Glisnia: Otter Eyes (Part VI)

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Once the plenum was over, it was time for Hokusai to go see Hilde. Her relationship with her daughter was not bad, but they did have kind of a bizarre way of interacting with each other, and it all came down to a book. Back before either of them knew anything about time travel, and related phenomena, Hokusai read Hilde a book. They actually read it together, switching off at each chapter break, to teach the young one how, and to do something as a family. It was just the two of them, moving from city to city. Hilde’s biological father was in prison; one of the too few examples where a rapist was actually punished for what they did. Besides the whole rape thing, he was the kind of asshole who didn’t care about his family, which turned out to be a blessing. He could have just as easily been obsessed with forming a twisted relationship of his own with his daughter. There was no reason to believe, when he got out, he would ever pursue them, but the whole experience messed with Hokusai’s head, and her trust in people. And she never felt safe in one place for very long.

She kept her own name, but gave Hilde a different surname, so they could lie to the new people they met, and claim that the imaginary Bob Unger was a great guy, who died too young. Hilde grew up knowing the truth about her origins—Hokusai never lied to her—but this dynamic was what ultimately gave them their untraditional relationship. Well, it wasn’t the only thing that did that. After all, there were only twelve years separating them. When people said they thought the two of them were sisters, it wasn’t just a pick-up line; they legitimately presumed this to be the case, and they were forgiven for this. Hokusai knew she was too young to be a mother, but she loved her child, had the money to support her, assistance from an aunt early on, and the capacity to care for her. It only ended when the portal that Hogarth accidentally created sent the entire town of Springfield, Kansas to another planet, sweeping Hilde along with it, and leaving Hokusai behind.

The two of them were eventually reunited, but only after some time without each other, and because of a lot of time travel. By then, Hilde was her own person, with a daughter of her own, and that was when the struck a deal. The book they read together those many years ago was about a family who stumbled upon the fountain of youth, and found themselves unable to die. The members of this family didn’t stick together throughout the centuries. They went their separate ways for decades at a time, always with a plan to come back at a certain place, at a certain time. Little Hilde was fascinated by this concept, so much so that she based her whole life around the possibility of becoming immortal, so a few decades to her felt like taking a short trip to the store. When her mother returned, that was what she asked for. They weren’t actually immortal yet, but they were both time travelers, which gave them all of time and space to explore. Hokusai respected Hilde’s wishes, and eventually grew used to the life. Though they were criss-crossing the timeline, they both lived in a time period where immortality was indeed possible, and they had both taken steps to make this happen. But Hilde had just essentially taken the last step by digitizing her consciousness, and this was the first Hokusai was hearing of it.

“But you’re okay.” It might have been a question, but probably more of a hope.

“Yes, mom. I’m okay.”

Hokusai nodded understandingly, but awkwardly. “Are you eating all right?” Okay, it was a really good sign that she was joking.

Hilde tried to hold back a laugh, but couldn’t. “Yes, they give me all the gear lubricant and solar conversion I need.”

Hokusai nodded again, but more comfortably now. “I’m pleased you look the same. I’ve always loved your face, Otter Eyes.”

“Ya know, I never got that reference, but now I do. Except now I don’t get how you knew the reference. That show didn’t come out until I was eighteen.”

“It’s not a reference,” Hokusai explained. “I made it up. I have no idea how the writers got a hold of it. Perhaps one sat next to us in a cafe, and heard me use it.

Hilde was suspicious. There weren’t a whole lot of coincidences once you’ve learned about time travel, and that show was about time travel. Still, she shook it off, and moved on. “I hear you’ve made a lot of progress on Varkas Reflex. You’re inventing a lot of things.”

“Yes. Hogarth didn’t come to the quorums for that stuff, so we weren’t able to catch up. That is a long time ago. I wonder what it looks like at this point in the future.”

“We could find out, as long as you don’t intend to return to the past.”

“We left Loa there, and some other friends,” Hokusai said. “We’ll only be staying for the next eleven years, though.” She would only have to live for that amount of time more before she would rendezvous with Hilde at the Gatewood Collective, where they would stick together for a while, until restarting the separation cycle.

“Oh yeah, you’re with one of the Petrićs, right? Katrina?”

“Katica,” Hokusai corrected. “Yes, she’s been regulating time technology as a representative for the humans.”

“She should be here,” Hilde suggested.

“She can’t. She can’t travel through nonlinear time. It’s like a time affliction, I guess.”

“Ah, I see.”

“That’s my cue.” A woman had come into the room. Hogarth and Hilde didn’t know who she was, but Hokusai did.

“Katica?” She was surprised. “How is this possible?”

“I came here the long way around,” Katica answered. “Well...the medium way. I’m here to object.”

“Object to what?” Hogarth questioned.

“Your little time-siphoning technology,” Katica said. “I cannot allow you to build it without doing my due diligence.”

“The matter is settled,” Hogarth tried to explain. “The meeting is over.”

“I demand representation,” Katica insisted.

“That’s not how this works,” Hogarth volleyed.

“Piglet,” Hilde jumped in. “Be respectful.”

“She’s not part of The Shortlist.”

“Neither am I, but my opinion has mattered in the past. You should hear her out.”

“The plenum is gone,” Hogarth reminded her. “Pribadium, your mother, Holly Blue, and I are the only ones left.”

“I’m here too,” said Ramses.

Everyone jumped. “Oh my God, you are still here.”

