Firestorm: Aeolia Sarai (Part VIII)

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The year is 2027. I’m minding my own business, trying to take a nice stroll in the park, maybe shed a few pounds while I’m at it, when I suddenly find myself on my ass. Oh my God, this is it, I think. The terrorists have come for my town, and I’m collateral damage. Or I’m a target, I don’t know. All I know is that I’m in an immense amount of pain, and I’m not alone. Other people are strewn about the ground around me. They weren’t there before, though, I know that. I would have remembered if I had been in a crowd. I feel like I’m hurt more than most of them, yet they help each other up, and don’t so much as acknowledge me. Until one sees me.

He lifts me up. “Are you okay?”

“Not really,” I say, but I’m overpowered by someone else’s response.

“I’m fine,” says some guy who happens to be standing next to me. He’s brushing that dirt off his shoulder.

“I was talking to her,” the kind man tells him.

The rude man looks around. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about this stranger who we’ve just hurt! Correction, who you just hurt by keeping a weapon like whatever the hell that thing is in your closet.”

“Hey, you guys wanted to open the door; I told you not to.” The jerk looks around again. “I still don’t know who you’re talking about. I’m the only stranger to you people. You came into my office..unannounced.”

“Can someone please tell me what’s happening?” I ask, about as politely as I think I can muster.

“What’s your name?”

“Austin Miller, and I swear to God, if you try to call me—”

“I wasn’t talking to you! Just always assume I’m not talking to you! Go over there! Now!”

“Kallias, what’s happening?” one of the other guys questions.

He sighs. “Raise your hand if you can see this woman right here.” Kallias points to me.

No one raises their hand.

“I think you hit your head,” another guy suggests.

“Don’t assume that,” a teenage girl contradicts him. “Maybe she’s invisible.”

“Why would I be able to see an invisible person,” Kallias asks her, “but no one else can?”

“Why would anyone be invisible? That’s not a time power.”

“We don’t know what that explosion did,” the teenager reasons. “We don’t know what the gyroscope does.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry I can’t see you. My name is Paige Turner. These are my fathers, Serkan Demir, and Ace Reaver. This is an asshole named Hello Doctor.” Hello Doctor doesn’t seem pleased by this designation, and I don’t know what it means, but if he doesn’t like it, then I’m gonna use it. The girl gestures towards Kallias, and adds, “I guess he can introduce himself.”

Kallias shakes my hand. “Detective Kallias Bran.”

“I thought you were an agent,” Hello Doctor spits.

“I am. I was a police detective before that, so it’s just a habit. Relax.” He turns back to him. “I know you said you weren’t okay, but...do you need medical attention?”

“I would just like to sit down,” I say to him.

He helps me over to a bench.

“She’s invisible, and we can’t hear her,” Serkan points out. “That’s weird. I feel like I just lost a few seconds of time too. I mean...I saw you standing right there, and now you’re by that bench, and I don’t know how you got there. I imagine you walked, but I didn’t see it happen.”

“Did this woman somehow make him invisible too?” Ace offers. “Temporarily?”

“No, that doesn’t make much sense either,” Paige says. “We didn’t see him disappear. It’s more like we forgot that it happened.”

“We forgot a few seconds ago?” Hello Doctor asks.

“Shut up,” a couple of them say in unison.

Paige tries to think about it more, and everyone seems to automatically understand that she needs silence. “Uncle Bran, do you have your wallet, or your badge, or something?”

“Yeah,” Kallias answers her. “They’re one and the same.”

“Hand it to your new friend, and ask her to throw it at one of us. Don’t tell us which one. Just pick one of us at random, and give it your best shot.”

“Gladly,” I say, taking the wallet from Kallias. I actually have a really good arm; I played baseball in college. I send it hurtling towards Hello Doctor.

He dodges it, then goes right back to how he was standing before I threw it. He blinks, confused. “What just happened?” He finds the wallet on the ground. “How did this get her? Is this yours?”

“Holy shit,” Ace says, dumbfounded. “Did she do it? Did she throw that?”

Paige kind of snorts. “She’s not invisible. She just...erases our memories so quickly that we can’t even recall that we’re looking at her right now.”

“How is that even possible?” Serkan asks.

“How do I time travel through photographs?” Paige counters. “We don’t really understand how any of this works, and as I said, we really don’t understand the Omega Gyroscope.”

Kallias approaches Hello Doctor threateningly. “What is it? What does it do? Where are we?”

“We’re in another world,” Hello Doctor replies with a shrug. “As far as I can tell, it’s only different from ours by its history. They had different presidents, different TV shows, different people altogether. It’s otherwise just like our Earth, though. Same geography, same animals, same relative technology. I was just starting to compare climate history when you guys showed up.”

“It’s an alternate reality,” Paige clarifies.

“What are you doing with it?” Serkan asks Hello Doctor.

“Nothing,” Hello Doctor defends. “I’ve no interest in this place. It’s just the world the gyroscope sends me. I’ve been trying to figure out how to control it, so I can take it anywhere. I’m hoping for a world that doesn’t have any people at all.”

“For what purpose?” Ace asks.

“To exploit its resources without hurting anybody. I’m not a bad person! Again, you barged into my office!”

“Never mind that,” Serkan dismisses. “We just need to figure out how to get back. First, though, we should find somewhere to go before someone in this world sees us. This grass is all dead. We don’t want to have to explain it to one of the natives.”

“You can come to my house,” I tell them. “I’m Aeolia Sarai, by the way.”

“There’s someone here who will let us into her house,” Paige says for some reason.

“Yeah, me. I just said that. Wait, can you hear me?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Serkan agrees, “but who?”

Kallias is less confused than I am. He’s almost getting used to this. “Which direction should we go?” he asks me quietly.

“That way,” I point down the street.

“Say it louder than me,” he prompts.

“My house is that way,” I say in my outside voice.

“Let’s go this way,” Serkan says, like it was his idea.

“What the hell?” I lament as they’re all walking in the right direction.

“They can forget you,” Kallias begins as we hang back from the group a little, “but they can’t forget what you taught them. You told us where to go, and they respect that, even though they have no idea where they got the information.”

