Microstory 1263: Lavitha Kistler

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Before starting college in the spring, Lavitha Kistler was all set for a road trip with her friends. She had left Lawrence before, but she had never gone anywhere without her parents. She always struggled with growing up, and though no one would say they coddled her, they did often have to help her figure out things that most of her peers seemed to just get. She had an adventurous spirit, though, and this was her chance to do something without any help. Of course, the original plan was to not go alone. She had a good group of friends, until a tragedy caused everyone else to back out. Her friend, Cassidy’s mother died shortly before they were going to leave, so no one was up for it anymore. Lavitha was saddened and empathetic, of course, but this meant more to her than it did to them. This was a growing experience, and she worried if she didn’t do it now, she never would. She was going to college less than an hour and a half away from home, and was intending to take a pretty heavy schedule of classes every term, including the summer, so this could be her last chance. Cassidy understood why she was still doing it, and didn’t hold it against her. The funny thing is, it didn’t matter how Cassidy felt about Lavitha, because their relationship would soon go from really good to literally nonexistent. Lavitha’s second stop after Manhattan was Springfield, Kansas. It was a fairly small town, but due to a temporal anomaly, was once one of the largest in the state, and though that had since changed, a lot of tourists felt an inexplicable draw to it. That phenomenon came to an end, however, when the rest of the town was sucked into the Deathfall portal, and completely erased from everyone else’s mind. Almost no one outside of its borders could remember that it, nor anyone inside, ever existed. While she wasn’t a permanent resident, Lavitha happened to be there at the time, so she was spirited away as well, all the way to a rogue planet called Durus. But her situation was even more complicated than that, because within the temporal anomaly was yet another anomaly, and she was caught in that, though no one else would ever know it.

The Deathfall occurred on September 23, 2016, but it was followed a nearly hundred and forty-five years later with the Deathspring on May 19, 2161. For that, even more people were unwillingly pulled up to the rogue world, and it is with this new batch of refugees that Lavitha ended up with. At first she thought that what had happened to her was normal. Well, it wasn’t normal, but at least she wasn’t the only person who accidentally ended up on another planet, in the future. But she quickly realized that her situation was unique. All other refugees believed that it was 2161, and they were correct. She was the only one who experienced a temporal change, as well as a spatial one, and since she never told anyone about it, no one ever had the chance to study why that was. She kept her head down, stayed quiet, and did as much investigating as she possibly could on her own. She got her hands on some information about Earth, and eventually had to accept the conclusion that not only was everyone she ever cared about long dead, but also that they died with no memory of her anyway. So this was it; her life now. Even if she asked for help going back in time—which was not impossible—life on Durus in 2016 was said to be just god-awful. If she also managed to find a way back to Earth in her own time period, because of the nature of the original Deathfall, she wouldn’t have a life to return to. So she spent twelve years there, building herself a new life as an unremarkable office administrator for the provisional government, and for all the forms of leadership that rose to power throughout the decade. It wasn’t until an interstellar ship called The Elizabeth Warren arrived that anyone seemed to have any chance of reaching Earth. She decided she wanted to do that. Things were finally starting to improve for Durus, but she still longed for a self-sustainable world, with real plants, animals, its own sun, and everything else that Earth had to offer. She helped found a group of what she thought were like-minded individuals, who wanted on that ship too. It was too late before she realized that the other leaders were more like terrorists, who were willing to commit violent crimes to get what they wanted. They took hostages, and made their demands, but luckily, they lost, and no one was hurt. Because she was one of the few high-ranking members who opposed these actions, Lavitha was placed in charge of peaceful negotiations. She had never done anything like this before, but she was going to have to step up, for the sake of all the other hopeful passengers. This was finally her moment to grow up.

Microstory 1262: Atticus Morel

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Virtual architect, Atticus Morel spent more of his life in simulated environments than he did in the real world. He didn’t have any particular affinity for the constructed at first, though. In fact, the reason he got into the business was to make these artificial worlds more lifelike. Over the years, after artificial intelligence was created, human civilization changed a great deal, specifically by shedding much of what made them who they were before. Things like war, food scarcity, and dangerous weather were becoming things of the past. And the most important impact was a loss of the human labor force. Many of the crappy jobs people didn’t want to do could be done by automated systems instead. Even better, a lot of these jobs were simply eradicated, so no one—or no thing—would have to do them at all. For instance, it took a lot of people working in the background to keep a single skyscraper running. Maintenance repair technicians, cleaning staff, security, and the like were all essential to the smooth operation of only a single building. And many of these collectives were needed, because there were many more buildings beyond this one hypothetical. These buildings existed, not to support the intelligent lifeforms on the planet, but mostly to indulge the overly complicated, and economically saturated, infrastructural system that was only necessary because every human felt they deserved an entire section of the planet for themselves. Of course, that’s an exaggeration, but the point is that enough people were clamoring for their own space that the species soon ran out of it, and most of what we were left with was excess. By consolidating systems, and altering the definition of ambition, people were free to pursue their dreams without interfering with other people’s dreams. Humanity stopped needing so many buildings, because they became more united, and driven to support the system as a whole. The most important advancing technology in this regard was virtual reality. There was no need to waste real estate to exorcise one’s aggression by smashing a bunch of legacy electronics with a bat. All one needed was a simulation of such a thing, and any given simulation, at its worse, takes up space as measured in millimeters. But they also didn’t mean much if they didn’t feel real; if the user could not—if only temporarily—suspend their disbelief that their physical bodies were still sitting comfortably in a chair, say in Panama. Atticus had the ability to design realistic environments to make people’s lives easier, and he eventually found himself more at ease in them himself, because they belonged to him. He created this art, and he came to love it deeply. So it was quite a jarring experience when he was suddenly ripped from the world he had built, transported thousands of miles away, and basically forced to begin serving on a warship.