“That’s still only five; not enough for a quorum. I’m not even sure if we can reverse a prior decision without reconvening the entire list. Even if I were to allow this outrage at all. The Glisnians are counting on us.”

“I’m not letting you destroy perfectly good stars and orbitals,” Katica argued. “The rest of the galaxy is counting on me.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do. Everyone qualified to make this decision did so. We do not take it lightly, and we are taking every precaution to ensure the safety of the vonearthans, and any Starseed descendants. I assure you there is nothing we have neither considered, nor won’t consider by the time it becomes a problem.”

Katica nodded. “Right. Your shortlist. I have a shorter one.” She removed a card from her back pocket, and slapped it on the table.

Hogarth and Hokusai scooted closer together to look over it. Ramses glided over to look over their shoulders. “Jupiter’s on here twice.”

“There are two Jupiters. We may need one of them, but I don’t know which one to trust. They’re not really on the list. We would just call them if what I propose is accepted.”

“Thor or Saxon?”

“Yes,” Katica confirmed. “Either one will do; whichever you can get. Someone needs to represent Project Stargate.”

“Kestral and Ishida sufficed for that earlier,” Hogarth put forth.

“I want more voices!” Katica’s own voice grew louder with every word. “These are the people who have the galaxy’s best interests at heart; not just the scientists.”

“We understand that,” Hokusai said, “which is why our mediator is never a scientist.”

“That’s not good enough,” Katica contended. “Are you going to play ball, or not? Because if you don’t, I might have to take matters into my own hands. You’re not the only ones with resources and power, and you’re not the only ones worried about consequences.”

“Are you threatening us?” Now Hogarth was getting upset.

“We’ll do it. Holly Blue was standing in the doorway. “Porter is still here, waiting to send the Varkans back home. I’m sure she’ll help us gather this new list.”

Hogarth sighed. Holly Blue was indeed in charge now, but she wasn’t happy. They had just spent hours hashing all this out, and it could all be undone by this bogus new list. “This can’t possibly be the Viana Černý.”

“The very same,” Katica verified.

“Who deveiled her? Or do you plan on doing it yourself now? Beaver Haven might have something to say about that, even this far in the future.”

“She’s pretty smart. She figured it out. The story of how we met is actually rather funny; us realizing we both carried the same secret.”

There was a brief silence. “Fine,” Hogarth acquiesced. “We’ll do it again.”

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Microstory 1470: The Transition Continues

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Since 2100, the city of Aljabara had not gone more than five years without holding an election. Most of these weren’t fair or legitimate, but they did take place, and those who the government decided were worthy of casting votes were free to do so. After the fall of the Republic, there were a lot of decisions that needed to be made in order to sustain the Provisional Government, but these weren’t determined through formal votes. They were polls. A special committee formed which did what they could to understand public opinion, and then used the general consensus to form policy. But no woman alive today had been free to cast a real ballot on Durus, except for Ecrin. The year 2165 was meant to be the time to do that, but this temporary governmental body wasn’t quite prepared for it. The greatest number of people ever, by a huge margin, would be voting in this round of elections, and no one around knew how to handle that. Even the visitors from Earth who had always been part of a democratic system didn’t know how to organize it, because none of them had experience in that field. They did their best, and tried to include everyone, but ballots were lost, or miscounted, or damaged, or people weren’t registered correctly. It was a huge mess. They would have remained in the transitional period even if it had gone smoothly, because no one had written a new Constitution...because no one knew how. Even so, it was a requirement for full-fledged governmental recognition, according to a recent poll. So new people were elected into leadership positions, and new committees were formed to make decisions, but nothing was official, and not everyone recognized the authority bestowed upon certain people from the votes. No one knew whose ballots were counted, and whose weren’t, but people whose preferred candidate lost tended to believe that their voice had been ignored. However close to accurate as it might have managed to be incidentally, no one was completely happy with the results, since it was so unclear. People began to protest, and demanded a revote. Few people were against this happening, except of course people who were still, or now, in power. It didn’t start a war, but the whole thing might have collapsed in a few years if something wasn’t done about it. Fortunately for them, a threat was on the horizon that galvanized the people of Durus into action, and finally forced them to form the Democratic Republic. But until this was official, the people lived under something called the Salmon Battalion Military State.

Microstory 1469: Drumpf is Fired

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One of the first paramounts to rise up after the Hokusai and the Deathspring changed the whole system was a young woman named Andromeda. She was a builder, who could configure building materials in complex and extremely useful ways. She was one of the most powerful people Durus ever saw, save the source mages and Jayde Kovak herself. Because of this, Andromeda garnered a lot of favor amongst both the Earthan refugees, and the Duruen natives. She would later turn Aljabara into a real city, with stable buildings and roads, rather than the haphazard fustercluck it was before. She built outposts as well, like the settlements that formed during the Mage Protectorate. But even before she did all that for them, everyone loved her, and listened to her, much like they did Ecrin, so when she came to some kind of decision, it was tantamount to law. Some insisted on calling her Queen Andromeda, but if they were going to do that, she in turn insisted they address her as Your Badass. It was a play on words, and modeled upon certain other honorifics, like Your Honor, or Your Highness. Despite his higher standing in the Provisional Government, even Drumpf had to acquiesce to her authority. But this authority was not taken, or earned, it was just given to her. Because that was how this new transitional system worked. People trusted whoever proved that they could be trusted, and when that person started to fail them, they demanded the individual be removed from power. For now, this would probably be okay, because of the whole provisional part. But it was not necessarily a good dynamic in the long-term. It could end up okay, like the Adhocracy that formed a hundred and forty years ago. Or it could just lead to anarchy. They needed something better; something more formal, and though it would take a very long time to actually get there, progress towards this goal would start with Andromeda. They held a meeting, where governmental officials pleaded for her to help them with the reconstruction efforts, and she was happy to help, but she had a list of demands.