“Hey, man, is this yours?” Hello Doctor is presenting Kallias with the badge I threw at him. “Why am I holding this?”

“I dropped it,” Kallias lies. He speaks up to address the group, “the invisible woman’s name is Aeolia Sarai.”

“Who’s invisible?” Paige questions.

“Jesus Christ.” I’ve never felt so disregarded.

“We need to find out how powerful you are,” Kallias puts forth.

“Well, we need to find out why it is you can remember me when no one else can.”

“Oh, it’s kind of my thing,” he explains. “There are lots of things I remember that no one else does. I’ve never met anyone like you before, but I’m not that surprised. If you can conceive of a way of manipulating time or memories, someone probably exists who can do it.”

I look at him like a sad puppy.

He smiles, and lowers his voice. “Tell him to do something that he wouldn’t do on his own.”

“Take off your shoes,” I order Hello Doctor.

The guy actually does what I say, and removes his shoes. He doesn’t know why.

“Agent Miller, could you keep up, please?” I’m not sure why Serkan is using the guy’s normal name. “What are you doing?”

“I have no idea,” Hello Doctor says truthfully. “Why are my shoes off?”

“Ace, clap your hands three times above your head,” I order.

“Honey?” Serkan asks after Ace does exactly as I’ve instructed. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. We just need to get to this person’s house.”

“Take a left.” Now I’m just the satnav voice.

Everybody turns left. This is becoming awfully frustrating. People are listening to me, but they don't know it. I don’t need credit, but this can’t just be my life now. Kallias can’t be the only person I ever talk to again. That isn’t fair to him. He deserves freedom...from me.

“Wow,” Kallias says. “You need to not, like, abuse that power.”

“Absolute power corrupts absolutely. How can I communicate with people, though?”

This saddens him. “I don’t know. Maybe you can control it. Maybe you could voice your opinion without forcing others to share it. Maybe you just need time to learn.”

“Take your gun out of its holster.”

He doesn’t budge.

“Maybe I just need you. You’re the only one who’s immune to me.”

“I shouldn’t be, though.”

“Take the next right,” I direct the group. “What do you mean?” I ask Kallias.

“Serkan is special. He can suppress other people’s powers. There only seem to be a few exceptions. His daughter is immune to him, and apparently so am I, but that doesn’t explain why you are. He should be able to see you, if not also make other people be able to see you.”

“I’ve not had this—I wouldn’t call it a power...”

“The term we use in your case is time affliction.”

“Yeah, that describes it well,” I agree. “I’ve not had this time affliction before. It probably happened because of this gyroscope you keep talking about. How do other people get their powers? Is it from that, or something else?”

“Different ways,” Kallias begins. “Ace was born with a special pattern. His soul lives through every day twice. His memories don’t go with it, so he can’t remember what’s going to happen in the future, but he has really good instincts when his boyfriend isn’t blocking this power. Somebody gave Serkan his power, but we don’t know why, and he in turn, gave Paige hers. That was an accident, though. I got mine because I spent some time in another dimension. We think Agent Miller was born with his power, as most people are, but we don’t even know what it is yet. We just know he can do something because he too remembers things other people don’t.”

“He doesn’t remember me, though. This is it right here.” I walk towards my front door, and find the keys in my purse. “Follow me, everyone.”

They all come inside. “Whose house is this?” Paige asks.

“I don’t know, but we’re safe here,” Ace responds. I guess that’s nice to hear, even if it’s not directed towards me specifically.

“Can we speak privately?” Kallias asks me. “I’m still not sure I understand when they can hear me talking to you, and when they forget.

“My bedroom’s this way.”

Once we’re alone,” he continues. “I know I just said that I don’t want you to abuse your power, but we may need it.”

“You wanna control someone,” I imagine.

“I just want answers. “We’ve been investigating this rogue FBI agent. I haven’t been part of the group that long, but...well, you’ve met him. He’s being difficult. He found this very powerful device.”

“The Omega Gyroscope.”

“That’s right. He said we can’t get back to our reality. He said he didn’t have time to prepare, which there may be a little truth to that.”

“You don’t think it’s the whole truth.”

“He’s too relaxed. He should be freaking out that he can’t ever, ever go back home. He has some way, though, and I need to know how. There must be some reason he’s not telling us.”

“I can ask him, it’s fine.” I start to get up to go do that.

He stops me, “the problem is, when we go back...you’ll be alone. If you can’t talk to me, I’m not sure you can talk to anyone.”

“Oh, I’m going with you.”

“You are?”

“The guy said this world is kind of superficially different. You don’t have sharks with lasers on their heads, or damn dirty apes enslaving humans, right?”

“Not that I know of.”

“There’s nothing left for me here. I don’t have any family, and even if I did, they wouldn’t know me anymore. That is...if you’ll have me.”

“I would love for you to come. You just have to be certain about this. When we go back, we’re taking that gyroscope, and securing it. We can’t let Miller hold onto it, and we probably can’t use it ourselves either. It’s just too dangerous.”

“I understand. I’m ready. And I can pay my way,” I say with a grin. “Look, I have all these gold coins my late uncle left behind. He was a survivalist. I just came from the bank, where they told me they wouldn’t take them.”

“Hmm,” he says, holding up one of the coins. “Heads you don’t have to pay with the coins. Tails you also don’t have to pay.” He flips it. Heads.

“Whew,” I joke. “That was a close one.”

“I feel different.” He runs his hand through his hair. “Like I’ve had a headache my whole life, and now it’s gone. Whatever. Let’s go ask the man some questions.”

We return to the living room, where everyone is sitting on my furniture, presumably trying to decide what to do next. “Okay, I know none of you remembers our new friend, Aeolia, but she might be able to help us get out of here.”

No one reacts.

“Guys?”

Still no one reacts.

“Guys!” Kallias shouts louder. “Hello?”

Nothing.

“Umm,” he says tentatively. “Everyone, stand up.”

They stand up, confused. Oh, shit.

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Microstory 1365: Credit

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Tech Reporter: Are you comfortable? Do you need a water?

App Designer: I have one. Thanks, though.

Tech Reporter: Is that a flask?

