Wednesday, April 8, 2020

Microstory 1338: Social Distance Learning

Data Gatherer: We tried to ask a bunch of random people on the street whether they were more concerned with the virus, or how the elections were going to be handled this term, and the responses...were hard to find. The few people we found walking the mostly empty streets were wearing masks and/or trying to keep their distances from us, and the few responses we did receive were too depressing for our show. At least, that’s what I believed. I instead decided to go back home and video chat with everyone I knew, to ask them some lighthearted questions about their experiences with social distancing. In particular, I was looking for funny stories. Not everything I heard was as lighthearted as I had hoped. My boss has allowed me to upload this last video, but I have been let go. The first person I called was my college roommate. We’ve not spoken in seven years. I think he forgot who I was.
College Friend: Nah, man. I didn’t forget you. I just wasn’t expecting your call. So yeah, social distancing has been fine. I was kind of built for this. I’m a web developer, so I never saw the point in going into the office anyway. They eventually gave my desk to an intern to use while I wasn’t around, so this was just kind of an obvious next step. I don’t really have any funny stories to tell. I have let myself go, so I look more ape than man, but my life hasn’t changed too terribly much. I don’t have kids, or any other responsibilities.
Ex-Girlfriend: I have a ton of responsibilities. This has turned my life into chaos. I get my hair done on Mondays, my nails done on Tuesdays. Wednesdays are for massages. Thursdays are all about me, staying at home, reflecting, so Thursdays are fine. Fridays, I always used to go out to bars or clubs, but nothing’s open anymore. I don’t really see the point in all of this. I’m young, I’ve never been sick a day in my life. I should be able to go out and have fun.
Former Co-worker: Oh, it’s been a lot of fun. Not only am I stuck at home all day, but so are my kids. My. Six. Kids. Well, two of them are my nieces, because my sister and her wife are both doctors. And one of them is an adult who’s been helping out, but it’s still been really stressful for us. They are a joy, make no mistake, but we’re running out of fresh entertainment. Our youngest wants to watch the same episode of a kid’s show over and over again, so if you’re looking for something funny, that’s your story. It’s not funny haha, though. It’s more funny oh God, get me out of here, I’m going crazy.
Brother: The crazy thing is that I’ve been preparing for this my whole adult life. You all called me insane for hoarding those cans of food, and keeping hand sanitizer with me at all times, but who’s laughing now? Who has all the toilet paper, and masks? Me, I do. Well, I don’t have the masks anymore, because my reusable pack finally arrived, so I was able to donate my disposables to a hospital. Yeah, that’s right; not all preppers are selfish jerks. The shows you watch are all about the ones buying guns and bunkers, but most of us were never excited about the end of the world. We still want to stop it, and I’m doing what I can from my end.
Neighbor: The world is not going to end. Everyone is blowing this whole thing out of proportion. Tens of thousands of people die from the flu each year. Now, I’m not saying that’s a good thing, but it is normal. It’s nature’s way of keeping the population down—I really believe that. Old people are supposed to die. Nobody tried to stop it before, so why are we all freaking out now? As the saying goes, this too shall pass.
Social Media Acquaintance: My father passed from this yesterday. No, it’s okay, I want to say this. He was old, and he was on his way out. I don’t know if what he went through with the virus was better or worse than what he was dealing with before. I don’t know whether he would have preferred to stay alive for longer, or end it faster. He stopped being able to talk, so I’ll never know what he was thinking about in the end. Everyone at the hospital was really great. I felt very comfortable leaving him there, and not being able to see him, because I knew he was getting the best care possible. Things are getting bad, though. They’re starting to make triage decisions. Triage, Data Gatherer. That’s not the kind of thing you normally have to do in a hospital setting. Anyone who doesn’t believe this virus is a big deal should be placed in formal quarantine, and left there, even when this is over, because people like that are a danger to society under all circumstances. Though, I guess my anger at them goes against the spirit of what we’re trying to get back here.
Data Gatherer: These were some of the less dispiriting stories, if you can believe it. People need streamed entertainment right now, so maybe it’s a good thing I’ve lost my job. It will give me time to focus on my personal channel. I don’t have a funny story either. Stay safe; stay inside.

