Varkas Reflex: Time (Part I)

< > Entire Story

Pribadium Delgado, Hokusai Gimura, and Loa Nielsen were standing awkwardly in the hallway. The former hadn’t seen the latter two in however long, and they didn’t know what to say to each other. It was ridiculous, though, because they were all friends. “It was a lovely service,” she finally blurted out. Mateo Matic was dead, and being honored on a very distant planet called Dardius. He was still alive, though, because...time travel. So he was around as well, though far too popular at the moment for them to have any hope of catching up with him.

“Indeed,” Hokusai replied.

“Yep,” Loa agreed.

“So, where have you been?” Hokusai decided to ask.

“Lots of places,” Pribadium answered. “It’s been a whirlwind. Do you know who Arcadia Preston is?”

“We do,” Hokusai answered. “Not well, but we know of her.”

“She’s the one what took me from Varkas Reflex, and transplanted me to a ship called the Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez.”

“That’s Leona’s ship.”

“Yes, I met her at some point. Two versions of her, actually. We jumped through time quite a bit. I went back to Earth in the past. Now I’m here.”

They nodded their heads. It wasn’t much information, but they could discuss the details later, if there was going to be a later.

“So, what year is it for you?” Pribadium asked.

“It’s actually 2263 for us,” Loa said. “We came here across space, but not time.”

“Well, time and space aren’t really all that different.”

“Yes, dear,” Loa said jokingly.

“Do you wanna come with us?” Hokusai asked. “I mean, it’s where you were, which theoretically means that’s where you wanted to be when you stepped onto the colony ship. But if too much has changed since then.”

“Ya know, I’ve spent all this time just trying to get through the next hour that I haven’t thought about what I want to do in the future. Things have finally slowed down, and I don’t really know what to do with myself. I suppose I would like to see how Varkas has changed in the last seventeen years.”

“Quite a bit, actually,” Loa said. “We would love to have you see it.”

“How did you arrive here? Would I be able to latch on?” Pribadium asked.

“Invitations,” Hokusai began. “It’s just like with Mateo and Leona’s wedding. We just have to press this return box right here.” She held up the piece of paper that allowed her to shoot across space at speeds far exceeding the speed of light.

“I should be able to latch onto one of you,” Pribadium said. “That’s what Mateo and Leona did to go to their own wedding.”

“Are we ready then?” Loa asked.

Hokusai held onto Pribadium tightly by the shoulders. Then she initialized her return protocol. They went right back to Hokusai’s lab together.

“Everything looks the same,” Pribadium pointed out.

“Has as much time passed for everyone here as it did for us at the memorial?” Loa asked.

“According to the invitation, this should be a mere second later; just enough to avoid a temporal paradox,” Hokusai explained. “Hey Thistle, what is the current time?”

“Eleven-fifty-seven Earth Central Standard,” a voice responded.

Hokusai went over to inspect her desk. Things looked slightly different than they had when they left. It wasn’t enough to make her think that she had been robbed, but perhaps someone had come in, searching for a pen. Though, if it truly had been only one second, that shouldn’t be possible. “Thistle, what is the standard Earthan year?”

“Two-two-eight-seven,” the computer replied.

“Thistle, using all available resources, including stellar drift data, please confirm that the year is indeed twenty-two-eighty-seven.”

“Working...” It took nearly twenty seconds for her to continue, but this was an illusion. The computer’s response should be immediate. This data was easily accessible, and while it was certainly possible for there to be some kind of error, it was unlikely, especially when it came to a question such as this. Hokusai was simply exercising her right as a flawed human being to deny the truth as it stood before her. Asking for confirmation was nothing more than an attempt at psychoemotional comfort. Artificial intelligence, at its core, felt no such desire, nor did it appreciate this kind of need in others. To make them easier to communicate with, AI programmers coded these entities, however, to at least approximate human emotion, and respond accordingly. Inflections, pauses in speech, and in this case, a delayed response to pretend it was searching more thoroughly for a solution to the problem, were all about making the human requester feel better about the inevitable conclusion. “Confirmed. The year is twenty-two-eighty-seven.”

It’s been twenty-four years,” Loa noted the obvious. “We’ve been gone twenty-four years.”

“Why?” Hokusai wondered out loud. “Why did the invitation return us to the wrong point?”

“It’s me,” Pribadium said. “I’m the variable that the invitation didn’t account for.”

“Is that what happened when Mateo stowed away to witness his own wedding from the audience?”

“No,” Pribadium answered, “it took us back exactly when it should have once it was over.”

“Well, in that case...no valid conclusion.”

“All things being equal, Madam Gimura, I’m the culprit. We can’t deny it. I screwed this up for you.”

Then Loa just started laughing her head off. “We’re all immortal here. We spent nine years on a scouter ship to get here in the first place, while you were spending slightly less on the colony ship. Time ain’t nothin’ but a thang.”

“Well, that was only four years from our perspective,” Pribadium pointed out.

“Exactly,” Hokusai agreed. “And just here, we only lived for a few hours, and now it’s over twenty years later. I don’t see the problem. When you’ve got eternity, this is shorter than an eye blink of time. Let’s assume you’re the thing that caused the delayed return: whatever, I don’t care.”

Loa was still laughing a little bit. “Let’s go outside, and find out what we missed.”

“See?” Pribadium began. “You even say that you missed it.” She couldn’t bring herself to not feel guilty about this, even though she didn’t purposely make them late.

“We’ve also missed everything that’s been happening on Earth, and Gatewood, and Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida,” Loa argued. “FOMO is a state of mind, but you’re always missing something, because you can’t be in two places at once.”

Hokusai stopped, and tilted her head ten degrees.

“Oh no, I know what this look is,” Loa said.

“Is she thinking?” Pribadium guessed.

“She’s inventing,” Loa clarified.

They waited about three minutes for Hokusai to step back into the real world. She was like a sleepwalker in that it would be dangerous to try to pull her back to reality before she was ready.

“Maybe you can be in two places at once,” Hokusai finally spoke. Though, she remained in her thinking position.

“How would you do that?” her wife asked.

“Extended consciousness,” she answered. “We’re already built for it. Project Stargate is building surrogate substrates for us as we speak. Right now, a mind can only be in one place at once, but that’s a very deliberate limitation. We could change it.”

“There’s a reason that limit is there,” Pribadium contended. “Hive consciousness muddies identity. You can move your mind from substrate to substrate all you want, and as long as you’re using a neurosponging technique, there’s no issue. If you want to spread that out amongst multiple separate substrates, though, who are you really? Are you everyone, or any one of them?”

