Microstory 1366: Performance Art

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Art Reporter: Before we begin, I want to acknowledge that you do not generally participate in interviews. I appreciate you making an exception.

Performance Artist: Well, I was kind of obligated to do so. My publicist says we run the risk of a lawsuit if I don’t take the time to explain myself to my fans, and the general public.

Art Reporter: You have a publicist?

Performance Artist: I do, and right now she’s miming slitting her own throat to get me to stop talking about it, which is ironic, given the nature of my work.

Art Reporter: Yes, that’s an unfortunate coincidence. I’m sure it was an accident on her part.

Performance Artist: Now she’s waving her arms at me, begging me to stop talking about her.

Art Reporter: We can edit this part out.

Performance Artist: You will do absolutely no such thing, sir. The entire purpose of my art is to illustrate the lack of true truth in the world because of all this editing, filtering, hiding, and lying. And complacency. I detest complacency. We’ve all gotten so comfortable in our little bubbles, so when we see something the least bit provocative, we just can’t handle it.

Art Reporter: Is that how you would describe your art? Provocative?

Performance Artist: That’s precisely the word I would use. I’m trying to elicit a reaction from people, in order to show how easy it is to freak someone out.

Art Reporter: Okay. Would you describe your art as the least bit provocative, though?

Performance Artist: I see what you’re getting at, and that’s why I’m here. Obviously, since I am sitting with you right now, I’m totally fine. Nothing I’ve done on those streets has been real; at least not in the way you’re interpreting the meaning of the word. I don’t really slice my own neck open in front of people. It’s a prosthetic filled with fake blood. It’s all fake. But does that mean it’s not real?

Art Reporter: Yes, it does. And what exactly are you trying to say with this performance art?

Performance Artist: Well, I can’t give you all the answers. I want you to be able to come to your own conclusions about it. But the main thing I’m trying to point out how desensitized we’ve become as a species.

Art Reporter: I thought you were trying to elicit reaction, because you think people are living in bubbles. That sounds contradictory to me. Are we desensitized, or living in bubbles.

Performance Artist: Like I said, man, I’m not gonna give it all away. I just don’t want to have to stop performing my art. I’m only here to assuage some fears. Yes, that goes against my goals, but sometimes you just have to step out of character, I guess.

Art Reporter: What do you say to those who criticize your choice to involve a dog in your art?

Performance Artist: Well, I didn’t bring the dog with me today, but I assure you that he is one hundred percent okay. No animals were harmed in the making of this profound truth.

Art Reporter: After you presumably pretended to slit his throat, he collapsed on the sidewalk.

Performance Artist: [sighs] I suppose I have to break the illusion further. That was due to some incredibly well-timed sedatives. I think I executed that move quite well. I’ll ask my brother to post a video with his dog, or something, to ensure people see he’s quite alive. It’s art. Get it? I’ve already had to talk with the cops about this.

Art Reporter: Is it legal to give a dog sedatives for no medical purpose? Can we look that up? Someone find out whether that’s okay.

Performance Artist: No, don’t worry about it. You don’t have to do that. It’s totally fine.

Art Reporter: I think we’re gonna contact animal control, or someone, about it anyway. I do have a few more questions regarding throwing the knife towards the crowds after you use it. Is the knife itself real?

Performance Artist: Hey, thanks for talking to me. I think this was really productive.

Art Reporter: I do have a few more questions.

Performance Artist: That’s great, dude. You’re the real hero here.

Art Reporter: What?

Performance Artist: Let me know where I can watch this interview.

Art Reporter: This is print. Do you see any cameras here?

Performance Artist: Awesome. Catch ya later!

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: March 22, 2016

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The Insulator of Life was one of those things that always did what it was meant to do, theoretically through psychic commands. It didn’t have any buttons or switches, or some kind of computer screen. Leona simply placed it on Mateo’s chest, like she had years ago. Instead of returning his own life to his body, though, she was this time extracting two extraneous lives, with the intention of housing them in the Insulator itself. She knew this was possible, because it had once worked on Brooke and Sharice Prieto. It was a painful process, but it didn’t last forever. Once it was over, Mateo was feeling lighter than ever. He was back to his normal, dumb self.

“How do you feel?” Ramses asked.

“I’m a little nauseated from the experience, but my mind feels amazing.”

“Good, good,” Leona said. “I’m no doctor, but I imagine the nausea will pass. You probably just need a good night’s rest. You’ve been through a lot.”

“I’m sorry, Leona.”

“No more apologies, but my ultimatum remains, even in light of the revelation that you were under the influence. If you leave once more, I don’t ever want to see you again.”

“I understand.”

“Declan,” Ramses began, “could you help me help him upstairs? I assume you have guest quarters somewhere?”

“We just call it a guest bedroom,” Declan said, “and yes.”

Mateo slept the rest of the morning away. When he woke up, he made his way downstairs, and found the rest of his friends sitting in the living room. Leona was wearing the HG Goggles again. “Hey, honey.”