Tuesday, April 7, 2020

Microstory 1337: Voter Suppression

Political Journalist: Is it okay if I record this conversation?
Vote Suppressor: By all means, Ive nothing to hide.
Political Journalist: Please state your name in full.
Vote Suppressor: My name is State Election Administrator, but my enemies just call me Vote Suppressor. Hahaha.
Political Journalist: And is that an accurate description for you? Do you suppress votes?
Vote Suppressor: Look, I get a lot of grief, but everyone is looking at this all wrong. Let me paint you a picture—a hypothetical, so you understand my position—but this is, in no way, an admission of guilt. Before I do that, though, I want to point out that I’ve never said that I don’t do what people say I do, but you have to remember that my detractors have yet to prove that what I do is illegal, or even unethical.
Political Journalist: Okay...
Vote Suppressor: So. A long time ago, voting was simple. You went to your closest polling location, wrote down your vote, and sent it off. All the votes would be counted, and the candidate with the most votes would win.
Political Journalist: I don’t think it was ever really like that, but as long as you’re only saying it for illustrative purposes, I will allow you to proceed.
Vote Suppressor: Okay, so. People noticed that this was a bad way of doing things. The polling locations, while logical on paper, weren’t representative of the respective populations. I mean, your closest location might be just on the other side of a river, but that location should be reserved for people who live on that side, because there is something different about them. I don’t know what that difference is, because again, this is just hypothetical. To combat this problem, we drew up borders. We said, these people over here see life through this lens, while those people there see it through another. I have this problem with the anti-border extremist movement, because they’re looking at it the wrong way. They see borders as a means to separate, when really, they unite us. They bring together everyone on one side of that border, so they can operate as one, and lift each other up. See, me? I ain’t got no problem with Mexico. But we ain’t Mexican, so we shouldn’t be cross-pollinating, because we’re just too different.
Political Journalist: First of all, many would just call your position racist or xenophobic. Separate but equal has been the motto for racial inequality starting all the way back in the 19th century. Second of all, you have your history mixed up. Borders did not come before voting. They arise simultaneously, as the need presents itself. 
Vote Suppressor: Okay, okay, fine. But my point stands. All I’m doing is drawing up borders according to unique regional perspectives. If that’s racist, I’m not the racist one, because I didn’t tell certain people to live in certain places. If black people choose to live in the same neighborhood, I can’t stop them.
Political Journalist: But that’s not what border manipulation is. What you’re talking about is drawing lines between neighborhoods, but what you’ve been accused of is drawing unreasonable lines to combine distant neighborhoods so that some districts carry more weight than others. And those districts with the most power always seem to be composed of the wealthy, white neighborhoods, who also somehow generally vote for your political party.
Vote Suppressor: Look, I’ll say this. I’m in charge of managing our districts, right? Well. I couldn’t do that until I was elected, right? Which means I couldn’t have been elected using whatever changes to the districts I made. I can’t go back in time. Can you go back in time? I can’t go back in time.
Political Journalist: No one is suggesting that you invented district manipulation, Mr. Suppressor. They’re saying that it is a long-running systemic problem, in which you are presently involved.
Vote Suppressor: Well, I don’t think there’s anything I can do to convince them otherwise.
Political Journalist: That’s what I’m here for, sir. I’m trying to give you a platform to explain yourself.
Vote Suppressor: And I appreciate it. But, oh, it seems I have another meeting. Thank you so much for your time. I’m looking forward to reading the article, I really am.

Monday, April 6, 2020

Microstory 1336: Shot to Hell

Product Surveyor: Thank you all for coming in. I mean, both. Thank you both for coming. Please have a seat. No, no, these are not refreshments. You’ll get a chance to sample all of the products, but I would like to start with introductions.
Tester 1: I’m Tester 1. I came into the mall to browse. I hear they’re shutting down, so I wanted to see whether it looked like a ghost town. I don’t have much to do with my life, so I figured I would come in here and see what this was all about.
Tester 2: My name is Tester 2. I too have nothing to do, but I also have no one to talk to. My landlord shut off my internet, so now I have no outlet for my opinions. I like to go around, answering surveys, so that at least someone will listen to me.
Product Surveyor: Okay, cool. Well, my name is Product Surveyor. I’ve been working for this company for two and a half years, but I’ve been using my expertise to conduct surveys for the last twelve.
Tester 2: That’s amazing, congratulations.
Product Surveyor: Thanks. First, I would like—
Tester 1: I too would like to congratulate you on your long and wonderful career.
Product Surveyor: Well, I appreciate that. Anyway, before we move forward, I want to point out that this is not an energy drink. And for legal reasons, nor is it medicine. Our marketing team has chosen to refer to these as Daily Cleansing Shots. My first question to you is, how does that name make you feel?
Tester 2: Well, we don’t know what it is. What exactly is it meant to do?
Tester 1: I too, must know what it is before I put my name on it.
Product Surveyor: No, you’re—you’re not putting your name on it. I just need to know, when you hear the phrase Daily Cleansing Shot, what does it make you think of?
Tester 1: Needle.
Tester 2: Doctor.
Tester 1: Evil.
Tester 2: Evil?
Tester 1: Yeah, like Dr. Evil.
Tester 2: Oh, okay. Umm...pinky.
Product Surveyor: All right, it’s not a word association chain. We’re really just trying to get your initial thoughts on Daily Cleansing Shot.
Tester 1: It makes me think of a needle, I said that.
Product Surveyor: Okay, I can accept that. It makes you think of needle shots. But you have heard of drink shots, correct?
Tester 2: My father was an alcoholic, so absolutely.
Product Surveyor: Okay, so that’s important to hear too. There are some negative connotations to the word shot. I will write that down.
Tester 1: I never said his alcoholism is a bad thing.
Product Surveyor: Right. Umm, why don’t you try the first cup there?
Tester 2: Ahhhhh.
Product Surveyor: Tester 1, do you want to try it?
Tester 1: It looks like he drank the whole thing.
Product Surveyor: No, you have your own. All these little cups here are yours. They’re each just one shot. You’re supposed to drink the whole thing. Yeah, whole thing. Tip it all the way up. You almost have it.
Tester 2: Is he okay?
Product Surveyor: Tester 1? Tester 1. I’m sure it’s all gone now. You don’t have to get every molecule.
Tester 1: Ahhhhh.
Product Surveyor: Now, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate the taste of that first sample? We call it Mornin’ Orange.
Tester 1: Is it gonna make me poop?
Product Surveyor: I’m sorry?
Tester 1: Most cleanses make me poop.
Tester 2: Uh, I too, would like to know if it will make me poop. I can’t remember what underwear I’m wearing today.
Product Surveyor: Well, it’s not a laxative. It does have some fiber, which can regularize your bowels, but unless you have underlying medical conditions, you should always be able to make it to the restroom. Are bowel movements important to your daily health? Is it something you find yourself worrying about?
Tester 2: Not really. I could take it or leave it.
Product Surveyor: I’m not sure what that means. Did you two like the taste, or dislike it?
Tester 1: I love it.
Tester 2: That wasn’t one of the choices, dude. I liked the taste.
Product Surveyor: Okay. Why don’t you try the second one; the green one? While these are designed to be taken one shot each day, you get to choose when you want it, and it’s okay to have more than one, so don’t worry about that today. This one is better suited for lunchtime. We just call it...Verde.
Tester 1: Oh my God, no. Dislike, dislike!
Product Surveyor: Oh, I’m very sorry to hear that. Tester 2?
Tester 2: I already forgot what it tastes like.
Product Surveyor: So, that’s a zero from one, and a bland from the other.
Tester 1: Why are you writing this down?
Product Surveyor: This is a survey. We need to know your reactions to our products, so we can market them better.
Tester 2: I see, and then we get a cut.
Product Surveyor: This is an unpaid survey. The poster outside was very clear on that. We’re paying you with free samples of our products!
Tester 1: Well, which is it. Is it unpaid, or is it paid?
Tester 2: Yeah.
Tester 1: My brother used to be paid, but they let him go.
Tester 2: Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Where did he work?
Tester 1: I don’t know, I’ve never met ‘im.
Tester 2: I have a pretty good job. It’s called life. Maybe you’ve heard of it?
Tester 1: That’s my job too. Where do you live?
Tester 2: The whole universe is my home, my man.
Tester 1: That’s beautiful.
Product Surveyor: Would you please try the blue sample? Effervescent Evening is a dinner shot. Great, thanks; we...got it in one try. How did you like that?
Tester: I think I’m gonna go back to work.
Tester 2: Yeah, me too.
Product Surveyor: That’s wonderful. Thanks for stopping by. It was..profoundly unhelpful, and I hope you don’t find us at our next location.
Tester 1: Thanks.
Tester 2: Thanks! Hey, you wanna grab some food?
Tester 1: Nah, I just ate. It was these weird shots that you put in your mouth, instead of a needle in your butt...

