Varkas Reflex: Equilibrium (Part IV)

< > Entire Story

The adjudicative system today was a lot different than it was when Hokusai was growing up. Instead of a single jury, deliberations were done with two separate arbitration panels, of five people. On each panel, three were regular people who served as arbiters, while two were educated arbitrators. There was still a judge—though, the position was now called adjudicator, to align with an a-word motif—but it was their responsibility to manage and mediate the court, rather than make summary judgments, punish the half-guilty, be corrupt, and stand above the law. The court system on Varkas Reflex was quite new, and while societies on the other colony planets generally stuck with the systems created on Earth after millennia of development, the Varkans decided to throw most of that out the window. Theirs was not an unfair process, but it wasn’t formal either, and it wasn’t orderly, nor predictable.

The good news was that Loa and Pribadium were both deemed innocent for the potential crime of erasing the episodic memories of the dimensional gravity scientists. The bad news was that Hokusai was not. She was sitting in the courtroom now, which was usually used for zero-g darts. One of the eight alleged victims was responsible for coming up with new forms of gravitational recreation, so this was her spot. Of course, she didn’t remember doing any of that, which was why they were all here now.

Gangsta Dazzlemist was playing the part of adjudicator, Katica Petrić was acting as advocate for the defense, and the investigator from before was the adhering attorney. Two people were chosen at random to approximate the role of arbiters. One was a permanent resident, while the other just happened to be in the middle of a decade-long vacation. Neither of them exhibited any signs of caring whether they were there or not. The only truly qualified person here was a bona fide arbitrator from Bungula. He had reportedly moved here to make sure proceedings such as this didn’t end up in kangaroo court. Anywhere else in the stellar neighborhood, most of these would be considered conflicts of interest, or at least inappropriate selections, but people here didn’t see it that way. If they were impacted by whatever had happened, then they were believed to have the right to decide the consequences and conclusion.

A slapdash Gangsta was sucking his teeth repeatedly, out of boredom, as if waiting for someone else to start, except that this was his duty. He apparently knew this, and finally perked up. “All right. Let’s get goin’. Adherent Blower, what’s your accusation?”

“It’s Boehler. Risto Boehler,” the investigator responded.

“Is that your accusation?” Gangsta joked.

“Hokusai Gimura stands accused of maliciously erasing the memories of seven innocent scientists.”

“Okay,” Gangsta said. “Hokusai? Are ya guilty?”

“I am not. I did know it would erase all of their memories, but I was told that it would not hurt, and I did it with no malice.”

“‘Kay, cool. Go ahead and ask your questions, bro.”

“Thank you. Madam Gimura, when did you first arrive on Varkas Reflex?”

“Twenty-two thirty-nine,” she answered.

“So, you were part of the original colony fleet?”

“No,” she said truthfully. “I arrived in my own vessel.”

“This vessel was much smaller than standard technological development in the 2230s would allow, correct?”

“I’m ahead of my time.”

“And how exactly are you ahead of your time? Where were you educated?”

“Earth. I was just born smart.”

“When were you born?”

“June 27, 1985.”

“So that would make you three hundred and two years old. You’re a tricenterian.”

Hokusai bobbed her head side to side. The reality was that she was much younger than that, because of all the time travel she had experienced, but she couldn’t say any of that. Fortunately, perjury didn’t seem to be a thing here, so okay. “Well, it’s more complicated than that, because of relativity.” That wasn’t quite a lie anyway.

“Sure,” Risto began. “I’m just gathering some information. Let’s get to the real questions. You’re the one who invented what scientists refer to as dimensional gravity?”

“Yes.”

“How does it work?”

“You would need at least three postgraduate degrees to have any hope of understanding it.”

“I have equivalent-seven.” He didn’t say this to brag. Equivalent-seven wasn’t even all that much in this day and age. With no need to use one’s education to make money, and literally all the time in the universe, casually gaining profound amounts of knowledge over the course of several decades was commonplace. “But assume I don’t. Explain like I’m five. How does it work, at its most basic level?”

Hokusai squirmed in her seat, and looked to her wife for help, but Loa could only frown at her. “Gravity is a force, enacted upon an object to a certain calculable degree, according to mass, density, and proximity. My technology generates a field of negative mass, extracted from another dimension. It doesn’t lower the gravity under your feet; it’s more like it gets between you and the gravitational object, so that the object can’t pull on you anymore. This energy can be manipulated to adjust your weight.”

“Wow, that’s some smart five-year-old,” Risto remarked.

Hokusai tried to dumb it down further. “Water makes you buoyant, so you can float on it. It doesn’t negate gravity, but it can make you feel weightless, because the water is trying to push you up at the same time. Think of my tech as just a lake of water that isn’t wet, and is made up of particles other than dihydrogen monoxide.”

“What particles is it made of?”

“Are you still five years old in this question?”

“Fair enough, I’ll move on. Who did you work with to create this technology? Who else was on your team?”

At this, the professional arbitrator, Jericho Hagen shifted in his seat, as if perturbed by the question.

“No one.” Another truth, but it was hard to believe.

“You did all by yourself?”

“Yes.”

“That’s impressive.”

“I had decades upon decades to work on it.” That wasn’t totally true, though. Hokusai had indeed been inventing things since the 20th century, but dimensional gravity was a more recent endeavor.”

“Still,” he went on, “others have had about as much time as you, and they never did it, so you must be something special.”

“I must be,” she said.

“When you came to our planet, you agreed to help us combat the high-gravity problem by letting us use your dimensional gravity technology, yes?”

“I did.”

“Yet you didn’t allow us to reverse-engineer or reproduce it, right? You handled every aspect of early construction, and didn’t let anyone else in?”

“That’s not the whole truth. I trusted my apprentice, Pribadium Delgado with it.”

“Yes,” Risto understood. “You trusted Miss Delgado, up until the point she disappeared. Then you disappeared as well, along with your wife.”

“I didn’t disappear.”

