says about power and responsibility,” the Delegator responds.

“We’re not going to do what you want,” Vearden!Two tells him defiantly. “Send us to any damn year, it doesn’t matter. We’ll always try to help.”

“Yeah, why is that?” Saga!Three asks. “Why do you keep making us jump two hundred years. If the plan was to destroy the pods, why did you make us leave at all? You can do anything, can’t you?”

“There are rules,” Vearden!Two explains for the Delegator, who obviously wants to say as little as possible. “The powers that be are playing a game, and it wouldn’t be fair—or fun—if they could just sweep the game pieces off the board with their arms. They have to actually play it, and see how things turn out. Two hundred year time jumps are just part of the gameplay that not even they can go against.”

“Look,” the Delegator finally says. “You can’t kill all of them now. I mean, you could try to develop a plague, and wipe them out, or something, but otherwise, their numbers are just too high. You can, however, weaken them. You can slow their development. There’s still time to fix this. Just make sure they don’t get too powerful, so when the Orothsew advance enough to cross the ocean, the war is...easier.”

“You don’t want a war,” Zektene spits at him. “You want a massacre. That’s horrid.”

“Well, that’s your opinion,” the Delegator says, knowing he’s far removed from the moral high ground. “Just be careful with opinions.”

“Why don’t you just send someone who’s gonna do the job you want?” Saga!Three asks the Delegator.

“Don’t give him any ideas,” Zektene says in a loud whisper.

“No, he already knows whether he can do that or not,” Vearden!Two says. “Like I was saying, that’s against the rules. They already chose their players, and if they’re not happy with us, that’s their problem.”

“So, what are we going to do?” Zektene asks her friends.

“Whatever we can,” Saga!Three replies. “Like the man said, send us to whatever year you want, we’ll continue to do the right thing. When the Orothsew come, not only will they not win the war against the Gondilak, but there will be no war. We’re gonna stop it.” She turns to address Vearden!Two and Zektene directly, ignoring the Delegator. “Throw out your McIver hats. We’re going to introduce ourselves to the Gondilak. That’s what the other reality was lacking. They were angry about being left out, and ignored. We need to show them that humans, and by extension, our descendants, aren’t all bad.”

“That’ll never work,” the Delegator says, now with a bit of an evil grin. “It’s the Orothsew who inevitably start the war, and you have no control over them.”

“Don’t we?” Vearden!Two asks rhetorically. “I think I realize why I’m working with a version of Saga from a different reality. I’m pretty sure I know who you sent to help the opposite side of this. It’s us, isn’t it? You sent...the other versions...of us.”

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Microstory 1230: Lubomir Resnik

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Lubomir Resnik was the eldest of the source mages on the mostly dead world of Durus, but that did not make him the strongest. It was quite the opposite, actually, since he was born about three and a half months before he was due. Baby Lubomir struggled a lot in his early life, but of course, he kept fighting, and survived well into adulthood. He was a loving human being, who liked to be around people. As a result, he was perhaps a bit too trusting of others, and they sometimes disappointed him. He never stopped believing in them, though, and he never stopped caring for pretty much everyone he could find. He was always mediating some kind of argument between his peers, and he didn’t like it when there was any sort of conflict. Since he was a premature baby, Lubomir was originally meant to be the youngest, but that spot eventually went to Valda Ramsey, after her pregnant mother found herself having unwittingly been sent five years into the future. He was always impressed with Valda’s strength and bravery after having missed so much of early life on the rogue world. He didn’t give her much thought beyond that, however, until they were both older. Then he couldn’t stop thinking about her. She would come to develop feelings for him as well, though their relationship wasn’t the easiest thing to deal with. While there was a strict no-child policy for all mages, which was something that everybody agreed to, there weren’t any rules against two mages being a couple, or one mage finding some other mate elsewhere. Still, the others didn’t appreciate that Lubomir and Valda were a pair. There were some jealousy issues, and it was an all around difficult time for the whole group. Eventually, their friends just had to accept that this was the way things were, and there was nothing they could do to change it.