While the people were busy trying to correct their history of misogyny, they unwittingly fell into another trap of injustice. They treated the people who had come here from Earth a couple years ago as second-class citizens, forcing them to live separately in a refugee camp. The Durune weren’t openly hostile, but they were preoccupied with their own problems, and didn’t want to help these new people. Andromeda had to explain to them that they were all part of the same community now, and if that truth were to be respected, everyone would be able to contribute in their own way, including the Earthans. The Provisional Government had to officially recognize the Earthans as citizens. That didn’t mean they wouldn’t be allowed to leave if an opportunity came about to return to Earth, but it would allow them to enjoy certain privileges, such as moving about the surface of the planet at will. She also engineered a way for Poppet Drumpf to step down as provisor, because she could easily see how toxic he was, and how he had not changed from his past. He wouldn’t have done it on his own, so Andromeda had to ask for help from a friend named Loa, whose time power it was to broadcast what she was seeing to anywhere—or everywhere, as it were—in the world simultaneously. He said some nasty things about his people, and they finally understood that he really hadn’t learned from his past mistakes. It would be a few more years until a round of elections came about, but for now, the government was at least peaceful and stable, and would be allowed to continue trying to make the world a better place. She wouldn’t do it forever, but Andromeda did use her powers to construct homes and other proper buildings, and would die a rare hero in most people’s eyes.

Microstory 1468: Paramount Issue

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By the year 2162, the Provisional Government was well underway. They had successfully shed some of the worst laws that the Republic had instituted, and people were yet to feel like they were taking too long to prepare for a new round of fair elections. That problem would arise after 2165 came and went, but for now, people were happy making piecemeal policy changes, using the leadership who stepped in to fill the void after the previous administration was removed. Despite Drumpf’s constant hesitations when it came to making these changes, he was balanced out with Ecrin’s radically progressive ideas, so things were moving forward at a reasonable pace. A series of laws were proposed that no one asked for, but still made people happy. These extra little decisions weren’t designed to make huge changes to the way society was run, but they did serve a nice purpose. One particular example of this was what they would call people with time powers. No one really understood what was happening, but mage remnants no longer seemed to be remnants anymore. After Durus barely survived colliding with Earth, and created the Deathspring portals, those who had special abilities started noticing an increase in their powers. They were stronger, more precise, more useful. It was as if their fated journey towards annihilation was holding it back, and now that it was subverted, these remnants were free from their bonds. They weren’t mages, though, and a provisional policymaker thought it made sense to formalize this reality. She asked the public to come up with a new term that would replace mage. She proposed a couple of ideas herself, but openly asked for anyone else’s input. It wasn’t the most important thing to do right now, but it had symbolic significance. People wanted to move past their past, and start fresh, as if this world were only now being colonized. The nomenclature of yesterday just reminded them of their mistakes. Over the course of a few weeks, they started paring down the assortment of ideas, until only one was left. People with time powers would now be referred to as paramounts. Historical records would remain as they were when discussing their ancestors who lived during Mage Protectorate, but any powered individual still alive today, or born from now on, would go by the new designation. Again, this didn’t absolutely have to be done, but most people found it a welcome relief to be involved in something so trivial. It showed them that there was more to this world than its history of misogyny, and the monumental work that needed to be put in to fix it. They just needed a win, and the good thing about this vote was that there was no real way to lose. Just about everyone was happy with the results, because they were achieved democratically, and that was what they were striving for all along.

Microstory 1467: Ecrin’s Release

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One of Provisor Drumpf’s first orders of business was to release famed mage hero, Ecrin Cabral from her prison cell, where she had been living for the last sixty years. He wanted to endear himself to her, and to everyone. She spent six decades in relative isolation, and there were few people left around who still believed she had deserved it. How quick they denounced their old ways, and how many of them began to pretend like they weren’t just as much a part of the misogynistic system as everyone else. The planet needed to move forward, yes, but that didn’t mean ignoring their past, and as the years went by, Ecrin Cabral would be there to remind them of how terrible they had been. Even the people born into the system knew what they were doing was wrong. You couldn’t brainwash a child enough to make him grow up and live his whole life under the impression that there was something wrong with the women around him. At some point, they had a responsibility to realize that this was not okay. Until then, Ecrin just wanted to be free, and to try to scrape together some kind of new life. She never had the pleasure of keeping up to date with the goingson of Durus while she was in hock. It was actually illegal for anyone to share information with an inmate, no matter how small or insignificant as it may seem. Ecrin hadn’t heard any news about the outside world since the early 22nd century, which meant that she was going into her new life with a huge disadvantage. One of these disadvantages was that she was completely out of politics, and wasn’t aware of who was in charge, or who had been in charge, and this ignorance extended to the current provisor of Aljabara. She wasn’t told who Drumpf was, or what he had done, but she could still tell that he couldn’t be trusted. A blind person can smell the bullshit in the air. If he was waiting for her support, then he would be waiting for the rest of his life, and then some. Of course, though, he wouldn’t need to wait that long, because his days as a leader were numbered, and she knew that.