“Oh, no?”

“I always knew where I was.”

“Quite. But we didn’t, and still don’t. Care to share where you were during that time?”

“I don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Care. I don’t care to share. That’s classified.”

“Well, that’s a good segue. Let’s talk about the neural implant chips, and the classified data on them. Did you have anything to do with their creation?”

Jericho shifted in his seat again.

“I didn’t,” she said. “I wasn’t here, and hadn’t heard of them until yesterday.”

“Yet you had control over them.”

“Briefly.”

“Enough time to push a button, and erase everyone’s memories.”

“Enough time for that, indeed.”

“Why did you do it?”

“I was told the button would only purge the data on the chip, not affect the rest of their respective brains.”

“But you knew it was a possibility?”

“Of course it was a possibility. There was a possibility that, when I pressed the button, the whole building transmuted into gold. The chances were absurdly low, but still not zero. Osiris gave it to me, knowing full well I would use it, and probably sooner, rather than later. He knew the risks, and I accepted his consideration without spending time considering these risks myself.”

Jericho could clearly bite his tongue no longer. Arbitrators were not usually meant to speak during the trial. Like the juries of ancient days, they were expected to only listen until deliberations began. He couldn’t suffer the ineptitude anymore, though. “You’re not asking her any real questions!”

“I’m sorry?” Boehler asked.”

Jericho stood up. “This is supposed to be a trial. You’re supposed to find out what she did, why she did it, and whether she’s a danger because of it. The four of us are then supposed to figure out what to do with her. You can’t just keep letting her off the hook. Where did she go after she disappeared? Don’t let her not answer that. How confident was she that the memory-erasing button was safe? Ask that question.  Make her tell you what this other dimension is where we’re getting our gravity. This isn’t the 21st century anymore. There’s no such thing as proprietary privilege. Ask the damn questions!”

Adjudicator Dazzlemist pretended to bang a gavel, and released a sort of barking sound with each one. “Mister Hagen, this is highly irregular!” He said it with about as much seriousness as a clown at a comedy club.

“This is a joke! You don’t want justice for these people’s lives. Do you even know what life is? It’s memory. I’m two hundred and sixteen years old. I spent four of those in stasis on my way to Alpha Centauri, so I’m not really two-sixteen, I’m closer to two-twelve.”

“You chose stasis for a six-year flight?” Gangsta questioned.

“That’s not my point!” Jericho contended. “I didn’t make any memories during the trip. I was essentially dead. Because memories are all we have, the act of erasing someone’s memories is tantamount to murder. So let’s do a real trial, and figure it out.”

Gangsta’s face changed in such a way to make his name sound a bit unrealistic. He finally lived up to his position as a world leader. “This isn’t a real trial. This is more of a mediation. We’re trying to determine, not the truth, but what we should do with that truth. We know that Madam Gimura erased the victim’s memories, and we know she didn’t do it on purpose, because we have testimony from Madam Nielsen, Miss Delgado, and Dr. Petrić. All we need to do now is decide if she’s too dangerous to stay on-world. I understand that you would prefer we make this all very formal and regulated, but your response to the lack of organization was a chaotic outburst of passion. I hope you can appreciate the irony in that.”

Jericho sighed. “I do.”

“Good. I have some questions of my own. “Dr. Petrić, you possess knowledge of dimensional gravity, correct?”

“Indeed.”

“As do you, Miss Delgado?”

Pribadium didn’t know why she was being addressed, but had to answer, “yes.”

“This place thrives on safety. There aren’t a lot of laws that we care about, but we care about that. I see no reason for you to fill out seven billion forms to request an assignment on a ship collecting hydrogen from this system’s mini-Neptune, Lycos Isledon. You wanna go, just go. The only reason our species used to have closed borders, visas, and passports is because people were greedy and dangerous back then. We got rid of that when we got rid of most of the motives for crime. Still, crime does exist, because people still have complicated motives. It would be equally difficult to categorize Madam Gimura’s actions as harmless as it would be to categorize them as malicious. I can’t have someone on my world who has erased seven people’s memories, and it doesn’t much matter whether she did it on purpose, or not. It throws off the equilibrium, and it has to be stopped before it gets out of control. She can go live somewhere else, which I know she’s capable of doing, because she’s three centuries old, and she’s done it before. My judgment is permanent exile. Thank you. You’re all dismissed.”

Hokusai wanted to be upset, but the reality was that her technology was safe, and there was nothing particularly appealing about this planet, so she didn’t need to stay. He was right, she could live anywhere. So she would go without a fight.

< > Entire Story

Microstory 1395: Display

< > Table of Contents

Magazine Interviewer: This is the interview with famed terrorist-fighter, Fiore Stern. Mr. Stern, is that how you would describe yourself?

Fiore Stern: Well, I just do what I can to help the world, in any way I can. I wouldn’t call myself a hero. I think anyone would do what I did, if they were in my position.

Magazine Interviewer: And how exactly did you find yourself in that position? Most good people don’t get themselves recruited by a terrorist organization. How were they so wrong about you?

Fiore Stern: Well, they just had a bad algorithm, I guess. I did go to prison—I won’t lie about that. What they didn’t realize is I didn’t spend my entire time locked up just sitting on my cot, being pissed off at the world. I was thinking about my mistakes, and learning in the library, and trying to become a better person. So while my record might have made me look like a perfect candidate for an illegal bomb-making company, my heart didn’t really want that. They were wrong, because they just looked at me on the surface. That’s kind of why I was having trouble finding work in the first place.

Magazine Interviewer: So, when they offered you the job at a fertilizer company, did you think you would end up here?

Fiore Stern: Absolutely. I mean, I didn’t know you would be interviewing me, or that I would start having fans, of all things. I did know that I wanted to take them down. From the moment I was in that interview, to the day before the government finally raided all of their facilities at once, I knew it was my responsibility to rid the world of this scum. Did you see all those bomb containers? It was awful.

