Microstory 1688: Unstable Universes

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Perhaps now is a good time to talk about brane stability. Not all universes are created equal. Some are naturally occurring, while c-branes are created in someone’s dreams. Most dreams last for only minutes before they end, and unless something else steps in to maintain the dreamworld, the universe that was born out of it will collapse as well. Even if the dream is strong enough to survive, that doesn’t mean it will last forever. It is only as strong as the people who are responsible for it. What does this mean? Well, if the dreamer continues to deliberately explore the new world, it can last longer. If they create something semipermanent from it, like a written story, or even a painting, that can make it last even longer. If this art reaches some kind of audience, that can make it last indefinitely. The most popular stories make for the most stable universes. They have room to expand, and become more detailed, and most importantly, interesting. They might also be able to survive on their own merits, by the force of will of their inhabitants, but this is fairly rare. I was expecting to give you another story about the universe where zombies take over the world only briefly before dying out, but like Vacuumverse, there is nothing more I can say. The events that occurred here did not follow any level of logic, and the inhabitants weren’t strong enough to hold up their story on their own. History began the moment zombies were first created, and ended centuries later when civilization was all but rebuilt. Little happened in the meantime, and nothing happened afterwards. The whole universe collapsed under its own unstable insignificance, and that’s all you need to know.

Microstory 1687: Licensed Genies Only

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There are many differences between a spirit, a witch, and a mutant. A spirit uses their soul to develop special abilities, a witch uses their mind, and a mutant uses their body. But it goes deeper than that. Witches use something called Craft (they don’t call it witchcraft), and while there is more often than not a biological component, it is usually a learned skill. The temporal manipulators in Salmonverse are a major exception to this, as they seem to have some kind of innate understanding of their own respective abilities, but for the most part, it takes work. Mutants obviously have some kind of genetic difference that allows them to do whatever they do, or even hinders them in some way. While their mutations aren’t always beneficial to them, they do generally figure out how to express them through survival instincts, because it’s rooted in that part of their neural makeup. Spirits, on the other hand, don’t have to learn anything. They don’t have to be changed, or be descended from those who were changed. It’s just something they are; or rather, it’s something that we are. We’re born knowing that we’re different, and also how we’re different. There’s sometimes a learning curve, but we typically grow up with a fairly high understanding of ourselves. We know what we can do, and we have a pretty good idea of what we intend to accomplish with our gifts. Some are good, some bad, but none is lost. The Genies in Genieverse were the same way, except pretty much all of them wanted to help people with their spirit abilities. Of course, as we know, they totally fail to live up to their own expectations, but this story isn’t about that. It’s about how they came together to organize, and how any recalcitrant ones were left with no choice.

For reasons I’ve not bothered to figure out, the population of this version of planet Earth was only at about a billion when personal computers and cell phones became ubiquitous. This is unusual. Even with heavy religious influence, the global population should be beginning to see a much steeper increase by this time. They kept changing their calendar, so I’m not sure what year it would be comparatively, though, so it’s hard to gauge what’s different, and what’s on track. Still, at this point in history, Genies were starting to feel like they needed to do more to help. They numbered about a thousand when a few of them got together first. They wanted to start a local organization, which would service people hoping to be granted wishes. They were the ones who came up with the majority of the rules and procedures that would end up becoming the norm. Up until this moment, Genies operated individually, and granted wishes very rarely. It’s unclear how they chose their clients, but they included some of the most powerful people in history. A few other Genies caught wind of what this small group was planning, and wanted in on the action. They had some ideas on how to improve the system. Genies just kept showing up, and wanting to make sure the system operated smoothly. Some fought against it. This was the way they had done things their entire lives, as had their predecessors, and they didn’t think there was any need to change things now. Unfortunately for them, once word got out to the general population that Genies were real, there was no way to grant wishes without being part of the association. Even without an understanding of how Genies worked, people were suspicious of anyone who wasn’t considered licensed. Each Genie was ultimately responsible for about a million people, which was just one more reason why this was all such a bad idea.

Microstory 1686: Emergence

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About a hundred and twenty years after nearly the entire human population of Earth retreated into underground bunker cities to survive an asteroid impact, the surface was ready to support life again. The impact winter was over years prior, but the descendants of the original survivors wanted to make sure the planet had enough time to recuperate before they started messing with it again. Plantlife returned on its own, but most of the animal life was gone. They were able to bring a few individuals down to the bunkers with them, but the majority of species would be lost forever. Some did manage to survive on the surface after impact, but their lives had been really difficult, and none of them was available to eat. What cows, pigs, chickens, and other livestock the people managed to hold onto would not be able to repopulate the world for a very long time. Fortunately for them, there had never been enough meat for it to be part of the people’s diets anyway once the event occurred. Everyone was vegetarian, whether they would have chosen the diet on their own, or not. When they emerged, that still couldn’t change, and it probably never would. They set free the animals they had, and let them do whatever they wanted with their lives. It was time to rebuild. At this point in history, the people were pretty advanced. In the underground cities, they focused on technological advancements that they could actually use underground—medicine and longevity, efficient energy production, etc.—but that didn’t mean they abandoned all else. They had not been able to do much space exploration for real, but they developed quite sophisticated simulations, so they came out with a great deal of understanding of the concept. They were brilliant engineers, and masters of architecture, and they were ready to expand.