Well, Lubomir and Valda did end up having a child together, and if any of the others found out, it could be disastrous. Fortunately for them, they were all essentially immortal, which made it easier to avoid being caught. The source mages had access to a special class of time monsters called verters. They were civilized and vocal, unlike most of the other temporal anomalies. They had the ability to alter a target’s age,  to make them either older or younger. They could use this as a weapon, but they were generally pretty agreeable. If the source mages hadn’t ultimately been killed in battle, they could have effectively remained young and healthy forever because of this alliance. Either way, it provided them with an abnormal perspective on life. No one questioned it when the two lovebirds went off on their own for several months while she was pregnant. They didn’t do the math, and realize what must have happened. They just moved on with their lives, and greeted them both with just as much politeness as ever when they finally returned after their daughter’s birth. Of course, the new parents couldn’t keep the lie going forever, unless they were willing to give up their child, which is what they felt they had no choice but to do. Lubomir was against it. He thought the others would understand why they had broken the rules, and that things were going to be okay. But he never found out whether he was right, because the others didn’t learn of Jayde’s existence until many years later. They didn’t react too kindly to her then, but they would never know what would have happened had they just been honest from the beginning. Lubomir desperately wanted to believe that history would have turned out better, but that was the compassionate side of him, and if he was going to survive the aftermath of the war, he needed to get over that.

Microstory 1229: Khuweka Kadrioza

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Out of all the Maramon, which were also known by humans as the white monsters, Khuweka Kadrioza was probably the very best. Even amongst her group of rebels, who were against the war, she was the most compassionate for their progenitors. The Maramon were created by an imaginative child with almost unimaginable power, who didn’t understand the basic concepts of life. For most, life begins, they suffer struggles, they get hurt, and then they die. He was far too young to recognize these truths, and so when his ability to conjure entire beings into existence kicked in, they appeared without them. Maramon are so difficult to kill that later generations didn’t even have a word for death until centuries of development. They didn’t war, they didn’t have traffic collisions. They didn’t have any problems with resources until their population rose to untenable numbers. But they did have strong feelings about the humans, and were convinced that it was their responsibility to deliver any human they encountered to what was essentially their species’ analog to heaven. Again, they didn’t consider this to be death. Humans were their gods, and to them, gods did not belong in the same realm as them, so they needed to be removed. It was only after the first Maramon died that they realized what was truly going on, but by then, their instinct to attack humans was quite nearly impossible to resist. Khuweka had no problem with this resistance. It’s true that she was lucky enough to be born inside the counterculture, which knew that humans were just a different species; one that was genetically not too terribly dissimilar. But there’s evidence to suggest she would have come to the right conclusions on her own, if only to a smaller degree. She didn’t need to spend time with humans to know she didn’t hate them. She never understood this weird veneration-slash-animosity that all her fellow Maramon seemed to feel. It wasn’t hard for her to see individuals as just that; individuals. So she continued to work with the resistance, operating against the Maramon establishment, and protecting what precious few humans they came across. But she also felt apart from everyone else; again, even when she was around other dissenters. She felt fortunate when she followed a group of people out of the universe entirely, and ended up traveling to other worlds, all of which were dominated by humans. Of course, this wasn’t much better, because the people in these other worlds wouldn’t likely accept her either, because she looked scary and threatening. Finally, however, she found the right place to be. She was in a world where all sorts of crazy and unpredictable things happened on the regular. When people saw her, they assumed she was merely the product of something they called a base modification; just a human who had been randomly transformed into something else. It didn’t matter that they didn’t know the truth, because it didn’t bother them either way. Society there quickly lost all sense of prejudgment, and let people’s actions speak for themselves, rather than presuming their character upon first meeting. She was home, and she never looked back to where she came from.

