Wednesday, March 18, 2020

Microstory 1323: Inspectorate

New Clearance Investigator: Are you nervous? You look nervous.
Inspector Job Candidate: You look nervous. I’m sorry, that sounded like a burn. You just actually look nervous to me.
New Clearance Investigator: I’m a little nervous, yes. This is my first clearance interview.
Inspector Job Candidate: What did you do before this?
New Clearance Investigator: I was a postal worker, but I’m the one meant to be asking the questions here.
Inspector Job Candidate: Right, of course. Everything you need to know should be on the forms I filled out. I’m here to be a factory oversight inspector.
New Clearance Investigator: Yes, they are, and yes, you are. We just need some clarification on a few things.
Inspector Job Candidate: Go ahead, I’m an open book. I’m not sure why I was flagged for face-to-face, though. I’ve never been out of the city, let alone the country.
New Clearance Investigator: That’s exactly why you were flagged. It’s a bit unusual for a candidate to have almost no housing history. According to these records, you were literally born in your childhood home, you grew up there, you stayed there through college—
Inspector Job Candidate: Well, it’s a college town...surrounding a really good college.
New Clearance Investigator: That’s fair. And you still live there, but not with your parents?
Inspector Job Candidate: My mother died when I was in high school, and I had to move my father to an assisted living facility a few blocks away two years ago, because I couldn’t take care of him while I was in class. So yes, I still live there, but I’m fully independent. It’s my house now.
New Clearance Investigator: Okay. This was an open-ended question about your travel. You responded that you’ve never gone anywhere, for any reason. Is this because of your family situation?
Inspector Job Candidate: Not exactly, per se. My parents hated traveling, my grandparents hated traveling. I had no strong feelings about it, but I also had no experience with it, so I suppose it never came up, even when I became an adult. I wasn’t ever actively thinking about the fact that I never went anywhere; it just never happened.
New Clearance Investigator: Yet here you are, applying to a position with—let’s see...an 85% travel requirement.
Inspector Job Candidate: Oh, I can see how that would look weird. I imagine it doesn’t help that I’m not acting like it’s always been my dream to finally break free from this one-horse town, or something.
New Clearance Investigator: This city has more than one horse, so to speak.
Inspector Job Candidate: Exactly. So I haven’t been to somewhere exotic, like Tokyo, or Peru. Lots of people can’t afford to go on big vacations. Yeah, I realize it’s strange that I haven’t even been to the other side of the state, but this city has everything I need, and I have been all over it. The form didn’t really ask me how active I’ve been within the city limits.
New Clearance Investigator: This is true. Neither the form, nor the interview, can account for everything. It’s designed to help us find out whether you met a terrorist group when you studied abroad one semester, but there’s no way to know if the terrorist group came here, and met you on the other side of town.
Inspector Job Candidate: ...
New Clearance Investigator: I’m not accusing you of that, but again, that’s why you were flagged. The form you filled out simply does not have much information about you. It’s not your fault. You shouldn’t be punished for leading a reasonable life that appears boring on paper. But they called me in, because I can find out what the forms don’t tell us. So, let’s begin.
Inspector Job Candidate: Wait, we haven’t begun yet?
New Clearance Investigator: Ha. No. Get comfortable. This might take a couple hours.

Tuesday, March 17, 2020

Microstory 1322: Maintenance

Maintenance Supervisor: All right, what do we have here? Looks like you’ve had a few jobs over the years, but nothing in maintenance.
Unskilled Laborer: Right. I haven’t been paid for this sort of thing before, but if you look down there at the extra activities, I listed volunteer work with my church. We remodeled homes for the poor, and fixed a few things in schools in low-income neighborhoods. I’ve also helped my dad around the house my whole life, so I know my way around a drill.
Maintenance Supervisor: Okay, okay. What about education? Did you go to college at all?
Unskilled Laborer: I didn’t even bother applying. It’s not for me.
Maintenance Supervisor: Yeah, I get it. So, where do you see yourself in five years?
Unskilled Laborer: I don’t really know. I wouldn’t say I’m an ambitious person. I’m not after your job, or anything. I just wanna put in my time, then go home and sit in front of the TV for the rest of the night.
Maintenance Supervisor: A lot of us are like that; that’s fine. Why don’t you tell me about a time when you...um.
Unskilled Laborer: Sorry?
Maintenance Supervisor: Tell me about a time when you had a disagreement with a coworker, and had to—Jesus, this is stupid. Why would I ask you this? I printed this list of questions to ask a candidate off the internet, but the way I’ve been hiring people has been good enough. I mean, sure, we’ve had some duds, but they were smooth-talkers too. They could have easily lied on their résumé, and then given me bogus answers. I don’t need to know...what kind of animal you would be, or...who you would want to be stranded with on a deserted island.
Unskilled Laborer: I’ve gotten those questions before.
Maintenance Supervisor: How have you answered them? Not a serious question; I’m just curious.
Unskilled Laborer: I just B.S. my way through it.
Maintenance Supervisor: That’s what I would do. When I was a kid, employers only wanted to know a few things. Can you get here on time?
Unskilled Laborer: Yes.
Maintenance Supervisor: Can you be here every day that you’re scheduled.
Unskilled Laborer: Yes.
Maintenance Supervisor: Do you do drugs?
Unskilled Laborer: I smoke a little weed.
Maintenance Supervisor: Ah, whatever. Are you gonna steal from us?
Unskilled Laborer: No, sir.
Maintenance Supervisor: Can you lift fifty pounds by yourself, and are you cool to stand for extended periods of time?
Unskilled Laborer: I can do both of those things.
Maintenance Supervisor: Welcome aboard.