Hokusai fully snapped out of her mind. “We can debate the ethics all day, as well as the technology necessary for it. That’s not what we’re here for, though. We want to see what Varkas Reflex looks like now.”

They stepped out of the lab, and prepared to climb onto a special hover platform Hokusai and Pribadium had invented together many years ago. It and the lab were both designed with artificial gravity. The mass and density of Varkas Reflex were very high, making it impossible for an average human being to stand on their own two feet. Transhumans were more capable, though it was still uncomfortable. Colonists instead lived in a special O₂-rich water, which they could breathe through their skin. They essentially turned themselves into water-dwelling creatures.

Unlike most people, Hokusai had knowledge of time travel, and parallel dimensions. She used her skills to generate lowered gravity for a given area by placing a different dimension underneath the regular one. A user wasn’t quite in one dimension, or the other, but simultaneously in both. She had built these dimensional generators in only a few key locations, however, including the hover vehicle they were intending to use as transport. It was gone, and seemingly unnecessary. The ground below them was perfectly fine, evidently calibrated for Earth gravity.

Loa was no scientist, but she understood what was happening, and why it was a problem. She was worried for her wife. “How is it like this?”

“I didn’t give anyone else the technology,” Hokusai answered. “Leona has some idea how it works, but the reason she couldn’t learn all of it is the same reason she couldn’t have done this; because she skips so much time. I also gave it to Pribadium, but she’s been gone as well.”

“Maybe you underestimated the people here,” Pribadium offered. “You left the tech unattended for two decades. They probably figured it out.”

“You mean, they stole it,” Loa said.

“It’s fine,” Hokusai said. “I didn’t want anyone to have control over it, because it could endanger natural technological progress. But I’m not Captain Picard, and this isn’t the Enterprise. The fact is that other dimensions exist, and let us do wondrous things. Time travelers have been hoarding these properties of physics since the dawn of man, but things are different now. We’re approaching the 24th century. Perhaps it’s time the vonearthans catch up. Perhaps...it was inevitable.”

“Do you think they placed generators all over the surface of the planet?” Loa asked. “Has there been enough time for that?”

“It depends on how long it took them to break into my second lab,” Hokusai answered. While she genuinely believed what she said about letting them have this technology, it was still going to be hard for her to come to terms with it. It had more to do with the damage already being done anyway, and less to do with real acceptance.

They ventured out to find answers.

< > Entire Story

Microstory 1380: No Remorse (Part 4)

< > Table of Contents

Celebrity Interviewer: Thank you all for sitting down with me. My audience is very interested to understand the reasoning behind this arrangement. I’m very sorry the warden was not able to be with us today.

Producer: Yes, I just spoke with him, and he has some important business to take care of with the government, but he sends his regards.

Ex-Cop: A private prison owner’s job is never done.

Celebrity Interviewer: Quite. Now, let’s get into it. Whose idea was it to make a film about Ex-Cop?

Producer: That would be me.

Celebrity Interviewer: And who decided to cast Ex-Cop to play himself?

Producer: That would be me as well.

Celebrity Interviewer: That wasn’t Casting Director’s responsibility?

Casting Director: I was responsible for securing the casting, but it was an executive decision. I wasn’t even part of the project yet.

Producer: Yes, my vision started in my head, and I didn’t tell anyone about it until I had a really good idea of what I wanted to do.

Celebrity Interviewer: That makes sense. But, Casting Director, you had to convince the warden to go along with it, correct?

Casting Director: It was a team effort, but I was his primary point of contact.

Celebrity Interviewer: Tell me about the film. Where does it begin?

Producer: We start before the beginning, actually. The first five minutes follow Mr. Ex-Cop’s parents as their relationship evolves, from their first date at the zoo, to the day Ex-Cop was born. The next five minutes follow Ex-Cop’s upbringing. He has said that he knew he wanted to be a law enforcement officer because of a presentation an officer did at his middle school in eighth grade, so that’s where we stop moving so quickly through the narrative. We keep it linear, though. We don’t have any flashbacks.

Ex-Cop: That was my idea. Flashbacks, honestly, confuse me.

Celebrity Interviewer: I’m not surprised by that. Walk me through the reasoning behind not casting any other actors for the role. Are you using visual de-aging technology for Ex-Cop? How does that work? Can you really make a full-grown adult look like a child with CGI?

Ex-Cop: I’m not doing any CGI.

Celebrity Interviewer: So, you just haven’t cast the younger parts yet?

Casting Director: I can explain this. Ex-Cop is going to be playing himself throughout the entire film, and no digital editing will be employed to make him look younger. In fact, he’s not even going to be wearing makeup. This is a gritty, true-to-life experience. We want the audience to see him as the real world does, so they better understand what he’s gone through.

Ex-Cop: That was my idea too. I don’t wear no makeup. Do I look like I got titties?

Producer: Ex-Cop, we talked about this.

Ex-Cop: Whatever.

Celebrity Interviewer: No. I want to know what he has to say. I think you’re right that it’s important the audience sees him as he is, rather than some cartoon on the screen. And to that, I’m still confused. The world sees him as he is today, but when he was six years old, they saw a six-year-old. Sure, you could never find a single-digit child who looks exactly like he did when he was that young, but how exactly can you claim this to be an authentic portrayal when you have a fifty-year-old running around in diapers?

Ex-Cop: I’m not fifty!

Celebrity Interviewer: Assistant, please make note of the time. We’re going to want to put a fact-check up on the screen, making sure my audience knows Ex-Cop is indeed fifty years old.

Assistant: Yes, sir.

Ex-Cop: You go to hell, the both of you!

Celebrity Interviewer: Don’t talk to her like that.

Producer: He didn’t really mean it.

Celebrity Interviewer: No. I want him to apologize. He can say whatever he wants about me, but he will leave my assistant out of this, or he’s gonna wish the state had just sent him to some hole in the ground where I can’t find him.

Ex-Cop: Fine. I’m sorry.

Assistant: Thank you.

Producer: Let’s get back on track. I understand where you’re coming from, but Ex-Cop expressed to us that he’s always felt more like an adult, so we wanted to illustrate that by having him play his younger selves as well. It’s a creative choice, and I stand by it.

Casting Director: As do I.

Celebrity Interviewer: And do you stand by casting a convicted murderer in your film at all?

Casting Director: I’m sorry?

Celebrity Interviewer: You should be.