Sunday, April 5, 2020

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: December 10, 2278

They never did manage to find Holly Blue, or her alternate counterpart, Weaver. Mateo decided, pretty unilaterally, that something had to be done about the Prestons, and that it could not wait, for anything. Not everyone agreed with his plan, but he was the one with the primary Cassidy cuff, which was the only in full working order. Not even Ramses would be able to stop him now, not that he would deign to try. Everything was going to change after the tenth of December, 2278. He would never be able to come back from this, but the timeline and Leona would be safe, so that was a sacrifice he had to make.
“You don’t seem that upset,” Mateo noted. He was standing on the other side of the cage Arcadia and Erlendr were in. This basement got a lot of use many years ago. Some very important historical figures did a lot of good deeds, for the city, and for time. But this work did not come without its enemies, and they did occasionally have to lock people up. This was where they decided to keep the Prestons, to keep them out of trouble. Since they were still here, it would seem their plan went fine.
“Why would we be upset?” Erlendr asked. He looked over at his daughter, in her own cage, separated by an empty cell in the middle.
“Well, we locked you up for...Leona told me how long, but I can’t remember.”
“It was about five months, numbnuts,” Arcadia said.
“Hey,” Erlendr scolded her. “I thought you had a thing for this one.”
“I can have mixed feelings dad!” she spat back like a petulant child.
“Childish antics aside, my daughter and I are immortal time travelers. Five months is meaningless. We’ll get out of here eventually. It could take five more months, or five thousand years; it doesn’t matter. Once we’re free, we’ll go back to the time periods on our schedule, and get back to doing what we’re doing. This is nothing. You did nothing. So no, Mister Matic, I’m not upset with you. You let us out right now, and I won’t harm a hair on your head. I won’t harm your friends either.”
“Yeah.” Nerakali appeared from up the darkened stairs. “You won’t hurt us, because you need us for something.”
Erlendr started to pace. “I need some people, for some things. I need some very specific people, with very particular time powers, and I need some cannon fodder. None of you belong to the first group, and I can find anyone for the second.”
“Which one am I?” Nerakali asked her father.
He smiled at his daughter sadly. “You’re neither, honey bunny. I’m trying to save you.”
“I’m already dead,” she volleyed.
He shook his head. “Only in this timeline. As far as I’m concerned, this timeline can get fucked.”
“Hey, billions and billions of people live, once lived, or will one day live in this timeline,” Mateo argued. “You will show them your respect.”
“Look at the audacity on this guy. This is not the man I keep hearing about. You’re...strong, full of conviction.”
“I’ve grown a little. Death does that to ya, I suppose.”
“But you’re still an idiot.”
This made Nerakali a lot angrier than Mateo himself. She lifted her cuff, and spoke into it. “J.B., are you in the geothermal room?”
“Yes, sir,” he replied through the intercom.
“Put baby in the corner,” she ordered.
“What the hell does that mean?” Arcadia asked flippantly.
Both she and Erlendr were suddenly pulled against the wires of the cage. It wasn’t killing them, but it wasn’t pleasant.
Mateo started mimicking Erlendr’s pacing. “Remind me, Nerakali, what was the proximity range we put on our prisoners’ Cassidy cuffs?”
“They can’t get within two meters of the primary, sir,” she answered, “and not beyond twenty meters.”
“And...about how far is the far corner of the power generator room of this facility?”
“Just over twenty meters, sir.”
“Okay,” Arcadia struggled to say with her face scrunched up against the metal. “We get it. We’ll be good.”
Mateo spoke into his own cuff. “Step back, please.”
The Prestons fell to their knees.
“You could have just had him walk up stairs,” Erlendr told them.
“But then your honey bunny couldn’t have made the Dirty Dancing reference.” Mateo leaned in real close to Erlendr, who was still on the floor. “Speaking of movie references...honey bunny was the douche bag’s girlfriend...pumpkin. That’s not an Oedipus complex, but it’s something.”
Erlendr banged his fists against the wire. “Okay, now I’m pissed!”
“Oh, you are, are ya!” Mateo matched volume with his best Irish accent.
“Yeah!”
“You are?!”
“I am!”
“I’m glad to finally know you draw the line at incest! Prestoncest!”
Arcadia banged on the cage too. “Hey! What the hell are you doing? This isn’t you!”
He slid over, and gave her the stink eye. “Oh, what’s my problem? I just have this thing about muthafuckas murdering me. It’s a quirk; I was born with it!”
Arcadia mimed squeezing a watermelon between her hands, shaking with frustration. “He’s going to undo that. He’s going to undo all of them!”
“Oh, he is? What about the people who once lived here? Their deaths galvanized an entire city to drop their weapons, which started a nationwide movement that inspired other cities to do the same. I’m not saying those innocent people deserved to die, but what world will we be living in if it doesn’t happen?”
“We’re gonna fix all that too!” Arcadia contended. “We’re gonna fix everything! The Parallel is just Step One of Stage Three.”
Who’s gonna fix it?” he questioned.
“Us!” she cried. “My father, my brother, Nerakali, even you!”