App Designer: I promise, there’s no alcohol in it. I just find it a convenient shape, so I can always keep it with me. It has a wider opening, so I can fill it back up. See? No real flask is like that.

Tech Reporter: Cool. So, let’s dive right in. You are the creator and designer of the hit new office productivity software, Remotely.

App Designer: That’s right. Seventy-million users, and counting.

Tech Reporter: In case any of our viewers haven’t heard of it. Tell us what your application does.

App Designer: It’s a virtual office construct that allows teams to collaborate in a more familiar setting. Lots of companies have ways of connecting workers to each other, but our visuals are matched by no other. Users open the virtual office space, and move their avatars around to reach other people, much like how people would do it in the real world.

Tech Reporter: Uhuh. And is that significantly better than traditional message apps? Have users found it more intuitive?

App Designer: They have, yes. Instead of a chat window that just collects every comment in a vertical stream, people’s words appear near their avatars. When you want to say something in a meeting, you raise your avatar’s hand. You can even instruct your avatar to sport various reactions, so people who are talking to you understand how you’re receiving them. That’s incredibly important in this new world, where face-to-face communication is happening less.

Tech Reporter: How expansive is this virtual world? Can people go outside, and do other things, like other virtual worlds?

App Designer: They can’t yet, but we’re working on ways to hold meetings across separate companies. Well, I shouldn’t say we’re working on it. The feature is ready, we’re just finishing a few things up before next week’s update.

Tech Reporter: Interesting. Well, I do want to talk a little bit about the criticisms you’ve been experiencing lately.

App Designer: Yes, I know what you’re talking about, and I appreciate this opportunity to clarify a few things. I have become the face of the company, and that’s because it did technically all start with me. When I was in college, I was given the assignment to come up with a new phone app idea. There were all these stipulations about how original the idea had to be, and I was struggling with coming up with something, so I recruited a group of friends and colleagues to help me. It was a young man by the name of Fellow Student 4 who first thought of the idea. After we discussed a few things, I drew up the plans for the app. It’s more of a desktop program, but I still got an A. Anyway, my partner, Fellow Student 3 and I were having lunch outside soon after graduation, and we started getting excited about really making this happen. You would be surprised how fast she wrote the code. Within weeks, we had a working alpha version. I have never claimed that I’m the only one who created this product. That is a belief that spread beyond my control, due in part, perhaps, to a few too many interviews I did where I don’t explicitly credit my team. I recognize that I am one of the founders, and head designer, for this company, but I don’t know how to program, or really do anything else my company does. That’s why we hired a great team of some of the most brilliant people in their respective fields.

Tech Reporter: All right. Well, let’s talk about that team. Tell me more about the other founders.

App Designer: Okay, great. I hope you have some water too.

Microstory 1364: Budge

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Co-Anchor: Thank you for tuning in this morning. I hope you’re already having a great day. Our first guest lives just outside of Hillside, and she has a special treat for us. Why don’t you introduce yourself, and your little friend?

Budgie Owner: Hello, I’m Budgie Owner, and this is my budgie, Kaleidoscope. I call him Kale for short, though. Say good morning, Kale!

Kale: [...]

Co-Anchor: Aww, is he shy?

Budgie Owner: I guess he is. I’m sorry, he’s not usually like this. Say hi, Kale!

Kale: Hi, Kale!

Budgie Owner: There we go. Good bird, Kale. Here, have a treat.

Kale: Thank you!

Co-Anchor: Aw, that’s adorable. Now, I understand that Kale does a lot more than just say a few words, right?

Budgie Owner: That’s right. I’m a retired engineer, and I rigged my house with a bunch of pulleys, levers, and other simple machines. The mechanisms are really sensitive, and easy to maneuver, so Kale here can actually do a lot of things for me. He can open doors, and crack the window. He can turn off the lights, and even start the coffee before I wake up.

Co-Anchor: And does he? Does he do that unprompted?

Budgie Owner: He has his own little alarm clock next to where he sleeps that chirps at him. It gives him enough time to start my coffee, yes. Don’t worry, though. He’s not my slave. He’s my best friend. I don’t make him do anything that’s too hard for him, or that he doesn’t like.

Co-Anchor: That’s lovely. So, he doesn’t live in a cage?

Budgie Owner: Oh no, birds aren’t meant to live in cages. He flies freely in and out of the house.

Co-Anchor: He always comes back, though, right?

Budgie Owner: Well, when I say he flies out of the house, I really just mean around the house. He doesn’t go exploring in the woods, or anything. There are a lot of predators out there, so neither of us wants him going too far. He just likes to feel the sun in his face sometimes. He always waits for me to open the door for him, and makes sure to stay in my line of sight.

Co-Anchor: I imagine clean up is quite a bit of work, if he can do his business wherever, instead of in a cage.

Budgie Owner: He has a special area for that. I’ve trained him to return to what I call his throne when he needs to do that. He’s very intelligent, as all parakeets are.

Co-Anchor: Are parakeets and budgies the same thing?

Budgie Owner: They are, it’s just a different name. I use them interchangeably.

Co-Anchor: Great. So, you have a demonstration for us?

Budgie Owner: Yes, the station has been kind enough to recreate the bare bones of my living room, and I’m gonna have Kale do a few tricks for you.

Co-Anchor: That’s wonderful. Whenever you’re ready.

Budgie Owner: Okay. I’m setting you down now, Kale. Go ahead. Breezy. Kale, breezy! Breezy!

Co-Anchor: And that’s a codeword?

Budgie Owner: Yes, that’s supposed to prompt him to open the window, to let some air in.

Co-Anchor: Perhaps he knows this isn’t really his house.

Budgie Owner: Oh, he definitely does, but we were just practicing before you went on the air. I’m not sure what’s made him so shy. He loves to perform, even for strangers. I just can’t get him to budge.

Co-Anchor: Ah, budge. I get it. Well, we’re going to go to a commercial break, and when we come back, I’m sure Kale will be more than ready to show us what he’s made of.

Microstory 1363: Escape

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Psychotherapist: So, I see on your intake forms that you’re having suicidal thoughts. Is that true?

Suicidal Man: Yes, that’s why I’m here.

Psychotherapist: Have you experienced any treatment for these feelings before today?