For the five years the Provisional Government was up and running, Ecrin used her many years of experience as a protector to guard diplomats as the people of Durus attempted to fix what was broken. Everyone wanted her on their detail, but she refused to be quantum duplicated, so there was only so much she could do. People were just falling over themselves to apologize for what she had been through. Some took too much blame, even though they weren’t around when she was imprisoned in the first place. But some people didn’t take enough responsibility for the system they let stay in place all this time. Ecrin grew a little bit resentful as the months passed following her release, because she could never be satisfied with anyone’s attitude or semantics in regards to how she had been treated. Some even attempted to avoid saying something insensitive and sort of pretended like she was a normal person, but that made her mad too. She had to seek therapy to get by, which was not easy, because all educated psychologists were men, and they had been conditioned under the same misogyny as everyone else. They tried to be empathetic, and help her work through her issues, but the truth was that they didn’t know what the hell they were doing. She declared that all mental health professionals were unfit, and even though she did not technically have the authority to stop them from practicing, everybody just kind of accepted her decision. She realized she could do a lot of good during this transitional period, helping people understand what exactly was wrong. She had been born on Earth, so she had seen pretty much every form of government this world had tried up until they locked her up. That gave her a unique perspective that Aljabara desperately needed. While she still maintained her work in diplomatic security, she used her access to advise the most important people, and when the new republic formed many years later, they used her wisdom as its foundation.

Microstory 1466: Drumpf Returns

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For the next five to seven years, things were really rough on Durus. As great as it was that the world was finally changing, it wasn’t a painless process. The Republic did pretty much die overnight, but its replacement didn’t come until much later. After Hokusai Gimura saved two planets from their destruction, the people rose up, and overthrew the administration. The Thicket spearheaded the effort, but people who had thus far had nothing to do with the revolutionary movement were also in on it. It was not a fun time for anyone who was responsible for maintaining the oppressive government. Regardless of how committed—or secretly against—someone was to misogyny, if he was part of the system, he had to go. Citizens rejoiced for about a week, until reality set in, and they realized that they had no idea what they were going to do now. Every system of government until then had been created to replace whatever was already there. Even the Interstitial Chaos was less chaotic than the name would have it sound. But who could lead them? Remanoir Amrit Bax was nowhere to be found. There was no evidence that he had been killed, however, so the assumption was that he was accidentally transferred up to Earth during the Deathspring. Most of the other former primary leaders were also missing, though, so perhaps there was indeed some kind of conspiracy. Only one man came out of the shadows, and promised a brighter future. Former Sekundas Poppet Drumpf started to appear in front of crowds, making people feel like only he could deliver them from uncertainty. He spoke of his past mistakes, and heavily implied that he had just spent the last several years on some kind of walkabout vision quest in the wilderness, even though witnesses reported seeing him all throughout the city this whole time. He talked about the prison of his own mind, and regaled them with stories of breaking himself out of his old prejudices, as one might break free from a real prison. He fancied himself the Nelson Mandela of Durus, which was offensive on so many levels, but no one could trace this claim directly back to him, so in a lot of people’s minds, he was a changed man. People loved him on both sides, which was quite frustrating. He told them he didn’t want to maintain power forever, but until a new democracy could be formed, he might be the only one with the experience to save them. So they did it. They installed him in a new position called Provisor, so he could help them transition to something better, more progressive, more fair. The truth was that he had every intention of holding onto power forever, and not everyone was fooled by his new beginning bullshit. He only lasted two years before the people of Durus had finally had enough of him. The Provisional Government needed someone they could trust.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: Thursday, July 8, 2123

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Mateo had heard of The Shortlist before. While they were on Glisnia long ago, and many years in the future, Hogarth had explained it all to him. He was evidently an honorary member, while Leona was a full member. She enjoyed voting rights and other privileges, but she wasn’t called into action very often. She was only part of it, because of her unique position under the powers that be. If ever they needed a scientist to reach the PTB, she was the only one with any real hope of being the liasson. Mateo was loosely associated with them, but only in the case that Leona wasn’t available. The Shortlist was exactly what it sounded like; a short list of people, all with scientific backgrounds. They felt responsible for the galaxy’s relationship with time travel technology, but not out of some arbitrary grab for power. They were the ones actually inventing all this stuff, so of course they held themselves accountable for what happened to it.

They were a self-policing organization, and the future’s answer for Beaver Haven Rehabilitation Facility. In the past, people weren’t allowed to reveal the truth about time travelers to the world, but in the future, these rules were a little less clear. Perhaps vonearthans had the right to this knowledge, because they had matured enough to handle it. That was why Beaver Haven never had anything to do with time criminals from the 24th century onwards, and why members of the Shortlist felt compelled to oversee such matters. Leona didn’t say why she was sent to this future, or what they voted on, or why the hell J.B. was involved. She didn’t get the chance before Jupiter and Tauno showed up to hold a meeting of their own.

The six of them sat around the table in the Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez. Ariadna was doing whatever, Missy had never returned from the Fourth Quadrant, and there was literally not enough room for J.B. around the hexagon, so he gladly sat off to the side.

 “This is going to be...” Sanaa began, smiling as she looked at each of the others around her, “a hell of a lot of fun. We’re gonna argue, we’re gonna call each other names. J’accuse! I can’t see anything going wrong here, though. It’ll be great, you’ll see.”

“Color commentary from everyone’s favorite telepath,” Tauno said.