Microstory 1228: Baudin Murdoch

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Though he erred on the side of decent, Baudin Murdoch was a fairly neutral choosing one. His greater power afforded him immense respect amongst his colleagues. People tended to be nice to him for fear of retribution, even though he didn’t have a history of exacting revenge on others. He belonged to an extremely rare class of temporal manipulators known as builders, and the other two were related to each other. As far as time powers went, theirs was perhaps the most convoluted and hard to explain. Want to turn invisible? Well, bending light itself is impossible, but you can only trick people into seeing what’s behind you, rather than you, so that’s the workaround. More interested in traveling to other star systems? That’s also a rare ability, but at least it’s just teleportation with extreme range. These things don’t require much thought. A sufficiently-abled user only need think about what they want as an end result, and if they’re capable enough, it will happen. Building, on the other hand, requires assembling objects that would never go together naturally, and a deeper thought process. Each piece needs to be considered individually, and as a whole, so that all of them together will ultimately form the desired structure. Not everyone with this power would be able to use it with such precision and skill, and in fact, Baudin wasn’t ever even the best. When The Rogue took over Baudin’s body, he could do what Baudin could, but not nearly as well. It took him years to build Sanctuary, whereas it would have taken Baudin a couple days, on his best week. Étude Einarsson was also never as good as him, or the best ever, her mother, but that was okay, because she wielded plenty of power beyond that. Also known as The Constructor, Baudin hailed from a very old timeline, surviving into each newly created reality using protective temporal objects. He treated his ability like a business, though he never demanded payment for his services. He almost always held meetings, consulted with other professionals, drew up contracts, and did just about everything else a normal builder would do to get the job done right. He didn’t actually love the construction itself, though. It was boring, and required too much attention. Unlike Andromeda, whose work could be completed in minutes, he did still need a little bit of time to finish. So he came up with an alternative.

Inspired by the automation movement in the human realm in the 20th and 21st centuries, Baudin created a tool that could channel his power, and build the structures he wanted without him being around the entire time. Unfortunately, a tool like this came with a literal sacrifice. He commissioned the help of a woman named The Weaver. She could normally invent objects using regular parts, made of metal and plastic, but in this case, she was unable to replicate Baudin’s power with tech. The only way to do it was for him to provide a significant specimen for her to work with. He chose to use the largest bone in his body: the femur. And thus the bone stake was created. Those who knew about it called him foolish or insane, but they weren’t taking into account future medical technology. It was no big deal for him to replace his own leg with a prosthetic if it meant his job would be easier, and indeed it was. As a bonus, the bone stake could interface with computers—generally his trusty tablet—and essentially grow a building using a model designed in software, by him, or even someone else. Once the design was set, and the bone stake in place at the construction site, Baudin could leave, and do whatever it was he truly wanted. He could feel it doing its thing remotely, and he was still limited to the same point in time while it was operational, but it didn’t drain him of his energy in the way using his power had before, and it left him more time to meet with clients, or design new projects. He was an important man, known for having been at least partially responsible for a number of important buildings used by salmon and choosers alike, throughout all of time and space.

Microstory 1227: Krakken

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When Hilmar Strauss was born, his father noted that he looked like some kind of sea creature; covered in goo, flailing about, and making all kinds of noise. Hilmar’s mother didn’t appreciate it at the time, but the nickname he used grew on her, and eventually, pretty much everyone was calling him Kraken. Hilmar himself never liked the name, though he didn’t much care for his real name either, so he slightly altered the spelling in a half-act of defiance, half way of taking control of his own life, and finally came to identify himself as Krakken. He fancied himself a bit of an outlaw; one of those people who do illegal things simply because they’re illegal, and not because of any personal gain they provide. He wasn’t violent, angry, or psychotic, but his baby crimes—like stealing his podmate’s crayon in kindergarten—were aging as quickly as he was, so they were bound to become a real problem. Luckily enough, Krakken was living in the right time period, and the right city, to be a criminal who wasn’t really a bad person. New, less destructive, gangs were taking over Kansas City, and pushing out the gun-toting, drug-running, gangs of yesteryear. He wanted to join one of them, but none of them seemed like a reasonable choice. He wasn’t a hacker like the Grammers, nor a musician like the Codas. He liked animals, but the Beasts sometimes took things way too far, and he didn’t want to fall down the rabbit hole, and do something he regretted. The Tracers were badasses, but he never thought of himself as a fighter, so applying to them would have been a waste of time. The Taggers were the only choice he had left once he eliminated everyone else. The problem was that he didn’t exactly fit in with them either. Krakken loved art, but he could admit that he wasn’t much good at it. Fortunately for him, that didn’t mean there was no place for him in the Tagger gang. There was plenty of work for him to do, providing ancillary support, and being a lookout. The graffiti artists found a lot of valuable in having someone like him around, who would help them out in any way they needed. He did laundry, cooked meals, protected them from law enforcement, and drove them to and from their walls and underpasses. Don’t misunderstand; the others respected him greatly, and never took his role for granted. They still got their own coffee, and cleaned their own apartments. It was just nice to have someone available to take some of the burden off of them, so they could focus on their work, and he was more than happy to do it. In the end, he didn’t do much crime; the Taggers were one of the less socially impactful groups in the metro, after all. But he was content with his life, and when it was time to move on, he did so, and got himself a real job, so he could be a healthy and productive member of society.