Suicidal Man: I spoke with a counselor at the crisis hotline. They suggested I seek professional treatment.

Psychotherapist: Okay, well, they should have given you some more detailed information.

Suicidal Man: Maybe he did. Maybe I stopped listening, and just set up an appointment with you. Should I have gone somewhere else?

Psychotherapist: It depends on your condition. How serious are these thoughts? To phrase it better, how immediate is the threat?

Suicidal Man: I guess it’s not that immediate. So I should go somewhere else?

Psychotherapist: If it’s not immediate, then we can talk weekly, or we can set up a running appointment for twice a week, if you’re more comfortable with that. If you’re worried you might self-harm before then, we’ll need to get you some more intensive care.

Suicidal Man: No, I don’t want to kill myself. Believe me, if I really did, I would have done it already. I’m a pretty decisive person, so I guess that’s what’s really bothering me. I keep weighing my options, but I...I don’t wanna do it.

Psychotherapist: And you shouldn’t. You did the right thing, calling the helpline, and then contacting me. My recommendation for you would be weekly psychotherapy, which is my specialty. Today, I just want to get some background information, so I know how to proceed. It’s important that you don’t get discouraged, though. Since you bubbled in that question on your form, it’s my responsibility to look after you. If we set something up for next Wednesday, I expect you to be here. I don’t expect you to cancel, and I definitely can’t have you just not show up. You have to make sure you have the time to talk about this, because if you don’t, it probably won’t get better. Will you be able to do that? We don’t have to discuss the timing right now, but is your schedule flexible enough to allow an hour sometime next week? I don’t want to hear excuses later. Your mental health isn’t something you can just decide to give up on.

Suicidal Man: No, I can do it. My schedule is flexible enough. You won’t have to call 911 on me, or whatever. Like I said, I’m decisive, and I’m also reliable. That’s probably my problem. I’ve been so overwhelmed lately, because I hate letting people down. I know I can’t do everything, but I don’t know how to set boundaries. Suicide would really just be an escape for me. It would be easier than running off to live in a commune, or just quitting my job, or something like that.

Psychotherapist: It sounds like you might need a break, or—yeah, even maybe a different job. I don’t know what you do, but it doesn’t sound that crazy to me. All of those options that you mentioned are reversible. You could go live in the woods for twenty years, and still return to civilization. Suicide is not reversible.

Suicidal Man: Yeah, I know. That’s sound logic. Again, that’s why I’m here. I need someone to talk me out of it, and you’ve already kinda done that.

Psychotherapist: We’ve only just begun, though.

Suicidal Man: No, I get it. I just mean...now we can get to the real issues, because the suicidal thoughts themselves were only a result of those.

Psychotherapist: I’m glad you recognize that. It’s an important step. So, let’s begin. What is it you do for a living?

Microstory 1362: In Need of an App

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Viscom Student: Thank you all so much for coming to this survey. I’ve been racking my brain, and I can’t come up with any good ideas. I need you guys. Now, I can’t pay you, but I might be able to get you extra credit if you’re taking psychology, or business administration, or something. I make no promises, though.

Fellow Student 1: How long do you think this will take?

Viscom Student: We’ll be done as soon as one of us comes up with a good suggestion, or after twenty minutes; whichever comes first. I ain’t lookin’ to keep you all night. This is my assignment for my Visual Communications Design class, and I know it’s not your responsibility.

Fellow Student 2: If it’s only twenty minutes, we don’t need compensation, or anything.

Fellow Student 1: Yeah.

Fellow Student 2: What exactly is the assignment?

Viscom Student: I’m meant to come up with a new app. I don’t have to actually create the app, but I have to have an idea how it works, draw out the design, and prepare a little marketing presentation. There are a few stipulations, though. Even though I don’t have to program something real, it has to be technologically feasible. I can’t think of an app that reads your mind, or mows the lawn. Two, it has to be at least mostly original. I can, for instance, come up with a new photo-sharing app, but there has to be some way to differentiate it from all the others. What makes this one special, and why would someone download it, instead of a competitor’s? So, what kind of app do you think is missing from your life?

Fellow Student 3: I think I have an idea.

Viscom Student: Shoot.

Fellow Student 3: You know how everyone’s working from home these days, right? Because of the virus.

Viscom Student: Yeah, I like we’re you’re headed.

Fellow Student 3: But people hate that, because they can’t just walk up to each other’s offices, and have an impromptu conversation. They have to send an instant message, or set up a video conference. What if people had full-length mirror-sized video screens in their home offices? Instead of calling, you walk up to your own screen, knock on someone else’s “door” and then just talk. You could leave the door open all you want, too, and let people come and go as they please. You could even expand it, and have giant screens all over the walls, to simulate an open floor plan. Then people can just walk up to each other whenever they want.

Viscom Student: That’s a cool idea, Fellow Student 3, but it’s not an app. It’s a tech product that would require hardware.

Fellow Student 3: Umm, you could invent the app that manages everyone that’s part of the same network.

Viscom Student: Yeah, that app would probably exist, but I need something that anyone interested can download and use without buying all these other things, ya know?

Fellow Student 4: Piggybacking off of Fellow Student 3’s idea, though, what if you made an app that was a virtual working environment. Customers would be able to design their own working spaces, assign workers to specific zones, and let them control an avatar. The avatar wouldn’t just be some cartoon version of someone, but an accurate representation of the individual. When the avatar goes to meetings, it can raise your hand, and maybe even get up to grab a drink of water; just to make it feel a little more natural. My dad is always complaining about how awkward his web conference meetings are.

Viscom Student: That’s a very interesting idea.

Fellow Student 2: Does it work, though? Is that technologically feasible?

Viscom Student: I’m not sure. I mean there are virtual worlds out there, right? There just aren’t any dedicated towards this niche.

Fellow Student 3: It’s not a phone app either, though. I mean, I guess it technically could be, but it would be better on a laptop or desktop.

Viscom Student: That’s true. I might be able to get away with it, though, if we market it the right way. I think you’re onto something here, Fellow Student 4. Let’s run with this, and see if it can work. What other features would you all like to see in something like this?

Microstory 1361: My Mother

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Nick Fisherman: I see the tables have turned.