Monday, March 16, 2020

Microstory 1321: Insanity

Sane Defendant: So, how does this work? Do you expect me to tear off my clothes, and smear feces on the wall, or is it one of those things where you just sign the papers, and move on?
Court Appointed Psychologist: Do you feel compelled to remove your clothing, or smear feces on the wall?
Sane Defendant: Not really.
Psychologist: Then all we need to do is talk.
Sane Defendant: What are the parameters? What are you looking for in my responses?
Psychologist: Determining whether a defendant can reasonably plea insanity is an extremely complex and nuanced process. I wouldn’t be able to explain how it works even if I wanted to. I can’t tell you anything, because then you could simply tell me what you think I expect to hear. It would taint the results, and I’m starting to get the impression that that’s exactly what you’re trying to do.
Sane Defendant: No, that’s not true. I’m crazy; everybody says so.
Psychologist: Everybody, like who?
Sane Defendant: Are you going to run a background check on me; consult with character witnesses, and corroborate my claims?
Psychologist: If we were to do that, what would be the results? Would they verify what you say about yourself?
Sane Defendant: Let’s move on. I suppose it all started with my parents. My uncle used to put out his cigarettes on my arm. That’s when I started developing a fascination with causing other people harm. I pushed down those urges, but I couldn’t contain them anymore, and I just went berserk.
Psychologist: Hmm. I have the crime scene investigation report right here, and it says the crime must have been planned out meticulously. Evidence was difficult to come by. Besides the blood, the scene was immaculate, as if having been scrubbed down after the murder.
Sane Defendant: [...] Well, yes, of course. I mean, that’s the work of the elven fairies.
Psychologist: Elven fairies?
Sane Defendant: Yeah, you haven’t heard of them. They usually live in..filing cabinets, but they’re attracted to murderers. They follow them around until they kill, and then the elven fairies clean up afterwards.
Psychologist: I saw your eyes dart over to my filing cabinet when you said that, and I’m sorry, is your defense that you are experiencing a delusion where mythical creatures help you carry out crimes, or is your defense that you experienced a drop in impulse control, which caused you to murder that couple?
Sane Defendant: Um. Yes. All of those things. I was impulsive, and the fairy elves helped me, because fairy elves are real. I can prove it. They’re sending secret messages through, uh...postal stamps.
Psychologist: All they elven fairies, or fairy elves?
Sane Defendant: See? I can’t even keep it straight, I’m so crazy.
Psychologist: We don’t like to use that term.
Sane Defendant: See, I’m so mentally unstable that I don’t even know not to use the word crazy.
Psychologist: I think we both know that you were in your right mind when you committed the double murder, that you have no delusions about mythological beings, and that you are only here to receive a more lenient sentence.
Sane Defendant: Well, doesn’t that speak to my mental capacity? Would a healthy individual make such an attempt? Doesn’t it mean that there actually truly is indeed something wrong with me? Sounds like a paradox.
Psychologist: Sounds like I have everything I need to complete my evaluation. Guard? You can come back in now!
Sane Defendant: Wait, no. Isn’t murder alone a good enough reason to diagnose someone with a mental illness? Are any murderers not insane? I would argue murderousness should be in the DSM-6.
Psychologist: Goodbye.
Sane Defendant: No, wait. I am crazy. Loco, cholo. Get your hands off me. I didn’t do it! What if I took back my plea. The fairies told me to! You hear me, the fairies...!