Magazine Interviewer: Wait, you knew in the interview? You knew that early, before you even started?

Fiore Stern: Of course, they tried to entice me with the fact that I would be part of something dark and twisted.

Magazine Interviewer: Yet you took the job.

Fiore Stern: I sure did. I know what you’re getting at here. You see, I could have gone to the cops right then and there. I could have told that interviewer that I wanted no part of his business, and that I was going to get them in trouble. But what would that have gotten us? He might have killed me on the spot at worst, and no one would have suspected them, or the company could have destroyed evidence, and done whatever else they needed to do to make themselves not look guilty. I had to infiltrate them in order to get anything done. The authorities needed evidence, and that took time. And in that time, I knew I was working for a bad group of people. But I kept going, because it was important. Because it was the right thing to do.

Magazine Interviewer: Well, if the internet response is any indication, the world is grateful for your efforts. Now, tell me. Were you at all culpable for your participation in the company? Did the federal agents think you were involved in anything yourself? If you didn’t approach them until later, it seems you might have unwillingly been part of some criminal activity.

Fiore Stern: Well, indirectly, yes. I knew what they were, and I was technically helping them make money. I was part of the front business, however. We helped customers fertilize their gardens, just like any legitimate company would. They wouldn’t let me anywhere near the bomb stuff. I had to sneak in and steal evidence, but I was a lot closer than any real cop would have been.

Magazine Interviewer: Interesting. That’s such an amazing story. Now. Tell me about your co-workers. A lot of people died during the raid, but two of your colleagues were found dead in their homes later on. What do you suppose happened?

Fiore Stern: I think they just happened to not be at work that day—for whatever reasons—but they realized they had been caught, so they took their own lives. They probably didn’t want to go to jail. I don’t blame ‘em. It helped me improve myself, but not everyone is so lucky. Some people just get worse while behind bars.

Magazine Interviewer: Yes, that’s true. Why don’t you tell us what’s next for Fiore Stern? What does a terrorist-catcher do after he’s caught his terrorists? Any plans to go into law enforcement?

Fiore Stern: No, I don’t think so. I think I’m just gonna go look for a real company now. I still love flowers, and other plantlife.

Magazine Interviewer: Oh, that’s nice.

Microstory 1394: Misdirection

< > Table of Contents

Garden Terrorist 1: Mr. Stern! I see you’ve survived! How was it?

Fiore Stern: It was simultaneously the best, and worst, thing I’ve ever experienced in my life. What was the deal with that sheep? Did everybody get to do that?

Garden Terrorist 2: A lot of the tests are all about loyalty, but that one was about how strong your stomach is. I mean, if you can kill a sheep that slowly, I imagine you can do just about anything.

Fiore Stern: Yeah, it didn’t bother me at all.

Garden Terrorist 3: I was watching you from a distance. You hold the record for longest sheep suffering. You should be proud of yourself.

Fiore Stern: Oh, interesting. So, this is a suitability interview?

Garden Terrorist 2: Ah, it’s not really an interview. We’re here to get to know you, so we can start to build some trust.

Fiore Stern: You guys work in the gardens?

Garden Terrorist 1: Yeah, that’s all we do.

Garden Terrorist 3: In fact, they don’t want us to know anything about what’s really going on in this organization.

Fiore Stern: What is really going on in this organization? And could you speak directly into my shirt collar?

Garden Terrorist 2: Haha! I love this guy. You’re gonna do just fine here, Sterny. That’s what we’ll call you; Sterny.

Garden Terrorist 3: Severe.

Fiore Stern: Huh?

Garden Terrorist 3: We’ll call you Severe. It’s a synonym for stern, ain’t it? Makes you sound mysterious, and dangerous.

Garden Terrorist 2: Oo, I like that. Yeah, that’s much better. Have a drink, Severe.

Garden Terrorist 1: Severe is a perfect name. You certainly lived up to it when you drained that sheep, and when you beat that man half to death.

Fiore Stern: Yeah, who was that? Does he work here?

Garden Terrorist 3: Yeah, but he tested much lower than you.

Garden Terrorist 2: And he’s a masochist.

Garden Terrorist 1: So he volunteers to be the punching bag for Stage Two of initiation.

Fiore Stern: Well, I almost killed him full to death.

Garden Terrorist 1: That’s the risk we all take. You can’t work for us if you’re afraid of a little danger.

Garden Terrorist 2: Or a little pain.

Fiore Stern: I have no problem with pain. I just prefer to be the one doling it out.

Garden Terrorist 2: Ha! There he goes again with that sharp humor! Get him another drink, you whatever your name is.

Garden Terrorist 1: Actually, go get us a keg.

Fiore Stern: So, I wanted to ask you guys something, and I hope I’m not out of line. I understand that I’m not here to be involved in the main business, but what if I were to have...let’s call them extracurriculars?

Garden Terrorist 3: Oh, I see what he’s sayin’. This boy likes to play. We all have our extracurriculars.

Garden Terrorist 1: Rule number one, don’t do anything to jeopardize this organization. You can have a life outside of it, but if you get caught, you better keep us out of it. We’ll deny having any knowledge of whatever it is you like, which will be plausible, because you won’t be telling us. Obviously, we have people in law enforcement who work for us, but you won’t ever know who, so there’s no one out there you can trust. You feel me?

Fiore Stern: I got it. We’re good. I’ll keep to myself.

Garden Terrorist 3: Well, drink up! The world’s ours now.

Microstory 1393: Terror

< > Table of Contents

Fertilizer Developer: Terror Guard 1, Terror Guard 2, Terror Guard 3. This is Fiore Stern. He’s very excited to start working with us, aren’t you, Fiore?

Fiore Stern: Uh. I am.

Fertilizer Developer: Great. Well, he needs to go through clearance, so go ahead and take care of that for me. I’ll be back for ya in two days.

Fiore Stern: Two days? Just how long is this thing?

