Microstory 1535: Unpopular Favorite Foods

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Anyone who knows me well enough knows that my favorite food is ________. It’s a very unpopular favorite food to have, and everyone I’ve told this to has been very grossed out about it. I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe my mother ate ________ a lot while I was in the womb, or gave it to me early on. Or maybe my subconsciousness is called back to a particularly happy time in my life when I just so happened to be eating ________. It’s not all that hard to find, but unlike really popular favorites, like ________, ________, or ________, they don’t make restaurants dedicated to  ________. Nor should they, it would be weird, and I would be the only customer, at least in the area. Some people might go there, just to give  ________ a try, but it would quickly go out of business. It did give me an idea, though, this weird love of mine. What if someone created a restaurant that was specifically designed to appeal to unusual tastes. I looked up online what foods people hate the most, thinking I had a pretty good idea what I would find there, like  ________,  ________, and  ________. I ended up being wrong about  ________, but not  ________ or  ________. There were a lot of things on there that I would never have thought. Apparently, people have extremely strong feelings about  ________ and  ________. They also dislike  ________ when mixed with  ________, though they seem to be okay with them as long as they’re kept separate. People even seem to really like ________ when it’s instead mixed with ________. I once watched a show where a character discovered he liked  ________ and ________, and the joke was that it was an odd pairing, but there have to be people out there who like it, just like him. There are, after all, seven and a half billion people, or so. So what if someone did that? Made a restaurant just for the weirdos like me? You wouldn’t have to eat anything you didn’t want, but you would be encouraged to try other people’s odd favorites. If you’re the one person who likes  ________, and you’re friend is the one who likes ________, you could switch, just for the meal. It might even make you more empathetic to that person, or in general, and that can’t be a bad thing. This is just an idea that’s rolling around in my brain. It might work better as a food truck, or a ghost kitchen, I don’t know. I know, as a loan officer, you’re expecting me to come in with a business plan, and a full list of terrible foods, like ________. I have some. You probably don’t even realize how many people dislike  ________, or how many people actually like  ________. But I already have a full time job, so I didn’t want to spend too much time on this if you think it’ll be a terrible idea. I just want you to tell me, in your professional opinion, if you think this is worth anyone’s trouble, including mine. Why don’t you start by telling me what your favorite food is, and what food you like that most people don’t?

Microstory 1534: Found and Lost

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I can never find anything in this ________ house. I swear, I’m not a ________, I just cannot get organized. I can spend ________ on the hunt for one ________ thing, and there have been some things that I still haven’t ________, even after years. I’m not talking about common ________, like my chapstick or wallet. I use those every day, and I always ________ them in the same ________. I’m talking about that little metal key thing you use to access the ________ card or external ________ on your phone. I only need it every two ________, and that’s plenty of time to forget where I placed it. And when I finally do ________ what I’m looking for, I always recall that I put it there for some ________ reason. Yeah, I thought I was pretty clever, ________ all the thumbtacks with the nails. But ________ go out in the garage, and ________ are an indoor ________ . The fact that they’re both ________ isn’t all that relevant. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been through this ________, flipping through my stack of tax forms and middle school report cards, or opening every ________ in my desk twice. You would think I would have the layout memorized by now, but I’m only ever looking for one thing, and even if I saw it the last time, when I was looking for something else, it’s not like I’ll remember. But I should, because I have to do it so ________. And what’s happened today doesn’t make any ________. This is what you might call a junk ________, but it’s actually pretty clean and ________. It’s the most organized area I have. There’s a divider for rubber ________, and one for ________, and another for ________. If I’m ever looking for ________, that’s one of the few things I actually can always find. It’s the first ________ I open when I’m looking for something that’s not normally in it, though.