“I’m not a telepath anymore,” Sanaa corrected.

“She’s right,” Mateo said. “I don’t see this going well. Is it a parlay, or what?”

“We’re just talkin’,” Jupiter tried to assure him.

“Are you mad about the whole Fourth Quadrant thing?” Leona asked Tauno.

“That was a group project,” Tauno began to explain. “Every one of us was involved. Jupiter copied the people, Keanu gave us the weather, I created the pocket dimension, Yatchiko regulated reality. We all had some part to play. When you messed with that, you didn’t just interfere with my work, but all of ours.”

“We understand that,” Mateo said. As sick as this man clearly was, he wanted to remember Rule Number Fifteen. It was kind of the most important one recently, perhaps because all the others had by now become second nature for him.

“It’s okay. To answer your question, Mrs. Matic, I’m not mad. To be honest, it was becoming rather tedious. Man was it exciting for the first few years. Those duplicate Kansas Citians slowly started learning what happened to them, and what they were. Existential crises all across the board. But as the seasons progressed, it overstayed its welcome. I mean, there was a block of about two quadrant years that was boring as all hell. Nothing interesting happened; I probably should have cancelled it after that.”

They shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

“Oh, I wouldn’t have killed them, but I would have reset the time flow, and started ignoring them. It’s okay that you did it for me; like I said, I’m not mad. Unfortunately, also like I said, it’s not all up to me. Others in the group are less...shall we say, understanding. They stopped caring about the Fourth Quadrant even before I did, but they’re purists, and if someone does something without their permission, they wanna see punishment.”

“Who?” Mateo asked. “Whose shitlist do I have to get off of?”

“I?” Tauno asked. “There is no I. There’s all of you, plus your absent friends. But nice try, Mr. Matic, trying to place the whole burden on your own shoulders.”

“I’m their leader,” Mateo explained. “The buck stops with me.”

“Well, see, it’s a little—”

“They’re purists, right?” Mateo interrupted. “A purist would recognize that it’s always management’s fault.”

Tauno leaned back in his chair, and stared at Mateo’s face from various angles. “You’re everything everyone said you were,” he finally said.

“I’m nothing if not consistent.” That wasn’t true about him; he had changed a lot since 2014, but it seemed like the right way to respond to his remark.

“I would use the word predictable,” Tauno volleyed. “They thought you would try to do this. Which is why you have a choice.” He revealed a sinister smile. “You either answer to me, or to them. Now, I’m a psychopath. I mean that literally; I was diagnosed with antisocial personality disorder. But I don’t kill. It’s kind of a pet peeve for me. But my friends, being purists, have no such qualms. If you deal with me, I’m going to—for lack of a less frightening term—torture you...all of you.”

“All of us,” Mateo echoed. “Which means if I choose door number two, they’ll kill, but only me.”

“That’s right.”

“Mateo,” Leona said.

“Rule X,” Mateo said to her. It didn’t belong with the rest of the rules, because it wasn’t a universal maxim. It was a secret code that only the two of them agreed upon, and they did this in an old reality, so most people shouldn’t have any clue what they were talking about. Invoking Rule X was so rare that neither of them had ever done it before, in all the time they had known each other. It essentially meant trust me implicitly. Leona was obligated to stop trying to argue, and let Mateo do whatever it was he was choosing to do. By its nature in this situation, this was his last chance to invoke it anyway, so it was perfect timing.

Everyone looked confused, except for Sanaa, whose eyes suggested she had read their minds at some point, and learned what this rule meant. Still, she kept quiet.

“Mateo, I won’t torture you forever; maybe for one season.”

“Why do you keep talking about seasons?” Sanaa questioned. “What the hell does that mean?”

“About fifty-two.”

Sanaa rolled her eyes at this. “Days? Years?”

“Maybe fifty-three.”

“Okay,” Mateo said. “I get it. We’ve been tortured before, though. Zeferino, Arcadia, and even technically right now, with Jupiter Fury. I’m sick of it. I’m done with it. And my answer is final! My only condition is that I get to decide how I die! I choose when, and where, and by what means!”

“Well, I would hardly say that you’re in a position—”

“I! Decide! I don’t think that’s asking too much!”

Tauno took a breath. “When is a complicated concept for us. There has to be some kind of time range; one that we can all agree upon, and which avoids loopholes.”

“Three days,” Mateo offered. “Three of my days, which means realtime three years, which means July 11, 2126. I can’t go until I save Vearden, but by that date, with no detours, no backtracking, no time bubbles, no do-overs, I’ll be gone. Does that sound fair?”

“Christ, Mateo, what are you talking about?” J.B. finally jumped in. He stood up, and stepped closer to the table.

Mateo ignored him, and focused on Tauno. “Do we have a deal?”

Tauno studied his face for a moment. Then he reached into his pocket, and pulled out a phone. He pressed it against his cheek without dialing. “What did they say?” He waited for a response from the other end of the call. “I don’t care what Jesi says; she gets a half vote now.—Well, ask Alexina.—I’m not saying that her vote matters either, but ask her to hunt for loopholes!—Okay.—We don’t have control over that.—I don’t want to call her!—Because she’ll make it all about her, and we don’t have time to tiptoe around her insanity!—He just wants to save his friend first, I have no problem with that, especially since Jupiter ordered him to.—I’ll ask him.—No, I’ll ask him!—Stop talking for a goddamn moment and I’ll do it! Jesus Christ!” He covered the mouthpiece with his hand. “They would like to know how you plan on dying. It’s like a verification, so it’ll be harder for you to back out of it.”