Sunday, March 15, 2020

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: December 7, 2275

Mateo immediately regretted bringing Leona and Nerakali back into this. They didn’t know they were going to be suddenly transported underwater, so they didn’t hold their breaths. Nerakali was immortal, so she was fine, but Leona wasn’t moving. She was lying on the ground, and she wasn’t moving. “No, no, no, no, no,” Mateo cried. He rushed over to her and started performing CPR. He probably wasn’t doing a very good job, but he had to try something. Erlendr pulled him off of her, literally kicking and screaming.
“I got this,” Arcadia said. She removed Leona’s own Cassidy cuff, and placed it on Leona’s chest. She pressed a few buttons on the screen, but Mateo couldn’t see which ones. As soon as she pressed the last one, a shapeless blob of water appeared in midair, and fell to the ground.
Leona woke up, and coughed, but only a little. When she saw who was hovering over her, she crabwalked backwards until she found Nerakali, who cradled her protectively.
Arcadia stood up, and remained stoic. “We will not hurt you.”
“Mateo, what the hell is going on?” Nerakali demanded to know.
“What’s going on is I’m finally here.” A middle-aged man appeared from the trail above them. He jogged and slid a little down towards them like they were all just hikers passing each other on the mountain. When he finally landed in front of them, he stuck his thumbs underneath his backpack straps, and smiled at the group. “Hi.”
“Uh, we’re doing okay here, sir,” Erlendr said. “We slipped in the water, but we’re all good now. You can move on, and...find yourself in the beauty of nature, or whatever.”
“I’m not a hiker,” the man said. He dropped his pack, and started rifling through it. “Let’s see, we got water, protein bars, duct tape, of course. Here it is; a notepad to keep track of other people like me that I meet.” He flipped through until he found the page he wanted. Then he started pointing at them, and listing them off. “Mateo Matic, Erlendr Preston. You can let go of him now. Arcadia Preston, Nerakali Preston, and Leona Matic. You’re a sandwich! The Matics are the bread, and the Prestons are the meat, cheese, and potato chips.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Nerakali exclaimed.
“You put potato chips on your sandwiches?” Arcadia asked, searching for answers on the ground before her. “Oh my God, where have potato chip sandwiches been all my life?”
“Who are you?” Erlendr asked calmly.
The man stretched his arm out. “I’m Jeremy, but all my friends call me J.B.”
Erlendr rolled his eyes. “Not what’s your name. Who are you?”
“Oh. I’m a time traveler.”
“We kind of guessed that,” Arcadia said. “Chooser or salmon?”
“Salmon,” J.B. answered. “I only live on Tuesdays, and July.”
“Why does that sound familiar?” Mateo asked.
“It’s from The Good Place,” Leona said, finally feeling safe enough to stand up. She stepped forward and studied his face. “Is your last name Bearimy?”
“It is, yes.”
“That’s a stupid name,” Arcadia pointed out.
“It is, yes,” J.B. repeated. “It’s not a coincidence. I was born on Tuesday, October 23, 2018. One of the firefighters at the fire station where I was abandoned happened to be watching the latest episode of that show. They didn’t know what my real name was, so Jeremy Bearimy seemed fitting. I guess the powers that be liked it, so they tailored my pattern to make it—I guess ironic, or something. At the end of the day, I disappeared from the station, and I didn’t come back for a week. Then it just kept happening, and the firefighters knew they had to keep me a secret.”
“You live on Tuesdays and July,” Leona said. “Like the dot on the i.” She nodded understandingly. “I suppose it was bound to happen to someone.”
J.B. smiled wider. He seemed like a delightful fellow, who despite his unusual upbringing, had a really nice life.
“Wait,” Arcadia said, eyes narrowed. “It’s not Tuesday. It’s Sunday.”
“I don’t think so,” J.B. disagreed.
Leona checked her watch. “It’s 2275. Mateo must have accidentally jumped to the future. We came back exactly when you said to, Mateo. Now I know why.” She turned to face their enemies. “You cut a deal with these two, and you didn’t want us knowing about it.”
“It’s complicated,” Mateo tried to defend himself.
“All those deaths,” Erlendr began. “All those people I killed, I can bring them back. I can undo all of it. But I had to make them happen first, or it wouldn’t really be a paradox.”
“You’re trying to make a paradox?” Nerakali questioned. “Why?”
“To save your life,” her father answered. “Some universes can maintain multiple concurrent timelines. Despite the fact that our whole thing is time travel, we only get one. If you go back in time and change the past, the reality you came from collapses. The only way time can justify allowing two timelines to exist is by paradox. The new timeline can’t exist unless the old timeline stays in place alongside it. They depend on each other. I call it...The Parallel.”
“Why didn’t you just go back in time and change one thing?” Leona asked him. “Why didn’t you just stop the hundemarke from existing?”
Nerakali closed her eyes and sighed. “Because of all of your friends.”
“I don’t follow,” Mateo said, which was normal for him.
“The hundemarke has been used for more than just death,” Arcadia began to explain. “It has also been used to create life. Leona, Darko, Quivira, Lincoln, and many others owe their lives to it. No salmon does—the powers that be will always make sure any salmon they want to be alive is born in any new reality—but plenty of choosing ones and regular humans are only here because of it. If you removed the hundemarke from history, you could lose all of those people, and with it everyone whose lives were impacted by those people. You would have to undo the deaths, and only the deaths.”
“Why didn’t we hear about any of this before.” She scowled at Nerakali.
“I didn’t have the whole picture. Zeferino tried to tell me once that the hundemarke has sometimes protected life, but I didn’t believe him. That was centuries ago, so I forgot about it.”