Today, I can’t remember where I ________ my social security ________. I need it to apply to this airport thing, and apparently memorizing the number itself isn’t ________ enough. Which is dumb. What’s the difference between ________ the number, and showing a piece of ________ with the number on it? That’s all that’s on there. I could probably forge one myself, even though I’m no ________, nor exceptionally good at computers. Anyway, that’s not the point. There’s something in my organized ________ drawer that doesn’t belong. I have never seen it ________. It’s a golden flash drive that claims to have five petabytes stored on it. Like I said, I’m no computer ________, but even I know how insane that is. I look it up online; that’s five thousand times larger than the ____est flash drive the public has access to. Obviously I have to figure out what’s on it. Someone ________ into my house, didn’t take anything I can see, but left something that shouldn’t even ________. I’m not certain it ever could exist, even in the ________, not in something so small. I’m worried it’s a ________ that will destroy the ________, though, so I spend the next ________ looking for my old ________. I mean, this ________ is ancient. It still boots up, but the ________ I’m not using my ________ computer is because I don’t want there to be any ________ of connecting to the ________. This thing was manufactured before wireless ________ was even a thing, I think, probably. I stick the mysterious ________ ________ into the USB ________, and wait for it to ________. It begins to glow, and quickly becomes too hot to touch, so I can’t take it out, and shutting the ________ doesn’t matter, because it’s so old that it can’t detect whether it’s open or ________. The screen will stay on unless you turn it off ________, which isn’t working either. After a ________, I’m getting really worried, but before I can make another ________, two beams of light shoot out of the flash ________, and hit me right in the eyes. Now I’m ________ in a trance, unable to move a muscle. I can feel myself being ________ into the device, little by little. Then the darkness. I don’t know how long it takes me to ________ up again, but it takes me awhile to get my bearings. I realize that I’m in the computer, and I’m able to access everything still ________ on it, like the letter I wrote to the boy I had a crush on in ________ grade that I was always too scared to print off and ________ to him. I can’t actually do anything here, though, because like I said, this ________ is too old. Now I’m regretting it, because if I had an internet connection, I could have at least called for ________.

Microstory 1533: Forcing the Future

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To be honest, this ________ thing has made my daily life a lot ________ . Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think it’s ________, and I want this to be fixed as soon as ________, but I also can’t hide from the ________ that I prefer this way of ________, on a personal ________. The thing is, there ________ need to be a ________ for me to ________ like this. I just need to get people on ________. I wasn’t surprised at how much ________ I could get done while staying at ________, or how much less work there actually is when I don’t have my ________ breathing down my ________. Virtual meetings, as long as you have a ________ internet ________, are just as good, if not ________ than regular old face-____-face. A lot of ________ don’t think so, but the structure really forces you to prioritize your words. It’s more ________ to get trapped in an off-____ conversation with each ________. My co-____s were always just hanging out in ________, and not in a way that let me ________ out either. We weren’t ________ with business yet, so we all had to _________ around anyway. It was so pointless, really, I ________ it. Meetings are better, but also the normal work that I do. I know, it’s not something I should be ________, but I like to stop and check social ________, and play ________, and watch ________, or maybe just ________ the birds outside my ________. And we’re all doing it, and it’s totally ________. The way I see it, as long as I’m being product____, what exactly is the problem? Nothing. There is no ________, except now there is. My company is thinking about ________ up a surveillance state. They’ll ________ my webcam, and listen to my ________’s microphone, and they’ll hire a ________ of temps to watch me for my full ________ hours. They want to make ________ that I’m not ____ing around, like I do. They think it’ll save them ________, because they’re a bunch of ________. They’re paying people to ________ all these feeds, so they’re actually losing ________. I don’t know for sure, but I’m also sure of it. There’s no ________ it’s cost effective, even though the ________ will probably be at minimum ________. Pay shouldn’t be based on the ________ of time you spend stressed and busy, but the amount of ________ productivity. How much benefit did I ________? Not how much time did I ________ on it? If you give me ________ hours of work every day, I’m going to do it in ________ hours. I’m getting the ________ done, and that should be enough for ________. I think I’m gonna ________. I don’t need this job, I can ________ from anywhere now.

Microstory 1532: Those Nightly Noises

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I’ve never felt safe in this ________, but there’s never been anything I could do about it. It’s rent-controlled, and I can’t ________ to live anywhere ________. Plus, I work right down____, and that’s a perk I never thought I would ________ so attached to. Though, maybe I ought to stop ________ of that as a perk, because I’m ________ with it as long as I’m stuck in this ________. My dad always said that a ________ job is one you can ________ before you find another one. I think he’s probably right about that, because if I ________ tomorrow, I wouldn’t last more than a ________, and then I would really be in trouble. There are a lot of noises in this ________ that I can only hear at ________ when I’m trying to ________. It doesn’t matter when I go to ________; they always start about two ________ later. I suppose that’s what makes it so ________, because it feels like someone is ________ for a cue. Shortly after I ________ here, I was so paranoid about that possibility that I ________ this place apart, looking for surveillance ________. I didn’t find ____ing, but I am not getting my deposit ________, that’s for ________. I didn’t ________ destroy the place, but I did cause a ________ bit of damage. I don’t regret it either. Just because I couldn’t ________ out where these creepy ________ were coming from, or why they were there, doesn’t mean I’m confident everything is ________. I wish I could ask my great ________ what’s going on, but the only reason I live here is because she ________, and passed it on to me. She always took ________ of me, knowing that I needed a lot more help than the rest of the ________ in this family. There’s a little bit of friction ________ us because of it, but most of them understand that I’m ________ a slacker, I’m just not ____ly skilled at anything. I do try, and I give it my ________, and I work ________, and I contribute to the ________ as I can. That just happens to not be very much.