Terror Guard 1: The interview will only take a few minutes.

Terror Guard 2: But we’ll need to test your loyalty.

Terror Guard 3: That will be the hardest thirty-six hours of your life.

Fiore Stern: Now you’re scaring me.

Terror Guard 1: You should be scared.

Terror Guard 2: This job is not for the faint of heart.

Terror Guard 3: Are you ready?

Fiore Stern: I am. Ask your questions. I’m up for anything, even if it hurts.

Terror Guard 1: We don’t have access to your résumé, so if you’ve already answered these before...we don’t apologize. If you can’t handle a little bit of repetition, you won’t survive here.

Terror Guard 2: Have you ever been convicted of a felony?

Fiore Stern: Yes. I went to prison for two years.

Terror Guard 3: For what?

Fiore Stern: Animal cruelty.

Terror Guard 2: Are you guilty?

Fiore Stern: Indeed.

Terror Guard 1: Do you regret what you did?

Fiore Stern: I was just doing an experiment. I wanted to see how long it would take for the stray cat to die if I kept from feeding it.

Terror Guard 2: So you’re a curious fellow. That’s both a good, and a bad, thing here.

Terror Guard 3: We want you to want to understand the world.

Terror Guard 2: And we want you to want to make it better.

Terror Guard 1: But there are things about our organization that you will not be allowed to know.

Terror Guard 3: Some doors will always be closed to you.

Fiore Stern: I understand.

Terror Guard 3: You will be expected to question authority.

Terror Guard 1: Unless that authority is us.

Fiore Stern: Naturally. I want to do what I can to help.

Terror Guard 2: Good. Have you ever made or used a bomb before?

Fiore Stern: Does a cherry bomb count? Or should I say bombs. I once blew up my neighbor’s garden with thirty cherry bombs.

Terror Guard 1: Really? Terror Guard 3?

Terror Guard 3: That’s worth about an eighth of a stick of dynamite.

Terror Guard 2: Were you not arrested for this as well?

Fiore Stern: This was back when I was a little kid. And no one ever found out what I did. She killed my dog with poison, so I wanted to make sure she couldn’t do that again.

Terror Guard 2: Did you love that dog?

Fiore Stern: No, but I don’t like when people work against me, whether the act itself bothers me or not.

Terror Guard 1: Justice. That’s exactly what we’re all about.

Fiore Stern: I can appreciate that. I don’t know much about explosives, except that fertilizer can be used for it. So I assume that’s what you do. I’m eager to learn, but I kind of have a thing for poisonous plants, so if there’s anything I can do on that front, I sure wouldn’t mind.

Terror Guard 1: You won’t be much involved in the engineering department; not until you prove yourself, at least. You’ll definitely be working with plants, but only so the authorities don’t figure out what we’re really up to.

Fiore Stern: It would be an honor to protect you.

Terror Guard 1: Good. I think he’s ready. Don’t you?

Terror Guard 2: I do.

Terror Guard 3: As do I.

Fiore Stern: Absolutely.

Terror Guard 3: Then put this over your head. Welcome to hell, kid.

Microstory 1392: Fertilizer

< > Table of Contents

Fertilizer Developer: Mr. Fiore, thanks for coming in.

Fiore Stern: No, thank you. I’ve been having a hell of a time getting interviews. I had honestly forgotten about this posting. It’s been a couple months.

Fertilizer Developer: I bet you have, and yes it has. We like to be...particular.

Fiore Stern: Oh, okay. That makes sense, and I guess that’s a good sign.

Fertilizer Developer: It is. Now. It says here you graduated with honors from Hillside University?

Fiore Stern: That’s right. Go Wild Turkeys!

Fertilizer Developer: Right. Well, we do things a little differently here. The first time we run a background check on someone we’re interested in comes before the interview, using a system called Generiport. It quickly verifies certain key information. I’m talkin’ minutes. We know where you went to high school and college, if you’re a citizen, whether you have a criminal history, and a few other bits of info. It doesn’t get too deep, but it gets us just enough information to see if we want to pursue you.

Fiore Stern: Oh. I understand, I’ll go.

Fertilizer Developer: No, don’t do that.

Fiore Stern: Well, you’re obviously about to tell me you know I have a criminal record, and that I didn’t go to college at all.

Fertilizer Developer: That was indeed what I was going to say, but I wasn’t going to tell you it would be a problem. You see, here at Hemming Fertilizer, we look for candidates just like you. We’re about more than just fertilizing gardens. We help the country by keeping its citizens in line. Some don’t like it, but it is our sacred duty, and people like you are vital to that mission.

Fiore Stern: Really? Are you trying to tell me that you regularly hire criminals, and not as part of a public service program, but to use the skills they possess as criminals?

Fertilizer Developer: [...] That’s exactly what I’m telling you.

Fiore Stern: I don’t know what to say.

Fertilizer Developer: I told you about the quick report we ran, but what I didn’t tell you is that your résumé triggered a more comprehensive report, which involves one of our people going through your entire history with a fine-toothed comb. We know about the things you’ve done, and the things done to you. We know the reason you didn’t go to Hillside U is because they wouldn’t take someone who had—give me a second—and I quote, a peculiar and unsettling preoccupation with poisonous plants, and the body decomposition process. Apparently you were caught trying to use the school library?

Fiore Stern: The library never said it was for students only. They just didn’t like what I wanted to research.

Fertilizer Developer: I don’t doubt it.

Fiore Stern: So that quote. The security guard wrote that, and kept my name on file, even though I wasn’t a student, and wasn’t arrested?

Fertilizer Developer: He did, but don’t worry. We took care of it.

Fiore Stern: What do you mean?

Fertilizer Developer: I mean, if someone were to look you up in campus security records, they wouldn’t find anything about you. We couldn’t clear your criminal record—or the time you spent in prison because of what you did—but we got rid of all the evidence that put you there.

Fiore Stern: It sounds like you got me in your debt.