“And there it is.” Mateo lowered his voice back down to assert his calm dominance. “You Prestons have always fancied yourselves gods. You think you know best. Zeferino died for this delusion. But that’s why the powers that be made me! I don’t have a job, so when they need something done that’s unusual—that no one else is responsible for—they call me in. I rehabilitated Horace Reaver, I got The Cleanser killed, and I ripped you from this universe, where you too were rehabilitated.” He wasn’t finished yet. “My wife made Nerakali a better person, and our relationship with Reaver drove him to kill Ulinthra for us.”
“Who?”
“Exactly.” He started to pace again, but this time for himself. “I ran a planet. Leona saved a race of heavy worlders. We have bested everyone and everything that’s ever been thrown at us, including you. You think you can win, because there’s one thing no one has ever had the audacity—as you put it—to say to you.”
“Lemme guess,” Erlendr began, “no.”
“Close,” Mateo replied. “I was gonna say hell no.”
“You’re not a selfish man, Mateo,” Erlendr said. “You would never let a villain do a bad thing to get your own life back. But how can you say no to all those people the hundemarke killed? What would you say to their families?”
Now Mateo knew he had to be cold. “It depends. If they were religious, I would probably lie to them, and say that God has a plan.”
“And if they weren’t?” Arcadia asked.
He took a moment before answering, which they all managed to respect. “I would tell ‘em that shit happens.”
They didn’t have a response to this.
Mateo spoke into his cuff, “Ramses. Is it done? Will it work?”
It’s ready, boss. I’m no Holly Blue, though, so be careful. Handoff upon your orders,” Ramses replied.
“What does that mean?” Arcadia asked again.
“Do it,” Mateo ordered.
His cuff beeped. The Prestons stumbled back, but regained their balance.
“Sorry, I was too close.” He stepped back to give them more space to move around. Ramses just transferred ownership of their cuffs to him, which meant he was primary for all of them. He was done being cruel. Now he just had to kill them. It was the only way. Leona didn’t agree with it, though, which was why she wasn’t here.
Arcadia sensed the turn. “This is it? You want blood?”
“No blood,” Mateo said with a slow shake of his head.
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes, but you don’t know what I mean.” He inhaled deeply to prepare himself. “I suggested we erase your memories, but Nerakali told me my brain wouldn’t be able to handle that. You’re just too...much. You’re sick, and you’ve had traumatizing lives. I wouldn’t survive. But that doesn’t mean I can’t use her power.” Now he turned, and faced the only good Preston they had ever known. “You should leave.”
“I need to see this,” Nerakali insisted.
“I understand.” He started pressing a sequence on his cuff.
“What are you doing?” she asked, tearing up.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to do this alone,” she begged him. “You’re abusing your power.”
He sighed again. “I know. I’ll make you forget I did it later.”
“That’s worse!” she screamed.
Before she could say anything else, he executed the sequence, and apported her to safety in the hangar.
“What did she want to watch?” Erlendr looked scared, and it was probably the first time in his millennia-long life.
“I’m not gonna kill your bodies. I don’t have the stomach for it. No matter what anyone says, you’re not Hitler.”
“You’re gonna blend our brains,” Arcadia realized. “But what is that going to change? We’ve both been the same, in all realities.”
“Your sister taught me a lot about how her time and mind powers work, and about alternate realities in general,” he began. “She explained that, logically speaking, your alternate self isn’t much more you than any rando. I can blend your brain with anyone I choose. I just have to know who I’m looking for.”
“Who are you looking for?” Erlendr asked.
“Does it matter?” he asked. “You’re not going to remember.”
“Whose minds are you putting in our bodies?” Arcadia echoed.
“Years ago, you forced me and my friends to struggle through expiations. You took them out of time one by one, and held them hostage.”
“I remember,” she said. “This is payback?”
“No,” Mateo said truthfully. “We failed one of the expiations. We failed to bring back your previous target’s brother, and we failed to help your target herself. I’m here to fix that. The loophole is that I can clear all of your memories without taking them into myself as long as I replace them all with new ones.”
“Please,” Erlendr pleaded.
He used his Cassidy cuffs to disable the proximity range, and then he apported the both of them out of their cages. This could be their one chance to escape, but they were too frightened to do anything. They couldn’t think clearly. They had never been so powerless. But he was thinking clearer than ever, and possessed more power than he had ever known what to do with. Things were different than the last time, back when he was forced to fight the Cleanser using the same powers as equals. This time, he knew what had to be done, and he knew he was the only one in a position to do it, even though he wasn’t the only one with these gifts in his hands. He raised them now, and focused his energy on his targets. “Erlendr and Arcadia Preston, you have been found guilty on multiple counts of murder, for which the punishment is death by immediate overwrite.” It was faster than he thought it would be. In under a minute, Erlendr and Arcadia Preston were gone. The people he replaced them with were just as scared, though, and very confused.
Mateo used his cuff to summon his wife to their position.
“Is it done?” Leona asked.
“Leona Delaney, I would like to introduce you to brother and sister, Aldona and Nestor Lanka.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Leona said to them.
“Please take care of them,” Mateo charged her.
“Where are you going?”
He gave the love of his life one last hug. “It’s best that you don’t know.” Then he teleported away, and left her there, never intending to see her again.