Anyway, back to those nightly noises. I’ve tried getting ________ of bed to hunt for them, but it never works. As soon as I step ________ enough away from my bed, they stop. And they’re not coming from my bed, if that’s what you’re ____ing. For some reason, I end up ________ to one of my customers about it, and she suggests there’s some kind of pressure sensitive ________ under my bed, which would be in____, but an explanation of the timing nonetheless. I actually go out and spend ________ on a dummy filled with sand. The ________ tells me I won’t be able to return it, but assures me I’ll find ________ of uses for it over the years. I’m not so ________, but I feel like the decoy should look humanoid, and I’m feeling ________ at this point. I place it on the ________ on the far side of my bed, and go about my day. When it’s time for ________, I wait for the ________ to begin, then carefully pull the dummy up to the bed with ________. The noises stop for a ________, apparently wondering why the bed is so much ________ now, but I gracefully step off, and move away. The noises restart, apparently satisfied with my ________. I quietly leave the ________, and go off to look for the noises. The sound leads me all the way ________, to where I ________, and into my boss’ ________. He’s crouched on his ________ like an animal, staring at the upper corner, and kind of purring, but also making gurgling ________. He’s watching this weird hologram that’s ________ in the air. It’s showing an image of my bedroom, using a ________ I could not find, which is somehow pointing directly at ________ bed. It appears to be quite soothing for him. The ________ feed seems to activate when the bed is occupied, but I still have no ________ why, what my boss is, or what exactly he’s getting out of this. Tomorrow, I’ll ask a ________ to come over to be the ________, so I can ________ what happens to my animal boss when the bed is empty. I wish I had ________ of that before.

Microstory 1531: Trees

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I’ve always hated trees, but here I am, ________ through the ________, because my girlfriend wants me to get into better ________. Of course, she’s far too ________ to come with me, so I’m just doing it ________, which is ________ ridiculous. But I ________ her, so I’m doing it. Plus, I know that if I don’t, she will know it. She’ll pick up on my level of ________ when I get back, or my ________ rate, or something. I wouldn’t be able to ________ skip it and lie. She’s hyperobservant, bordering on the super____, so I’m not a hundred percent sure she’s even ________. Anyway, I keep ________, and the ____er I make it into the ________, the calmer I begin to ________. The noises of the ________ fade, and I find myself ________, which is how I always liked it before I met ________. Maybe ________ aren’t so bad after all. Maybe I’m just a ________ grump. Wouldn’t that be just ________? Finally, I come ________ this one tree that I can’t ________ past. I stare at it, then when I feel I’ve seen enough of it, I ________ a bit, and try to step ________, but it won’t ________ me. No, it doesn’t have some kind of magic____ hold on me, but I ________ look away. It’s not a particularly ________ tree. Sure, it’s different than all the ________ around ________, but if I were in a grove of this ________ of tree, it wouldn’t ________ out. I memorize every square ________ of this ________ as I’m staring, which means I could ________ when it transformed. I notice a dark ________ on the ________ that was definitely not there before, as if someone had ________ some ________ on it. It begins to ________ darker, but I can only see it out of the ________ of my eye. This ____al tree is forcing me to look at it at different ________, so I can’t watch whatever it’s ________ directly. The spot ________ full black, and spreads down towards the ________. Just when I ________ I may be able to ________ my eyes, the dark spot opens up like a ________ zipper, and a figure steps ________ of it. It’s my new ________. She tells me she’s a dryad, and that I’ve just ________ the first steps towards becoming like her. If she had ________ me this yesterday, I would have ________ to stifle nervous laughter, and then made my way ________ of there as ________ as ________. But after the walk I’ve just had, I feel like a ________ new ________, and being part tree ________ doesn’t sound like such a ________ idea anymore.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: Saturday, July 21, 2136

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Nerakali opened up a two-way transition window, and held it open for an extended period of time, so Aeolia could go and find her partner, Kallias Bran. They made quick work of it, as he was waiting at their rendezvous location, just as he said he would be. He was relieved and grateful to find a group of people who were actually capable of remembering his past. As it turned out, Aeolia had maybe been a little less than forthcoming about their use of their power. They had actually used their ability to influence people from the shadows on many occasions, and were secretly responsible for a number of reality-defining moments in the timeline. She had been honest about their intentions however, in that they only ever controlled people benevolently. They were never greedy, nor megalomaniacal. There appeared to be no cure for their condition, which matched up with everything they had heard about the retgone coins, so they just felt like they needed to contribute positively to society, and this was the only way.