The bunkers at the end would be unrecognizable to anyone who first stepped down into them over a century ago. The original creations were simple, fairly empty, and available for heavy modification. This was what they did over the years; continue to improve their living spaces. Now that they were back outside, they adapted these skills to towering buildings in the open air, and they did it extremely quickly. Within a single lifetime, it would be difficult to tell that the people of this world ever lived exclusively underground. And it really was exclusive. The few survivors who both chose not to go to the bunkers, and manage to survive the impact, did not last very long during the winter. They didn’t have enough resources, enough skills to figure out workarounds, or enough people to propagate the species. As for the descendants, not everyone wanted to live as their ancestors. They were born underground, they were comfortable down there, and that was where they wanted to stay. No one had a problem with that. Their choice was only going to serve to protect the environment, which needed as much help as it could get. A high number of people wanted to live on the sea, as it was something most of them could barely fathom. Pictures and movies could just not do it justice. Likewise with space. They had fusion power, excellent life support systems, and a particularly strong desire to see what else was out there; even more so than other cultures experienced. So they sent out their probes, and built their passenger ships, and began the interplanetary expansion, followed by the interstellar one. All things considered, they probably weren’t too far behind where they would have been had the asteroid not struck. Now they could do it faster, easier, and without making as many mistakes. The people prospered.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 23, 1693

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They weren’t allowed to return to the Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez. A little side punishment for their insolence was that they would lose all modern convenience privileges. They were going to live in the past, as the past people lived. It was unclear what Anatol and Zeferino were going to do with their ship, but if even one access panel was out of place when they finally got back to it, Leona was going to flip out. Since it was necessary either way to blend in with the natives, they had to find new clothes to wear. They took a quick detour to sometime in the future at The Hub on Tribulation Island. There, Téa was able to provide them with the appropriate attire and accessories for life in the 17th century. They gave her a friendly greeting, and she greeted them back, but they didn’t talk about anything. They didn’t know which timeline this was, or how simpatico they were. It was best just to acknowledge that they knew each other, remain pleasant, and move on.

Once they were fitted, they went back to the past, but not as far as they were before. It was now 1693. It would seem as though they were no longer on any sort of predictable pattern. It was still possible—maybe the jump would always be 85 years—but the most likely explanation was that the time of patterns was over, and they would just go whenever and wherever they were needed. The antagonists would probably still send them ever forwards so they didn’t accidentally interfere with their own past work in the future. At this rate, they would be back to their general time period in only about a week. But again, they didn’t really know anything.

They spent one night here in realtime, so when they woke up, it was April 23, and about time for their next mission. Their breakfast wasn’t very good, but they weren’t allowed the status of noblemen here, so they took what they could get. They were only entitled to eat some bread and cornmeal. Mateo added it to his mental list of the things he hated about the past. Who would live like this? It just felt so strange to him, even though he knew that most people hadn’t heard of time travel, and they certainly didn’t have access to it. He hoped that Leona’s weeklong estimate was right, and they would be done with this before too long. He did not vocalize his feelings, and he figured everyone else was deliberately keeping their complaints to themselves too. If the antagonists realized quite how annoyed they were with this whole thing, they might make it worse. They assumed Angela would be the most comfortable here. It wasn’t her time period, but they were closer to it in terms of technology. She was actually the most uncomfortable, though. Because she already lived through it, and she knew how much it sucked. Mateo kept clocking her reaching for her handheld device in her back pocket. Not only was the device not there, but nor was a pocket. It was presumably illegal for a woman to have pockets, because that would make her life too easy.

They walked down the stone street to get to the other side of the city. It wasn’t that bad, except for the excrement all over that people just threw out their windows. They were worried that, even in these garments, the locals would be suspicious of them. They might not have been holding themselves up correctly, and not everyone on the team had the right skin color. Seven strangers walking together must have looked weird too. For the most part, however, people just left them alone, and focused on their own lives. Their minds were most likely preoccupied with how much they hated living like this as well, and wishing there was a faster way to get across town. Leona was frustrated for similar reasons. So much could go wrong here. It would be far safer if they just lived in The Parallel, and pulled people through like normal. Before he disappeared, Anatol hinted that they weren’t going to use transition windows in the same way that Jupiter and Nerakali had. He was still going to include that power as part of the program, but the rescues were too far back in the timeline to be able to handle such a thing. They were going to have to get creative.

Leona looked around to make sure no one was watching. Then she pulled her sleeve back, and checked her Cassidy cuff. It was still technically operational, but its functionality was severely limited. The screen only showed them where they were, and where they were supposed to go. No maps, no messages, no features. It didn’t even have a clock in the corner. “This is it,” she said, stopping in front of a door.

“It looks like it’s in that direction,” Jeremy pointed out as he was consulting his own cuff.