“Dad just explained it to me,” Arcadia said. “He would have brought you in too, but...you’re kind of too far gone.”
“I’m not gone,” Nerakali argued. “You are.”
“What do you have to do with any of this?” Mateo asked J.B. “Why did you come find us?”
“My father was friends with a time traveler from the future. He sent me off to find you and Leona, to protect you from harm whenever I can. By the time I was old enough to handle this mission, though, you were impossible to find; off on other planets, and whatnot. Like I said, I’m not always around. My operating windows are very small.” He tilted his head towards the sky in reflection. “Oh, how I love July. You know, I’m fifty-eight years old, but I’ve only had thirty-six birthdays.”
“Tell me about it,” Mateo said with an agreeable scoff.
Leona reached down and retrieved her Cassidy cuff. After she put it back on her wrist, she pressed a few buttons. “We three need to talk,” she said. “Alone.”
Before she could teleport them somewhere, Mateo felt compelled to take hold of newcomer J.B.
“Why did you bring him?” Nerakali asked. They were now standing under the foothills of some other mountain range. The weather was cooler and dryer. “We don’t know if we can trust him.”
“I didn’t want to leave him with your family,” Mateo defended.
“Good point,” Nerakali admitted.
Leona pointed towards the hills. “Go that direction, please.”
“Certainly,” J.B. said, still smiling, and not at all offended. He started walking in one direction, while they walked the opposite way.
Once the stranger was out of earshot, Leona resumed the conversation, “I don’t want to say the b-word.”
“Bearimy?” Mateo hoped.
“Betrayal,” Nerakali corrected.
Mateo sighed. He knew this day would come, but he hoped it would be in the new timeline, once they were finally free of the powers that be. He had already spent several tortured days on this. What was he going to say to Leona once she found out? How could he justify it? Perhaps it wasn’t possible. “I won’t apologize for trying to save you.”
“When did you even talk to them?”
Mateo didn’t say anything.
“I guess your memorial service was a busy day for everybody,” she presumed.
“Ten days,” Mateo said.
“I’m sorry?”
“I was there for ten days,” he expanded. “The powers that be let me stay that long, so they either don’t get what’s going on, or they’re fine with it.”
“You spent more than a week being indoctrinated by my family?” Nerakali asked him.
“I wouldn’t call it that, obviously,” Mateo argued. “It—it’s just...”
“It’s just what, Mateo?” Leona spat. “It’s just what?”
“We keep going up against these villains, and you know what happens—it. Dammit.” He was flustered, and very unable to vocalize his position.”
Leona was surprisingly calm. “It’s okay. Just relax, and take your time. I want to hear what you have to say. I’m sorry I attacked you. Go on when you’re ready.”
Mateo took a breath, and tried to lower his blood pressure. “Everybody we’ve gone against has been bad, ya know, until they weren’t. I guess Ulinthra never turned good, but maybe you and Reaver never gave her enough time; I don’t know. But Zeferino, Boyce, Nerakali! Even Arcadia has helped us sometimes. I’m sick of having enemies. What if we stopped being enemies with people? The heroes in movies are always worried about teaming up with the bad guys, because they think it’ll turn them bad. But what if it’s the opposite? What if we can turn them good? We’ve done it before.”
Leona patiently listened to his logic. “Mateo, Erlendr Preston has killed people.”
“So has she!” Mateo volleyed, indicating Nerakali again. “Probably.”
“Actually, no,” she said. “I’ve hurt people...emotionally, but I’ve never killed.”
Leona stayed calm, and directed her attention to Mateo. “You spoke, and now I am. Erlendr has killed. It doesn’t matter that he intends to create a reality where they never died. Those people will still be dead, because his whole goal is to create a parallel timeline, which means this one will still be here. It was bad enough when Baby Reaver and Baby Ulinthra were murdering people, then sending their consciousnesses back in time, and not murdering them again. That was sick, but it’s even worse that Erlendr can’t even do that. He’ll still be a serial killer, and there’s no way around it. There’s no loophole, no justification. He didn’t kill Hitler, which is sort of...ya know, an exception.”
“You’re just saying that because I killed Hitler.”
“I’m not, it’s a rule. My point is that you aren’t trying to turn those two good. You’re doing what they want you to do. Now, I don’t know if that’s making you a bad person, but it doesn’t make you a saint. It can only do harm.”
“I was just trying to get us out of this.” Mateo shook his head. Everything she was saying made a whole lot more sense than what he was saying, and not just because she was more intelligent, and better with words.
“I thought we stopped doing that,” Leona said. “I thought we long ago accepted where we were...who we were.”
“I guess we did,” Mateo agreed. “I just saw an opportunity.”
“I can appreciate that, but I don’t think it’s worth it.”
He exhaled for the first time in a few millennia. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Leona echoed. “We’re gonna move on from this, and find a way to bring that man to justice. We have help now.”
“Yeah, I was wondering about that,” he said. “I thought you were bringing recruits back with you.”
Nerakali jumped in, “we have a plan. They’ll be here next year.”
“But I won’t.” Jeremy Bearimy had snuck up next to them.
“How did you catch up to us so fast?”
J.B. held up a cube, inside of which was another cube. “This tesseract can fold space for me.” It might have been a wondrous thing, but temporal manipulation was common, so a tesseract would just be one more way of doing it. He nonchalantly plopped it back into his bag, and smiled once more. “Now.” He clapped his hands together. “You better make good use of me. I won’t be back for another three years.”