After jumping to July 21, 2136, Mateo and Leona learned about one time when Aeolia and Bran interfered in the timeline that was particularly relevant to them. On August 12, 2158, Mateo was ripped out of the timestream by The Superintendent, and simultaneously removed from the collective consciousness. Leona went on for the next six weeks of her life, having no idea that she ever had a husband. Once she learned he existed, she spent the next however long doing everything she could to get him back, even going so far as to travel to other universes. She found him, of course, and brought him back from the dead, so they could start living their lives together again. Mateo had missed a lot, however, and Leona logically assumed she would have to fill him in, just like any two people separated from each other for any length of time. This proved unnecessary, however, when Mateo found himself being flooded with Leona’s memories, as if they were his own.

They asked people who could manipulate memories whether they had anything to do with what happened to Mateo, including Nerakali, but no one had any clue what they were talking about. The mystery of the shared memories was something they never figured out, and the two of them eventually just let it go, and decided to be grateful for it. Now, though, Bran was able to vocalize the truth, and he revealed finally that he was the one responsible for the brain blending. “I trusted you, Leona,” Bran began. “You accepted me as part of your team, and I think we became friends. Obviously you didn’t remember any of that, but it happened, and I remember it distinctly. If anyone could help us figure out how to restore other people’s memories of me, I knew it would be you. And I knew you would want to. So I conscripted Nerakali Preston’s help, intending to use her abilities on you. I wanted to test it out first, though, since commanding Nerakali proved to be wildly more difficult than most people. All the Prestons are notably resistant to our influence. So I just told her to give Mateo your memories, the ones he would have had himself had he been around. It worked, as you can see, but that was it. Nerakali felt my presence, and locked me out because of it. We were never able to control her again.”

“Ever since that attempt,” Aeolia continued the story, “we’ve been running around the timeline, helping people in any way we could. We abandoned our hopes of returning to the fray, because if Nerakali couldn’t do it, no one could. Had we known about these Cassidy cuffs, we probably would have tried something again, but this is the first we’re hearing of it.”

Mateo placed his hand on Bran’s. “Thank you. I’m sorry you wasted your one chance to ask for Leona’s help on me. I’m grateful, though.”

Kallias shook his head. “It wouldn’t have mattered. Leona would have been able to remember her past interactions with me, maybe, but still wouldn’t have been able to see me in realtime. She probably wouldn’t have even remembered that she once couldn’t remember. Nerakali would have still driven us from her psyche, and nothing would have changed. At least we made your lives together a little easier. Or did it? We don’t really know.”

“It did,” Leona confirmed. “I thank you as well.”

They enjoyed some unawkward silence until their cuffs beeped, indicating that they had a mission to get to.

“It’s the middle of the ocean,” Jeremy pointed out, looking at the two-dimensional map.

“It’s under the ocean,” Sanaa corrected.

“All the way under,” Leona added. “It’s at the bottom of the Mariana Trench.”

“Can we even go that deep?” Angela asked. She gestured towards their mobile home in general. “Can this thing survive down there?”

“Computer?” Leona asked simply.

“Yes, I can,” the computer voice replied.

“Sorry to call you a thing,” Angela apologized.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“That sounds like Mirage,” Mateo noted.

“I already looked into it,” Leona said. “It’s the same voice, but isn’t actually Mirage. Every timeline ends up coming up with it, because of how it can sound innocently comforting, or sexy, just depending on your mood.”

“You can call me Imzadi.”

“Is that a reference?” Jeremy asked.

“It is.”

Without being asked, Imzadi teleported them to the bottom of the Mariana Trench, where they found themselves floating in the middle of an extensive underwater city. The Parallel natives saw everywhere as a place to live. Seemed too dangerous to Mateo. That was probably why they were here, because people in the main sequence would have constructed their own base down here, and something was destined to go wrong today.

“We don’t need to be here for another several hours,” Sanaa explained to the artificial intelligence.

“I thought you might like to visit,” Imzadi explained right back to her. “Forgive me for thinking you had any interest in Parallel culture.” She was a feisty one. Every AI had a different personality, which helped remind humans that they were real people too.

“Okay, okay, you’re right,” Sanaa said sincerely. “Is there a main entrance, or something?”

“We’re docking right now,” Imzadi said.

Once they were docked, they were directed to watch an orientation video, which laid out all of the exhibits and other attractions. Angela is the only other one who wanted to go see the ancient submarine exhibit, which was about the first vehicles they used to explore this part of the ocean. Or perhaps she didn’t want to see it at all, but didn’t want Mateo to have to go off alone. It was nice either way, because it would give them a chance to get to know each other. The museum was in a pretty remote section of the complex, though when accounting for teleportation, that didn’t mean a whole lot. What made it truly remote was that it was fairly boring, and there weren’t a whole lot of people there. They could tell how excited the other visitors were to see each other. It validated their passions, and reminded them that they weren’t alone.