“Blunt force trauma,” Mateo answered.

“Oh my God,” was all Leona could say as she palmed her face. Rule X remained in effect.

“Is that satisfactory?” Tauno asked into the phone. “Okay.—Well, they’re the ones who wanted this. It’s not very fun for me.—I can keep my word. Can they?—Draw up a contract, and I’ll sign on behalf of all of us.—Thank you.” He hung up, and smiled. “Looks like we’re good. I’ll return tomorrow with the paperwork.”

“Why are you doing this?” Ellie asked Mateo.

“I have faith in my friends.” He placed his head against hers. “I have faith in you.” After a moment of peace, he tilted his head up to kiss her forehead. Then he sat back in his chair, and faced Tauno. “One more thing.”

“What is it?” Tauno wasn’t perturbed by this request for a request.

“I know people. Throughout all of time. Some of these people are violent. I’m going to die, and leave this plane of existence, and I don’t want anyone trying to alter that event, so I’m going to do it with the hundemarke. I want to prove that I’m committed. But my death doesn’t mean you’re free to do whatever you want. Everyone I have ever cared about is completely off limits. That means Leona, Ellie, Thor; everyone. Can you do that?”

“Yeah, I guess, I ain’t got no beef with those people, but you were saying something about violent friends?”

“Oh, yeah. If you break this promise, someone will kill you. It won’t be me, because I’ll already be dead, and Past!Me has never heard of any of this. But someone will show up on your doorstep. Even you’re afraid of some people, and before I go, I’ll put a bounty on your head, for anyone who wants it. You stay away from my friends, and this would-be assassin will stay out of your way. You don’t, they’ll do what I ask. Even my enemies wouldn’t turn down a chance to avenge me. No one hates me too much to do that. The Springfield Nine may be powerful, but you’ve isolated yourselves. You don’t have friends amongst the choosing ones, and that’s on you. Does what I’m saying make sense?”

“Perfect sense,” Tauno replied.

“Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to prepare for tomorrow. We can’t save Vearden unless we secretly visit Tribulation Island by 2124. I need that dog tag.”

Tauno took out his phone again. “Get me back, Ophir.” He disappeared.

Jupiter had been surprisingly quiet throughout all of this. He looked at Mateo. “I know what you have planned.” To show he wasn’t bluffing, his eyes flickered over to Ellie, then right back to Mateo. “As long as you don’t transfer Mr. Haywood’s consciousness, I don’t care how you do it. Just be careful how you proceed. You walk a fine line.” He too disappeared.

“Mateo,” Leona repeated. This was new territory for them, and she still didn’t know what to say. Anything beyond his name could be construed as an argument, and therefore a violation of Rule X.

He didn’t let it continue. “Why did they do that with the Quadrant? Why did they reverse the time bubble?”

“It was created in 2024,” Ellie started to say. “When we showed up, it had only been seven years for them, but decades for the people in the main sequence. They want to catch up. Whereas before, fourteen days for us was one day for them, now fourteen days for them equals one day for us. In five years, they’ll pop the bubble, and it will be 2129 for both realities.”

“Is that part of your plan?” J.B. asked him.

“No,” Mateo answered. “I just don’t wanna die with any mysteries over my head. Speaking of which, why don’t you tell me what you and Leona were doing in the future with the Shortlist?”

Leona stood up quickly, and fumed, but said nothing. She just left in a huff.

“I’ll go talk to her,” Sanaa said.

“Don’t,” Mateo urged. “She can’t know.”

“Oh, she absolutely can,” Sanaa contended. “I’ll prove it.” She walked away against his wishes.

He turned his head to Ellie. “Have you figured out the plan as well?”

“Yes,” she replied. “It’s a stupid one. We don’t even know if it’ll work. I haven’t seen it. This could just be it, Mateo Matic.”

“Like I said,” Mateo began, “I have faith in you.”

“I hope it’s not misplaced.”

« < » > Table of Contents

Glisnia: Role Call (Part V)

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Not everyone had some way to contact them through time, but for anyone who didn’t, they could be reached second-hand by contacting someone who did have a means of cross-temporal communication. Holly Blue had a long-ass phone number, while Dr. Mallory Hammer needed to be more accessible to her patients, so her number was easier to remember. If Hogarth and Holly Blue wanted to get a hold of someone called The Porter, there was a very delicate routine that they needed to get through. It wasn’t dignified, and could be a little embarrassing, but it was certainly easier than doing all the work of finding The Shortlist themselves. Hogarth started to stumble around the room, occasionally stopping to recite the magic words, “I am the Keymaster, are you the Gatekeeper?” Once she had made a right fool of herself, she approached a door, and recited the line one last time. Then she opened the door.

“Are you the Keymaster?” Porter asked. “I am the Gatekeeper.”

“Thank you for coming,” Hogarth said to her.

“What can I get ya?” Porter offered.

Hogarth lifted her hand, and held it there a moment. Realizing what she was asking for, Holly Blue pulled a card out of her pocket, and handed it to her. Hogarth then relayed it to Porter. “This is a list of everyone we need for a meeting. Well, we don’t need everyone on it, but we do need at least seven, including the two that are already here. You think you would be able to retrieve five out of the nine remaining?”

“Six,” Holly Blue corrected.