Microstory 1226: Octavian

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Octavian of the Roman Kingdom was not a good person. In fact, he was significantly worse than his brother, Sevastian, which most who had only met the latter would have doubted was possible. He was a born killer, first fighting in the Army, and then traveling through time, assassinating targets as assigned to him by his superior. Unlike his brother, Octavian didn’t hesitate for one second when this mysterious man appeared in their lives, and offered them these new jobs. He didn’t much care who he was fighting for, or for what cause, as long as he had a blade in hand, and a target to attack. He had a little more trouble grasping the concept of time travel, and struggled with understanding the idea of the more advanced weapons that his new leader, Darrow introduced him to, but he never stopped liking it. He liked it when he was doing it for his people, and also when it was as an assassin. Had he been born a couple thousand years later, he would have become a serial killer. It was really just luck that he was tasked with only killing bad people. Despite the fact that he now had the ability to travel through time, and also to supernaturally find the location of his targets, Octavian was an unremarkable man. He wasn’t an exceptional killer on his own, and relied heavily on Darrow’s tactical planning, and Sevastian’s skill. One thing he had going for him was that he was good at following orders, which meant the other two didn’t generally have to worry about him going rogue, and killing anyone who looked at him funny. But he did enjoy the work a little too much, and it made him arrogant enough to be killed by an opponent who should have never been able to get the upper hand on him. Even though many time travelers recognized there to be at least some value in the three of them existing in the timeline, no one was upset when they learned of his and his brother’s deaths. The timeline continued on without them.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: November 18, 2256

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The adjoining of Radiant Lightning, and The Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez was totally finished when Mateo returned to the timestream. While they did fit well together, geometrically speaking, they weren’t designed with that in mind. There was still a lot to be done to adapt them to each other. Whatever it was that made the AOC go before first had to be taken out, which was apparently the easiest part. There was always a way to jettison it in case something went wrong, such as what happened in that movie where Tommy Lee Jones goes crazy alone in space. The end result of the new ship was exquisite, even though Mateo wasn’t intelligent enough to know what exactly this meant. They could now get to any planet in this region in a matter of days, sure, but why that was suddenly now possible was something that would always fly right over his head.

On a personal note, Leona and Cassidy were still off on whatever it was they were doing, wherever they were doing it. They kept in contact with Homebase, so people would know they were still alive, but neither of them agreed to talk to Mateo. Cassidy had done nothing wrong, and Leona certainly hadn’t, so Mateo was rightfully being treated as the bad guy. He just hoped this didn’t mean his life was essentially over. If he couldn’t be with Leona—either literally, or as soulmates, or both—he didn’t know how he would survive.

Things were awkward in 2256. The crew of the AOC had already known what happened between Mateo and Cassidy, but now that it was no longer an open secret, and just open, it couldn’t be ignored. Mateo, on the other hand, was ripe for being ignored, which was what most everyone was doing. Trinity had a completely different personality than he remembered Paige having before. That was no big surprise, though. They were two totally separate people now, who had experienced wildly different lives. She was ignoring him as well, but it didn’t seem to have anything to do with his indiscretion with Cassidy. She kind of acted like she didn’t love that there were now so many people here, and was ready for some to leave. Eight Point Seven seemed fine with Mateo, leading him to ask her if she would shrink him like she did for Leona so many times, but Eight Point Seven said that it would be a conflict of interest. This decision was probably for the best. The only person who didn’t seem to have a problem with him was Ellie. She was still as bubbly and tenderhearted as ever.