Saturday, March 14, 2020

Dardius: Leona Matic (Part XI)

It was time for Leona to finally go to her husband’s memorial service. It wasn’t easy, but they did make it. She and Nerakali first tried going back to 2263, and catching a ride with the Great Pyramid of Giza, which acted as a way to focus and boost travel to other star systems. Unfortunately, that was only one ingredient. They also needed the Cosmic Sextant, which had been lost somewhere in outer space for decades. No one had bothered attempting to retrieve it before, so they had to request help from Darko Matic’s mother, Catania Porter. She was more than willing to find it, and before they knew it, the three of them were on Dardius together. They were the first to arrive for the ceremony. Over the course of the next hour or so, everyone began to trickle in, including the man himself, Mateo Matic. While he was busy on his own missions, Leona and Nerakali started theirs. They decided to recruit people for the big mission with interviews. They weren’t doing this to be exclusive and mean-spirited. They didn’t want anyone getting involved in their problems if they couldn’t protect themselves against the threat. Erlendr Preston was one of the most dangerous people they had ever gone toe to toe with, so they couldn’t accept just anyone. They erased the memories of anyone they rejected, so they wouldn’t know what had happened. Only the few they accepted remembered anything about the recruitment process, or why it was happening.
“I’m in.”
“Ramses,” Leona began, “you’re a brilliant engineer, but you’re no match for Erlendr and Arcadia. How did you even get into this room?”
“I don’t care,” he replied. “Mateo’s one of my favorite people in histories. I want to be there for him.”
“You’ve already done so much for the timeline,” Nerakali pointed out.
“I’m not done. This is happening.” He knocked on the top-right side of his head. It sounded like metal. “You can’t stop me.”
“What is that?” Leona asked. “Do you have a metal plate in your head?”
“You could call it that, yeah. It’s a little gift from my Maramon friends. You can’t erase my memories, so if you don’t let me go with you, I’ll find my own way to your time period, and help anyway.”
“You had major brain surgery?” Nerakali questioned. “How did you know that this was going to happen?”
Ramses chuckled. “You humans think you have a monopoly on time powers. It’s true that they’re incredibly rare in Ansutah, but a Maramon will be born with abilities from time to time. I was friends with a seer.”
“If we don’t let you come back with us, are you going to blab to everyone at the memorial what we’re doing?” Leona asked him.
“Of course not.” Ramses seemed offended.
“Then it’s fine that we can’t erase your memories, because we know you would never do anything to compromise the mission. That doesn’t mean we have to let you come.”
“You should anyway,” he argued. “Like you said, I’m a brilliant engineer. So were you, but your time has passed. You no longer fully understand how modern systems work. You could do with someone like me. What about those fancy cuffs you’re sporting there? You know how they work?”
“No, do you?”
“No, but if their inventor isn’t around, you might need someone to fix them. You’re also gonna need more. If you let me study one, I can replicate them.”
Leona looked over at Nerakali. “You only got four, didn’t you?”
“It might not be a bad idea if we let him take a look at the one Arcadia used briefly,” she said, only half-reluctantly.
“Great!” Ramses exclaimed.
“You stay out of the fight, though,” Leona warned. You’re still just a human. You don’t have powers, and you don’t have protection from the powers that be.”
“Totally agree,” he said sincerely. “I ain’t got no interest in butting heads with this Erlendr guy.”