Fertilizer Developer: We don’t like to look at it that way. We see this as an opportunity for you to contribute to society in a way you never knew was possible. Let’s go talk to the clearance department.

Microstory 1391: Poison

< > Table of Contents

Fiore Stern: Good afternoon. I’m looking for books about poisonous plants, particularly those with flowers.

College Librarian: Okay. Well, all the books about plants are in the 580s. Why don’t you follow me into the stacks?

Fiore Stern: Okay, thanks.

College Librarian: I might be able to narrow it down further. What is the assignment asking you to do?

Fiore Stern: It’s not for an assignment. I’m just learning about them on my own.

College Librarian: Oh, all right. Let me see. Yes, 582 is all about flowering plants. I’m not sure there’s a section about toxic plants, though. I would say 581 is your best bet, though. Those books get really specific about plant life topics. Oh, here we go. Here’s one that looks promising. This one might be of use to you as well. I also recommend something like this. It appears to contain a lot of beginner’s information, so you know where to start with your research. Let’s see, this one is about hiking, and what to do if you come across poison ivy, or something.

Fiore Stern: Nah, I don’t really need that. I’m more interested in plants that can be turned into teas, or something.

College Librarian: I thought you needed to know about poisonous plants.

Fiore Stern: Yes.

College Librarian: Mister...

Fiore Stern: Stern.

College Librarian: Mr. Stern, are you looking to do something bad or violent with this knowledge?

Fiore Stern: Of course not, that would be ridiculous. Besides, how could anything I learn in the library be bad?

College Librarian: Actually, lots of information in these books can be used for malicious purposes. Why, even a sports book that teaches you how to swing a bat at a ball could theoretically also teach you to swing it at someone’s head.

Fiore Stern: What are ya gonna do, call the cops, or something?

College Librarian: If you tell me you’re planning to use these books to hurt someone, in any way, then I have to do what I can to help you channel your emotions into something positive. Is there someone who’s angered you? Are you having unwanted feelings?

Fiore Stern: I wouldn’t call any of my feelings unwanted.

College Librarian: Well, the psychology books are all in the 150s, and that’s as far as someone in my profession is going to be able to go for you. If you think you need some real help, might I suggest the mental health floor in the university clinic? I can walk you down there, if you would like.

Fiore Stern: I don’t need any help, I’m fine. You’re blowing this way out of proportion. I just wanted to study hemlock, and all the ways people have died in history. Like, I wanna know how we found out they were poisonous? I mean, nobody had a bunch of science equipment hundreds of years ago, or whenever it was, yet we figured out it should be called poison sumac. Well, how did that happen? Who got hurt figuring that out? Who had to die first?

College Librarian: So, your interest is purely academic?

Fiore Stern: Absolutely.

College Librarian: Okay. In that case, this book here is about botanical history. I’m no expert in the field, so I can’t tell you if it’s going to give you exactly what you’re looking for, but you should be fine if you take this whole stack.

Fiore Stern: I really appreciate it, thanks.

College Librarian: You’re welcome.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: Tuesday, April 4, 2028

« < » > Table of Contents

The first thing they did was let Leona get caught up with her mother, whose last few years of her life were somewhat uneventful. Despite this being a harsh world to live in, there were, at least, no dangerous people around. Having never seen humans before, some of the predatory animals posed serious threat to the camp, but they weren’t impossible to deal with. They did once see a creature that looked more like a dog, and less like a wolf, so that suggested humans evolved at some point, but died out however long ago after that. An archaeologist or anthropologist would probably have a grand ol’ time studying this whole planet. Their first encounter with another person came when FBI Agent Austin Miller found them one evening after spotting the smoke from their fire. Miller was not happy with the fact that they knew his real name was Hello Doctor, but it was once part of Declan’s curriculum. For his training, he was expected to learn as much past and future history as possible. His teacher, Darko didn’t want him to be surprised by the appearance of anyone in his life; friend of foe. It was the only subject he studied that his classmate, Slipstream did not also study. She remained in the dark about time travel until years later.

Evidently, Agent Miller discovered time travel himself in 2026, when one of the Springfield Nine wreaked havoc on Kansas City, for hazy reasons. Paige Turner was able to erase most of the damage he had done, so that few could remember anything had ever happened. Miller happened to be one of these few, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. Either way, it inspired him to investigate the matter in secret, starting with a temporal object he found called The Omega Gyroscope. He discovered this thing could either create or access alternate timelines. He was in the middle of a long-term study of one of these realities when Paige returned with her fathers, and a group of other people who were trying to stop whatever he had planned. Miller was reluctant to explain his motives clearly to Declan and Carol, but whatever they were, they resulted in him becoming trapped in the other timeline, along with the Reaver-Demir gang. Everyone else managed to escape, but Miller had to sacrifice himself to make it happen. When he did, he somehow ended up here, in this empty world.

“Can you get me back?” Miller asked.

A third of the group looked to Holly Blue for the answer, while another third sought Leona’s expert opinion. The last third waited for Ramses to respond. “We sure can,” J.B. said, confusing everyone. He was a great guy and all, but he had been a salmon his whole life, so his educational experience was sadly limited. “What? Jupiter said we could go back with the people we return to the main reality. If we could go back, then anyone else should be able to as well. All we need to know is when and where the transition window is.”

As if commanded by J.B.’s words, their cuffs all beeped simultaneously. It was directing them to the northwest, for a distance of about nine kilometers. Carol Gelen was very fit and young for her age, but she was still seventy-eight years old, and nine kilometers was a lot. It would take them around two hours to get there at regular pace, but if she slowed them down, they might not make it in time. There was no way to know, because the Cassidy cuff didn’t give them a window deadline.