After the two of them were finished going through, they were about to leave when Angela noticed a door that was blocked off with yellow tape.

“Not a big deal,” Mateo said. “They’re just doing construction.”

Angela approached the door, and wiped the knob with her finger. “It’s dusty.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“I’ve not been here long, but do you get the feeling that these Parallel people ever procrastinate their projects? I haven’t seen a single construction site anywhere. According to Leona, they can do just about anything in the span of a day.”

“Yeah, I guess I’ve not—what are you doing?”

“I have to see what’s on the other side. I’m curious.” She ducked under the tape, and walked through the door.

“Oh, God,” Mateo said in a breathy but nonjudgmental voice. The natives probably wouldn’t get mad at them about this, since they didn’t seem to ever get mad about anything, but that didn’t mean they should push their luck. Still, he had to admit he was kind of curious too. The tape blocking off the door alone looked very out of place in this reality.

Mateo followed her down the dark winding hallways for a bit until they started hearing noises up ahead, and felt compelled to walk in front of her instead. She was not offended about this. They kept walking towards the noises. They sounded more like computer cooling fans, and less like buzzsaws, but neither of them really knew what construction looked like in a world with this kind of technology. What was strange, however, was what they found when they finally made it to the room with all the computer servers. A giant insectoid was sitting at a terminal. It seemed to sense their presence, and turned around to see. It looked even buggier from this angle. Before they could introduce themselves to them, something struck Mateo in the back of the head.

He woke to a terrible headache, as one might expect, but his neck hurt a lot too. Angela was in the chair next to him, not yet awake. The bug man was standing in front of them, or not, it could have been some other bug man. It was probably difficult for a human to tell them apart.

“Why aren’t we just killing them?” the bug asked.

Another bug approached from the server stacks. “I have some questions. About these.” He was holding up Mateo and Angela’s Cassidy cuffs. They should have been coded to their respective DNA, but who knows what kind of hacking technology these creatures possessed?

“What do you wanna know?” Mateo asked.

“Where did they come from?”

“A friend built them for us.” He decided to be as polite as possible, and answer all their questions, but as vaguely as possible, to avoid these people from being able to exploit this knowledge. He still didn’t know what they wanted, or if they were friend of foe.

“For what purpose?”

“We use them for communication.” It wasn’t a lie, but it was not the whole story. If the bugs ever found out the truth, hopefully they wouldn’t use it against them since he wasn’t technically being dishonest.

“So others know where you are.”

“Yes,” Mateo confirmed. He actually didn’t know. It was possible to track someone wearing a cuff, but he couldn’t know whether anyone was doing that since he didn’t know how long the two of them had been down here, and whether anyone would be looking for them yet.

The bugs seemed to recognize that he wasn’t being entirely forthcoming, but it was hard to read their facial expressions, since Mateo wasn’t familiar with their species’ nuances. The one in charge nodded, though. Before he could ask any more questions, they all heard a pounding sound that was coming from over there. They waited a few seconds, only to hear another pounding, but they could also see the air ripple a little bit, as if being distorted by heat. Another pound, and the air rippled more. The space was being warped, presumably by something trying to get through some kind of portal that was—for whatever reason—not very easy to open.

“The Progenitor,” the subordinate bug said. “They’ve found us.”

“Hold your ground,” his superior ordered him.

More pounding, enough to wake up Angela. “What’s goin’ on?”

“These fine folk are worried about that portal,” Mateo explained to the best of his ability.

“You shut up!” the leader bug shouted. “He’s not coming to save you.”

“I wouldn’t expect him to,” Mateo said.

“Who are they talking about?”

More pounding, and faster now. The portal barrier was nearly broken.

“I dunno,” Mateo answered her.

After even faster poundings, the portal shattered open, releasing a wave of color, and letting a man crawl through, followed by a woman who was dressed up like a superhero. The subordinate was hyperventilating. He tried to run away, but the man chased after him. “Come here, you little snake doctor!” the man shouted. He tackled the bug, and started punching him in the face. Meanwhile, the superhero woman went after the leader bug. She used more finesse, and instead of striking her opponent, chose to use his own weight and momentum against himself. She kept knocking him to the floor, and letting him tire himself out. The man was a brawler, and she was an artist, but they would occasionally switch opponents without missing a beat, as if having rehearsed it. In the end, the leader bug was apparently dead, and the subordinate was bound in zip cuffs.

The man tried to leave back through the portal, but the woman started to help Mateo out of his own bindings. “Amaranti, we gotta go. I’m too tired to punch a new thinny.”

“We help them, that’s what we do,” she said to the man. “If you have to punch a new portal, then that’s what you’ll do, because it’s your job.”

The guy sucked his teeth, and looked away dismissively.