“Your name is Yadira Cordoso?” Nerakali asked. “And you worked with Camden Voss at the IAC? What is that?”
“You don’t know?” Leona asked her partner. “I thought you knew everything.”
Nerakali shrugged. “I guess it isn’t that important.”
“Most of the agents aren’t choosers,” Yadira explained. “It was mostly just me, and Camden, who’s a salmon. The rest of the agency just carried out regular ol’ human missions.”
“Did you know my husband?” Leona asked.
“Mateo?” Yadira confirmed rhetorically. “No, we’ve never met. I’ve never heard of him. Director Sands asked me to take some time off, and suddenly I’m here, on this other planet, in the future. I honestly don’t understand what’s going on. Someone else just ushered me into this room.”
“Oh. But you’re a fighter?” Nerakali asked.
“Yes,” Yadira said. “I can see up to two seconds into the future. Fighting is really the most useful thing I can do with that. I simply can’t be beat.”
Nerakali shrugged at Leona. “We could do with some muscle. Since Slipstream has to take care of that kid now, she can’t help us.”
“Whoa,” Yadira stopped them from discussing it further. “I haven’t agreed to anything. I don’t know what we’re talking about.”
“There’s a man named Erlendr Preston,” Leona started. “He’s using his time powers to kill people throughout the timeline. We’re trying to find him.”
“And stop him,” Yadira figured.
“Well, he can’t really be stopped,” Nerakali said. “What he’s done, he’s already done. You can go back and change the past, unless you’re doing it the way he is.”
Yadira scoffed. “You expect me to accept that? I’m in the corrective division, working directly with Centurion. My whole job is creating new realities to replace the ones where bad things happened.”
“You see, it’s this thing called the hundemarke,” Leona said, worried no matter what she said, it wouldn’t be enough.
“The hundemarke?” She seemed to have heard of it before. “Agent Cabral has mentioned it. That thing was responsible for...” She was too upset to finish her own sentence. Agent Cabral, a.k.a. Ecrin. That’s right, she went back in time and lived for decades as an agent. “Okay, I’ll help, but only if we come at this thing with the intention of destroying that wretched object. I don’t want to hear any bullshit about fate and paradoxes.”
“We’ll do what we can,” Leona reasoned. “It’s not a paradox if you don’t know what’s going to happen, right?”
Nerakali sat there, like she hadn’t heard what Leona said.
“Kali!” Leona prompted.
“Right.” Nerakali finally said. “Yes. Death to the hundemarke. Welcome to the team.”
“Tonya Keyes. Your name is Tonya?” Leona asked.
“It is, yes. What, did you expect something exotic, like Paarhathi? Or something stupid, like Laurel Soulfate?”
“No, I just didn’t know.”
“You can call me The Stitcher, if you want.”
“Have we worked together yet?” Nerakali asked her.
“From my perspective, yes,” Tonya said. “Yours?”
“Yep.”
“I heard you died. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Nerakali said. “I’m here now.”
“When and where, is or was, your memorial? I’ll be sure to get myself then and there.”
Leona shifted in her seat, and looked at her friend. “That’s true. You didn’t get one of these.”
Nerakali laughed uncomfortably. “You’re right, I should have a gigantic memorial that literally billions of people come to see. After all, I was so loved.”
“Well, no, I know that,” Leona stumbled. “But you should have something. You deserve something.”
“Gee, thanks. Don’t oversell it.”
“I’m serious. We were assholes. We didn’t do anything on The Elizabeth Warren when you sacrificed yourself. We could have at least held a moment of silence.”
“I didn’t sacrifice myself,” Nerakali contended. “At best, I boosted morale by taking myself out of the equation.”
Now Leona shifted more dramatically, and forced her good friend to to do the same, so she could take her by the hands. “That’s exactly why it was impressive, and severely underrated. Anyone can shield their child from a firefight with their own body. It takes a level of audacity possessed by few to let themselves die just to make their frenemy feel a little bit better.”
Tonya was smiling and nodding her head as Nerakali was speechless. “This is nice. This is lovely.”
“They both cleared their throats, and turned back to the table. “Well, we could do with a good reality manipulator, and you’re the best.”
“That’s not true,” Tonya said of her own skill, “but what is true is that I never liked that man.”
“You met my father?” Nerakali asked. Yet one more thing she did not know.
“In another life, yes. Literally!” she joked.
Just then, a breach in spacetime appeared over near the corner. Two hands appeared from it, and pulled space apart, so the man they were attached too could hop through. “Okay, I’m sorry. I messed up. I get it. That’s what happens. I will help you.”
“I’m sorry?”
“No, I’m sorry. I—I just..said that. Jesus.”
Nerakali held her hands up demonstratively, like she was holding a football in front of her chest. “Who are you?”
The man looked around, confused. He noticed Tonya sitting in the chair. “Oh, you’re here. That might mean that...I think I’m early.”
Nerakali kept her hands in position, and shook her head rapidly, trying to elicit a deeper explanation.
“Okay, now I really am sorry. My name is Vidar Wolfe. I’m frrrr...umm. I knew Slipstream and Horace Reaver. We didn’t get off on the right foot, but I’m not a bad person. Okay?”
They didn’t say anything.
“Okay?” he repeated louder.
“Okay, fine,” Leona promised. “We still don’t know what you’re doing here.”
“I’m The Tracker. I can find Erlendr Preston for you like that.” He snapped his fingers at the final word.
“Oh.” Nerakali said, happy. “Well, that’s exactly what we need. Thank you for changing your mind, and coming back in time to fix the timeline.”
“No problem. Except. It is a problem. I didn’t mean to come back this far. I thought I was just going to close my loop.”
Leona nodded. “So, now there are two Vidars in the same timeline.”
“Yes, I have to go assimilate with my past self. He’s not going to be happy.”
Tonya stood up, and took him by the hand like they were old pals. “I can help with that, and make it easier on the both of you.”
“Cool, thanks.”
“Wait,” Leona stopped her. “Tonya, are you in?”
She forgot she hadn’t officially agreed. “Oh yes, of course. We’ll be back. Don’t worry. Continue with the interviews.”
They did continue with the interviews, and in total, they were only able to find five people to help them with their mission. Lots of people wanted to contribute in some way, but it was too dangerous for them. Neither of the two of them wanted to admit it—which was impressive for Nerakali—but everyone they chose was...expendable, except for Ramses. He was important, but he was also right that he and Mateo deserved to be fully reunited. Everyone they lost and got back during the Arcadia Expiations ultimately went back to their own lives. The whole corrupted reality thing during the late 22nd century made asking them to join in really awkward.
Eight was enough, though. A team of eight was good. Ramses never explained how he was able to replicate the Cassidy cuffs so quickly, but he had their inventory doubled by the time they saw him again. This was no longer what they needed to think about, though. It was finally time for Mateo’s actual services. Leona was getting a stomach ache because of it. She found herself being far more emotional than she wanted, as if she was pregnant, or like something else was causing her hormones to be out of balance. She went through the gamut in under a minute. Sadness that her husband was dead. Happiness that they were time travelers, and he was still alive. Anger that his death was inevitable. Fear that they still didn’t know when it was he would actually die. Ugh. She just had to recognize that this was how normal people lived when she was first growing up. No one knew when their loved ones were going to die, but they always knew it was going to happen. This was normal. Still, she needed to level herself out, and to be there for her husband, but she was starting to feel like that was never going to happen. It was their fifth recruit who came through for her, which was weird, because even though she had indeed seen him before, he was a complete stranger. Until now.