Saturday, April 4, 2020

Firestorm: Volpsidia Raske (Part II)

I don’t know what Alexina’s problem is. We used to be friends. And I don’t just mean we would smile at each other in the hallway in high school. We were really close, even before we got trapped in the Purple Rose Lane pocket dimension together. She acts like she grew up, and grew out of our old ways, but every single one of us was a precocious child. The way we are is the way we are because of what we can do, and she can hide from that side of her all she wants, but eventually she’s gonna realize that it takes up the majority of who she is, and she won’t be able to hide anymore. Whatever. It’s not going to do me any good right now. I need to get the hell out of this prison, and now I know what to do. My first pawn was far too strong for me, but her replacement will do quite nice. I just need to get him to trust me.
“Aren’t we already talking?” Ace asks.
“We are,” I say, “but we need to talk where guards can’t hear us, and if we go into our pocket dimensions, we can. They can’t spy on us in there. We are afforded a modicum of privacy.”
“Did they not just hear you say that, though?”
“Temporarily, no.” I’ve been able to get myself into one of the guard’s heads. It’s not enough to compel him to break me out of here—partially because he isn’t in a position to accomplish it anyway—but he does manipulate some of the surveillance to keep me out of trouble. He gets suspicious when I’m controlling his mind too much, though. I need my cell neighbor in a certain spot so I can break my connection with the guard on my own terms.
“How can we talk from the pockets? The weird magical phones they give us in there surely are indeed monitored.”
“They are, which is why we’re not going to use them.”
“What do you need me to do?”
“You have a bookcase.” It’s not a question.
“Yes,” he answers. “What about it?”
“I need you to lift one side of it, and swing it outwards to a ninety degree angle.”
“Is there a secret phone behind it, or something?”
“Do you want the instructions, or not? If you do this for me, you’ll be able to see your family.”
“Okay, go on.”
“Swing the bookcase out,” I continue. “Tear the carpet from the floor. It might be kind of hard, so you’ll have to use a fork, or something. Or use a knife, because you’re gonna need it anyway. Once you have enough of the carpet out of the way, carve my name into the wood underneath. V-O-L-P-S-I-D-I-A-P-H-I-L-L-I-P-R-A-S-K-E.”
“Phillip with two Ls, you said?” he asks.
“Yes.” He’s buying it; it’s working.
“What next?”
“After you’re finished carving, go to bed. Repeat my name over and over again in a low whisper. Keep doing it until you fall asleep. What you’re doing is sending a message to the universe that not even the dimensional barriers in your prison cell can ignore.”
“Is any of this real, or are you just hazing the new guy?”
Okay, maybe he’s not buying it. Let the line out a little, then slowly start reeling him back in, Volpsidia. “I know it sounds crazy, but I’ve done this before.”
“Okay, fine. Tear up the carpet, carve your name, chant your name. I can do that.”
All I can do now is wait and hope. He never comes back out to give me a progress report, so he’s either actually trying it, or he’s figured out that I’m lying, and isn’t doing anything. The guy in the cell on the other side of me has his own slight psychic abilities, so if I’m going to break myself out, this idiot is my only hope.
That night, I start to feel him, and now I know he did what I asked. As the minutes go by, the stronger I can feel his mind. I’m a genius.
No, you’re not.
Who’s that? I ask. There’s someone in my head, and it’s not Ace. Who the hell is that? It’s a female voice, so I know it’s not my neighbor either.
You’re right, the voice in my head agrees. I’m not your neighbor. I am nowhere near Beaver Haven. You see, I haven’t broken any of McAllister’s rules, which is why I’m still free.
Who are you?
The name’s Erlendr Preston, he says. I can hear the smile in his thoughts.
I’ve heard of you. You’re a man.
I sense a shrug. I can be whatever I want to be. Feel free to authenticate my psychic signature.
Holy crap, he’s telling the truth. I cannot piss him off. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. I should probably be ready to plead for my life.
Tell me, what are you doing with Horace Reaver? Why did you make him chant your name like a frickin’ psycho? I can hear him all the way from the 20th century.
It’s a psychic prompt, I reply. Erlendr Preston is not a good guy. If he wants to stop me, he can. If he doesn’t, then it’s fine for me to be honest. In fact, it’s probably best, because I imagine he can tell when people are lying, and I don’t wanna know what he does to those people. I can read his mind, just like I can read anyone else, but I can’t control him unless he lets me in. Most people don’t realize that psychic powers are real, which means their minds are closed to pushing. If I want to hack in, I have to make him want me to. I have to make him think that we’re friends, and that I can help him.
Horace Reaver is very important to my plans. What are your plans? Do they interfere with mine?
I have no idea. What are you trying to do?
Nevermind that, Erlendr says. You explain your goals, and I’ll decide if I’m going to let you reach them or not.
I sigh. I’m just trying to get out of Beaver Haven.
How is being psychically linked to another inmate going to get you this?
This body is just a vessel. If I can get out of here mentally, I can find myself a new one. Ace’s body would just be temporary until I can find someone I like better.
Will Mr. Reaver survive both your possession, and your leaving him mind later?
Absolutely. If all goes according to plan, he won’t even know I’m still there. I’ll be dormant until I find the right host.
Erlendr doesn’t send another telepathic message for a while. Is it true what you told him? Can you let him see his family while he’s locked up? Do you have remote viewing capabilities?
Uhh... It’s hard to explain. I can...show him what he expects to see his family doing.
What happens when he gets out, and realizes what you showed him was an illusion?