“She’ll be fine,” Declan explained. “I built something for this exact problem.” He led them around back, to a tool shed sort of thing. Inside was a little cart, just large enough for one person to sit in. Straps were attached to the front, suggesting that it could be pulled by a goat, or a large dog. But that wasn’t the case. Declan put the straps over his own shoulders, and rolled it out of the shed to give Carol more space to step in. She did so with no argument, implying that they had already discussed this, and it was the plan all along. Declan grabbed the end of a second set of straps from just inside the cart, and handed them to Mateo. “We’ll go ahead and get going. The rest of you should fill up on fourth meal, and catch up with us.”

Austin Miller pulled a portable torch out of the stockpile, and lit it from one of the ground torches. Then all four of them headed out. They were over halfway through the trek by the time the others caught up with them a couple hours later. They weren’t exactly walking on a paved road, so the wheels still slowed them down, but at least Carol didn’t have to exert all of her energy.

Once they were at their destination, Ramses lifted up his cuff, and looked through the augmented reality. “They’re train tracks. Like. A lot of them.”

“Ah, the railyard,” Declan said. “Makes sense.”

A familiar horn rang out while Mateo was sitting in the cart to have a rest. “Am I the only one who can hear that?” he asked.

“No, we can as well,” Holly Blue confirmed.

“The Transit will probably be coming from another universe,” Mateo said, “rather than just another reality. Why are we here?”

“I don’t know what it is,” Holly Blue admitted. No one else did either. Leona and Ramses had both heard of The Transit from The Stitcher, but neither of them knew anything about it.

Only Mateo seemed to have any real knowledge. “It’s a giant train that recruits people for some multiverse army.”

As proof, the Transit appeared from its portal, and stopped before them. The doorway opened, and none other than Slipstream herself stepped out. “Declan.”

“Bo!” he shouted at medium volume.

“It’s been a long time,” she said. “Longer for me, I bet.”

“What’s going on here?” Holly Blue demanded to know.

“Declan Aberdeen,” Slipstream continued, sort of ignoring her. “You have been conscripted to The Transit Army to fight the Ochivari.”

“Do I have a choice?” Declan asked.

Slipstream hesitated to answer. “We’re the good guys. You may technically refuse, but...I wouldn’t recommend it. We need you.”

“Dec,” Holly Blue said, “no.”

“You let me train to become a superhero,” Declan said to his mother. “This is my chance to finally put my skills to good use.”

“A superhero, and a soldier, are two very different things,” she argued.

“He’ll be using the skills he has,” Slipstream explained to her. “Some people, like me, will just be there for hand-to-hand combat. Other people have powers. Others, like Declan, have tech. He’ll be fighting alongside the greatest warriors the bulkverse has ever seen, across thousands of worlds. We don’t plan to die. This isn’t that kind of war.”

“I don’t want him going to any kind of war,” Holly Blue maintained.

“Mom,” Declan started, “I gotta go. I love you.”

“No.”

“No, you don’t love me too?”

“No, I’m not letting you go.”

Declan took her into a hug, and repeated, “I love you.”

She hugged him back, but could not echo his words, because in this situation, I love you was just a synonym for goodbye, and probably from her perspective, also meant you’re going to die, so I won’t ever see you again. So she couldn’t say that.

And then he went off to war.

When the Transit disappeared through its portal, no one’s memories were erased, and Mateo didn’t understand why. They didn’t have time to question it, though. Just like before with Carol’s arrival, the scenery flickered in and out of existence. They saw a man standing on the tracks, his legs tied to both rails. His eyes were shut tightly, waiting for the train on its way to come clear him from the face of the Earth. It was only meters from colliding with him when the transition completed, and pulled him all the way into The Parallel. Now that he was no longer flickering, Mateo and Leona could see that they knew the man. It was Elder Caverness, also known affectionately as Guard Number One. Along with Kolby Morse, he once detained Mateo in the second main reality, and sent him off to meet his police detective cousin, Danica.

Elder reopened his eyes, but kept his face scrunched up. Once he looked over, and found that he was perfectly safe, he breathed a sigh of relief. “Ah, you saved me! Thanks a bunch!” He tried to step towards them, but couldn’t. “But why am I still tied up?” Now he narrowed his eyes. “What do you want?”

“Someone else saved you,” Mateo explained to him. “He kept you tied up. We can free you, but just give us a little bit.”

Austin Miller stepped over with his torch. “I can take care of those ropes, since we don’t have any real knives, and those knots look impossible.” It took some time, but he managed to burn Elder’s ropes enough to free him.

“Thanks, Geri Thomas,” Elder said.

“Who?” Miller questioned.

“Don’t worry about it.” A traumatized Elder walked some distance from the tracks, and looked around some more. “Where the hell is the highway?”

“You’re in a different reality now,” Leona replied.

“Oh, okay,” Elder said.

J.B. consulted his cuff. “The next transition window is thirteen hours that way.” He pointed. “I guess the exit is sometimes in a different place than the entrance.”

Before they could formulate a plan, the Transit horn sounded again. It reappeared in the exact same way as before. Slipstream didn’t walk out of it this time, though. Neither did Saga or her new partner. It was someone none of them seemed to know, and she didn’t walk out at all. She literally flew over to them, and landed gracefully on the ground. “Hi. My name is Ellen Snider. I’m looking for Elder Caverness.”

“That’s me,” he piped up.

“You wanna go fight some aliens?” she offered.

“Yeah, okay,” he agreed. He took her by the hand, and let her lead him back up towards the train.

“Wait,” Holly Blue stopped them. “Where’s my son?”

“Who’s your son?” Ellen asked.

“Declan Aberdeen. He may be going by Declan Blue.”

“Hmm,” Ellen said. She pulled up a phone, and started swiping through it. “Declan Aberdeed. Yeah, he was conscripted four years ago. They dropped him back home a few months later. You haven’t seen him?”

“No, he must be back in the main timeline, in some other time period.” Holly Blue looked relieved.

“Oh wait,” Ellen said. “This is called salmonverse, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Holly Blue replied.