A woman named The Overseer claimed to have knowledge of a timeline where he, and everyone else she had conscripted, had led completely different lives. They had evidently been part of some kind of rebellion to overthrow a tyrant, and were so successful, that they reset time so that none of it actually happened. He had little trouble believing any of this, but he also had trouble caring about this further work he was expected to do. Though the tyrant was gone, her followers weren’t, and it was this new ragtag crew’s mission to combat them. He didn’t want to be part of this, but he bit his tongue, because he was promised it wouldn’t take very long. Even if the mission lasted years, he should still be able to go right back to his old life, where he would later upload his consciousness to the network, and live forever. Unfortunately for his plans, there were other forces at play here, who felt this one job would only be the first of many. According to a history that never really took place, Atticus once took on the codename of Gatekeeper. It was just a name he used to disguise his identity in an alternate reality, which he didn’t even remember, so it meant nothing. But some people with the power to make convoluted temporal connections liked to use them to make more connections. These people provided Atticus with special water that made him immortal, so that he could be in charge of a very dangerous place forever. Now he indeed was a Gatekeeper, and he couldn’t have hated it more. The worst part about it was that he was no longer allowed to enter any virtual reality simulation. No, this would not do. He had to find a way to escape, even if it meant opening the gate.

Microstory 1261: The Saunter Twins

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Cullen Gunnarsen and Einion Tamaro were aspiring actors, but since they lived in Kansas City—and were only children—there weren’t a lot of opportunities to get themselves on the big screen. They met each other in community theatre when they were both cast in a production of Newsies. After growing up, they couldn’t remember which parts they played, though it was definitely two of the younger ones. A few years later, Senator Elliot Channing approached them both with an interesting offer. They would be paid handsomely, and really get their names out there, and all they would have to do was walk around Kansas City on camera. It seemed ridiculous and random to them, but it was a job, so they took it. They figured they could quit anytime if it turned out to be a waste. It turned out to be the best choice they ever made, though they would come to find out that it was an ethically questionable one. He hired them to walk in the City Frenzy event, which of course, was generally a foot race, where the object was to run fast. After a couple years of streaming the race internationally, Channing learned that people were tuning out as soon as the saw who won. Many turned off the feed after the next to finished, and very few watched all the way through the end. This was no big deal for subscribers who had prepaid for an ad-free experience, but it was a problem for the ad-supported tier. The faster the winner got to the finish line, the less money they were going to make, and he wanted to change that. Of course, it would be really bad if he tried to get the racers to slow down, especially since he would have to convince all of them to comply, and to also keep it secret. Instead, he came up with an odd plan that somehow worked even better than he hoped. People weren’t just watching until the last real racer finally got to the finish line. They were watching for hours and hours, just for Cullen and Einion.

The two of them would walk the race at a fairly leisurely pace. They would stop to appreciate the shops they went by, smell flowers along their route, and take selfies with the passersby. People began to close the broadcast immediately after the winner was crowned at a lower rate then before, and this only decreased each year The Saunter Twins—as the papers called them—put on their own show. It was just a couple of kids walking through the metropolitan area, but enough people were fascinated by their alternate technique to increase revenue. They called it a spiritual journey, and it apparently spoke to a lot of people who didn’t have anything else going on in their lives. This was before Channing decided to end his political career, and focus solely on the Frenzy event, which might have absolved the rest of the committee of any wrongdoing, but even after he joined permanently, he was never caught; not even by the others. The Twins didn’t give him up once they were old enough to realize that they weren’t allowed to be paid for their performance, and no one else ever figured it out. Cullen and Einion moved on with lives after the former aged out, and eventually relocated to Los Angeles, so they could pursue their acting careers. By then, they were worldwide celebrities, so it wasn’t hard for them to start landing gigs, which was probably the main reason they never confessed to their involvement in the crime. They did some separate things, but they were largely considered a package deal, so casting directors often called them up to work together on the same titles. Parts were even rewritten to accommodate two actors, instead of one. They acted in movies, and television, and occasionally spent time in New York to perform on Broadway. Their fans continued to call them The Saunter Twins, but never caught onto the fact that neither of them behaved like zen spiritualists after the Frenzy chapter of their lives was over. It all seemed to work out.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: November 25, 2263

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Now was the time. They were finally going to Dardius. In a show of good faith, everybody agreed to give Pribadium’s completely new form of teleportation a shot. She had tested it many times since she first invented it, so it wasn’t like they were guinea pigs in danger. They just had to get past the fact that this came from the mind of a human. If anyone had any further reservations about it, they were keeping quiet. Mateo wasn’t sure if he was sensing tension about that, about Cassidy’s decision regarding the blindspot elixir, something else entirely, or nothing at all, and it was just his imagination. He and Leona also didn’t know what kind of arguments or discussions went down while they were out of the timestream. They packed their belongings, stepped into the machine, and prepared for launch.