He won’t. When he gets out, and tries to compare his visions with reality by talking to his people, everything they tell him will rewrite his memories of those visions. He’ll start remembering what they experienced when he wasn’t there just by them telling him about it.
That’s impressive. I’ve never met a choosing one with such...delicate power.
I laugh. I’m not a choosing one. I’m a Springfield Nine.
I know. He laughs too. I’ll be sure to make your life comfortable when I create my parallel reality.
I’m not sure what he means by that, but it’s best I express my gratitude. Thank you. I’m sure my alternate self will appreciate it.
You have a week, Erlendr says to me. Horace has to do something for me, and I need his mind free and clear for that. Find another vessel by then, and I’ll let you have this one for now.
Well, this version of me appreciates that deeply.
Just remember that next year when we meet each other again.
Oh, that doesn’t sound good, but I still need to be humble. Okay.
That was a psychic conversation, which is innocuous, and I have them with people all the time. Even though most don’t have powers, their minds instinctively know how to block out intrusion, so if they want, they can always drop the conversation as if hanging up a phone. But now I am fully inside Ace’s brain, so I can make it look like we’re occupying the same physical space. He’ll be able to see me; I’ll be able to see him, and we can interact with each other on a more intuitive level. The manifestation of a door appears on the wall in each of our respective pocket dimensions, like two adjoined hotel rooms. There is only one step left. In order to maintain a permanent presence in him, I need to open my door, and he needs to open his. We do so at the same time.
“Are we really here?” he asks.
“No, now we’re connected psychically.”
“What was all that with the bookcase, and saying your name out loud?”
“I’m sorry I had to make you do that. When I said you were reaching out to the universe, I really meant you were just reaching out to me. I’m the one who can show you how your family is doing, but I can only do that if you’re open.”
He looks around at our two pockets, which were contrived from our memories. “I look pretty open now.”
I nod and smile. I almost feel bad about using him. He seems like a good man. Which is probably why he’s going to get out of here one day. That has only ever happened once, as far as I know. I wasn’t able to get all the way into Slipstream’s mind, and I tried for a whole year, so this is my only chance to be free. “Yep. You did everything perfectly. Now I can show you what’s going on in the real world. I don’t have to ask you to concentrate on their faces, or anything. You’re the kind of guy who’s just doing that all the time.” I wave my hand at the double threshold, tearing it apart in the center. A new opening forms in its wake, opening enough to let us pass.
We walk into what looks like a magic show. Waiters and waitresses are walking around with drinks and fries. The place is pretty full. It’s informal, so people aren’t paying the man on stage their undivided attention, but they are being respectful. They’re whispering things to each other when they need to. We spot Ace’s family and friends. Serkan, Paige, Slipstream, and Alexina are sitting in a booth in the middle of the audience, right up against a retaining wall. They’re watching the performer, but differently than everyone else. They’re studying him.
“Now, folks!” the magician cries. “I know you didn’t come here for cold readings and trick rings! You wanna see me make something disappear!” He opens his palm, letting a dove suddenly appear on top of it. “Maybe this bird?” He pops his hand up, prompting the dove to fly up into the rafters. This is a weird vision. I can’t actually see what’s really happening in the rest of the world. I can read minds, and control people, but I have no connection to anyone here, except for Alexina, whose mind I agreed to never violate. This is only meant to be what Ace thinks is happening out here, and when he meets them again, his memory of this moment should change so he doesn’t realize it’s fake. Why would he think his family is at a magic show when they’re supposed to be on mission? “Today, I have a very special treat for you! I have been working on a new trick, and I need a volunteer! It takes a lot of energy, so I would prefer someone with less mass!”
“I’ll do it!” Young Paige volunteers.
Serkan tries to stop her quietly.
“It’s fine,” she whispers to him as she’s standing up. “I understand what he’s doing. He can’t hurt me.” She walks up towards the stage, bowing graciously at the cheering crowd. We follow, but of course, no one can see us since they’re not real.
“You look familiar,” the magician says to her, “what is your name?”
She leans in to the microphone. “I’ve been at your show before. My name is Paige Turner Reaver-Demir.”
“Well, folks, now you know she’s not a plant! I could never come up with such an interesting name!”
The audience laughs, except for Ace’s family.
The magician goes on, “Paige, have you ever teleported before?”
Paige leans in again, and very seriously—and without hesitation—answers, “yes.”
This surprises him for a moment, then he wises up. He covers the mic with his hand. “Are you a choosing one?” he whispers.
“I’m not,” she replies. “I’m spawn.” Oh, man, those are rare. I didn’t know that about her. “But don’t worry, I’m just here to have a good time. Go ahead and do your trick, it’s fine.”
After a little more performance to build up the suspense, the magician asks Paige to stand on the right side of him. Then he uses whatever chooser power he has to teleport her right over to his left side. The crowd is shocked. They start cheering again. Everyone is giving him a standing ovation. They’re eating it up. It’s not very impressive when you’ve seen what I have, but humans are ignorant wee babies. The magician seems proud of himself at first, but then his nose begins to bleed. He looks like he’s about to faint.
Paige notices this too. She takes her phone out of her pocket with one hand while trying to hold him up with the other. “It looks like that took a lot out of him, folks! I’m going to have to take him to the hospital.” She pulls up a picture of what I assume is a hospital, looks right at it, and they both disappear. Now the crowd freaks out.