“Thank you,” Mateo said. As Amaranti was freeing Angela, he went over to retrieve their Cassidy cuffs. “Oh, no. Is that the date?”

“We don’t know what date it is,” Amaranti replied. “We’re not exactly from around here.”

“Yeah, you’re from another universe. I’m just sending the question into the aether, because I already know the answer.”

“Did we miss the jump?” Angela asked. “How is that possible? Wouldn’t you have just jumped without me?”

The bug alien snickered. “He was messing with you. He didn’t need to ask those questions. We know who you are, and what you do. We suppressed your powers.”

Mateo reached to the back of his neck, and felt a patch that was clearly attached to something that went deeper into his spine.

Amaranti sighed. “Come with us. We’ll get you to a doctor, and then deliver you back to wherever it is you belong.”

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Exemption Act: The Needs of the Many (Part I)

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Confusingly named Saga!Three was sitting at the top of the stairs, waiting for her new partner, Zektene to get out of the bathroom. Zektene was from another universe, and came here after a trip to the past changed enough about history to stop her from ever existing. That was no longer her world, so she made this her new home.

“I’ve been thinking about your name!” Zek called out through the door.

“You don’t have to yell!” Saga!Three shouted back.

“You’re yelling!”

“I’m just trying to match your energy!”

Zektene laughed.

“What about my name?”

“We need some way to distinguish you from your alternate self.”

Saga!Three was also a time traveler, and was created when a different version of her named Saga!Two went back to help kill Adolf Hitler early. To avoid ambiguity, others began to address them by the number that was arbitrarily assigned to their reality. There were an infinite number of past realities, however, and this was in no way only the third, but the name was good enough. “That’s what the number is for.”

“It’s too impersonal!” Zek argued. “Who was that one gal you mentioned, who met her alternate self? She goes by her real name, while the other goes by their nickname?”

“Holly Blue and Weaver, yes. The former just never started using the nickname. You wanna start calling me Doorwalker?”

“No, that’s dumb. That’s why I wanna talk about it, so we can figure something else out.”

“I’m all ears.”

Zek came out of the bathroom. “How about Freya?”

“You have already thought about this.”

“Just a little. During my research, I learned that your name, Saga is associated with a goddess named Frigg. I don’t know what it means to be associated with a different person, but I don’t much care for Frigg. I do, however, like Freya, which is somehow associated with Frigg. I don’t know what that means for its relationship with Saga, but I think it suits you either way.”

“Fine with me. Freya it is,” the newly reborn Freya affirmed.

“Now, is that Freyja with a j, or just a y-a?” asked some stranger in their hotel room.

“Whoa! I’m sorry, but who are you?”

The stranger looked confused. “I...I’m Nadia.”

Freya continued to look confused and disturbed with her eyes, and widened her mouth like a smile to offer this Nadia person more time to elaborate.

“You may have heard of The Historian...?”

“Oh. That’s you?” Freya asked. That’s Freya, with a y-a.

“Okay, I got it, Superintendent,” Nadia said with a roll of her eyes. Don’t you roll your eyes at me. “Oh, forgive me, Your Grace.” You are forgiven.

“Are you...speaking with The Superintendent right now?” Freya asked.

Nadia was writing in her book. “F-R-E-Y-A. What was that? Oh, yes, he’s being a di—uhhhhh...lightful supreme being. He’s being..great.”

“Why do you need her new name?” Zek asked, changing the subject back. “I mean, it’s cool you know, but for what specific purpose?”

“Um, she can’t just change her name, and expect everyone to start using it all of the sudden. When the Shapers go to a new time period, I have to manipulate reality to account for their new identities. When Lowell Benton changed Jeremy’s name from J.B., I had to update our records. Otherwise, he would have to start correcting people one-by-one, and that is so tedious. It’s much easier if I just send out a psychic blast. From now on, most of the people you run into who already knew you should now start using the new name. There may be a few glitches.”

“Well...” Freya began. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Nadia replied. “I’m also here for another reason. This belongs to you.” She handed Zek a business card. There was no writing on it, but it was covered in colors.

“What is this?” Zek asked.

“Rendezvous card,” Nadia said cryptically. “It’s up to you to figure out how to use it. Be at that location, and someone you’re supposed to meet will arrive as well.”

“Sounds like you’re not going to tell us who it is,” Freya presumed.

“I don’t know who it is. I just found it as a bookmark on your title page, and I know what it does. I couldn’t tell you if it’s a mission, or someone you’ve been looking for, or what, but someone has decided to put you two together, so go on and find out.”

“Thank you again,” Zek echoed.

Nadia softened her smile, and raised her hands in front of her stomach, pinkies together, palms up. She ceremoniously closed them together, as if shutting an invisible book, which served to fold her own body into a two-dimensional object, and make her disappear.