Producer: I would like to clarify this. We’ve obviously heard all of the criticisms. It’s not my job to judge whether Ex-Cop is racist, or if he’s guilty of his crime—

Celebrity Interviewer: He’s guilty. He was found guilty by all six peer arbiters, all four professional arbitrators, and a highly respected adjudicator. He’s considered guilty by the majority of the country’s population, and then some. The film that started this all—the one that shows Ex-Cop pounding his fist into the head of Innocent Victim until he dies—proves that what they said he did, he did.

Ex-Cop: You can’t talk about me like this!

Celebrity Interviewer: On the contrary, sir, I can. You gave up your rights when you abused your power, and murdered an innocent blackman on the streets of Hillside. This film is outrageous! This private prison is outrageous! And you, Ex-Cop are the most outrageous of all. Why, if I had—

Assistant: Celebrity Interviewer? Your boss is on the phone. He’s watching the closed stream.

Ex-Cop: You’re in trouble now, bitch.

Celebrity Interviewer: You fucking piece of shit. I’m gonna put you on the ground. Why you runnin’? Get back here, coward!

Producer: Stop.

Celebrity Interviewer: Get your hands off me. You’re as bad as him, because you validate his sentiments!

Assistant: You better take this call.

Microstory 1379: No Remorse (Part 3)

< > Table of Contents

Ex-Cop: I don’t even wanna be here.

Prison Counselor: I understand that, but if you want to stay in protective custody, this is how its done.

Ex-Cop: I’m a cop, I should be in protective custody no matter what, and since I’m a cop, I know that this is not how it works. I shouldn’t need a psychological assessment to see if I’m fit to not be murdered by some big black man.

Prison Counselor: This isn’t a psychological assessment. This is regular counseling that’s required for you to maintain your right to protective custody. It doesn’t matter what you stay here, as long as you agree to these sessions, the warden will let you stay.

Ex-Cop: So, I can say whatever I want?

Prison Counselor: I understand that it is your instinct to rail against minorities, and all the other people that you believe are responsible for you losing your job. But we won’t get anywhere until you admit that what you did was murder, and wrong. First step towards that, I believe, is admitting that you’re no longer a law enforcement officer.

Ex-Cop: Once a cop, always a cop.

Prison Counselor: I can see how you would feel that way symbolically, metaphorically. But literally, you are not. I’ve read the court transcripts. You expressed no remorse for your actions. Has anything changed in that regard?

Ex-Cop: Yes, absolutely.

Prison Counselor: Oh, good.

Ex-Cop: I regret that I didn’t notice that bitch holding her cellphone camera at me sooner, and that I didn’t rip it out of her hands as soon as I finally did see it.

Prison Counselor: You’re referring to Innocent Victim’s boyfriend, who identifies as a man. Acceptance of non-heterosexuality is another thing we’ll need to work on.

Ex-Cop: Where do you get off telling me what we need to work on? I’m fine. I just need to stay away from all these black people who keep trying to kill me in here.

Prison Counselor: You are protected now. This is a safe space. You can be honest. I want you to be able and willing to change, though. That’s what life is, a constant progression towards an improved state.

Ex-Cop: If I’m not willing to change, you’re gonna kick me back to gen pop?

Prison Counselor: That’s right.

Ex-Cop: Is that even legal?

Prison Counselor: No one behind these gates is guaranteed protection. Do you think you can do this? Do you think you can entertain the possibility that you’re wrong, and that you need to become a better person? Or are you convinced you’re an infallible god?

Ex-Cop: I never said I was a god.

Prison Counselor: ...

Ex-Cop: Yes, I can do that. I suppose it’s possible that I’m just a little bit racist, and that there’s a slight chance I haven’t been my best self.

Prison Counselor: Great. Now, let’s start from the beginning. What do you remember your parents teaching you about race, ethnicity, and skin color when you were a child?

Microstory 1378: No Remorse (Part 2)

< > Table of Contents

Crime Reporter: Take me through the event, from start to finish. When did you first notice Innocent Victim, and what was going through your head in that very moment?

Ex-Cop: I was doing my job, protecting the protestors from themselves—which I was glad to do, by the way, even though they were mostly black, so that proves I’m not racist.

Crime Reporter: I don’t think it proves that.

Ex-Cop: Are you going to let me tell my side of the story, or what?

Crime Reporter: Well, you see, the problem is—never mind. Go on, tell your side.

Ex-Cop: Thank you. So, I’m doing my job, protecting this city, when a car comes out of nowhere. I didn’t have my radar gun, because I wasn’t planning on doing any traffic stops, but I think they were speeding. Then they suddenly almost come to a complete stop. Now, why would they do that? It’s suspicious, right?

Crime Reporter: Well, according to the video, they weren’t aware that there were going to be protestors on that street. Evidently, the road wasn’t blocked off properly?

Ex-Cop: Well, that’s not my job. I was in charge of the people, but not the streets themselves.

Crime Reporter: Fair enough, but I think that’s the answer to your question of why Innocent Victim slew down. The video doesn’t support the speed of the vehicle, one way or another, so I’ll give you the possibility that you thought they might be speeding.

Ex-Cop: The point is, it made me nervous, so I flagged Mr. Victim down. He stopped immediately, I will give him that. He made the right call, but I could just see in his eyes that he would have bolted if he thought he could get away with it. But his little girlfriend was filming, so he would have been in possession of proof of the hit and run.

Crime Reporter: I’m sorry, I’m gonna have to pause you there. The person filming the incident was his boyfriend, not his girlfriend. You know that same-sex couples exist, so don’t add fuel to the fire. Also, they could have just deleted the video, so I’m not sure that argument holds up. I also don’t believe your supposition that he wanted to run would hold up either, since we don’t prosecute people for the actions they take in alternate realities.

Ex-Cop: Whatever. So, I usher him out of the car, and proceed to try to start a conversation. I just ask him routine questions about who he is, where he’s going, and who that is in the car with him. Well, that’s when I see his friend’s camera, and now I’m real suspicious. It’s becoming abundantly clear to me that these people are driving around town, looking for cops to antagonize, so they can film it, and get us in trouble. I ask the friend to shut off the camera, and he doesn’t even get the chance to comply, because then Innocent Victim attacks me. You can see it in the video.

Crime Reporter: I think what I saw in the video was him raising his hands demonstratively, as many people do when they talk.

Ex-Cop: Yes, demonstratively. That’s the word I would use. It felt very much like he was a dangerous demon.

Crime Reporter: That...oh my God.

Ex-Cop: What?

Crime Reporter: Forget it, let’s fast forward. Why did you beat him to death? Assuming you had legitimate reason to arrest him, why did you continue to pound your fist into his head, and his head against the asphalt, even after he stopped moving?