“What are you doing with those?” he asked.

“Here,” she said, removing them, and handing them over.

He put them on, and looked around. Arcadia was pretending to be sitting in one of the chairs. Erlendr was nowhere to be found, though. “Is your father here too?”

“He refuses to come out,” Arcadia answered. “I’m sure it’s for the best.”

“Can he hear you talking about him now?”

“Our consciousnesses are both in here, and we can communicate with each other, but we retain our individuality. He’s pouting alone, and doesn’t know what we’re talking about.”

“What are we talking about?” Mateo asked.

“Could you please translate for us?” Declan requested. “We can’t hear her without the goggles.”

“Sorry,” Mateo said. He started regurgitating what Arcadia was saying for the group.

“We’re discussing what to do with her,” Ramses explained. “We can’t just leave her in there forever. I mean, we technically probably could, but we’re hoping for a solution.”

“We could go back to the future,” Arcadia said. “They would be able to build me a synthetic body of some kind. In this time period, however, there’s nothing.”

“I still think it would work to place you in someone who’s already in a coma, or a vegetative state,” Leona said, kind of out of character. “Your consciousness would mend any physical damage to their brain, and then you would be able to walk around.”

“That’s not ethical,” Ramses said. “It’s the kind of thing I would suggest. What if the person we chose was destined to wake up?”

“I won’t let you do it anyway,” Declan declared. “If I want to be a superhero one day, I can’t let things like this slide.”

Nerakali suddenly walked into the room. “There is another way.”

“Sister!” Arcadia exclaimed.

“Hello, sister,” Nerakali said back to her.

“Wait, you can see her?” Leona questioned.

“All the Prestons have psychic abilities, to varying degrees. Zeferino was the worst. Erlendr was the best. I’m just okay, but I’m good enough to carry on a conversation.”

“Well, what’s the other way?” Arcadia asked her.

“I know of a body that no one else is using, and they never will. It’s up for grabs, if you want it.”

“Why is it not in use?” Declan asked. This was his time period, so he was going to be particularly protective of the other people living in it.

“Jesimula Utkin,” Nerakali said. “She went back in time using a homestone, and stopped her younger self from developing time powers.”

“Wait, you can develop time powers?” Declan was very interested in this.

“You can if you’re one of the Springfield Nine, yes. Anyway, there were now two versions of her in the timeline, so she decided to quantum assimilate with each other. Normally, the body they don’t use is scattered throughout space and time, but Jesi decided to keep the other one. I don’t really know why; I didn’t talk to her about it. I just know where it is.”

“That was over twenty years ago,” Mateo pointed out. “Isn’t it a desiccated corpse by now?”

“It’s not a corpse,” Nerakali replied. “It’s still technically alive. It just can’t think or do anything. It’s been in the hospital this whole time. It can breathe, pump blood, swallow, and digest. It wears a diaper, though, and orderlies have to hand feed it.”

“That’s kind of...gross,” Ramses decided.

Nerakali shrugged. “It was her choice. I try not to judge.”

“I’m willing to do it,” Arcadia said, “but I’ll need Jesimula’s permission. We can’t just take it.”

“Aww,” Mateo couldn’t help but say. “You’re growing.”

“Shut up,” she said with a psychic blush.

“I know where the real Jesi is as well,” Nerakali said. “Who’s up for a field trip?”

They found Jesimula Utkin in her lab. She was apparently a pretty big deal here, but she didn’t run the place, like she had in her old life. She no longer had the advantage of temporal powers.

“So. What do you do here?” he asked.

“I’m trying to find a way to replicate the 2025 pathogen.”

“What!” Leona exclaimed.

“Well,” Jesi began, “in an old timeline, I forced Paige Turner to go to the future, so she could become infected with the pathogen. When she went back to her own time period, she spread it more slowly then before, which served to inoculate the entire human race. But then Ace Reaver forced me to go back in time, where I altered the course of history. Now none of that is going to happen, so I have to do it in some other way. Again.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” Nerakali contradicted.

“This is really important to me,” Jesi said. “I kind of based my whole life around saving the species.”

“No, it’s taken care of,” Nerakali added. “The Stitcher handled it.”

Jesi was surprised by this. “She did?”

“Wait, what does that mean?” Leona asked. “What did Tonya do?”

“She folded the two realities together,” Nerakali said. “All that Jesi did when she sent Paige to the 32nd century; that all happened in this timeline, even though her later actions in the past should have prevented it. It’s a stable paradox.”

“My mother died as a result of that disease!” Leona shouted.

Everyone was silent for a moment.

“I mean, it’s the trolley problem,” Nerakali finally said.

“Oh, bullshit! Why did my mother have to be the one who dies? It’s so arbitrary!”

“It’s not arbitrary,” Arcadia said. “It’s fate. I made it so.”

“You agree with her, Mateo?” Leona cried. “She was your mother too!”

“I remember. I’m the one who killed her in the timeline before that.”