“Last chance to back out,” Pribadium warned them. “I know you’re worried about it, so if you just wanna take a rover across the Glisnian wasteland, like a peasant, it’s time to speak up.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Vitalie said, “let’s all go peasant. Peasants don’t where clothes, right? On account of being birds?”

“That’s pheasants, honey,” Étude corrected her.

“What did I say?” Vitalie joked.

“We’re doing this,” Leona assured Pribadium, getting back to the matter at hand.

“It’ll be fun,” Hilde said in delight. Normal humans stick together.

“It’ll be a new adventure that I can recount in my video diaries,” Vitalie said, “though it would be more interesting if we didn’t wear clothes. Are we sure that’s off the table?”

“All right,” Hogarth declared, ignoring her. “Five, four, three, two, one,” she announced rapidly.

The transport was instantaneous, and took them exactly where they were meant to go in the Nexus replica. Mateo didn’t think it felt any different than the other times he had been teleported, but some of the more intelligent in their group seemed to be under the impression that it was. Perhaps that was just a sign of their biases. Everything appeared to be okay, but they would not be so lucky with the second leg of their journey. Now that Tribulation Island was no longer being used as The Hub, or as a staging ground for warmongering capitalists, things were a lot different. Only one person lived there permanently, and beyond that, but a handful of people were allowed to set foot on it. Most of those were comprised of Mateo, Leona, or anyone they personally specified. Certain high-ranking officials could go there for inspections or meetings with the island’s one inhabitant, who served as its caretaker. According to Hogarth and Hilde, Transportation Administrator Amanda Moss got a bit cagey when they asked just who this caretaker was. Why would it be a big deal? Was it someone bad, like The Cleanser, or Hitler? He couldn’t imagine it mattered.

This was where things got weird. The first thing the group saw when they arrived at their destination was a welcoming party. There wasn’t a whole lot of fanfare, because that was reserved for the capital, but it looked like a healthy number of smiling faces had shown up. They disappeared pretty quickly, though, as did everything else there. As soon as Étude stepped up to begin to shake people’s hands diplomatically, the rest of the group were swept away somewhere, or somewhen, else. Now they were standing just inside the treeline on a beach. It could have been an island. It could have even been the right island, but if it was, it was the wrong point in time. No artificial structure was anywhere in their line of sight.

“What happened?” Cassidy questioned. “Where did she go? Where’s my mom?”

“I think we’re the ones who went somewhere,” Mateo replied.

Hogarth pulled out her tablet, and furiously tapped on it for a moment. “I can’t connect to the satellite network.”

“Leona,” Hilde nudged, “your watch.”

“Oh, right.” Leona dragged her sleeves out of the way, and peered at her watch, which Mateo’s once-father, Mario had given to her as a gift. It was meant to always tell the exact time. It didn’t matter where she teleported, or what year it was. It would make contact with spacetime itself, and report back a hundred percent accurate readings. Leona’s face suggested that something was wrong.

“What is it?”

“This is hard to interpret,” Leona said, holding the watch face towards them, but shaking it around, so no one could really see it. “It’s not digital, so it doesn’t just give me the date. I have to figure out what all these needles mean, and how they correspond with each other.”

“Okay...”

Leona continued, “I mean, we don’t assign years to prehistoric times, right? We say three million years ago, or say, sixty-thousand years ago.”

“It’s not sixty-thousand years ago, is it?” Pribadium asked with what was probably supposed to be a self-reassuring smile.

She didn’t say anything.

“Leona, it’s not sixty-thousand years ago,” Pribadium laughed. “Tell me it’s not sixty-thousand years ago.”

“It’s not sixty-thousand years ago,” Leona promised.

Everyone looked relieved, but they shouldn’t have.

“It’s closer to three million,” Hogarth said. She was holding her table towards the sky. Mateo actually understood this concept. Stars moved throughout the galaxy in a predictable pattern, and armed with enough information about these patterns, one could determine the present year. She could have been even more accurate with better data, like scientists were for the Milky Way.

“Two-point-eight-three million,” Leona confessed.

“Huh,” Mateo noted.

“What is it?” Leona asked, acting like everyone thought this was her fault, even though it was clear that she was simply the one with the magic watch.

“That’s how far we are from Earth.” Maybe Mateo wasn’t such a dummy after all. “Light years, that is.”

“He’s right,” Hogarth agreed. “If we took a lightship back home right now, we would return at around the right time.”

“Well, that may be our only option,” Leona said, throwing up our hands. “Unless we invented a time machine.”

“Or stasis pods,” Cassidy offered.