“This is a distraction,” Freya told Zek.

“We don’t know that.”

“We’re supposed to be looking for something called The Transit. That’s what Vearden said. That’s going to help us end this once and for all.”

“Have faith in the process, Freya. Now, I think I know how to work this thing. Hold onto my shoulder.”

“Okay,” Freya conceded.

Zek activated the rendezvous card by flicking it out of her hand, which transported them to some unknown location in the middle of the forest. They were alone, but not for long. Pretty soon, several spots before them started warping with technicolors. People emerged from these warp spots, and each one of them dropped their own rendezvous card into a pile in the middle of the circle. The last one was not human, but a large and imposing creature with ashy white skin. Freya knew this to be a Maramon.

This Maramon was the only one who didn’t look at least a bit bewildered. She scanned the group. “Thank you all for coming. I know you have no clue why you’re here, but I appreciate it greatly, and so does your universe.”

“What are you?” one of the others asked.

“I am a Maramon, from a dwarf universe called Ansutah. Please, ask no further questions while I explain myself. I will be answering the most important ones without prompting. My name is Khuweka Kadrioza, and even though I’m from Ansutah, I’ve been living in bladapodoverse for the last several years. It’s only there that I encountered humans who accepted my form. The fun was not destined to last, unfortunately, as a great danger came upon us; an enemy that threatens the very survival of everyone in the multiverse.”

“The Ochivari,” Freya blurted out. “Oh, sorry.”

“That’s right,” Khuweka confirmed, unperturbed by the interruption. “Saga is already fully aware of them, because this enemy originates from her universe.”

“Her name is Freya now,” Zektene corrected.

Khuweka tilted her head in thought. “Huh, you’re right. Apologies, Freya. Anyway, the Ochivari are an odd bunch. They were born with a limited ability to travel the multiverse. At first, they used this to build their empire at home, siphoning large amounts of resources from uninhabited worlds with barely a thought. Eventually, however, a sort of religion formed. They wouldn’t use that word for it, but it’s the best way to describe it, because it’s twisted and pervasive, like a cancer. Not everyone believes in the same thing, but they all serve the interests of Worlon, their home planet. Their basic tenet is that all evolved life must be destroyed. They’re antinatalists, which is ironic, because they propagate their own species to insane numbers. Normally, this would be terrible, but people like you wouldn’t get involved, because this is not your universe. But remember what I said, they travel to other universes, which is why you are all in danger, as are your people.

“Now, we could fight a war. We could build giant ships, and attack them. We could conscript the various machines and people who travel the bulkverse, but why do that when we can end it before it starts? I propose we go back to before the Ochivari are seeded on Worlon, and destroy them before they have the chance to do anything.”

The others had been listening intently, careful not to make any assumptions, or dismiss Khuweka’s concerns. They also seemed a lot more comfortable being around her than Freya would have guessed. Perhaps, though they had clearly never seen her kind before, they were used to the concept of other. A well-dressed middle aged woman took a quarter step forward. “Have you considered the ethics of this undertaking? When accounting for time travel, what you’re talking about could still be considered genocide.”

“No, I’ve not considered it much,” Khuweka responded. “That is your job, Professor. I will say, however, that this serves the greater good.”

A disheveled man raised his hand.

“Yes, Limerick?”

“Do I still get to punch somebody?” He assessed the group. “I can’t believe I’m here for any other reason than I’m good at punching people.”

Khuweka sighed and massaged her forehead. “You remember you’re in another universe, right?”

“Yeah, you said that,” Limerick replied.

“I don’t have the ability to do that myself. I got all these people here, because of you. You brought them here, so that’s what you bring to the table. You’re a bulkverse traveler, just like the Ochivari.”

He squinted at her, like the two of them were just trying to figure out which actor was in a particular movie, and even though she was obviously right, he couldn’t help but not believe her. “I don’t remember that.”

“Yes, I know,” an exasperated Khuweka said. “That’s what happens when totally shitfaced is your resting state. I need you to sober up, and get with the program. It’s time to be a big boy, and do something productive for a change.”

Limerick mockingly straightened up, and bounced his head all hoity-toity like. “We’ll see.”

“Well,” Khuweka continued, “you all now know Limerick Hawthorne. He’s right, if someone does need punching during this mission, he’ll be able to help with that as well. You also met Freya Einarsson, who is here because she is familiar with this universe, and the progression of the timelines. Her friend, Zektene Cormanu is a teleporter from the Composite Universe, which will come in handy, no doubt. Doctor Andraste Spellmeyer will act as our resident ethicist, because as she pointed out, what we’re doing here isn’t exactly the Middle Way. She is from Universe Prime, and she has never met an alien, or a time traveler, or anything before. Round of applause for how graceful and patient she’s being with us.”