“Oh, right. I forgot about that.” Hogarth took the card back real quick, and scribbled one more name on it. “We need a mediator too. I always forget about that part.” A mediator was required for every meeting, whether there was a full roster or not. This guide could not be a member of the Shortlist themselves, and they were not allowed to have overseen a meeting beforehand. It was a one time deal. While this might have sounded random and irrational, members agreed they could lose perspective if they kept all outside voices on the outside. Ethesh, Lenkida, and Crimson were disqualified from serving as mediator, because it would be a conflict of interest in this case, so Porter needed to find someone else. Hogarth chose someone she knew would be fair, and careful about this important decision about the kind of technology the galaxy would be allowed to utilize.

Porter looked over the list. She nodded, and gestured towards the door on the opposite wall. “Your guests have arrived.”

“That was quick,” Crimson pointed out.

“It took a lot of time,” Porter explained, “and a lot of work.” Porter had the ability to summon just about anything from any point in time. If you wanted a cheeseburger, she could snap her fingers, and it would appear before you. She wasn’t creating these objects, but stealing them, though, so someone who prepared or ordered that burger had just lost it. Bigger jobs, like finding a half dozen people from all over time and space, took more effort. She couldn’t just pull each one from whenever she wanted. They were time travelers, who crisscrossed the timeline, and ran into each other unpredictably. Sometimes, one person will know something about another’s future, and in order to avoid these incongruencies, Porter had to find the very best version of each. Every person in the next room should be about as knowledgeable about the timeline as every other. Should.

“No,” Crimson said, “I’m an extremely advanced intelligence. Had you just teleported away, and tried to return to the same spot, I would have noticed.”

Holly Blue chuckled. “No, you wouldn’t. She’s that good.” She really was. Lots of time travelers had the ability to return to the spot they left so quickly that a human wouldn’t be able to detect that they were ever gone. Porter was the absolute best at this, however, so that even the most sensitive equipment couldn’t identify a change.

Hogarth opened the door, and stepped through to find all of their friends on the other side. And when she said all of them, she meant all of them. This was no quorum, but a plenum, meaning that every single member of the Shortlist had come. They had never had a full roster before, but that was probably because every invention one of them had come up with thus far had been for the benefit of the inner circle. This was at the request of the people of the Milky Way, so it was more delicate. Porter had done well for them.

“Madam Pudeyonavic,” Hokusai said with a nod.

“Madam Gimura,” Hogarth said back.

“What is this about?” Brooke Prieto asked.

“Obviously, I will explain everything,” Hogarth said. She looked towards their new mediator. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“Uh, I just happened to be with her.” Jeremy Bearimy gestured towards Leona Matic. “Am I meant to be here as well?”

“You are our honored guest,” Holly Blue told him.

Now J.B. looked nervous. “Is this a sex cult, or something?”

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Ramses Abdulrashid joked. “Haven’t made any progress on that front, bud.”

“It’s a meeting,” Holly Blue clarified. “You’re in charge of it.”

“Why me?” J.B. questioned.

“Because you’re not a member,” Brooke’s daughter, Sharice explained to him. “Neither am I.”

“We need you,” Hogarth said to her. “This is important.” She took a half step back to address the whole group. “This impacts the whole galaxy. It’s so important that Holly Blue and I haven’t even invented it yet. We have to consult you first, because it has the potential to literally destroy everything.”

“Ain’t that always how it is?” Kestral McBride pointed out.

“Shall we find somewhere to sit?” Ishida Caldwell suggested.

“Crimson,” Hogarth began, “do you know where we might hold this meeting, obviously in private?”

“Where’s my daughter?” Hokusai asked before Crimson could respond.

“You’ll see her later, mom,” Hogarth said.

“I better.”

“I know where you can go,” Crimson finally answered. It lifted Hogarth’s finger towards Porter’s face. “You can trace objects, right?”

“Indeed.”

Crimson demolecularized its finger, and sent it away, presumably to their meeting room.

Porter smirked, and nodded. “Gross.” With a wave of her hands, she spirited everyone away to follow the finger.

It was sitting in the middle of a table, like a message from a rival mafia family.

“Are we just gonna leave that there?” Pribadium Delgado asked.

Hogarth picked it up, and threw it into the material reclamator that appeared from the wall. It wasn’t something that could be reclaimed, but the sorting machines would filter it out, and dispose of it with the rest of the biowaste. She wished being able to regrow her own body parts was something she knew she could do all along.

They all found seats, and sat down. “First order of business,” Hogarth began, “I move to take point right now, so that J.B. can get up to speed, and understand what it is we do. I request a no-vote, but open the floor for any objections.” She waited a moment to see if anyone would object, which she didn’t think they would. Unlike most governmental bodies, there wasn’t any animosity amongst them. They disagreed with each other all the damn time, but they were always cordial, polite, and respectful. There was nothing wrong with her declaring herself the leader until J.B. was ready to take the job for himself.

She started off by explaining the purpose of the Shortlist, and why they felt it was necessary. Sharice jumped in with a few snide remarks, since she was the most resistant to the group as a whole. The alternate reality version of Holly Blue, who went by Weaver to avoid confusion, added her own thoughts, since she understood it all better than anyone. After that was finished, Hilde’s mother, Hokusai took the reins, and went over the rules of the meeting. She needed some additional help from Weaver in regards to protocol, because again, they had never all been in one place before. There would be times during this meeting when the discussion needed to be formal and blocked out, like a presidential debate. There would also be times when they needed to make it less formal, and more natural. They might even break into groups, and discuss the problem separately before coming back together. There would be no votes until they figured out what the votes would be. It was far more complex than just a question of whether they should allow time-siphoning technology to exist, or not. Once a vote did go through, that didn’t mean it was a done deal. By the end of the meeting, they would vote again, on whether to accept the results of all the other votes. It was this whole thing.