“We know of no stasis pod that could survive more than a million years,” Leona contradicted. “We can’t even be sure it’s physically possible for an unenhanced human being to make it to the other side of the Milky Way from Earth. They may break down so often that the traveler would age too much during the maintenance periods.”

“So, time machine it is,” Pribadium decided. “I can do that. I have to; it’s my fault.”

“How is it your fault?” Hilde questioned. She was still very protective of the only other one of her kind.

Pribadium shook her head in disappointment. “The teleporter I built. It must have interfered with the Nexus replica. I don’t know, I can’t study either of them in this state, because I just screwed us!” She kicked at the sand, and stomped off in a huff. No one followed her. This was what she needed. Hopefully that was everyone else’s reason for letting her go off on her own, because it was definitely Mateo’s. He didn’t want her to feel alienated from the group, but worse than that, he didn’t want anyone to actively alienate her, whether it was her fault, or not.

“This may be a dumb question,” he began, “but just to get it off the table, could Leona, Cassidy, and I just wait for our pattern to catch us up with the modern era?”

Leona pinched the bridge of her nose. “That’s over seven thousand years, Mateo. Jesus Christ.”

“Okay, I’m sorry! You know I’m not good at math!”

“You could be a little better,” she spat.

“Okay,” Vitalie said, almost like a mediator. “We’re not letting you get in another big fight. It’s exhausting for the rest of us. Now. To make things easier, you don’t have to worry about me. I can indeed wait for a few million years. That’s nothing.”

“Speaking of powers,” Cassidy asked, “can’t my mother jump through time, and come retrieve us?”

“She would have to know when and where we are,” Leona said sadly. “I’m not sure she has that capability. Jump-tracing is an incredibly rare time power.”

Cassidy frowned.

Vitalie decided to go on, “Hogarth can jump through time, though so it really depends on how many people she can take with her.”

“I can explode through time,” Hogarth argued, “it’s not pleasant, and I’ve never taken anyone with me. It’s far too dangerous.”

“I thought you figured out how to control it,” Vitalie said.

“Not enough to risk passengers,” Hogarth maintained.

“I’m willing to risk it,” Hilde reminded her. “I’ve told you.”

“I’m not doin’ it.”

“Great,” Vitalie said, “then just save yourself.”

“Screw you,” Hogarth jibed.

“What did I just say about fighting?” Vitalie asked rhetorically.

“I can stay here too,” Cassidy added.

“How’s that now?”

“I can...” Cassidy hesitated, speaking directly to Vitalie. “I can take your power on. I can become immortal, if only for a little while. Pribadium thought that could work.”

“It could,” Leona said, “but we don’t know. Immortality is a very different animal when it comes to time powers. I’m not sure anyone has been born with it.”

“I’m willing to try,” Cassidy echoed Hilde’s sentiments from a moment ago.

Mateo made it clear he wanted to speak, but didn’t say anything until he had the math worked out in his head. “If Hogarth were to hypothetically explode someone into the future, her most likely limitation is two other people. Wouldn’t you say,” he asked the group, but mostly Leona, “more often than not, that’s how it works?”

“That’s a reasonable presumption,” she followed.

“Okay,” Mateo said. “Let’s call that Hogarth, Hilde, and Leona.”

“Why me?” Leona questioned. “Why not Pribadium?”

“I’ll get to that,” he claimed. “Those three are taken care of. Let’s assume Cassidy can absorb Vitalie’s immortality, and that this eventuality becomes necessary. That only leaves Pribadium and me. I’ll be fine for awhile, as would Cassidy, if she just stayed on my pattern. That only leaves Pribadium, who’s undergone some anti-aging enhancements, and isn’t soon to die, even without further treatments. Maybe that gives her enough time to solve this problem. Because, while we don’t know if she can build a time machine, we know—given enough linear time—she could build a lightspeed ship.”

Leona sighed. “It’s not the craziest plan, but it has a lot of what-ifs.”

“Too many,” Hogarth lamented. “I don’t want to kill my wife.”

“Then don’t.” Hilde took her wife’s arm affectionately.

“I can’t recommend you try that,” Mateo said, “but if we don’t do something, we could all die here. Our bones will turn to dust before even one more person sets foot here, and that’ll be that.”

“We promised we wouldn’t separate again,” Leona said. “We both agreed to that.”

“I know,” he said. “But that was before, and no one can tell the future.” He couldn’t help but release a ducky smile at that statement.

“Shut up,” Leona couldn’t help but laugh at the fact that it wasn’t true. They didn’t want to fight, and every option was a shitty one. Whichever one stayed here could be stuck forever, and whichever one tried to go with Hogarth could literally die in an explosion. It wasn’t like arguing was going to allow one to save the other. There was no way to know which was the safest, if either of them worked.

Now they all looked to Hogarth, who was carrying some of her friends’ fates in her hands. She didn’t want to let anyone down. “Okay, I’ll try. If anyone survives past this, but Hilde doesn’t, however, I expect that survivor to seek a real time traveler, so they can fix that before it happens.”

“We can agree to that possibility.” Everyone piped up with their show of support.

Even Pribadium had something to say, having returned soon enough to hear the last bit of the plan, and probably with enough intelligence to guess the gist of what she didn’t hear. “I agree.”