“Yeah, he’s not here,” Ellen said apologetically. “Most branes don’t have names, and this particular world is one of the unnamed. “I’m sorry, I’m just a recruiter. I don’t know why they placed him there, but it indicates that they did it on purpose, or that he requested relocation. I wish I could help.”

Holly Blue was seething. “Just go.”

The tried walking away again.

“Wait,” Austin Miller jumped in. “Can I come with?”

Ellen tilted her head. “You’re not on my list.”

“So, what? You need fighters, right? I’m a trained FBI agent.”

“I don’t know what that is,” Ellen said. “But come on. We do indeed have a few volunteers. They have to go through more rigorous testing, though, since their timeline doesn’t exhibit their abilities well.”

And so Hello Doctor went off to war as well, along with Elder Caverness, leaving Holly Blue at a loss. At least her son was still alive. Of course, time travel being what it was, being alive at any point in time wasn’t really relevant to someone who existed at some other point. Things were even less concrete when accounting for other universes, whose timelines didn’t sync up with each other in the slightest. She had to find a way to get to this other world, and she had to be there in the same time period as him. She should have thought to ask for a ride before the Transit left again. There were no more fighters in the group, so it probably wouldn’t show up a third time. She just wasn’t thinking clearly. Or perhaps she was only trying to believe he was exactly where he belonged. Surely innocent people required his services in this other brane.

Mateo, Ramses, and J.B. took turns carting Carol towards the transition window. Everyone else scouted ahead, and did their best to clear a path to make it go more smoothly. There wasn’t much time to blaze a trail, though, so they mostly just picked up sticks, and kicked rocks away. They arrived with plenty of time to have another meal, and send Carol back home. Unfortunately, she would be alone, but they gave her directions to the Salmon Civic Center, where someone there would almost certainly help her get her life back on track. Either way, she would most likely be dead by the time they had any chance of seeing her again. The next jump took them just over nineteen years into the future.

« < » > Table of Contents

Varkas Reflex: Thought (Part III)

< > Entire Story

Osiris seemed like a genuine person, who legitimately wanted to help people. Hokusai probably needn’t worry about what he was going to try to do with her technology, but that was rarely the problem. Most technological advancements didn’t risk falling into the wrong hands so much as each development inevitably led to further developments. Sure, you have things like the Manhattan Project, which was specifically designed to kill people, and the scientists working on the problem of fission knew exactly that that was the goal. But most of the time, science must, and will, press forward, and the best one can hope for is understanding consequences. At first, dimensional gravity was used to allow people to walk around on this heavy world in designated areas. Then it was used to launch ships into the sky. Now it was being used to help people move around anywhere, with their own personal gravitational field. This all sounded very good and benevolent, but each application could transform, and that could happen in the blink of an eye.

Given enough time and motivation, someone with dimensional gravity could create an execution platform. They could launch a vulnerable living being into the empty, or they could increase gravity, and crush them like a soda can. They could create a handheld weapon that tore a target apart, with each limb being drawn in a different direction. They could design regular-sized missiles that traveled interstellar distances at such mind-boggling speeds—and thus contained ungodly amounts of energy—and destroy a whole planet. Plus, manipulating gravity also means manipulating time, so something like this could be used to imprison people for years, while only seconds passed for those outside the prison. These were just the risks that Hokusai could come up with on the top of her head, and they only involved the artificial gravity aspect of it. Tapping into other temporal or spatial dimensions could come with even worse consequences.

Osiris appeared to sense that her concerns had not gone away, which they never would. Still, he was determined to help alleviate them any way he could. “Come. I want to show you one last thing for the day.” He led them farther down the hallway, until reaching a very ominous door at the end. The sign said, Gravity Weapons Laboratory.

“This. This is exactly what I was worried about. I can’t believe you—!”

“Open the door, Madam Gimura,” Osiris said.

Hokusai could only shake her head in disappointment, so Pribadium decided to open the door herself. On the other side was nothing but a stone wall. “Is it a hologram?” she asked. To answer her own question, she reached up to find a real, physical wall.

“What is this?” Loa questioned, kind of protectively of her wife.

“It’s a symbol,” Osiris began to explain. “This is no trick. It’s not a secret transporter that takes you to the lab. The lab doesn’t exist, and it never will. We built this door to remind us that nothing we need is on the other side of it, and it never needs to become a room. As long as we’re in charge of this technology, it won’t be abused, and we will remain in charge as long as we’re alive, and if we do die, it dies with us. We’ve been very careful to quarantine the information. Only a few key people understand how it works.” He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small spherical cube box with a single button. It almost resembled a detonator. He handed it to Hokusai.

“Conceptual understanding of dimensional gravity was copied and sequestered on eight neural implants. Every time we want to do something with the knowledge, those in the know have to access the data using the implant. Practical application runs directly from this chip, and into our hands. Incoming data runs directly back to the implant, and we no longer share information. I, for instance, don’t actually know how gravity clothes work. Nor does anyone else, except for Dr. Petrić.”

“What is this?” Hokusai asked, indicating the sphube.

“The implants are airgapped, and they come with a single vulnerability,” Osiris went on. “A radio signal sourced from this box will disable the implants almost instantaneously. Now you’re the one in control of it. If you decide to erase everyone’s access, that’s what will happen.”

Hokusai looked down at her doomsday device. “Will it hurt?”

“I don’t think so,” Osiris answered. “Even if it does, the pain will be minimal, and temporary.”

She now half-frowned at the device. “Okay.” And with that, she pressed the button. A squeal escaped from it, and made its way through the air beyond them.

Osiris pressed his fingers against the top right side of his head. It didn’t look extremely painful, but more like he had accidentally bumped it against the edge of the coffee table after retrieving his contacts from underneath. Tiny massive weights hooked themselves to his eyelids, and he only barely fought against them. He quickly succumbed to the fatigue, and collapsed to the floor.

“Was that supposed to happen?” Loa asked.

“It’s not what he said.” Pribadium knelt down, and checked his pulse. “He’s still alive, just sleeping.”