Ex-Cop: You don’t understand what it’s like to be out there. When you’re a cop, every corner carries a threat, every person is an enemy. I risk my life every day, and I can’t worry about whether I’m up against an innocent person, or not. It’s not worth the possibility that he could kill me, or someone truly innocent. I would rather knock out an innocent person I thought was a criminal than let my guard down in front of a criminal.

Crime Reporter: What you don’t understand is that I was a cop, and I do know what it’s like out there. I spent more time on the force than you have—or, sorry, more than you did, because you were fired, and you will never spend another day on the job. None of our training involves beating suspects. A fight should only break out between a civilian and a law enforcement officer when the civilian instigates it, and refuses to relent. I don’t mean resisting, I mean actually fighting. They have to throw a punch or kick first. We only use potentially lethal force when there’s reason to believe the civilian possesses a weapon.

Ex-Cop: Well, let’s say I thought he might have a weapon.

Crime Reporter: That isn’t in the report.

Ex-Cop: Well, of course hindsight is—

Crime Reporter: No, I mean you didn’t put it in the report that you feared a weapon. This is the first you’ve ever brought it up.

Ex-Cop: Aren’t you supposed to be unbiased?

Crime Reporter: I am, yes. But I’m also friends with the man holding the camera to me right now, so I can just edit this out. You’re here because you weren’t, and you couldn’t. So, let’s talk about that. What do you have to say about the fact that you didn’t just turn off your bodycam, but that you weren’t even wearing it?

Microstory 1377: No Remorse (Part 1)

< > Table of Contents

Crime Reporter: Hm. An ex-cop who was the subject of a scandal involving an innocent black—

Ex-Cop: Allegedly innocent.

Crime Reporter: Sir, footage proves that the victim was not part of the protests, and was on his way home from work.

Ex-Cop: Well, I think it’s up for interpretation.

Crime Reporter: His boyfriend was filming the protests from the passenger seat, and the victim was talking about how the protests aren’t doing the community any good, and they’re better off waiting until the next vote. He was clearly doing nothing wrong.

Ex-Cop: I stand by my actions.

Crime Reporter: You do? You were charged with homicide.

Ex-Cop: Allegedly.

Crime Reporter: No, sir. It is a fact that you were charged in the homicide of Innocent Victim, police brutality, and related charges.

Ex-Cop: Those are bogus charges, and you know it. We all know it. This is just another ploy by the black man, trying to get sympathy for a so-called hard life.

Crime Reporter: Um. I’m not sure how to respond to that.

Ex-Cop: It’s the truth, so I imagine all you have to do is open your eyes and ears.

Crime Reporter: This isn’t an identity studies debate, so let’s get back to the interview.

Ex-Cop: Fine by me.

Crime Reporter: Your report on the incident claims that you felt threatened by the victim, and that you had no choice but to beat him to death.

Ex-Cop: I did not say I beat him to death.

Crime Reporter: No, sorry, I was mixing it up with this social media post you released later that day. I quote, “what the black man will newer [sic] understand is that cops arent profiling the color of his skin. We’re looking at a history of crime perpetrated by those with similar skin color. There is a huge difference there. I beat him because i had to. He died because he broke the law.”

Ex-Cop: I deleted that post. How did you get your hands on it?

Crime Reporter: Magic.

Ex-Cop: Earlier, I said I stand by my actions. I also stand by my words. It’s not racial profiling. Black people are incarcerated at a much higher rate than white people. They commit more crimes, so I was just doing my job.

Crime Reporter: First of all, you literally defined racial profiling in the same paragraph where you refute that that’s what it was. Secondly, incarceration rates are based on the actions of law enforcement, and not criminals. Those rates include those who are later found innocent, and technically those who are never found innocent, but are anyway.

Ex-Cop: Well, I don’t believe any of that.

Crime Reporter: You don’t believe innocent people go to jail?

Ex-Cop: They might go to jail, but they don’t go to prison. The system is flawless.

Crime Reporter: I can’t imagine that’s your real position.

Ex-Cop: It is. Look, everyone wants me to apologize for what I did, but I don’t apologize. I would, if I ever did anything wrong, but that ain’t me. I didn’t make a mistake, or take it too far, or abuse my power. I did everything by the book, and I’m proud of the work I did with the Hillside Police. I’m going to be fighting these charges, and I’m going to get my job back. Or I’ll get a better one somewhere else.

Crime Reporter: Okay. Well, let’s talk about the evening in question. 

Ex-Cop: Ask away, sweet thing.

Crime Reporter: Don’t call me that.

Microstory 1376: Conviviality

< > Table of Contents

Employer: Mr. Ex-Con, thank you for coming in. I’m very impressed by your résumé, but it looks like you’ve been out of work for awhile. Tell me about that.

Ex-Con: I was in prison for the last five years, sir.

Employer: Oh, you were? Oh, yes, I see that now. To be honest, my brain skips all these other little boxes. I mean, your list of skills? I imagine your education and experience would tell me what you can do. And if not, that’s what the interview is for, right?

Ex-Con: I suppose so, sir.

Employer: You don’t have to call me that. In fact, I would rather you not.

Ex-Con: Okay, Mr. Employer.

Employer: So, we’re always looking for interesting new blood here. We want you to have been in the workforce, so you know what it’s like to clock-in, get along with your co-workers, have a boss; that sort of thing. We’re not necessarily looking for particular experience, though. I’m very curious about the two years you spent as a park ranger. I’ve never met anyone who’s done anything like that.

Ex-Con: Yes, sir—I mean... [sighs]

Employer: It’s okay. Go on.

Ex-Con: I took that job so I could help transport drugs into the city. The park crosses just a little bit into Canada, and that’s how we stayed under the radar. It was meant to be my job to stop people from doing that, but I abused my position, and I regret it terribly.

Employer: Right on, right on. So, did you come across any bears?

Ex-Con: Bears, sir?

Employer: In the park.

Ex-Con: No, no bears. Plenty of mountain lions, but it was fine.

Employer: Oh, that’s cool. I love wild animals, that’s why it piqued my interest. Not that that’s all you have going for you. It seems you also know your way around a boring ol’ office.

Ex-Con: That’s right.

Employer: And you’ve done warehouse and factory work as well.

Ex-Con: Indeed.

Employer: Well, I think your experience speaks for itself. Why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself? We have a lot of teams here, and they’re all run by different people. Please don’t be afraid to answer this next question, because you think it will reflect poorly on you. What do you look for in a boss? Like, if bosses had to apply to supervise you, what sort of characteristics would you look for?