“Okay,” Hogarth said. “Leona and Hilde, each take one of my arms. Don’t let go, no matter what. Like I said, this isn’t gonna be fun.”

Leona and Hilde complied with her instructions.

“The rest of you should back up.”

They complied as well.

Hogarth’s condition rested somewhere in the middle of a time power, and a time affliction. She did learn some control over it, but not total control, and no one else who could travel through time experienced her level of physical trauma by doing it. So it wasn’t completely useless, but it wasn’t great either. It was simply all she had, and it was their best way out. She tried to jump them a few million years into the future, and it technically did work, but instead of landing on future Tribulation Island, or anywhere else on Dardius, the three of them found themselves all the way back on Glisnia. Fortunately, they were all safe, but unfortunately, there was no way to know if any of the others were, or would be, or had been, as it were. Hogarth attempted to explode herself back there, but was unable to. The last jump must have taken a lot out of her. Too much, really. She couldn’t feel her connection to the timestream anymore. Her power, or affliction—whatever one might call it—seemed to be gone. To make matters worse, when they tried to seek information by jumping through the Nexus replica, they discovered it to have been destroyed. Hogarth pledged to figure out how to repair it, but there was no guarantee.

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Source Variant: Moving Heaven and Orolak (Part XIV)

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The six of them think they’ve found their proverbial ladder in the form of an archived set of files from the Maramon servers, but first, they have to read a little background. Because Maramon are so incredibly difficult to kill, and it’s even harder for them to die accidentally, the population grew to untenable numbers. They tried to expand to the stars, but quickly learned that they were not real. They were but a hologram on a gigantic impenetrable surface, which served as the literal end of the universe. This eventually transformed their race into an angry and hostile threat. It also galvanized them into developing technology that would allow them to travel the multiverse. Most cultures never figure out how to do this, because their own universes are too expansive for them to even truly fathom the concept of space that somehow exists beyond it. The white monsters became a huge danger to all other worlds, and for the most part, all Maramon were on board with this. They separated into factions, and formed their own agendas, but the general sentiment was an animosity towards humans, which were all free to move about the cosmos. Of course, however, Ansutah was home to billions and billions of individuals, and probability dictates that not everyone will feel the same way.

Scattered throughout the lands were good Maramon, who felt no ill will towards the humans. Some just wanted to find breathing room to live on their own, while others actively wanted to protect the innocent. They were considered irritants to the rest of Maramon culture, and were all but wiped out for it. Fewer than two hundred of these rebels survived long enough to escape their world through a universe bridge, and come into this one. They wouldn’t have been able to do this, however, if the other Maramon hadn’t collected them all in one place. Silver lining, but it wasn’t all kittens and rainbows. Though they were reportedly good people, who meant the humans no harm, they frightened the other refugees. Leadership decided to exile them to a planet many light years away, which they called Kolob. It was only later that they began a mission to find yet another planet to call home, eventually settling on what would become Orolak.

Before Dandavo Dali Dali—the Maramon equivalent of Operation Starseed—began, these good Maramon felt like they needed to protect themselves. Instead of forcing them to leave, the humans could have just killed them to be safe. The Maramon were grateful this didn’t happen, but also paranoid that the humans would change their minds later. So they devised a way to fortify their new homeworld. Well, they aren’t fortifications so much as they’re temporal tricks, inspired by some of the superpowered people they were aware of. First, based on the time powers of a man named Vito Bulgari, the star system is invisible. Anyone looking at the space where the celestial bodies are will instead perceive more empty space. This is important, but it isn’t good enough on its own. Anyone suspicious of this, knowing that the coordinates should have taken them to Kolob, might investigate further. They would use other detection methods to clearly sense that there is significant gravitational pull in that region. So the Maramon continued with their research, and created a second line of defense. Without proper authorization, anyone attempting to enter the system will be immediately transported to the other side of it. Of course, this isn’t perfect either, because now the intruders know there’s something to find, and will again, investigate further. The first line of defense thusly needed to be impossible to overcome.

To prevent anyone from following them in the first place, the Maramon moved their entire solar system somewhere else. The notes that Zektene and Saxon find don’t specify the new coordinates, which is probably a good thing, but it does imply that the jump they made was of a massively great distance. The second two countermeasures aren’t, strictly speaking, easy, but compared to this, they’re a short walk in the park. How are they going to move Orolak, its parent star, and all other orbitals? And how are they going to do it without leaving any trace?

“Maqsud Al-Amin is the only person I know of who’s capable of independently jumping through interstellar space,” Vearden!Two says. “And I don’t think he can jump a whole planet.”

“Aristotle can do it as well,” Saga!Three informs him.

“The philosopher?” Saga!Two questions.

“No.”

“The Delegator seems capable of doing it in some way too,” Zektene reminds the group.

“Either way,” Vearden!Two continues. “These files don’t say anything about how the Kolobians did it. It’s not even clear whether they did it at all. Maybe it’s just a lie so anyone looking for them will think they’re looking in the wrong place.”

“It was pretty hard for us to find these files,” Saxon points out. “If they wanted to spread a lie that they moved their planet, when they didn’t really, they didn’t do a good job of getting the false information out there.”