Friday, March 13, 2020

Microstory 1320: Team Dynamics

Food and Health Department Head: Thank you for coming in one more time. I know it’s been a long process.
Communications Major: It has, but it’s okay. I only a few days ago gave my current employer my two weeks’ notice. Though, to be honest, I’m a little worried. I was told unofficially that I had a position here already. Should I...contact my boss again?
F&H Head: Oh no, definitely not. You have a position here. We just need to find you a good fit. That’s what this final step is for. It’s a suitability interview.
Comms Major: I’m not a hundred percent sure what that means.
F&H Head: We presently have four teams you could be placed with. You might be working in the Agriculture section, or with the Biomedical section, because of your scientific background.
Comms Major: I wouldn’t say I had a scientific background. I took a few science classes in college.
F&H Head: Did you take any engineering or robotics?
Comms Major: No.
F&H Head: Then F&H it is. Did the other interviewers tell you a little bit about how we do things here?
Comms Major: Only a little. I understand you operate in small teams, each of which is always the same size?
F&H Head: That’s right. There’s a reason why the few science classes you took are relevant. We want you to be able to communicate effectively with the rest of your team. You don’t have to be a field expert, but you have to have some idea what the others are talking about when you’re discussing the topics. Each team is composed of a Leader, a Researcher, a Communicator—that will be you—a Mediator, and a Writer.
Comms Major: Oh, okay. Interesting.
F&H Head: They did studies, and found that the best teams are based on diversity of skill. There are five skills, so each of them plays to the strengths of each team member. If you were particularly good at researching new topics, but also a really great leader, you might not do well in this organization, because we’re designed for permanent placement. There aren’t a whole lot of promotions going on here, because everyone is assigned to contribute in a particular way. I believe you went over that in the other interviews?
Comms Major: They did. I found that quite intriguing. It sounds like you have a robust merit increase program, but people aren’t meant to move up the ranks.
F&H Head: This is true. I was hired externally, as is most of the other higher level leadership. Some people don’t really care for that. They’re ambitious, and they think, if they’re good enough, they should be able to move up. But all you should truly care about is the success of the magazine, the positive impact we have on our readers, and the money you make that allows you to be happy in your personal life. It’s a radical stance, but it’s been working for us for the last three years.
Comms Major: Yeah, I love this magazine, but I had no idea it was organized so differently. Can you tell me more about how the teams work?
F&H Head: Well, obviously the Researcher and Writer are responsible for laying out the content in each article. They’re the ones who have to be field experts. The Communicator and Mediator have similar duties to each other, but we think you’re better suited to round up all the experts your team will have to talk to, while someone else handles the discussions themselves. We’re not opposed to you and the Mediator trading responsibilities now and then, though, or blending them together a little. It all depends on which team you’re on, and who you’re working with. This is all about group cohesion. Like I was saying about those studies, teams aren’t successful as long as everybody is smart, or even qualified. The most successful teams are the ones where everybody is good at something the others are not. Does that make sense?
Comms Major: It does. So, how do we decide which team I would be able to help the most?
F&H Head: We have to go meet them. Follow me.