Ex-Con: I’m...I’m not sure...

Employer: No, it’s okay. It’s important that you be able to vocalize what you need out of your job. We have openings on every team, and like I said, they’re all different. Nothing you say is going to hurt your chances. It’ll only help us decide where to place you.

Ex-Con: This is all moving so fast. I mean, I expected you to ask me about my labor gap, freak out about my prison time, and just politely tell me you’ll call me if something opens up. Just like everyone else.

Employer: Well, that’s not how we do things here. Truth be told, we need bodies. These are all entry level positions, so my only concern is where you fit in; not if you fit in. I promise you there’s a place for you here, but you are going to have to want it, and then every single day, you’re going to have to earn it. We lose about forty percent of new hires in the first month. Some don’t like it, some just don’t work out. But I would rather give those people two paychecks, and turn them over, than risk not taking a chance on someone who could be really great. I don’t really care about your criminal record. If the system let you out, that’s good enough for me. Because we got cameras all over this facility. There are zero blindspots, so if you try to use us to go back to your old ways, we’ll know it, and we’ll put a stop to it. I’m not going to reject you before you have the opportunity to prove to us you’ve changed.

Ex-Con: I have changed. I don’t want to do that stuff anymore. Lots of people go into lock-up, and get worse, because of the things they have to do in there. I hated every second of it, and it made me hate the person I used to be that led me there.

Employer: Well, great. So how ‘bout it? What kind of boss do you prefer?

Ex-Con: Someone who’s willing to take a chance on an ex-con, and who likes wild animals.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: Tuesday, March 26, 2019

« < » > Table of Contents

It was unclear whether Arcadia overshot their destination by two years, or if she fully intended to arrive back in Fletcher House in 2019. Fortunately, Declan was still living there, and currently attempting to help Nerakali and Serkan remove their Cassidy cuffs.

“Okay, this is the last time you people can do this,” he said when all the others showed up in the bunker. “I mean it. Adelaide Fletcher is going to buy this place with her reparations in a couple months, so we gotta be out of here. I was trying to strike my lab, and move on.”

“I’m glad you haven’t taken it down yet,” Mateo told him as he was helping a weak Zeferino into the isolation chamber. “We need this to contain and kill a psychic. We don’t have the Insulator of Life anymore.”

Declan stood up, and walked over to make sure the chamber was secure. “I told you that I’m not killing anybody.”

“You don’t have to,” Mateo said. “This is just the safest place for everyone until he can kill himself.

“What are you goin’ on about?” Zeferino questioned.

“How old are you right now?” Mateo asked him.

“Ballpark?” Zeferino asked rhetorically. “Three or four thousand years.”

“That’s like...” Mateo began. He turned his head to elicit Leona’s help.

“Thirty,” she helped.

“Thirty or forty times longer than the average human lives. You’ve traveled up and down the timeline, seeing an unknowable number of things more than most people do, and throughout it all, you were a stone-cold killer.” Mateo stepped back to address both him and Declan. “We have one chance to get Erlendr Preston out of our lives before he does something wildly dangerous. I’m not very smart, but if there’s one thing I learned from all those time travel stories I used for research, it’s that paradoxes are bad. Avoid the paradoxes. I’m sick of all this bloody time travel. I can’t stop it, but I sure as hell can alleviate it. So if you’re not on board, then get out of this basement!”

“This is my basement,” Declan argued.

“No, it’s a community basement,” Mateo insisted. “Several disparate groups use it for their needs over the years. Your mother moved you here after we made her feel unsafe at the old place; you used it to train to become a vigilante; Gunbender, Armbreaker, and Fairware use it for their base of operations; two separate groups use it to help put right what once went wrong. Do you know who built it? It was a man by the name of Baudin Murdoch, who designed it specifically with all these different future people in mind. He’ll even be the one to install the bank vault door when it’s time for that. I need it for a special purpose right now, so I’ll ask you again, to get out! Go climb up a salmon ladder, or something. This has to be done.”

The group was silent, like they knew Mateo wasn’t quite finished yet.

He looked back to Zeferino. “This is called a sacrifice. I was prepared to make it myself, but I am beholden to the powers that be. This is your last chance to do something good. I don’t know what you know, but the man inside your head raped your mother. He probably felt entitled to it since they were married. You may be evil, but you would never do something that bad, and we all know it. I don’t think you would be happy knowing your body might be used to hurt someone like that. You’re dying either way, so at least try to go out a hero. I’ll personally see to it that The Historian writes favorably of you.”

Wow. It almost looked like Zeferino was actually considering letting himself be killed. Then it happened; the biggest shock of them all. “Just so we’re clear,” he begins, “this doesn’t undo anything I’ve already done to you, and I don’t regret a single choice I’ve ever made, including this one. I always win...Flash.” After his one last pop culture reference, his pulled a knife from his boot, and stuck it through his neck, all the way into his brain. “You were right. Turns out, I’m a hero after all. That’s not what I wanted to be.” Then he died.

“That was very noble,” Jupiter said. “Unfortunately for you, if you were trying to prevent the creation of The Parallel, then you didn’t kill enough people.” It was only then that Mateo realized Jupiter had secretly placed Erlendr’s primary cuff on his own wrist. He was now in control of all of them.

“What are you doing?” Arcadia questioned, anger building.

Jupiter tapped on his cuff screen. “I’m saving our sister.” He executed a program, sending the cuffs that were on Nerakali and Serkan flying through the air. They landed around both of Declan’s wrists. “And also Mr. Demir, even though he gives my friends huge headaches.”

“Why am I cuffed now?” Declan asked.

“Wait, did they both just transport themselves to you? I didn’t do that on purpose. Weird, I guess I don’t know how this works. What does this button do?” He selected another program. Three cuffs appeared out of the aether, and wrapped themselves around Ramses, Leona, and Mateo’s formerly free wrists. “No, that’s not what I meant either.” Jupiter was just screwing with them now. “Hm. Ah, here it is.” He pressed one last button, which summoned J.B. to them. He was also wearing two Cassidy cuffs of his own. Now all eleven were accounted for.

Before Jupiter had the chance to say anything else, Daria Matic appeared in the room.

“Why did you have to bring her into this!” Mateo cried.

“I didn’t do that,” Jupiter replied defensively. “I certainly wouldn’t have brought her here with what I assume is vomit on her shirt.”

“I just came from Vegas,” Daria explained. “I’m not sure what I’m meant to do here.”

“Him,” Leona said, pointing to Serkan. “Get him to safety.”

“You got it.” Daria slipped her arms underneath Serkan’s, and spirited him away.