“Still,” Vearden!Two contends, “no one here has much hope of doing it, whether it’s a replication of something once done before, or the first time anyone has done it.”

“He’s not wrong,” Vearden!Three says in support of his alternate. “I’ve been to loads of other universes, and I’ve never heard of anyone teleporting a planet, let alone an entire system. They move them, but it takes time.”

“Who says we can’t take time?” Saga!Two asks.

“We don’t know how long it’ll take the Ochivari to get here.”

“Yeah, but we’re time travelers,” Saga!Two says. “We can create time where there is none.”

“Well, if that’s the case,” Vearden!Three says, throwing up his hands, “why don’t we just send Orolak to the past, long before the Ochivari even exist?”

“We don’t want to screw up the timeline,” Saxon says. “There aren’t meant to be any aliens until the Earthan humans advance enough to create the source variants.”

“I wasn’t suggesting we actually do that,” Vearden!Three volleys.

“I think we’re relying too heavily on what we found in the Maramon archives,” Saga!Two notes. “These don’t seem to explain how they accomplished any of this. Hell, they don’t even promise they followed through at all. They’re just ideas. We don’t have to do it just like them.”

“Well, what would you suggest?” Vearden!Two asks.

“Look, Saxon is obviously a genius. Zektene ain’t all that dumb neither,” Saga!Two begins. “The four of us, though? We’re not all that useful in this scenario. We need someone whose experience goes beyond learning computers, or being an engineer. We need someone who we know has moved a planet before.”

“Who the hell has done that?” her counterpart, Saga!Three questions.

“Her name is Hokusai Gimura. I once traveled to Earth with her on a ship called The Elizabeth Warren. We were coming from Durus, which is a rogue planet she quite literally steered away from its collision with Earth.”

“That’s...impressive,” Vearden!Two acknowledges. “Do you have any means of contacting her? That was centuries ago.”

“Zektene just said it,” SagaTwo says. “The Delegator can travel to other planets, at least in some way.”

“The Delegator came to us voluntarily,” Vearden!Two recalls. “Did he tell you three how to reach him in case of emergency?”

“He didn’t need to,” Saga!Two claims. “The other Saga knows.”

Everyone looks at Saga!Three, who hesitates slightly. “I technically know his phone number,” she says with airquotes. “I’ve never cared to call him before, so I can’t promise it will work, but Dr. Sarka did once give me the instructions. How did you know that?” she asks Saga!Two.

“I have my sources,” Saga!Two answers cryptically, and it doesn’t look like she’s interested in elaborating.

“Okay,” Saga!Three starts. “I just need to make use of the synthesizer.” She looks around at where they are. “I’ll need someone to program it, though. I doubt what we’re looking for is already in the Maramon’s database.”

“I should be able to help with that,” Zektene volunteers. “I know the system pretty well.”

“Did you have the game of jenga in your home universe?”

“Can’t say I’ve ever heard of it,” Zektene admits.

“We’ll all work on it together,” Saxon assures them. “It’ll only take a few minutes.”

A few minutes later, they have their game blocks 3D printed, and assembled on the table. Saga!Three takes a deep breath, hoping that what she learned wasn’t a lie, or a prank, or that she’s just remembering it wrong. She throws one of the extra blocks, and shouts the magic words, “that’s what you think!”

Everyone looks over at the far wall, which hasn’t transformed into a portal, but it kind of looks like it’s trying to. The metal is waving and warping, but it’s not quite opening up.

“Maybe we should try again,” Vearden!Three suggests.

Just after Vearden!Two hands Saga!Three the block she threw, the portal opens up, but it doesn’t reveal Stonehenge. It’s just a darkened room. It kind of looks like a storage area. All kinds of things are there, sitting on the shelves, and tables. They immediately notice a set of jenga blocks, constructed to mimic the look of Stonehenge, just like the one Saga!Three set up. A woman is standing there. “Yeah, the Delegator’s not responding to you. I think he’s pretty butthurt about something. I wouldn’t normally intervene, but you’re from pretty far in the future, and I’m terribly curious.”

“Hi!” Vearden!Three approaches confidently. “We’re the Sagas and Veardens; plus our friends, Saxon and Zektene.”

The woman steps up to the edge of the Maramon facility, but deliberately doesn’t step over the threshold. “Hello, my name is Susan Glines. Some people call me The Switcher. I’m responsible for connecting people through time and space. You can’t call anyone directly. You’re always just calling me, and I call the person you’re actually trying to reach.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Vearden!Three says. “Does that mean you can help us find someone?”

“It depends on the someone,” Susan replies.

Vearden!Three looks back at Saga!Two. He remembers the name of the woman they’re trying to contact, but Saga is the one who knows her, so this is her show.

“Hokusai Gimura.” Saga!Two reports. “It should probably be sometime after the year 2182, by the old Earthan calendar. That’s the last time I saw her.”

Susan pursed her lips as far to the left side of her face as possible. “I’m not so sure.”