“Oh hold on.” Ellie pulled a pair of glasses out of her bag, and a clipboard. She crossed her legs, and looked at him inquisitively. “Go on.”

“I’m not really looking for a therapist,” Mateo said. “I just don’t have anyone else to talk to.”

“So I’m your last resort. How does that make you feel?”

Mateo laughed at this. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m just joking”

“How do you feel about what happened?” Mateo asked her. One of his biggest problems right now was that no one was expressing their thoughts on the matter. Did they just not know what to say, or were they deliberately trying to make him feel bad, simply because he certainly didn’t deserve to feel happy?

Ellie shrugged. “It’s not really my business.”

“But Leona is your friend.”

“And when she comes back, I’ll be here for her. That doesn’t mean I can’t be here for you too. Shitty sitcoms from the two-thousand aughts teach us that the friends of a couple in distress have to take sides. But that’s really reductive; relationships are more nuanced than that, and very complicated. You screwed up, and there’s no denying it, but you’re not irredeemable, and Leona isn’t beyond forgiving you.”

“That’s a very mature position to hold. I’m not sure I would be so thoughtful if I weren’t the one who done it.”

“Well, you gain perspective when you can eavesdrop on the conversations of faceless strangers from thousands of miles away.”

“You do that a lot?”

“I see what you’re leading to,” Ellie said. “I’m not going to listen in on Leona and Cassidy.”

“What if they’re hurt, or lost?”

Ellie reached back into her bag, and retrieved a tablet. She tapped on it a few times, and then turned it around to show him. He could see what appeared to be vital signs, separated into boxes; one for each of the core group at Homebase, plus the two who weren’t there at the moment. Only Mateo wasn’t on there at all. “We chipped everyone after Leona got lost on another continent. As you can see, they’re both fine.”

“Eight Point Seven is on here.” It looked different than the others, though, since she didn’t have a heart rate, or blood pressure, or any other biological reading.

She chuckled a bit. “Well, yeah. We still need to know how her internal systems are faring.

“What’s wrong with that one?” Mateo was pointing at a box that should have been displaying someone’s vitals, but whoever it was, they appeared to be dead.

“Oh, that’s Briar’s. His chip was damaged recently, but I guess he’s not allowed to undergo any medical treatment for this whole month? It has something to do with his religion. I don’t know anything about it.” She dropped the tablet back into her bag.

Mateo decided to change the subject, because he had another question. “Hey, um. Is that a bag of holding?”

“It is, yes,” Ellie confirmed, holding it up. “Do you two not have your own?”

“No one had them on Tribulation Island, which would have been a good place to stock them. I don’t know where else to find something like that.”

“I got mine from an old man I met in 1804 Kansas. Or rather, what would become Kansas a few decades later. I don’t think he made it, though. I won it off him in a game of poker.”

“I don’t suppose you would be willing to reconnect with him.”

“I would have to find him throughout time and space, and then I would have to speak to him. Both of those things require using my time power, which I’ve agreed to not do while I’m on Bida.”

Mateo nodded. “I understand.”

“There would be no guarantee he would have what you’re looking for anyway. Transdimensional bags aren’t the rarest thing in histories, but they’ve never been mass-marketed either. Lots of people who can create pocket dimensions can’t link them to a bag like this. It takes pretty refined skill.”

“It’s just..Leona has always wanted one.”

“You’re not gonna win her back with a gift, Mateo, and I think you know that.”

“If the gift didn’t win her back,” he began, “she would at least still have a bag of holding. I don’t see the down side.”