“Noooooooooo!” Jupiter screamed, arm outstretched towards the emptiness where Serkan just was. “Just kidding, I don’t need him.”

“You don’t need J.B. either,” Ramses suggested.

“Oh, him? He’s vital to the plan. You, on the other hand, are just a hangeron. I could take you, or leave you, but then I would have to give someone else your handcuffs. I don’t want them in this reality anymore, so I’m trying to get rid of them all at once.”

“What’s your plan...brother?” Arcadia asked.

“It’s the same as Erlendr’s, for the most part. The main difference is I’m going to be the one in charge. The other main difference is that I know what the hell I’m doing. He may understand the flow of time, but I know people.”

“Why do you care about any of this?” Nerakali interrogated. “You have your own life going with the Springfield Nine.”

“Can someone get her up to speed, please?” Jupiter requested. “Sherwood, go ahead and set it up whenever you’re ready.”

The half-brother, Sherwood stepped into the isolation chamber with his duffel bag. The first thing he did was drag Zeferino’s dead body out, and leave him carelessly in the corner. He pulled out a little tripod table, and a huge canister of what looked like paintballs, but of dozens of different colors. He then removed what looked like a bomb. But no, it couldn’t be a bomb. Could it?

Jupiter carried on explaining himself as Sherwood was working on setting up his apparatus. “I didn’t always know everything about our species’ history. Athanaric kept us very sheltered, and then when I joined up with the other Springfielders, my focus was...well, too focused. It wasn’t until recently—which I recognize is a relative term—that I started branching out, and learning about what everyone else has been doing. I discovered this obsession the other Prestons had with the Matics. Why was it? What is it about the two of you that draws people in; gets them to sacrifice themselves for you, and give you everything? Well, I never figured it out, but in my trying, I realized that I too was obsessing over you. I was just becoming another twisted stalker. I was stanning you, Mateo. I wasn’t happy with doing this from afar, though. To free myself from this, I realized the only thing I could do was echo my estranged siblings. They toyed with you, forced you into harrowing challenges. Then I learned what our illustrious father was planning, and that helped me come up with my own plan.

“I’m going to challenge you too. Don’t worry, though. Most of the time, it probably won’t be deadly. You’ll probably even want to do the work; you’ll just wish it wasn’t necessary. If you fail any one of these challenges, the consequences will be whatever they are. I won’t actually be controlling anything you do. I’ll be transplanting people from this reality, to the Parallel; one at a time. Your mission will be to get them back home. You could always go back with them, but then you would be sacrificing however many people in the timeline you haven’t gotten to yet. Oh, and you’ll be on a brand new pattern, courtesy of those Cassidy cuffs. It’s a perfect blending of Mateo’s and J.B.’s. I’ll let the smart one explain what that means. Are we ready?”

“It’s ready,” Sherwood said as he was standing back up from a crouch. “I’ve set the timer for fifteen seconds.”

“I thought I asked you for a trigger,” Jupiter asked in an audible whisper. “I wanted to push a button.”

Sherwood stepped out of the chamber, and sealed the door behind him. “I don’t work for you. A timer is fine.”

A few seconds later, the bomb went off, spreading the paint all around the glass. It was actually quite beautiful.

“That was cool,” Jupiter said with a genuine smile. “I’m gonna need this, dear,” he said to Arcadia. He lifted the hundemarke from her neck, and placed it around his own. “I need to be the one who makes sure it’s actually activated. I’m not clear on your loyalties.”

Arcadia appeared too shocked to go against him, which was unlike her.

He continued, “sisters, you can watch from outside. The rest of you, get on in. It’s a tight fit, but there’s enough room for eight, and there are only six of us.”

No one moved.

Jupiter sighed. “Very well. I’ll do it myself.” He tapped on his cuff, and transported all of his prisoners into the chamber. It was even more beautiful from the inside. Jupiter was in there with them, but Sherwood was not. “Boot it up, brother!”

The pain swirled around, and reformed itself. Where once it was chaotic and random, colors began to organize into deliberate shapes. Shapes sharpened into discernable images, and the images began to move. They were watching dozens of movies at once. Mateo had heard about some of them before, others he had been there to see, and some were completely unfamiliar. The one thing they had in common was the hundemarke. These were all moments when it was used to create a fixed moment in time.

“My God,” Declan said. “All these people are gonna die.”

“Not if I can help it. All right!” Jupiter said happily. He took a gun from the back of his pants, and held it up like one of Charlie’s Angels. “Everybody ready? Only shoot the red-shaded moments. The blue moments are meant to stay put. We want those to happen in both realities.” He looked around at the rest of the group. He relaxed his arms in feigned frustration. “Ugh. Where are your guns? Did you not bring the guns? I’m sorry, I thought this was America. Okay, fine. I’ll shoot ‘em all myself. Here..we..go!” He started shooting at the images. Each time a bullet went through, and planted itself in the head of a future killer. He was killing real people all throughout time and space, but treating it like a video game. Mateo was just surprised he wasn’t literally keeping score.

Mateo watched him a little, but his eyes wandered to a very specific moment. This one was shaded purple, unlike any of the others. Also unique to it was that it kept playing over and over again in the same spot, while the other moments had to come back in the next cycle, because the chamber walls weren’t large enough to fit all of them at the same time. They only turned black and disappeared for good once Jupiter had paradoxed his target successfully. He had an idea to fix all of this. There was a reason the Prestons were obsessed with him and Leona. They would always ultimately lose, and they were never happy with that. It really was a game to them, and they absolutely despised losing. Perhaps Arcadia had the right idea, even if she was coming from the wrong place. Anyway, it was the only way Mateo could think of to stop all this. Even if it was a bad thing on its own, it at least went against their enemy, and sometimes, that just had to be enough.

Before Jupiter could finish shooting all the hundemarke killers, Mateo body slammed him. That was one good thing about close quarters. Jupiter had no room to fight back fast enough. Knowing he didn’t have long, though, Mateo grabbed the gun for himself, rolled back to the other side of the chamber, and aimed the best he could.

“Hey,” Jupiter said jovially. “You want in on this? Oh wait, no; not that one. That is the worst one you could pick.”

Damn, his target was gone. The GIF started back at the beginning, but he didn’t have a clear shot at Anatol Klugman. He didn’t really want to kill the guy, but it was his only move, and The Warrior was the one man he could trust to understand and appreciate the dilemma. Jupiter got up and tried to attack Mateo, but Leona and Ramses held him back. Just a few more seconds. Three..two..one..fire.