“We’re friends,” Saga!Two tries to explain. “She might not be able to help us, but she’ll be willing to listen, at the very least. You control the environment. If you’re worried you’re not meant to connect us with her, you can close the portal at any time.” She hopes she’s understanding how all this portal stuff works.

Susan continues to think it over. “You’re the doorwalkers, right?”

“Yes,” all four of them reply in unison.

She breathes in deeply through her nose. “Okay. I will allow one of you to step into my office—briefly,” she makes sure they understand. “You may knock on Miss Gimura’s doors over there.” She points to a set of double doors on the other side of the wall. “You will then immediately cross back through the portal. She can choose to open it, or not.”

Vearden!Two nods his head. “We will accept any outcome.”

“Good,” Susan says. She presents the door like a gameshow showcase model. “Then you shall have the honor.”

Vearden!Two nods cordially, and steps over the threshold. He playfully knocks on the door in a particular pattern. The door immediately opens. “Can I help you?” a man asks.

Susan rolls her eyes. “Sorry, Murdoch. Wrong door.”

“No worries,” the man replies sincerely. He closes the door.

“Where did you hear that pattern?” Susan asks Vearden!Two.

He frowns and shrugs. “Iono.”

“You can knock any way you want; just not like that,” she directs him.

He tries again, but this time, just goes with the traditional three firm knocks. He tries to step back through the portal, like he was told to, but he can’t. “What? What is this?”

“What the hell?” Susan asks.

Hokusai Gimura opens the door, and also has questions. “Hello? What is this place?”

“Vearden,” Saga!Two begs. “Come back.”

“I can’t!” Vearden!Two insists.

“Vearden!” Saga!Three cries. “Come back through.”

“I’m telling you, I can’t,” he repeats. He continues to struggle against some kind of invisible barrier.

Zektene approaches, intending to help.

“Stay back!” Susan commands. “Something’s wrong here, and I don’t know what. Miss Gimura, you should leave. It may not be safe here.”

“Okay,” Hokusai says, but misunderstanding her, she crosses over into the facility, as if there were no barrier at all.

“No, not there!” Susan yells. “I don’t understand what’s happening!”

Just then, a woman only Saga!Two recognizes teleports in. “I’m terribly sorry about this, but I’m gonna need him for something, and for some reason, I can’t go to the year 4066; howbow dah?”

“Arcadia,” Saga!Two mutters, fuming.

“Madam Einarsson,” Arcadia says with a smile. “You remember how I trapped you on Tribulation Island for years, and made you complete a bunch of challenges?”

“Umm...yeah? That’s why I’m looking at you like this,” Saga!Two says.

“Yes, well...” Arcadia begins, “Mister Haywood here has not yet done that. So, it’s his time. Byeeeeee!”

“No!” Saga!Two screams, but it’s too late. The portal closes up right between them.

“What’s going to happen to him?” Saga!Three asks.

Saga!Two lowers her head in sadness. “He dies,” she answers. She waits another minute, then repeats herself more quietly, “he dies.”

« < » > Entire Story

Microstory 1260: Kalea Akopa

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There wasn’t a whole lot of joy in Springfield after it was pulled into the Deathfall, and marooned on the rogue world of Durus. There were monsters to fight against, a lack of resources, which caused a lot of unrest, and though there was atmosphere, warmth, and life, there was no sun as of yet. The Akopas took all of this in stride. They had each other, and that was really all that mattered. They figured the town would get through it as long as they worked together, and they put a lot of time into trying to make that happen in their own special way. Neither of the parents were skilled workers, and their son was too young to have entered the workforce. They were really good, however, at providing entertainment, and keeping people comfortable. They would regularly host get-togethers, and other events, at their house, trying to lighten the mood for everyone. These were poorly attended in the beginning, as people felt like there was far too much to be done to protect themselves and survive, but over time, people realized they needed it. These events were eventually moved to larger venues, becoming more extravagant and elaborate, and accommodating more people. They would all go crazy if they didn’t take the time to relax and enjoy each other’s company. These breaks helped boost morale, and actually increased productivity. Disagreements and more dangerous conflicts were often tempered or erase because of one of the Akopa parties. There was, of course, a no violence rule. When source mage, Kalea Akopa was older, she continued this tradition. The borders of the now multiple towns were being well-protected, and a real civilization was actually prospering. While some of the other source mages were concerned with maintaining this protection, or with selecting the other mages who would be doing this protecting, Kalea just liked to keep it casual. She remained positive at all times, at least when she interacted with other people, and she helped mediate arguments when it was necessary. Her unflappable attitude could have been really annoying and irrational, but she recognized that she was a little different, and she knew how to appreciate that sometimes people just needed to feel something other than joy. She was aware that others weren’t happy all the time like her. She made an effort to sort of downplay her constant optimism, and be a little more low key. She didn’t have to do this, but it was one of the many things that made her a good person. Kalea was really good at making people feel comfortable and safe. People couldn’t go to her for advice, because that just wasn’t her strength, but they could always count on her to help them escape from their problems, and to make them feel better, if only temporarily. It was truly unfortunate what ultimately happened to her, because if no more than one person on the two worlds didn’t deserve to suffer as such, it was Kalea.