“I can’t look at any of you right now.” Leona activated her emergency teleporter, and returned to Declan’s house, where he and Ramses had stayed.

Jesi melted all the bones in her body. “My life’s purpose is pointless. I’ve been wasting my time in this lab.”

“No, you haven’t,” Mateo consoled her. “You’ve contributed to science, and now you can move on to some other project. You might cure cancer. Just because you don’t have a time traveling building doesn’t mean you can’t make things better.”

“Thanks,” Jesi said. “You didn’t come here just to drop that bombshell on me, did you?”

“We need your permission for something,” Nerakali said to her. “We would like to give your other body to someone else.”

Jesi hadn’t seen this request coming. “For who?”

Nerakali gestured towards Mateo. “For the invisible person he’s been translating for.”

“Here,” he said. He took off the HG Goggles, and handed them to Jesi.

“Come on,” Nerakali said to him. “Let’s give them some privacy.” She set the Insulator on the table, and they both walked out of the room.

Jesi and Arcadia didn’t talk too long before the former agreed to give her alternate body to the latter. She never explained why it was she was keeping it around in the first place, but they were grateful it was available. She gave them directions to the hospital where the body was being cared for, and said she would call ahead about her so-called twin sister being transferred to another facility. Obviously, the hospital didn’t really know the truth about the person they were being paid to take care of. The administrators were fully expecting their arrival, and gave them no trouble at the door. Trouble was waiting for them in the body’s room, though. Someone was already trying to remove the vacant Jesi body from the premises.

“Allen?” Mateo asked. He was loading the Jesi body into a wheelchair. “Jul—Saxon? What are you doing?”

“Oh,” Allen said. “This is why she wanted us to come to this exact date. She wanted a confrontation.”

“Who wanted a confrontation?” Nerakali asked, arms folded. “Jesi?”

“No,” Saxon said. “Volpsidia.”

“She wants this body?” Nerakali asked.

“She doesn’t have one of her own anymore. The prison cremated it when they found it empty of a consciousness.”

“Who the hell are we talking about?” Mateo questioned earnestly.

“She’s a psychic,” Nerakali answered. “Like, a damn good. Probably the best within the bounds of the universe. She must have jumped into someone else’s body, so she could escape Beaver Haven. I don’t know what her ultimate plan was, but it was stupid. Cremation is standard protocol for a dead body found in the prison.”

“She doesn’t have her old body in anymore, so she’s going to steal Jesi’s?”

“She told us it was extra,” Saxon explained.

“It is,” Mateo agreed arguably, “but we need it.”

“Well, so do we,” Allen said, “so what do we do? If we try to go back empty handed, she’s going to kill my husband; his brother.

Mateo sighed, but then he felt a burning sensation in his pocket. “Ackey!” He pulled out the Insulator of Life, and let it fall onto the Jesi’s body’s bed. “Why is it so hot? Are they dying?”

“My sister’s probably just trying to get your attention,” Nerakali said.

He put the HG Goggles back on.

“Give them the body,” Arcadia said. “They’re right, they need it more. I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life. Richard is a good person, though.”

“It sounds like Volpsidia isn’t,” Mateo said to her.

“Who is he talking to?” Allen questioned.

“Don’t worry about it,” Nerakali answered him.

“This is a ransom,” Arcadia reasoned, “and I’m paying the ransom. Let them have the body.”

Mateo looked over to Nerakali for guidance. She couldn’t hear what her sister was saying, but she was wise enough to guess. She just shrugged. He sighed again, and stepped to the side. 

“Thank you,” Allen said.

“Thanks,” Saxon echoed.

“Well, what the hell are we gonna do now?” Mateo asked as they left the room behind the other two, walking at a respectful distance behind them.

“I don’t know. I don’t have any other ideas,” a defeated Nerakali said.

“What’s that light up ahead?” The doorway to one of the rooms was glowing.

“It’s probably just some tear in the spacetime continuum,” she said dismissively. “Who cares?”

Mateo felt himself drawn to it. He stepped inside to find out what it was. A woman was sitting in her own wheelchair. It wasn’t just any woman, though. It was Arcadia. She was nearly completely motionless and nonreactive. Drool was dribbling down her cheek.

“Holy shit,” Nerakali said. She snapped her fingers in the physical Arcadia’s face. “She’s unresponsive. She’s a vegetable too.”

“How did this happen?” Mateo asked. “When in your timeline are you like this?” he asked the psychic projection of Arcadia.

“That is not me,” she said, almost defensively.

“There’s something glowing on the desk too,” Mateo noticed.

Nerakali stepped over, and picked it up. “It’s The Artist’s chisel.” She started working through it in her head. “This isn’t Arcadia. This is a recreation of her. The Artist went back in time, and made one, almost certainly for this very purpose. We place the Insulator on the body, and tap her forehead with this chisel, she’ll come to life.”

“Really? Well, let’s do it. Are you all right with that?” he asked Arcadia, but he knew what her answer would be.

“Hell yeah.”

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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.

« < » > Entire Story

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.