Tavis Highfill: I don’t own a table anymore. We got rid of it, because it was taking up too much space, and I just use TV trays.

Nick: You know what I mean. I’m the one interviewing you today.

Tavis: That’s right.

Nick: Was this planned from the very beginning?

Tavis: It was not. The other day, my sister suggested I write a piece about our mother for Mother’s Day. She arranged her own piece of music for her, and this will be my gift. And bonus, that’s one less “suitability interview” that I have to come up with.

Nick: Oh, that’s a nice idea. So, how about it? What can you tell me about your mother—our mother—uhh...

Tavis: I was diagnosed with autism when I was twenty-seven years old. But, of course, I was autistic my whole life; it just wasn’t something that we knew. My family had to make a lot of accommodations for me, because of how I was. I didn’t like certain foods, loud sounds bothered me, and my biggest problem was that I didn’t understand people. I don’t see the world the same way others do, and I just didn’t get why. None of us did. Had I received my diagnosis early on, I think it would have been easier for them. Even in the 1990s, they would have had resources. They would have been able to speak with mental health professionals, and had me speak with them. When I acted out, they would know why, and would be able to deal with it accordingly. But that isn’t what happened. My family had to develop ways to communicate with me on their own, with no help. My mother was particularly patient and compassionate, and I can never thank her enough for it. I’ve always had a very relaxed relationship with her. I can talk to her about anything, knowing that she’ll give me the best advice—not for just anyone—but for me specifically, because I require some very specific advice. Our relationship has only grown stronger with time.

Nick: Oh, interesting. Full disclosure, though; I’m only jumping in, because this seems like a logical place for a paragraph break.

Tavis: Yes. So, when my sister conceived this project, she said I could write a piece about mothers in general. But when I tried, I realized it probably wasn’t possible. There is just no comparing my mother to others. She’s special, and I know a lot of people say that, but she is. When I was very young, I heard something on TV about gay people, and at that point, that was a word I was not familiar with. I asked my mother what it meant, and she told me that some boys feel more comfortable with other boys, so they date each other, instead of girls. She said that the same is possible for girls. She never so much as hinted that it was wrong, or that I should treat such people differently. Diversity was celebrated in my family, and I don’t know how my parents did it. I don’t know how they freed themselves from the prejudices of their hometowns, in the time that they were living in them. However they did it, I grew up without those prejudices. I wasn’t raised to feel that I shouldn’t talk to the black children in my class. I wasn’t made to feel that there were certain expectations of me because of how I was born. They signed me up for tap dancing and gymnastics, and let me quit baseball when I wanted to. They never had to teach me to treat women with respect, because at no point did I make a mistake. They never needed to sit me down, and explain why women were equal. I didn’t realize until I was much older that women aren’t actually treated as equals in this world, because my parents created a world where that wasn’t true, and simply let me be in it. I hear about people trying to figure out how to teach their kids how to behave, but the best way to do that is by example. Raise them in a loving family, like I was, and it will just come naturally to them. That is what a mother does.

Nick: That’s lovely. Thank you for this, self. And to our readers, you can watch a special edition of my sister’s video series I-Miss-You Music Mondays right here.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: February 10, 2212

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Ramses Abdulrashid stepped out of the homeportal. Or, at least that was what he tried to do. Best guess, portals weren’t very good at exiting on moving objects, like this spaceship he was now back on. Though that didn’t explain how teleportation to a planet was possible. Everything in the universe was always moving around, so there had to be some way of navigating. This wasn’t important right now, though. He had to pull his face off the floor, and gather his bearings. This was The Sharice Davids, which exploded near Proxima Centauri over sixty years ago, or over two hundred years in the future, depending on the perspective. He managed to look up the corridor just in time to watch his younger self be teleported out of the danger zone. The bridge section of the ship was a safer place to be at the moment, but there was no way to reach it, and it wasn’t destined to last long anyway.

Future!Ramses ran up to Weaver and Goswin, who had been left stranded here when the teleporter who rescued his past self was unable to return for them. He knew for a fact that they were going to survive this ordeal, though, so there must have been some kind of way out of here. Weaver ignored him for a second so she could speak into comms. “Computer, initiate AU level burst mode, heading Proxima Doma.”

“Where did you come from?” Goswin asked.

“Sixty years in the future,” Ramses answered, “give or take five years.” He was a great engineer, but if he wanted to solve a math problem, he still needed some time to make the calculations, be it on paper, or in his head. Since the first time he experienced this date, he spent most of the time living through every second of the year. More recently, however, he was on his best friend’s pattern, so it was unclear exactly how much time had passed for him in total.

“Are you here to rescue us?” Weaver asked.

“I didn’t technically come here for that, but that must be our fate. I’m just not sure how.” Ramses looked around. There was nothing of note but walls and floors, so he was just biding time until his brain came up with something brilliant. It worked. “The Ubiña pocket.”

“How is that gonna help us?” Goswin questioned. Won’t it be destroyed once the rest of the ship falls apart completely?”

Weaver consulted her computing device. “I estimate that to be in five minutes, give or take five minutes.”

“I can jettison the pocket generator,” Ramses explained to Goswin. It’s based on a paramount’s temporal power, but it still needs physical tech to exist. All we need to do is protect that.”

They look to Weaver, who was far more experienced with this sort of thing. She looked up from her device. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go.”

They ran down the corridors, heading for the pocket dimension area. The pockets were designed for recreation, to keep the crew entertained during long journeys, but they had never been used. Fortunately, they did go through rigorous testing, so there should be no reason they wouldn’t work.

“How hard will it be for you to reprogram the generator thingy so it can be jettisoned?” Goswin asked as they were running.

“I just need to command it to do so,” Ramses answered. “It’s already capable of it, in case this very thing happens.”

“Whose idea was that?” he asked.

“Holly Blue’s,” Weaver said, referring to her alternate self.

They rounded the corner, and came face to face with a Freemarketeer redshirt named Enata. He was bloody and half dead, and trying to hold a gun to them, but was unable to lift his arm high enough. Ramses reached out, and took the weapon out of the man’s hand. “You can either die here, or come with us. Honestly, I don’t care which.”