Friday, April 3, 2020

Microstory 1335: Debut

Entertainment Interviewer: Is this your first interview?
Film Student: My first real interview, yes. I’ve been in the school newspaper a time or two.
Entertainment Interviewer: Well, I bet you’re pretty excited, aren’t you?
Film Student: Yes, I feel very fortunate to have been given this opportunity. I haven’t even started working yet, and Sterling Serials has already been so good to me. They assure me they’re not just going to throw me in the deep end, and expect me to fend for myself.
Entertainment Interviewer: I mean this interview. I bet you’re excited for the interview.
Film Student: Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah.
Entertainment Interviewer: Then I guess we ought to get started. First, tell me a little bit about yourself.
Film Student: Well, my name is Film Student. I’ve been a film student at Hillside University for three years now. I’ve always known that I wanted to be a director, so I picked my major right away. I did a little bit of stage acting in middle and high school, and some of my film and video classes required us to make short films, of course. I much prefer to be behind the camera, though. Other than that, I do some photography—mostly close-ups—which I consider to be more like motion pictures than most people do.
Entertainment Interviewer: Oh, that’s cool Very interesting. So, what was your first thought when you got the call that you won the contest?
Film Student: I know you expect me to say I was giddy, and I jumped up and down, or did a dance, but my aunt always taught me to act like I’ve been there, so I played it pretty cool. I wanted to sound professional right from the start.
Entertainment Interviewer: It says here they want you to direct the fourth episode of the third season of The Light of Day. When does filming begin?
Film Student: First of the month, next month. I’ve already seen a draft of the script, and I obviously can’t give anything away, but I can tell you that it’s really good. I’m honored to be working off the incredible talent from the writers room.
Entertainment Interviewer: What about the cast?
Film Student: I haven’t met any of the cast yet, but the internet tells me they’re all really nice, and down to Earth.
Entertainment Interviewer: What do you have to say to all the little girls out there who are being told they can’t make movies? What did you wish you had said when someone said that to you?
Film Student: Um, well...that never happened to me. No one’s ever told me that.
Entertainment Interviewer: I thought you said you always wanted to make movies. No one ever tried to tear you down when you were young?
Film Student: Umm...no? My family has always been very supportive. I was born into middle class, and my parents sacrificed a lot so I could have the things I wanted to be happy. They bought me multiple video cameras over the years so I could practice my skills.
Entertainment Interviewer: Right, but wasn’t there someone who mocked you about your dreams, or at least tried to tell you that you’ll have to work twice as hard to make it as a woman in the industry.
Film Student: I—I guess that sort of thing does happen. But I don’t have any personal experience with it. Like I said, my family was very supportive.
Entertainment Interviewer: Okay. That’s—good for you.
Film Student: Yeah, thanks.
Entertainment Interviewer: Well, what are things like now? How does it feel to be a woman in such a male-dominated field?
Film Student: I don’t know, man. It feels great to be here, but I don’t really give my gender much thought, and no one so far has given me the impression they give it much thought either.
Entertainment Interviewer: Oh.
Film Student: Except for you. You seem to be giving it a lot of thought.
Entertainment Interviewer: I just want to acknowledge that it’s harder—I suppose I don’t want to make a generalization—but different. It’s different for a woman. People have different expectations, and there’s a history. No matter what job you get, it’s just..different.
Film Student: I think it’s only different because people look at it differently. I appreciate you trying to acknowledge it, but be careful to not fall into a trap while you’re at it. If we put less pressure on gender, we probably wouldn’t notice it as much, which is the ultimate goal here. I mean, think about when Clinton II became president. All anyone talked about was how she was the first female president of the United States. That’s great and all, but if a woman was the second president overall, immediately after Washington, we wouldn’t be singing her praises. I mean, maybe we would; it depends on who this hypothetical person was. My point is that it’s only a big deal because we make it a big deal. But I’m not impressed with Hillary Clinton because she’s a woman. I’m impressed with her because she’s a strong leader, and has a great deal of foreign policy experience. I don’t want to keep hearing about the first woman this, and the first black man that. We should be striving for a world where no one notices such things, because they’re totally normal. I don’t wanna be a female director. I just wanna be a director.
Entertainment Interviewer: Great. Well, that’s all the time we have today. Thanks for stopping by.