Microstory 1259: Tasha Rutherford

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Catalina Lenz was born and raised in Wyoming, but she wanted a change of pace after college, so she literally spun a globe, and decided to move wherever her finger landed. She immediately realized she didn’t want to live in another country, or the middle of the ocean, so she had to spin a couple dozen more times before finally landing on Kansas City. She would come to regret not trying for one more spin, or for giving Western Australia a shot. Not long after she moved, she got herself mixed up with the street gangs, particularly a high ranking member of the Business Ends, which once controlled a lot of Downtown KC MO. His anger and desire for violence increased proportionately to the drop in power he and his men had over the city. Another gang was taking over, and he took his frustrations out on Catalina. But she stayed, because she had spent almost every dime she had to travel across four states, and hadn’t ever found a way to support herself. Then she learned she was pregnant, and everything changed. Now there was this other person who couldn’t survive without her. She knew she had to get out to protect her daughter. If only she had realized that someone had already come up with a protocol for this, the plan would have gone much smoother. There was only one person she knew she could trust, but he had already done so much for her, and she didn’t want to burden him, or place him in danger. She snuck out on her own, and made her way to a little village in Illinois called Makanda. That wasn’t where she was trying to get to, but she felt it was safer to stay out of the big cities, which had more security cameras, and she could only travel so far in one go. This was where her ex-boyfriend’s lieutenant caught up with her, but also where she met some really nice people who had a way to help.

They ended up contacting the man who would have been able to help her back in Kansas City had she known anything about him. His real name was Duane Blackwood, but his nickname was The Forger. He was able to provide Catalina and her baby with new identifies, transforming them into Tasha and Sabine Rutherford. This was more than just just a few slips of paper, and a convincing passport. Duane had the ability to send data, and sometimes memories, through time. Birth certificates, hospital records, report cards, parking tickets, job applications, ID cards, even tourism photos; all these and more were believably sprinkled throughout history so that Tasha Rutherford was an undeniably real person, with a true background. The Forger also provided her with a little bit of seed money, so she could get her start somewhere else. Not wanting to make the same mistake twice, she ended up choosing to live in Perth, Australia, and loved it there. She kept a low profile, but her granddaughter certainly did not. In the future, most diseases were eradicated, but some were trickier than others. Cancer could be essentially suppressed using medical nanotechnology, but that wasn’t really a cure. People who underwent these treatments lived fulfilling lives, no longer actively aware of their condition, but this was still just managing the symptoms. Marcy Rutherford and her team started developing their cure for colorectal cancer in the 2080s, and finished it by 2095. Their efforts proved to be invaluable in research beyond this one form of cancer, as the unique method they used to combat the cancer cells could be adapted, and reapplied to other forms of cancer, and even some other diseases. Thanks to other medical advancements, Tasha lived long enough to see her granddaughter’s amazing accomplishments, and be thankful that she was afforded a rare second chance.

Microstory 1258: Entodo Purcell IV

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The Purcell family was always rich enough to afford what they referred to as domestic servants, all of whom spoke barely any English. They preferred it this way, so it would be easier to not see them as real people. They had very strict rules that were impossible to follow about where these servants were meant to clean, and how much. The cleaners would regularly have to reaffirm their directives, often by saying the Spanish phrase en todo? which means throughout. They were asking if the homeowners wanted them to clean the entire room, or not. Their young son, of course, didn’t understand what the phrase meant, but as he grew older, he lost his excuse for his ignorance. There were plenty of books in the Springfield library, some of which would have helped him translate, but he chose to ignore them. When the entire town was sucked into a portal, and relocated to the planet of Durus, the Purcell’s employees no longer had any reason to stick around. Money didn’t mean anything here, so they moved on, and started new lives. The Purcells struggled with this new dynamic, and did not care for the fact that they now had to clean up after themselves. That little boy went on to name his own son Entodo, under the assumption that it was a proper first name. He believed he was doing it in honor of his family’s former workers, and even when the townsfolk laughed at him for his choice, he stuck to his decision. The family made it a tradition, and named all the firstborn sons Entodo, until the fourth one came along after the turn of the 22nd century. He was the only one who was bothered by it, which was frightening and weird, though he never changed it. Technically, he didn’t use his first name much when he was an adult. He joined the army as soon as he was old enough, and he always asked people to address him by his rank. After the war—which ended before Entodo IV’s birth—devastated the lands, all the once separate towns of Durus were pulled together into one giant city. The few monsters that had survived were scattered about, and rare. Society was run by the police, so there wasn’t much need for an army. Still, he was invested in “protecting the borders” as he would say. It was his dedication that propelled him through the ranks, until he reached Common. Over the years, now that Springfield was completely cut off from the rest of Earth, language had been transformed slightly. It was still totally intelligible, but there were a few random words whose meanings had changed, or new terms based on confusions. The word general can mean universally applicable, or it can be short for Captain General. The military rank of Common on Durus is the result of morons who neither understand this difference, nor bothered to figure it out. So here he was, Common Entodo Purcell IV. He was proud of who he was, where he had come from, and what he had accomplished. But he shouldn’t have been, because his story was uninteresting, and his impact on history was minimal.