Enata looked like he was near tears. Then he closed his eyes, and waved them past. He followed them surprisingly quickly with his limp. He wanted to live, despite having been directly involved in this ship’s destruction. They made it to the Ubiña pocket room.

“Pocket four,” Weaver said to them. “Seems fitting.”

Enata ran into the entryway, and slammed his face against the wall.

“Give me a second to open it up,” Weaver said as Goswin was helping their enemy from the floor. She pressed a button, and activated the pocket dimension, revealing a microworld with a serene bit of land next to a circular escher creek. “Now you can go through.”

Goswin helped Enata in while Weaver stood there, waiting. “Go on in,” she said. “It’s like an old-timey security system. I have to program the jettison on a delay. This thing won’t work while we’re inside.”

“Yes, it will,” Ramses lied. “Let me see that.”

Just as she was handing him the device, Ramses lifted Enata’s gun, and pointed it at her. “Go.”

“What do you have against me?” she asked.

“What? No, I mean get in the pocket. Sorry, that wasn’t clear. I’m the one staying out here.”

“We just need to put it on a delay,” she argued. “It’s fine.”

“Sure, the generator will fly off into space, but going what direction? And who is going to rescue us? No one knows this is happening. Trust me, I’m from the future.”

“So, how are you going to save us?”

“I’m gonna shoot you.” That was not a lie.

The ship shook and shrieked. It was not going to last much longer. It was either now or never. Weaver sighed. “I’ll return to this moment, and save you too.”

Ramses smiled. “I’m sure you will.” That was a lie. He knew what Weaver would go on to do with her life. She would have never taken the time to come back here and return the favor. After everyone was safe inside the pocket dimension, he ejected the generator. He then went into the weapons menu, and selected the gun he was looking for. This was not a destructive weapon. It was designed to send a target on some desired vector. In this case, he was sending the generator on a course for Earth. At this distance, it would take them over six years to get there, but once it arrived, Weaver would detect atmosphere, and be able to free them from the pocket. It might not have been the best option, but it was the best Ramses could come up with on such short notice. He had seconds left. He raced through the computer system, activated the vector gun, and sent them on their way. Then he stood there alone, waiting to die.

The hull opened up through the floor, sending him flying towards his death. It was a spectacular sight, he couldn’t help but think. But then something strange happened. The hole started sealing itself back up, and he started drifting back down to his feet. Had Weaver done it? Had she made it to Earth, invented a thing or two, and somehow returned to the past to save him? The hull stitched itself all the way back together, the fires died down, the exposed wires retied themselves, and tucked back out of sight behind the wall panels. At first, he figured time must be reversing, but Weaver, Goswin, and Enata never came back out of the pocket entrance, walking backwards. No, this wasn’t the reversal of time, but of entropy. In minutes, everything was exactly as it was meant to be, except the crew was still gone, as was the part of the ship that was designed to control this thing. Who had done this, and why? Surely it had nothing to do with him.

The only thing he could think to do was head for the auxiliary control room. Three people were already in there, looking over the consoles. They seemed surprised at his arrival.

“Mister Abdulrashid,” one of them said. He consulted a computing device on his wrist. “The timeline is intact. Did we miss something from the historical accounts?”

“Report,” Ramses said bluntly.

“Hold on, we’re trying to figure this out.”

“Report!” he shouted.

The leader sighed. “You first.”

“This is my ship,” Ramses said. “I mean, sort of. I’m a member of the crew, and you’re invaders. So, I’ll say it one more time, and then that’s it. Report.”

“All right, calm down. We were just taken aback. According to records, you escaped the destruction of The Sharice Davids, and continued back and forth throughout the timestream. This is Antintropy. He’s the one what put your ship back together. Over here we have Antiparticle. And I’m Antichron.”

“Why are you here?” Ramses asked.

“We are at war in our time,” Antichron answered. “We need a warship.”

“I can’t let you have it,” Ramses said plainly.

“Why not?”

“Well, I don’t know who you are. You could be the bad guys. Maybe you’re fighting against my friends.”

He seemed amused by the idea. “Your friends do not live in our time.”

“If we never reach your time period,” Ramses began, “then you must be from pretty far in the future, and if you’re from that far in the future, do you really need a decommissioned-then-retrofitted 22nd century warship?”

“That’s precisely why we need it,” Antichron explained. “It’s called intentional obsolescence. It’s not vulnerable to the kinds of attacks we’ll be going up against. This vessel is perfect. It was lost on this day, and its wreckage never recovered. All we have to do is simply remove it, and take it to the future.”

“Like Jack Harkness, or Pria Lavesque?”

The three of them looked at each other for answers. “We do not appreciate the references. We truly are from too far in the future.”

“Cool,” Ramses said dismissively. “Well, I’m not gonna let you commandeer this ship. If you really are from the deep future, then I don’t care much who wins your war. So, I’m going to take this ship back, and you can go do whatever you want without it.”

They seem amused again. “It’s cute how you think you can do anything to stop us. You’re just a human.”

“I’m a human who’s watched a lot of old TV and movies, unlike you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’ve seen Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure.” This was a tricky gambit, but it was the only thing that was going to get him out of this situation. He took one step back, and placed his hand on a panel on the wall. It started heating up a little, and after a few seconds, verified his identity. The panel fell to the floor, revealing a wall safe. He punched in the code, and removed a special weapon. What this weapon did, he didn’t really know, but it was obvious how to work it. He pointed it at the three invaders, and shot them. The blast placed them in some kind of stasis cocoon. That was great and all, but what was he gonna do now? Oh, well there was this lever inside the safe as well. He wondered what that did. There was more than one way to find out, but there was only one best way. He reached in, and pulled it down.

Energy surged through the walls. It was so powerful that he couldn’t hold onto the lever anymore. Once it reached critical mass, the invaders disappeared. But no, they didn’t go anywhere. It was the ship that had moved, leaving them behind. Ramses walked over to the navigation controls, and watched the readings change. The ship just kept jumping through both space and time, in no particular order. It would only spend a few seconds in any one point before moving on to the next. Then he saw it. March 21, 2014. That was the exact date he needed to get to. He rushed back over the lever, and slammed it up. He wasn’t going to be able to hold on forever, though. The lever wanted to go back down on its own, and resume its programming. He had to get out of here immediately, or he could wind up in the cretaceous period. “Computer! Emergency evac! Authorization Bachelor-Vociferous-Plaintiff-Marathon-two-one-two-four!” The slick time-jumping program was something he would have to go back in time and secretly install himself. The emergency evac protocol, however, was built into the ship long ago.