Thursday, March 12, 2020

Microstory 1319: Perfect

Homicide Detective: I know this is a difficult time for you and your family, Madam Grieving Mother. These questions are going to be really hard to hear, and even harder to answer. They are important, though. Please understand that I mean no disrespect to your daughter. I have to ask these to get a clear picture of who she was. I don’t care what mistakes she made in the past, or what things she was caught up in. I only care about catching the person who did this. Does that make sense?
Grieving Mother: I get it. And I know you’re expecting to find out she wasn’t as great of a person as people thought she was. She secretly did drugs, or she had a gambling problem, or a boyfriend convinced her to break into that museum. That wasn’t her, though. I know a lot of parents are delusional when it comes to their children, but she really was perfect. It was actually kind of annoying sometimes. Kids are supposed to mess up, and disappoint their parents, so when the parents mess up, they retain the moral high ground. She never gave us that luxury, though. When we screwed up, the whole family felt it, because she put forth a standard that no one else could have reached.
Homicide Detective: Okay. Well, that answers a lot of the questions I normally ask, but it doesn’t answer all of them. You’re right, TV shows like to depict flawed victims, because it makes for compelling storytelling. It often, though, detracts from the fact that the perpetrator is the one at fault here. Unless it was an assisted suicide, your daughter could never truly be at fault anyway, because everyone knows murder is wrong. So, I’ll focus our efforts on criminology for now. Can you think of anyone who had a problem with her.
Grieving Mother: No, everyone loved her, like I said.
Homicide Detective: You also said it could be annoying. Perhaps there’s someone out there who took unreasonable offense to her, not despite how good she was, but because of it. Maybe someone at work didn’t like all the praise or attention she got?
Grieving Mother: I see what you’re saying, but I can’t think of anyone. Though, I probably wouldn’t have heard about it if there was someone. You would have to speak with her colleagues about it, because she never would have complained to others. Not only was she a little too perfect, but she also thought everyone else was perfect. That was also a little annoying. I guess that was her one flaw; she could only see the good in people, which is, of course, unrealistic.
Homicide Detective: So, maybe she did associate with the wrong person, but she didn’t realize it until it was too late.
Grieving Mother: It’s possible.
Homicide Detective: Tell me about this break-in at the museum. What was stolen?
Grieving Mother: Oh, I don’t really know. It was a lot of different stuff, and I don’t think any single item was all that valuable. The police thought it was—not quite a crime of opportunity—but also not extremely well planned out. They missed some big ticket items, so they think the thieves were just grabbing what they could, and hoping to get lucky.
Homicide Detective: Did the detectives on that case have any reason to believe it was an inside job, or that your daughter knew anything she wasn’t saying?
Grieving Mother: Why would my daughter have covered up a crime?
Homicide Detective: If she knew who the thieves were, she might have been protecting them; urging them to do the right thing, and turn themselves in, but protecting them nonetheless.
Grieving Mother: That’s a fancy story you’re weaving. It assumes a lot that you can’t possibly know.
Homicide Detective: I’m just gathering a suspect list right now. I only need to prove what happened, not what didn’t.
Grieving Mother: Just...be careful with your accusations, okay?
Homicide Detective: I will. Say, that’s an interesting little elephant ornament you got there. My grandmother used to have just one like it. Funny enough, I think she found out it was worth something, and ended up donating it to the museum. They weren’t on display yet, though. They’ve just been sitting in storage for a couple years.
Grieving Mother: Oh, that’s interesting.
Homicide Detective: Yeah, she actually donated a few...other...umm. Where did you get that little wooden teapot? And those glass insulators? Wait.
Grieving Mother: Your grandmother was the thief! My mother spent years curating this collection! It belongs to us!
Homicide Detective: All right, turn around.

Wednesday, March 11, 2020

Microstory 1318: Self-Representation

Accommodating Judge: Mr. Self-Representing Defendant, I feel compelled to remind you that you did not finish law school, nor did you pass the bar exam. You probably know—though you may not—that you have the right to waive your opportunity at a closing argument.
Self-Representing Defendant: I understand, and I shall proceed as planned.
Accommodating Judge: If you choose to waive it, I will strongly encourage the prosecution to waive theirs as well.
Accommodating Prosecutor: We are prepared to waive it, Your Honor.
Self-Representing Defendant: I’m fine to go ahead.
Accommodating Judge: All right, then.
Self-Representing Defendant: Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my client—which is me, of course; I will be referring to myself as my client. My client has done no wrong here, and I believe the trial I conducted adequately demonstrated this fact. As you already know, though I came close, I am no lawyer. I dropped out of law school for personal reasons; not academic issues, but I do recognize what I am lacking. I chose to represent myself, because I’m confident that the evidence speaks for itself. Do not fault the prosecution for the conclusion it came to. They have every reason to believe that I am guilty, but that does not mean that I am. It is true that I knew the victim, and I will admit that I became a little obsessed with her. I wouldn’t lie to you, even if I were not under oath. But there is one bit of evidence I wish to reiterate now. Miss Stalking Victim’s house was broken into. Anyone could have done that; my client is but one in a billion. Well...one in eight billion, more like it. There is one thing that my client had that no one else did, and though the prosecution used this fact against me, I consider it contradictory when taking the break-in into account. I—my client had a key. I know I shouldn’t have made a secret copy, but I did, and the past cannot be changed. Now, why would I—dammit—my client need to shatter a window to get into Miss Victim’s house if he had a perfectly good way of getting in without causing a stir? And why is she not here today? It’s because she did not press charges. Even she isn’t convinced that my client is guilty. Whose word are you going to take? If not mine, then at least respect hers. I certainly trust her; I always have.
Accommodating Judge: Mr. Defendant...
Self-Representing Defendant: Apologies, Your Honor. My point is that my client is not a perfect man, but that does not, on its own, lends itself to such grotesque violence. Yes, I had access to the lab where they keep the acid, but it was locked up in a chemical cabinet to which I did not have access. My client missed her deeply, but that is not enough to prove his involvement. If we were in the real world, I might have sided with the prosecution. But we’re talking about a college campus, where security is lax, at best. You cannot just limit your suspect pool to a handful of people. It’s too easy to frame somebody.
Accommodating Judge: Careful, Defendant...
Self-Representing Defendant: Apologies, apologies. I will say nothing more about it, but I urge you, good people of the jury...to wonder why it is that the police only questioned one other person regarding the horrible incident. It’s always the jealous ex, they say. Well, I say that’s a dangerous sentiment. Everyone is an ex.