Thursday, April 2, 2020

Microstory 1334: Unwanted

Therapist: My receptionist reported that you sounded a little upset on the phone when she was confirming your appointment. Is everything okay?
Journalism Student: Oh, it’s not a big deal. I don’t even know why I was crying about it.
Therapist: You were crying?
Journalism Student: Just a little. Again, it’s not a big deal; barely worth mentioning.
Therapist: Barely worth it, but not not worth it at all?
Journalism Student: Forget it, it’s stupid.
Therapist: The other day, a client of mine came in bawling because he had just seen an ad on his phone in the waiting room for hummus. Apparently, he and his late wife met at a mutual friend’s party when another friend turned out to be allergic to peanuts, and they both volunteered to rush to the store to pick up alternatives. His feelings were not stupid, and neither are yours.
Journalism Student: It’s just this thing that happened to me two days ago. I was interviewing this guy who dropped out of my high school. He’s starting a drone courier service for the city. They don’t sell supplies or anything; they just carry items from other companies to people who work from home. I thought it was an interesting concept, and I thought it was cool that someone I once took Spanish with was making a name for himself, even though he didn’t graduate. Well, he remembered me from that one class, and evidently thought I had some sort of crush on him, so he started making the interview personal.
Therapist: He made you uncomfortable?
Journalism Student: Yes. He didn’t touch me, or anything. I mean, he didn’t even really say anything inappropriate. I probably would have shrugged the whole thing off, except it’s not the first time this kind of thing has happened.
Therapist: Yes, I remember the swim team captain who wanted you to interview him in the boy’s locker room.
Journalism Student: Yeah, he acted like it was because that’s how they do it in the major leagues, but I don’t think that was his reason. I don’t think he was planning on us, like, doing something together, but I bet he figured I might start getting ideas if I saw him like that, in that environment.
Therapist: Yes, that could be what he was thinking. Remember, though, we talked about presuming other people’s feelings, positions, and intentions. He might have genuinely wanted to pretend he was a pro athlete.
Journalism Student: Yeah, I understand.
Therapist: Did you talk with this drone guy about it?
Journalism Student: Oh no, I just rejected him politely, and ended the interview. It was awkward, though, and I may have asked him a few follow-up questions if he hadn’t taken the conversation to that place.
Therapist: Well, was it awkward for him too, or just you?
Journalism Student: How am I meant to know?
Therapist: Did it seem like he was upset too? Or did he act like it wasn’t a big deal?
Journalism Student: I guess he seemed okay. Like, he didn’t get angry with me. But I still felt weird, so I had to get out of there.
Therapist: That’s a perfectly reasonable response. I’m saying, if you still need more information to write your article for the paper, you could call him with those follow-up questions, and act like nothing happened. You can’t let what he did get in the way of you completing your assignment. Even if he didn’t do that on purpose, you deserve to do your job. You never know, he could be talking with his own therapist right now about how that interaction made him feel. If you treat him with respect, he’ll either be relieved that it didn’t seem to ruin your life, or he’ll be pissed you’re bothering him again, but still without giving him a chance at whatever relationship he feels entitled to. To put it another way, either you make things better for him—and I think for you too, since you can get some closure—or you force him to show his true colors. Either way, it’ll be good to get this resolved.
Journalism Student: What if he turns out to be a stalker, or something? What if engaging him again is just leading him on?
Therapist: [...] As a woman, everything you do will be scrutinized and interpreted. The fact is that you could smile at the grocery store cashier a little too widely, and make him think you want to have his baby. This is a dangerous world, and there are lots of dangerous people in it who are looking for an excuse to justify their thoughts. We can’t let them have that much power. I’m not saying don’t be cautious, but you have the right to write your article, just as much as you have the right to smile without also agreeing to marriage. You see what I’m saying?
Journalism Student: Yeah, I guess.
Therapist: We can keep talking about this as long as you want, but I do what to make sure we have time to discuss your former teacher’s death. This virus hit us all really hard, and I don’t want you ignoring the loss, even if you didn’t know her very well.
Journalism Student: Okay.

Wednesday, April 1, 2020

Microstory 1333: Hillside Sky Courier

Journalism Student: Thank you so much for agreeing to talk to me, High School Dropout. I really appreciate this opportunity. I know a school newspaper isn’t exactly the kind of exposure you’re looking for, but I think my audience will really enjoy reading about someone they went to school with. I, for one, am very excited to learn about what you do.
Drone Service Founder: Thank you, but please, just call me Drone Service Founder.
Journalism Student: Okay, sorry. I didn’t mean to offend.
Drone Service Founder: No, it’s okay. Wadya wanna know?
Journalism Student: First, why don’t you tell me a little bit about what your company does?
Drone Service Founder: Well, I’m not sure we can call it a company just yet. We’re nowhere near making a profit. Right now, we’re in the middle of a major fundraising round. We can’t do anything until we buy our first fleet.
Journalism Student: How big of a fleet are we talking here?
Drone Service Founder: We hope to have thirty drones total by the end of the year.
Journalism Student: How much is that going to cost?
Drone Service Founder: I’m not at liberty to discuss the financial side of our business.
Journalism Student: Right. Well, why is it important to have a fleet? Can you not just get started with one or two drones, and expand from there?
Drone Service Founder: Our future clients will want a reliable service. They don’t want to call us, and be turned away, because we can’t help them at the moment. Even if we contracted with a single company, they would expect deliveries to multiple locations, and we’ll always need to be ready to scale up. It’s all about availability.
Journalism Student: I see. So, I know that it says some of this on your website, but what exactly will you be delivering?
Drone Service Founder: It’s a bit of a misnomer to call us a delivery service. That implies we sell products, and deliver them to customers. We do not sell anything but a service. Here’s how it works. A company will have, let’s say, a hundred people working for them. Let’s say they—no, no, no; scratch that. Let’s say we’re talking about a school district. Yeah, that makes sense here. They have buildings all over the area, right? Let’s say they have fifteen locations; elementary schools, middle schools, high schools, administrative buildings. Those people all need documents to be printed and copied, right? Well, they could hire someone to work at each location, whose job it is to handle only the work those people need. Or they could set up an entire building where all they do is print things for the teachers and administrators. But how do you get all those documents to the end users? You could drive around the city, sure, that’s probably how they do it now. Or you could call us. My drones don’t worry about traffic, or wait at red lights. They zip over everything, and drop what the client needs, where they need it, and most importantly, when they need it. That’s key here. If we can scale up enough, and manage our client base, we can promise deliveries measured in minutes, rather than hours.
Journalism Student: What about the cost to the clients? Will it be worth it for them to hire you, instead of just sticking with however they’re doing it now?
Drone Service Founder: We’re still working on the details, but this will come at an affordable price. Our overhead is lower than you would think, and our labor costs are really low. I’m here with my first investor and partner. We hired someone for legal, and one general laborer. I’ll probably hire a mechanic to maintain the drones themselves, and an accountant to keep us square. Beyond that, we shouldn’t need anyone else. Every company in the city could contract with us, and we won’t likely need to hire too many more people to keep up with it. Automation is key.
Journalism Student: What do you say to people who are already worried about robots taking all their jobs?
Drone Service Founder: I’ll remind them that we’re a new company. You can’t expect us to arbitrarily hire a staff for jobs we don’t have need for. We don’t plan on letting anyone go. Six plus people, and no room for downsizing.
Journalism Student: Wow, that’s interesting. Let me write this down. No room for downsizing.
Drone Service Founder: So, listen, I’m glad you called. I’m hoping I’m not misreading this. Can we go off the record for a moment? I would like to discuss something personal.
Journalism Student: Umm, okay, sure.