Confirmed, the computer replied in Sharice Prieto’s voice. Brace for atmospheric dissonance.

Suddenly, he was standing outside the ship, on the ground. It disappeared on its own, continuing on its journey to wherever and whenever. He dropped to his knees and caught his breath. Atmospheric dissonance was no joke. It shouldn’t be this bad, though. The ship was calibrated for Earth-like climate. Someone came up to him, and injected something into his neck. He immediately felt better. “Thank you,” he said as he was standing up. “I think.”

It was an old woman. “Acclimatization solution.”

He was indeed feeling better. “Where are we?”

“Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida, March 4, 2923.”

“Twenty-nine-twenty-three!” Ramses exclaimed. “Oh my God, I’m way off.” The time-jumping program must have switched moments by the time he reached the lever again.

“Nope,” she disagreed confidently. “You’re right on time. Just step into this cave, and walk towards the other end at a steady pace. You’ll need to make your own way back to Kansas, though.”

“Oh. Well. Who are you?”

“Let’s just say...if you read the book of my life, it would be a real page turner.”

“Paige Turner,” Mateo said.

“Yep, that’s what she said,” Ramses replied. He had just told his friends of his harrowing adventure.

“No, that was Paige Turner. That’s her name.”

“Oh, that was her? You described her a little younger.”

“You were nine hundred years from now,” Leona explained.

“Oh yeah, I guess so. Anyway, that’s what I’ve been doing. What have you guys been up to?”

They looked at each other, and over at what Ramses assumed was the invisible projection of Mateo’s psychic stowaway, Arcadia. “Scheming.”

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Firestorm: Hello Doctor (Part VII)

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“My name is Agent Austin Miller, and I discovered something last year that’s going to change everything. And when I say it’s going to change everything, I don’t just mean my own life, or even the FBI field office where I work. It’s going to change everything about the whole world. Your children’s children will never know a world with war, or gun violence, or—”

“Hey, Hello!”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Sure thing, Agent Doctor.”

“What do you want!”

“There is a group of people in the lobby. They need to discuss The Ninth, and you are the agent in charge of that investigation.” He walks away.

“The Ninth. It’s shorthand for The Ninth Annual Frenzy City Event. While I’m the only one who remembers all the weird crap that happened, others noticed some inconsis—”

“Agent Hello, are you talking to yourself again?”

“No. I mean—I don’t talk to myself at all!”

“Okay, cool. Could you go ahead and collect your visitors? This isn’t a real doctor’s office. We really want you to be on time.”

“I’m not a doctor!”

“Yeah, we know, that’s the point.”

“Dick,” I mutter under my breath.

“Just go downstairs,” he begins, “Agent Miller.”

I secure my closet door, and head to the lobby, where three strangers are standing around. One of them steps forward as the apparent leader. “Agent Miller. I’m Agent Bran, St. Louis field office. These are my associates.”

Actually what I said earlier about them being strangers isn’t the whole truth. I do recognize one of these people. That’s Bozhena Horvatinčić, a.k.a. Armbreaker, a.k.a. Slipstream. She fancies herself a cop in this town, and the police here let her do whatever she wants. I don’t imagine I’ll be as accommodating to her. For now, though, I’ll hear them out.

“Could we speak in your office?” Agent Bran asks.

“What is this about?” I question.

“It’s about the Frenzy,” Slipstream says, “about what you remember, and what no one else does?”

Could this be true? Are there finally others who recall all the changes to reality that happened at that race? Someone erased everyone’s memories, but somehow missed me. I decided the law of probability demanded I wasn’t the only one who fell through the cracks, so I spent months trying to find like-minded individuals online, but they never revealed themselves.

“Sir?” the other guy says. “Are you still with us?”

“Yes, sorry,” I tell them. “We can talk in my office. You have your visitor badges, right?”

“I don’t have a badge,” the guy who doesn’t look FBI says. “It’s a laminate.” That sounds like a reference. Anyway, I lead them through the building, and into my office. It is only once the door is closed when they look like they’ve just dropped some kind of facade. Are they even connected to the FBI at all?

Slipstream stands in the corner like a patient bodyguard. Bran looks right at me, and the other guy sits in one of my chairs. “Way we understand it, you found something at the Frenzy?” Bran starts out like it’s an interrogation.

If anyone is interrogating anybody here, though, it’s me. “What do you know about The Ninth?”

“The Ninth,” the sitting guy asks, “or The Nine?”

That’s an interesting question. I decide to play it cool. “Both.”

Bran isn’t fazed. “You took something from that race. We need it back.”

“You are also in possession of other things you can’t explain,” the other guy says. “We need that stuff too.”

“Look—what’s your name?”

“Serkan.”

“Dammit,” Bran says in a breathy voice.

“Ugh.” Serkan palms his face. “I wasn’t supposed to use my real name.” He stands up, and almost looks threatening. “You can’t tell anyone I was here. If you ever see me again, you can’t say anything to me either. I won’t know what you’re talking about.” Maybe he is affected by memory wiping, just differently. “Look, Serkan, you people are obviously not really FBI. So tell me who the hell you are, or we’re gonna have a problem.”

Bran studies my face for a few moments. He then turns his head towards Serkan, but keeps his eyes on me. “I can just take a picture of anything?”

“Yeah, that couch would be perfect,” Serkan answers him, pointing.

“What the hell are you talking about? You can’t take pictures in here.” I lift up my desk phone, and search through the directory for the line to the St. Louis office. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”

Bran takes the photo anyway. Seconds later, three more people appear out of nowhere. I’ve seen this kind of thing before, but it was on stage at a magic show. This is no trick. This is real power.

I drop the phone back into its cradle. “I knew it! I knew I wasn’t the only one!”