« < » > Table of Contents

Firestorm: Bhulan Cargill (Part X)

« < » > Entire Story

Image cropped and filtered, but credit due to Tormod Sandtorv / CC BY-SA (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)

My life’s story can be told in four chapters. I was born in a timeline that I didn’t like. People were dead who deserved to survive, and two worlds were destined to destroy each other. I needed to fix things, so I went back to key moments in time for chapter two, and altered history to realize better outcomes. The third chapter was the shortest, and was only there to serve as transition to my fourth and final chapter. You don’t need to understand the first few chapters to really get who I am, so I’ll start my story on the cusp of the transition. This is the day I attempt to sacrifice myself for the greater good. Things did not go as planned.

I can travel through time at will, but that’s not all I can do. My brain works differently than most people’s, which is probably why sacrificing myself for the greater good doesn’t feel like suicide to me. I don’t just move through time, but I see how it moves. I understand causality on a level experienced by few others. It may take me a long time to study history, and I usually still have to gather the data somehow, but I’m an expert at processing it, so I can make the right changes at the right moments. If I surrender to this power, however, and more let time take control of me, it often takes me exactly when and where I need to go. This allows me to bypass all that research, and take a leap of faith. I’m kind of a control freak, so I don’t do this feature very often, but it does save time, and it’s seemed to work for me here. A man I admire named Mateo Matic has asked me to find Horace Reaver in 2027, so that’s where I’m trying to go.

I find myself standing in what I immediately recognize to be the Bran safehouse. I’m not sure why they call it that, though. Four people are evidently living here at the moment: Slipstream, Alexina, Alexina’s son, Alexi, and Agent Nanny Cam. That last one is presently petting some kind of weird creature that looks like a cross between a hare and a dog. Hare of the dog. Hm.

Alexina is the only one I’ve met personally. “Yay, Bhulan!” she exclaims, both jokingly, and unironically.

“McGregor. I’ve come for Horace Reaver.”

“No, it’s okay,” Slipstream says. “Ace is good in this reality.”

“No, I don’t mean I’m gonna hurt him,” I clarify. “I’ve been told we can help each other.”

“We don’t know where he is,” Slipstream explains to me. “We’ve come here to regroup, and try to figure that out.”

Suddenly, the front door opens. “Well, wonder no more!” Horace Reaver announces.

“How did you hear that?” Alexina questions. “The door and walls of this safehouse are literally soundproof.”

“Hear what?” Ace asks.

“Where were you?” Slipstream asks. She slides over to give Paige a hug, followed by Serkan.

“We were in another timeline,” Paige answers. “It took us some time to find our way back.”

“Where’s the agent?” I’m not sure who Alexina is referring to here.

“Huh?” Agent Nanny Cam asks.

“Not you,” Alexina says. “The other agent.”

“Hello Doctor is still in there,” Serkan answers. “He nobly sacrificed himself, so we could return.” Yeah, I don’t know who Hello Doctor is.

“Be honest,” Ace scolds. “We sacrificed him. He didn’t wanna do it.”

“He’ll be fine,” Serkan dismisses. “He wanted to be there anyway. That’s why he opened the portal to it in the first place.”

“That’s misleading,” Ace tells him.

The door opens again. Jupiter Fury walks in. “Well, wonder no more!”

Everyone just looks at him.

“Oh, was that someone else’s line?” he jokes. “Shit.”

Alexina sighs. “You’ll always find us. Goddammit.” She holds her watch up, turns a dial, and presses the button. I see immediately that she’s just reset time a few seconds.

“Be honest,” Ace repeats, just as he did before. “We sacrificed him. He didn’t wanna do it.”

No one else is aware of the time reset.

“Go home, son,” Alexina instructs.

“What?” Alexia asks. “I thought you wanted me here.”

“It’s too dangerous. Go. Now.”

Alexina takes his future wife, Agent Nanny Cam by the hand, then presses a button on his belt. They teleport away.

“What just happened?” Paige asks.

Jupiter barges into the condo, just as he did before. “Well, wonder no more!”

“Jupiter?” Ace asks. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for the Omega Gyroscope! I know you’ve brought it here. I can track it anywhere, so there’s no point in trying to hide it from me.”

“Oh, this?” Slipstream reaches into her bag, and pulls the gyroscope out. Word is, it can do nearly anything. It can rewrite reality with a single thought. I considered seeking it out for my purposes in chapter two, but decided it wasn’t the route I wanted to go.

“Give it to me,” Jupiter orders. “I need it.” And then, in the blink of an eye, he’s on the floor. He was badly hurt, as if having just finished a fistfight. “What the shit was that!” He tries to stand back up, but something forces him back down. It isn’t like there’s some invisible person stopping him. It’s more like falling back down happened, but then someone erased all of our memories of it.

I turn to Alexina. “Someone is altering time. They’re making us forget. You can push through that.”

“You want me to get myself out of a memory block?” Alexina asks.

“Yes.”

“I’ll try.” She closes her eyes, and breathes out deliberately and slowly. “There’s a man, and a woman. He beats Jupiter up, and we just watch. We’re confused, but we just watch, like we trust him.”

“Why don’t they want us to remember?” Paige asks.

“Remember what?” Alexina asks back. She’s lost her memory again.

I look around. Everyone has lost their memories again. I’m the only one strong enough to recall the moment that Alexina described, though I still can’t actually recall the moment itself. I sigh, frustrated. I ask her to do it again, this time trying to get a name of these mysterious memory-wiping individuals. She gets more than that. Kallias Bran and Aeolia Sarai are not wiping memories on purpose. They’re stuck like this, unable to truly communicate with anyone. They can impact reality however they please, but no one will ever remember them. Apparently this happened because of a coin. When it’s done, Alexina feels taxed, though of course, she has no idea why. I’m still the only one who has any clue what’s going on. I also feel a lump in my pocket. When I take a peek, I see this whole purse of coins. If these can remove anyone from the global consciousness, I have to keep them safe, and away from others.

I look back over to Jupiter. He looks worse than before, suggesting he’s suffered further beating. “Whatever you do, I’ll always find that gyroscope. Sooner or later, it will be in my possession, so you might as well hand it over now.”

“I don’t understand,” Serkan says. He kneels down to get on Jupiter’s level. “We’re friends. Why are you acting like this?”

“We’re not friends.” Jupiter spits some blood on Serkan’s shoes.

Serkan’s not fazed by the blood. “Yes, we are.”

“You’re thinking of Jupiter Rosa. I’m Fury. He’s my alternate. I’m the real one.”