They clap.

“Moving on, Carbrey Genovese is our engineer. He’s from Flipverse, and he’s going to build us a spaceship, and pilot it. Don’t worry, I’ll get you the specs for the reframe engine.”

“I don’t know what that is,” Carbrey said.

“Essentially faster-than-light travel, Freya filled him in.

“Oh, okay. Well, no promises, I’ve never built a spaceship before.”

“Wait,” Limerick jumped in. “You said he’s from Flipverse, and other people are from other places. Where am I from? What would you call it?”

“Most universes don’t get their own names,” Khuweka tried to explain delicately. “Yours is one of the many. You can call it Limerickverse, if you want.”

“I want.”

“If there are no further interruptions, I can introduce our last crew member.” Khuweka looked over at the humbly quiet man who had actually separated himself from the group by nearly a meter. “Do you want to step back into the circle?”

The man hesitated, but approached. “Hi, my name is Landis Tipton, and I’m from a universe called Voldisilaverse. I am a kenvoldisil, which means I was not born voldisil, but turned into one later when a group of them died, and transferred their abilities unto me.” He took a step back, apparently believing that was enough of an explanation.

Khuweka was trying to be patient with him. “Do you wanna tell us what abilities you have?”

Not really, but Landis didn’t care much for confrontation. “I can see your regrets, smell your health, hear your desires, feel your pain, and taste your lies.”

Limerick suddenly turned into a decent and put-together human being. “Right on, man.”

Khuweka smiled at Landis. “He can also reverse his abilities, using them primarily to cure people by breathing on them. He saved millions of lives one by one, and billions once they figured out how to replicate his healing ability.”

“I once knew people who could cure others by breathing on them,” Zektene said.

“Yes, by using organic nanotechnology. This is different. Voldisilaverse is unlike any I’ve ever heard of. My people are ruthless and unfeeling. They’ve never met a human they didn’t want to kill, except for the few they revere as gods. But when they discovered Landis’ version of Earth, something turned them away; not out of fear, but...respect, and maybe even empathy? Something made them not want to hurt his people.”

“We’re not all good,” Landis revealed, then slunk back away, immediately regretting having volunteered to speak.

“Well, at least two of you are,” Khuweka acknowledged. “Another voldisil is the one who contacted me. She can see things that are happening in other universes, and it was she who told me who belongs on this team. Now it’s up to all of us to prove her right.”

< > Entire Story

Microstory 1530: Cloze Tests Test

< > Table of Contents

This is going to be one of the most ________tal microfiction experiments I have ever done. They will all be cloze tests. What is a cloze ________? Well, you might have heard of Mad Libs before, and this is a similar situ____. For the former, a ________ is tasked with tasking their ________ with supplementing the missing words from a paragraph in a ________. Underneath each blank is a part of sp____ch, which prompts them to choose a word without having any context to the paragraph’s ultimate meaning. The ________ of the game is to come up with the craziest and ____iest story in the end. A cloze test, on the other ________, is not generally meant to be ________. You’ve probably done them in school, where you’ve ________ a film, or read a ________, and the teacher asks you to prove your comprehension without having to ________ an entire summary from scratch. My cloze “________” will be short fictional ____ies, with no particular theme, and no ________ way to connect them all together. The words I omit will be ____ly selected. If writing this ________ is any indication, then I will be ________ the blanks as I go along, rather than ________ the whole story, and cutting ________ out afterwards. I may do it differently to see how that ________. As you’ve seen, I occasion____ put part of the word, and have you ________ in a blank before or after it, with only a morpheme or two. I may even make it even wilder, and put blanks in very _nusu_l places, with single character blanks. Pay no attention to the length of the blank ________. It is of no indication ________ long the word you fill in should be, and will probably only ev____ be shortened when only part of a word is missing. I don’t want to tailor the length to any given ________ I have in mind, because I still ________ you to be able to come up with whatever narrative you feel makes the most sense—or the least sense, as it were. This might be one of the ____best things I’ve ever tried, and it might make me ________ like a ________in’ ________, but as I’ve ________ before, the point of this website is to experiment with nontraditional forms of wri__ing. That last blank was meant to be writhing, by the way. Hopefully this makes for an interesting read, and isn’t so distracting or vague that it means nothing. There’s little I can do to test it out myself, since I always do have a word in mind, and will always read it using those. If you don’t like it, then ____tive criticism is fine, but don’t go around calling me a ________ ________ ________ ________, or a ________ ________ ________ who can’t even ________ when ________ is on ________, you piece ________ ________, standing there with ________ and ________ ________ ________ shoelaces around your ________. Okay, maybe some of these will be a little funny.