J.B. was a smart fella, so he picked it up right away, and embraced his role appropriately. Not everyone was like that. Nerakali tried to take over the group, and use it towards her own goals, which they should have guessed would happen. The Overseer was quite used to being the one to make decisions, and didn’t understand why her vote didn’t override all others. They once asked The Superintendent himself to mediate, but since his decisions did overrule everyone else’s, it was a disaster. That was how Hokusai and Hogarth ended up swapping technologies. They took a break after the introductions, and let people mingle. J.B. also needed time to look over the procedures guide that Weaver wrote. The rest had to be careful about preserving the timeline so as to avoid creating a paradox, but there were no real rules here, except that they couldn’t leave the room. No one would be able to leave until the first recess, which may never come. This wasn’t congress; they should be able to go through the entire agenda in one sitting. Hokusai was perturbed by this, because she didn’t get to see her daughter a whole lot. She agreed long ago to let Hilde live her own life, but had never truly accepted that. Their separation contract was set to expire after eleven more of their respective personal timeline years. They could see each other before then, but not for an extended period of time.

“So,” Hogarth said to Leona. “Where’s your husband, and when?”

“You ever heard of the Fourth Quadrant?” Leona prompted.

“Oh, that alternate reality, right?”

“Yep. He’s there, helping our friends save some lives, and whatnot.”

“Oh, cool.”

“So, this is Glisnia?” Leona was here a long time ago, when it was only a planet.

“Yeah, it’s a matrioshka brain now.”

Leona nodded. “I would like a tour one day, if at all possible.” She checked her watch out of instinct. I live in the early twenty-second century right now, but I’m scheduled to return to this time period in the next couple of months.”

Kestral, who was in the middle of a conversation with Pribadium, laughed. “It’s gonna be a lot longer than that.”

“Madam McBride, you know the rules,” J.B. said, stepping in. “No future-talk.”

“If you ask me, he’s enjoying this a little too much,” Kestral noted.

“I was gonna ask Sanaa Karimi to mediate,” Hogarth said.

Kestral took a sip from her cup. “Never mind.”

“All right,” J.B. announced. “I believe we are ready to restart. According to this, the next thing we need to do is confirm me as mediator.”

“Confirmed,” Brooke said.

“Seconded,” Sharice added.

“All in favor, say cello,” Kestral’s partner, Ishida declared. This was the random word she chose. Votes were not made by using the traditional aye and nay. No one in this group was liable to slack off, but by choosing a different word each time, they lowered the risk of someone voting after not having paid enough attention to know what it was they were voting on.

“Cello,” everyone voted in relative unison.

Since it was unanimous, no one could now vote against this, but Ishida was obligated to follow through regardless. “All against, say pangolin.”

No one said pangolin, not even Ramses, who was known for voting twice just to piss people off.

“Perfect,” J.B. said with a smile. “I feel so included.” He aimlessly flipped through the pages. “Now, I’ve been going over this manual, and have decided to start with a role-reversal argument. Hogarth, is it true that you are in favor of inventing time-siphoning technology?”

“I’m about as close to that position as anyone,” Hogarth believed. “I’m fairly neutral about it, though.”

“You...gave up your body so you could do it for these people, correct?” J.B. asked.

“I suppose that’s true.”

“Then you will be arguing against invention. Who here is the most against invention in actuality?”

Pribadium raised her hand. “I don’t think we should do it.”

“Scale of one to I’ll kill everyone in this room before I let this kind of technology get out into the universe.”

“Six, I guess,” Pribadium determined. “I don’t wanna kill anybody.”

“Can anyone give me a number higher than six?” J.B. opened it up to the group.

“I think I’m probably at an eight,” Holly Blue declared.

They were all surprised by this. “Miss Blue—” J.B. began.

“My name is Holly Blue; not Holly, not Miss Blue. Holly Blue.”

Apologies,” J.B. said sincerely. “Holly Blue, you co-signed the request for this plenum.”

“I was asked to come here,” Holly Blue began. “So I asked everyone else to come here, to talk Madam Pudeyonavic out of it.”

J.B. nodded understandingly, but stoically. Her attitude on the matter wasn’t at all against the rules. “Can anyone give me a ninth level opposition?”

No one spoke.

“Very well,” J.B. continued. “To recap, Hogarth will be arguing against invention, while Holly Blue will be arguing in favor of invention. Both parties agree?”

“Agreed,” Hogarth said, nervous.

“I’ll do my best,” Holly Blue conceded.

J.B. looked down at the manual. “Both sides are allowed one hour to prepare—”

“Right to waive,” Holly Blue said quickly.

“Preparation time twenty-five percent waived,” J.B. alerted.

“Waive,” Hogarth agreed.

“Fifty. General consensus?”

The crowd all seemed amenable.

“Seventy-five,” J.B. found. “And I waive too. A hundred percent waived. Madam Pudeyonavic, you have the floor.”

The Devil’s Advocate exercise wasn’t the only section of the meeting, but it was the most intense, and probably the one that informed most people’s votes later on. In the end, the group decided to proceed with invention, and that Holly Blue would be in charge of it every step of the way. Hopefully that would be fine.

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