“He’s right,” Alexina confirms. “This isn’t the man you know. It’s just like you’re not the same Serkan who still lives with his mother and little brother.”

Serkan frowns.

“You’re gonna have to kill me,” Jupiter says. “It’s that important to me.” In another blink, he’s lying unconscious on the floor. Kallias must have knocked him out for us.

“We have to get rid of it,” Slipstream decides. “Can it be destroyed?”

“No,” Alexina replies. “Not something this powerful.”

“Yes, it can,” I disagree. I step towards Ace. “The hundemarke can do it”

“No,” Ace says, shaking his head. “I know the only way to destroy the hundemarke, and I’m not letting it happen.”

“What way are we talking about?” Paige asks.

“Someone would have to kill themselves,” Ace is disgusted at the prospect.

“No one’s ever been willing to do that,” Alexina adds. “I don’t know anyone who would.”

This was always meant to be the last chapter of my life. I tried to start a new life once my mission was complete, but I’m finding myself very unhappy. This is my chance to end it on my terms, in a way that cannot be changed. “I would,” I say plainly.

“No,” Ace decides.

“You don’t know me,” I say to him, “but this is what I want. I’ve been thinking about it for a very, very long time.”

He just keeps shaking his head.

“Please.”

“I can’t be responsible for someone’s death. It’s not fair for you to ask me to do that.”

Suddenly, the hundemarke is hanging around my neck.

“Holy crap,” Alexina says, stunned. “How did you do that?”

“Thanks, Kallias,” I say with a smile.

“Who’s Kallias?” Paige doesn’t like not being in the know, and based on what I know of her future, she’ll dedicate her life to the pursuit of knowledge, so she never feels ignorant again.

“Okay, great,” I say with an air of finality. “Now the gyroscope.”

“No!” Ace cries. He runs over, and takes it from Slipstream’s hand. Then he steps back defensively. “I’m not letting you kill yourself! Violence is never the answer. I’m putting my foot down. We’re gonna find another way to stop Jupiter from getting his hands on it...to stop anyone from getting their hands on it, or the hundemarke.

Paige walks over to him. “Dad. Let’s talk about this.”

“No,” he says. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Suddenly, there’s another unexpected appearance. A portal opens up, though most of us aren’t at the right angle to see where it leads. It looks like there are stairs though. Something in it catches Ace’s eye. “Protect this thing!” he yells. Then he reaches back, and hurls the Omega Gyroscope into the portal. It snaps shut.

“Where did you just send that?” Serkan asks him, stepping forward himself. “Who were you talking to.”

“Mateo Matic; A trusted future friend.”

I nod. “That’s about as good as you’re gonna do. I still need to use the hundemarke, and I could do with your help.”

“I’ve already helped you,” Ace spits.

“Mr. Demir,” I go on. “I would like you to come with me. The hundemarke should prevent anyone from stopping me from doing this, but it can’t hurt to have a little extra help in the way of some power suppression.

“I can do that,” Serkan agrees, “if this is what you really want. And I don’t have to say, there’s no going back.”

“I’m ready. And Ace, if you could protect me from physical threats? What I’m doing will save lives.”

It looks like he’s finally resigned. “All right.”

“I’m going too,” Paige declares. If this messes with reality, I need to be in the same place as my dads.

Her fathers want to argue, but they see the logic.

We all four hold hands, and I transport them to the Darvaza gas crater in Derweze, Turkmenistan. It’s not the only place where it can be destroyed, but it’s a good one. To the average human, the fires burning here are like any other, but the flames are of special temporal significance. They can actually kill a time traveler better than they would anyone else. It’s reportedly instantaneous. It’s not been studied much, so we don’t know why, but they’re just particularly more dangerous to our kind.

“Do you need a minute?” Serkan asks reverently.

I smile. “No time like the present.”

Arcadia Preston suddenly appears a few meters away. Both Serkan and Ace fall into defensive positions. “It’s okay,” Arcadia says in a sincere voice. “I hope you appreciate what I went through to get this. She hands me a parchment of paper.

I take a quick look at it. “The LIR Map?”

“I decided life isn’t fun when you have all the answers. Just...get rid of it.”

“Okay,” I respond.

As soon as Arcadia disappears, she reappears, but she’s dressed in different clothes, suggesting she’s from a different point in time. “I have one more thing for ya,” Future!Arcadia says. Then she hands me the Insulator of Life.

“Is someone in here?” I ask her.

“Would you believe...no?”

I reject her with my eyes.

Arcadia gives in, “it’s my father. He’s incredibly dangerous. I need you to do this, not for me, but for everyone.”

“Is he the one using the hundemarke to assassinate people all over time?” I ask.

“Yes,” Arcadia says.

I’m not a murderer, but...okay. “Okay.”

A third—or second?—person wants in on this action. At first all we see is the business end of a knife, appearing out of nowhere. It slides down, like it’s cutting through the fabric of spacetime. It opens enough for the feminine figure of what looks like a futuristic astronaut to slip through. She stands there a moment, sizing us all up. Then she smashes a button on the back of her neck, which acts to retract her helmet. “My name is Zoey. I’ve been all over the bulkverse, looking for this. I finally found it in omegaverse.” She removes the Omega Gyroscope from the hardback backpack on her back. “If I had known that’s what they called it, I probably would have started there.”

“Um. Thank you?”

“I need someone to get a message to Lucius and Curtis,” Zoey requests.

“I just saw them,” Ace says. “In prison.”

“It’s important that you find them again,” Zoey continues. “They said, if there was one thing they regretted, it was how they treated Yatchiko. Tell them to be nice to her.”

“We can do that,” Serkan agrees. “Should we tell them the message comes from you.”

Zoey shakes her head. “They won’t know me yet. Say it’s from their future selves.” She takes her knife back from its magsheath, and jams it into a new portal. She tears it apart, and slips herself back through.

I wait for a moment. This is not what I expected. I look around. “Does anyone else wanna give me somethin’ to destroy?” I call out to the aether.

Nothin’.

“All right, good! Then I’m gonna do this,” I go on with my outside voice. “Here I go!” I continue waiting, and still nothing. I take one last look at the Reaver-Demirs. “Something profound and poetic.” With that, I throw myself into the fire pit.

Before I reach the flames, gravity shifts, and pulls my feet down to a floor.

“Oh, hi,” a woman behind me says. “Are you my first guest?”

I turn around to find none other than Danica Matic, Concierge to The Constant. “Something went wrong.”

“All right. Well,” Danica begins. “Let’s figure it out together.”

This was how chapter four of my life began.

« < » > Entire Story