“I don’t feel bad,” Hokusai said. “He gave me the button.”

“No one’s blaming you,” Loa assured her.

Pribadium walked a few meters down the hallway to the emergency box. There were two buttons. One was for urgent need, and the other simply connected with dispatch. She pressed the latter.

“Can I help you?”

“We need assistance transporting an unconscious man to the nearest medical facility.”

“A carrier is being sent to your location. It has been programmed to transport him to where the others are being taken. Please follow behind for routine questioning.”

A couple minutes later, a hover gurney appeared, and wedged itself under Osiris’ right side. Hokusai and Pribadium worked to drag him onto it, so it could take him to the infirmary. An investigator was waiting for them. Five unconscious people were already there. The other two were hopefully on their way, so they too could be treated. The investigator was taking someone else’s statement, and adding notes to a computer system that had been grafted onto the skin on his forearm.

“This is what did it.” Hokusai handed him the detonator sphube.

“What is it?” he asked her.

Hokusai felt no need to hide the truth. “You should find neural chips in each of their brains. These chips contained very sensitive information. The box was engineered as a failsafe, to prevent this information from leaking.”

The investigator nodded. “The gravity data. Yes, I know of it. Why was it activated?”

“He placed me in control of it, and I decided to use it.”

“Forgive me,” he said, “but we’ll have to wait until we revive them to determine whether you’re telling the truth.”

“Of course.”

“I’m sure they are.” The scientist who was observing the gravity children before stepped into the room. The seventh hover gurney followed her through, and took its place next to the others.

“How are you awake?” Hokusai asked, almost accusingly.

“That’s what we need to discuss,” the scientist replied. She faced the investigator. “You may go now. I’m invoking scientific immunity for everyone involved.”

The investigator switched off his arm interface. “Very well.”

“I’ll take that,” the scientist said before he could leave. Then she snatched the box out of his hand.

A robot surgeon removed itself from the wall, and began to perform brain surgery on the patients, starting with Osiris.

“My name is Katica Petrić. I was responsible for human gravitational adaptation, and there’s a secret I never told anyone; not even Osiris.”

Hokusai figured she understood. “You’re immune to the button.”

“Not exactly. I mean, no more or less than anyone else who didn’t have a gravity chip in their brain. Eleven years ago, my colleague was experimenting with dimensional energy. He was taking his job beyond his mandate, and because of it, something went wrong. I had to go down and release the energy before it blew another crater into the planet. Obviously I survived, but the incident had a side effect. The chip—for a reason I don’t know, because I’m not a neurologist—released all of its data into my mind, and then it melted. I was under the knife for hours while a surgical robot cleaned the chip out of my gray matter. It could do nothing for my memory, however. That button won’t work on me, because I possess knowledge of dimensional gravity that can’t be erased without seriously damaging my mind. I’m more like you now.”

Hokusai nodded. “No technology is foolproof.”

“Are you going to kill me?” Katica asked.

“Of course not.” Loa was more insulted than her wife. “We used the button as it was intended, for people who we presume consented to the eventuality. We don’t kill, and if your team hadn’t thought of the chips in the first place, then we just would have trusted that you wouldn’t do anything wrong with the knowledge.”

“You obviously didn’t want anyone using this knowledge anymore, though,” Katica began, “so I agree to retire.”

Pribadium had been searching her own memory archives since the first time she heard the name. “You’re a Petrić, as in the Kansas City Petrićs?”

“Yes,” Katica confirmed. “Third generation.”

“Thor told me about you,” Pribadium said. “I mean, he told us about your family, and the other three Croatian families. You’re kind of the unsung heroes of Kansas-Missouri history.”

She laughed. “I dunno, they sing songs about the Matics, and Bozhena.”

“But no one else,” Pribadium argued lightly. “That’s not my point, though. From what I gather, your family, in particular, has always been fully aware of salmon and choosers.”

Katica knew she had been found out. “Every Petrić is born without the ability to move backwards in time, but we’ve all been protectors in our own human ways. I’ve been deeply invested in what happens to salmon since we found out what my adoptive brother and sister were.”

“Who were your brother and sister?” Hokusai asked.

“Mario and Daria,” Katica answered. “The Kingmaker, and The Savior of Earth from 1981 to 2034.”

“You don’t just protect salmon,” Pribadium pointed out. “You’ve been protecting the vonearthans from them. You got yourself onto this team to prevent it from growing out of control.”

Katica turned to watch the surgeon continue removing the neural implants from her colleagues. “I do what I have to.”

“Your story was a lie,” Hokusai accused. “There was no energy generation accident. You removed the chip, and kept the knowledge for yourself.”

“Oh, no, there was a definite energy crisis, and I did have to stop it,” Katica contended. “I also just happened to be the person who started it. If I didn’t do something to prevent them from learning too much, Beaver Haven Pen would have imprisoned them all.” She dragged her knuckles against her upper teeth, presumably as a nervous tick. “I modified the killswitch for the same reason.”

“Are you telling me this is a real killswitch?” Hokusai was horrified.

“No, sorry, that’s not what I meant. It’s just...”

“What?” Loa prodded.

“The chips didn’t work. No one else knew, but there was no way of sequestering the information. The longer the data was in their heads, and the more they used this data to invent things, the more their brains absorbed. Mine did it faster, because I already had some preexisting knowledge, but it would have happened to them eventually, and I can’t be sure they would have all been as noble as Osiris was about it.”

“What did you do?” Hokusai pressed.

“I didn’t just modify the button,” Katica started to say. “I had to alter the chips themselves. I turned them into gateways to the brains. When you pushed that button, it did exactly as you wanted, but because the chips were no longer the only issues, the memory wipe had to be more...comprehensive.”

Just then after a few minutes of recovery, Osiris started to reawaken.

Ever the mothering type, Loa glided over, and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I think so,” he replied. “I do have two questions, though. Who are you? And who am I?”

< > Entire Story