“I do,” Ellie claimed. “If you give a gift now, you’re just like any other cheater who thinks it’s possible to make up for the betrayal. You can’t compensate for it. Your only hope is to regain her trust. That’s done through things like being a good person from now on. Listen to her, acknowledge her contributions, ask her for help; basic things that a decent human being does for another. She has to feel like you think of her as a real person. A gift, of any kind—even something less materialistic, like a fun or romantic experience—will only perpetuate her perception that you think she’s a broken object you can repair. Relationships can’t be repaired; they can only grow a new branch, in a different direction, and hopefully leave the dead branch far enough behind that it doesn’t kill the whole tree.”

“Wow. Maybe I was looking for a therapist.”

“I’m not a therapist, Mateo. I’m just a woman.”

He nodded, but didn’t say anything.

After his little therapy session with Ellie, Mateo went out to take a walk on his own. Everyone said it was one of the most beautiful planets, and that Trinity had settled on the most beautiful part of it. The path did not disappoint. The trees and other plant life were gorgeous and calming. Even the animal noises sounded more pleasant than he ever remembered hearing on Earth. Maybe they were just different, and given enough time, he would grow used to them. This wasn’t his first time outside on this world, but he hadn’t paid much attention before. His walk wasn’t perfect, though. Throughout the whole thing, he had this sickening feeling that he was being watched. Perhaps that mad scientist who was trying to transfer people’s consciousnesses to animal droids was following him around, or a hungry real animal. His anxiety worsened every few steps, until it was no longer worth it to keep going. He turned to leave, and came face to face with that guy Leona found alone in the woods. He was acting creepy, but Mateo wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Oh, hey. Briar, right?”

“That’s right,” Briar said. “I’m here to kick your ass.”

“Mateo sighed. “To defend her honor?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll let you hit me once. I can say that I tripped, or something. But if you hurt me more than that, I’m gonna have to tell her what happened, and she isn’t gonna be happy.”

“I dunno, I think she would probably be really happy about that.”

“You obviously don’t know her very well. She abhors violence.”

“She what’s violence?” Briar questioned, confused.

“She hates it,” Mateo translated.

She hates you more.”

“That’s not true. I know I made a big mistake, but she and I are going to get through this. It doesn’t matter what you do to me, she’s not going to leave me, and run to you.”

“This has nothing to do with me. I’m not gonna hurt you to get you out of the way, and take your place. I’m gonna hurt you, because you deserve it.” He started inching forwards.

Mateo didn’t get into fights when he was a kid, but he also wasn’t easily intimidated. He didn’t know why, but Briar was really freaking him out. It could have been the wrathful fire in his eyes, or just the way he was so convinced that this was the right call. Or maybe it was because they were now standing near the edge of a pretty steep drop. “She won’t forgive you.”

“She won’t need to.”

“I’m under the protection of the powers that be.”

“Then you shouldn’t be worried at all right now.” Mateo was starting to think this guy was genuinely mentally ill.

“Don’t do this, Briar.”

“Don’t do what?” Yeah, to be insensitive about it, he was definitely bonkers. “I’m not even here.” He presented the inside of his wrist. “My medical chip has been broken for a week.”

Briar had forced Mateo all the way to the very edge. If the powers that be were going to do anything to save him, like send the Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida’s version of The Savior to pull him back, this was the moment. Presumably banking on the unremote possibility that they weren’t going to do that, Briar delicately tapped on both of Mateo’s shoulders, and sent him tumbling over.

No Savior, no giant bird, no last-second portal. Mateo fell however far it was to the bottom of the cliff, and landed hard on his back. His whole body was in pain, and warm blood was pooling around him; almost like he was peeing his pants. After a few minutes of lying there, a butterfly-like insect started fluttering over his face, giving him one last beautiful thing to look at before he died. He couldn’t help but smile in wonder. This tiny little thing barely had what you would call a brain. It didn’t think, or feel, or hope. It just searched for food, and propagated the species. It probably didn’t even realize it was flying over the dying body of another creature. It probably just considered Mateo to be part of the landscape. He could feel his life slowly draining from him, but as it did, the insect slew down, until it was almost not moving at all.

This was the day Mateo Matic died.

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