“Yes,” the new woman says to me. “You’re not alone. My name Alexina McGregor. You may have heard of Gregorios Bank. That’s me. These are my friends, Ace Reaver, and his daughter with Serkan, Paige Turner.”

Paige curtsies, making Serkan laugh.

“You can all...” I hesitate, “do things?”

“Slip’s normal,” Alexina begins to answer. “Bran is...no one really knows what Bran is, but he’s pretty normal too.”

“Oh my God.” I’ve been looking for answers for so long. Even before I found the artifact at the race, I’ve been trying to figure out who I am, and why I’ve always felt different. Now I’ve been vindicated, but I know what they’re going to tell me. They’re going to say I have to keep all of this to myself. It makes sense. It’s like most modern stories about vampires, or aliens among us. If people were allowed to know that teleportation was real, then they would already know it. I’m not sure if I can do that, though. I’ve seen the truth now, and I can see how to make the world so much better than it is. I can’t just let that go.

“We don’t know what you are,” Alexina continues, “or what you can do. We can help you understand it, but there are rules.”

I sit down in my chair. “I can’t tell anyone about it.”

“No,” Alexina says. “You can tell your significant other, or your parents, or even your kids. You just can’t tell the whole world. You have to be able to trust the people who keep your secrets, because it’s not only about you. Everyone you tell puts all of us at risk.”

“We won’t be the ones to stop you,” Ace says. “We don’t have that kind of pull. There is a prison, though. She and I have been in it.” He gestures towards Slipstream. It’s true that she hasn’t been seen in public for the last year, and though her gang never reported her missing, she has had a lot of fans worried.

“This prison is run by people from an old timeline,” Alexina adds. “They saw what it looks like when regular humans find out about us, and it doesn’t go well.”

“Their methods are becoming...shall we say, less respectful?” Serkan puts forth. “Less gentle. You don’t wanna piss them off. For the most part, they don’t care what you do with your powers. If you’ve gotten on their radar, it means they think you’re on the verge of exposing us. They sent us in to stop you, and while we will try to be gentle, we won’t be able to protect you if we fail in that. The team they send to fix whatever we do wrong...just don’t let it get to that point.”

I’ve always been really good at telling when people are lying, and I’m a hundred percent certain that these people are not lying. “This is bigger than me, though. Operation Firestorm is too important.”

“Oh no, he’s named it,” Paige laments casually.

“What is Operation Firestorm?” Agent Bran asks me, if he even is an agent.

“You want me to be secretive, then I will.”

“Paige was right about the closet,” Alexina says to her friends. “There’s something in there. I think it may be bigger on the inside.”

How does she know about that? I back myself up against the door, and stretch my arms out like a hockey goalie. “You’re not getting in here. I’m pretty smart. If you could teleport just anywhere, you would do it. You need a picture, which is why so-called Agent Bran took one of my couch.”

Bran places his hand on his service weapon, but doesn’t remove it from its holster. “We don’t need powers to get into that room, Hello Doctor.”

“His name is Agent Miller,” Serkan says like a mediator. No one has ever defended me like that. Everyone I’ve ever met has been totally down with making fun of my name history. “We can all be civil. Agent, we’re doing this to help you. I don’t know what Operation Firestorm is, but it’s not worth your life. We won’t hurt you, but like I said, they will.”

“This is worth my life,” I argue. “Firestorm is everything.”

Ace steps around my desk, and reaches for the doorknob. “I’m going to open this door, whether I use this knob here, or my own.”

I don’t know what that means, but I can tell they’re not going to stop. I’m outnumbered, and if I don’t let them into my world, they’re going to force their way through, and I can’t let anyone get hurt. If for no other reason, then it would reflect poorly on me if my colleagues find a dead body in my office, or something. Besides, perhaps them opening this door is the best thing that could happen to me right now. I step to the side and let Ace pass.

He turns the knob, and opens it up to see what I have there. “It’s here. I don’t see the rabbit dog, though.”

Oh, is that what it’s called? I just keep that as a pet in my house. It has nothing to do with this.

“What is it doing?” Serkan asks, peering into the closet.

I smirk. “It’s maintaining the connection.” I start to step back. This room is far too small for me to get myself clear of the blast radius, but I don’t plan on exiting through the door either.

“The connection between what?” Ace questions. “Do you know this is? It’s called the Omega Gyroscope, and we’re told it’s dangerous, but we don’t know what it is.”

“It’s a whole world,” I explain cryptically. “You’ll see soon enough.” I pull out my gun, and hold it to the girl, Paige’s head. I don’t want anyone hurt, but I don’t have the resources I need to escape that gyroscope, so if I don’t leave right now, none of us ever will. So, you see, it’s for the best that I do this.

“What do you want?” Serkan asks. His calm demeanor is gone. He’s gone into full father mode.

“I don’t want anything from you,” I say.

“Guys?” Slipstream interjects. “Is that thing spinning faster now?”

“The light inside of it is growing brighter too,” Ace agrees. “What is it doing?”

I have to hold back a laugh. “It’s powering up, because you let in the light.”

Ace immediately slams the closet door shut.

“It’s too late. It’s gonna go critical.” I cock the gun. “Now, Miss Turner, kindly do that thing you did when you got here.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” she says. She doesn’t seem scared of the gun, but she does still respect the threat it poses. “I need a picture.”

“I know. You can take out your phone. Slowly.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere but here,” I answer.

Paige carefully removes the phone from her pocket, and lifts it up. Then, without warning, she jams it into my face. It’s not enough to do any permanent damage, but it distracts me long enough for Slipstream to attack, and free Paige from my grasp. No, this was my last chance. We’re seconds away from being sucked into that thing.

Suddenly, a woman appears in the middle of the room.

“Daria!” Serkan cries.

“Who needs to get out of here?” this Daria woman asks.

“All of us,” Agent Bran replies.

“I can only take two at a time,” Daria explains. She takes Slipstream in one arm, and Alexina the other, I suppose because they're closest to her. They disappear.

What’s apparently called the Omega Gyroscope reaches critical mass, and drags us into the other world. I wouldn’t be so afraid, except it’s like I said, this was an unplanned trip, and I don’t have a way to get back. We’ll be trapped forever.

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