“It doesn’t show how far away our target is,” Leona began to explain, “but I’ve been keeping an eye on our pace. I’m guessing the person we’re looking for is up against the wall of this apartment. We need this door.”

Jeremy nodded in understanding, still looking at his cuff. “Target is on the move.”

“How do we handle this?” Mateo questioned. “What do we do?”

Not bothering to wait for a discussion, Olimpia pounded on the door.

The little target dot stopped, and started moving in the opposite direction, towards them. An oldish man opened the door. “Can I help you?”

They didn’t discuss what they were going to say to him, so it was awkward for a moment. Olimpia seemed sick of waiting for other people to make the decisions. “You need to come with us right now.”

“Okay, let me retrieve my bag,” the man said. He wasn’t expecting them, but he acted like this sort of thing happened all the time. He left the door open, and walked back down the hallway.

“We have a new target now,” Jeremy announced. “That’s probably where we’re supposed to take him.”

“How did you know we would take him anywhere?” Angela asked.

“Apartment’s not on fire,” Olimpia replied. “He’s just hanging out, enjoying the day. I’m sure he’s not in any immediate danger. The mission is somewhere else.”

“Do you require the leeches?” the man shouted from the back.

“He’s a doctor,” Mateo guessed, remembering that people used to use leeches to get poisoned blood out of the body.

“Yes, bring the leeches!” Olimpia shouted back.

“Doctor,” Leona said just for the group, using airquotes. “Anyway, they’re called physicians. You call him a doctor, he might be confused. His title is mister.”

The physician came back with what he needed for a medical emergency that didn’t exist. Or maybe it did exist. They didn’t know what the mission was, or what its purpose was. Maybe Anatol needed someone else’s life to be saved, and this was his way of accomplishing that without the aid of the two known time traveling doctors. The physicians followed them without question. He didn’t even ask people their names, and they didn’t ask for his. Jeremy took up the rear so he could keep an eye on the cuff screen without getting caught. It was only telling them whether they were heading in the right direction, or not. It couldn’t plot a course for them through the streets, so they had to be real careful with it. Finally, they were past the city limits, and into the edges of the countryside. Still, the physician didn’t seem perturbed. He patiently walked with them, down the dirt road, up the trail, and into the clearing.

“Uhh, we’re here,” Jeremy said.

They spread out a little to look for clues, but all they saw were plants, trees, and grass. “How are we on time?” Dalton asked.

“It doesn’t have a time,” Jeremy answered.

“Well, how long do we wait?” Dalton furthered.

“What are we waiting for?” the physician asked.

“We don’t know,” Leona said vaguely.

“It’s changed,” Jeremy said. “We have to go this way now.”

“What are you looking at?” The physician wasn’t freaking out, but he was growing concerned.

“That’s the direction we came from,” Siria noted. “Are they messing with us?”

“I don’t know,” Mateo said. “It doesn’t matter. They’re holding all the cards. Let’s just keep following it until we end up where we’re meant to be.”

And so the group got back on the trail. They took it all the way to the dirt road, which took them to the stone streets, which took them back through the city, and then right back to the physician’s apartment. It appeared to be some kind of exercise in futility.

“Morning, Mister Stroud,” said a young woman as they were standing at the door, confused. “Who are your friends?”

“Not friends of mine,” the physician said. “Friends of a patient.”

“Oh. Is that where you’ve been for the last week?”

“How do you mean?” Stroud asked.

“You have been gone for a week,” she contended. “We assumed you had business in Chaslow again.”

“I saw you just at dawn,” Stroud argued.

The woman shook her head. “That was very much a week ago, sir. You look tired. You should get some rest. Good day to you all.”

Many returned with things like “good day,” and “good day to you.”

“What did you do to me?” Stroud was upset now.

Leona stepped forward like she was going to give him an explanation. She stood there for a moment before saying, “run.”

Most of the team ran off, including the newbies. They all trusted her judgment. Only she and Mateo remained. “We’re sorry to have wasted your time,” he said.

The confounded physician stared back at the two of them. He didn’t have an explanation for his missing time, and he already understood that they weren’t going to give one to him. The three of them turned to watch the rest of the team disappear around the corner, then the Matics casually left the apartment, and followed them at a comfortable walking pace.

Jeremy managed to get them a single message through the cuff. It was nothing more than a question mark. Leona replied with a simple GO. Stroud wasn’t going to call the coppers on them, or something, but it was still best if the majority of them just quickly returned to the safehouse. Leona and Mateo, meanwhile, were just going to hold hands, and enjoy some time alone for a bit. Once they were back, they explained to the group that everything was fine. The theory was that Stroud was destined to die sometime in the past week, and that it was their job to help him skip over that death. They probably crossed in and out of a transition window in the woods without realizing it. Most importantly, he didn’t realize it. He would never be able to explain, but he wouldn’t want to lose his station, so he would keep quiet about it, and just move on with his life. Hopefully he was now destined to save more lives with medicine.

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Extremus: Year 4

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The reigning theory is that Old Man was attempting to send Captain Yenant to his death when he modified the recall device to transport two people off the ship, instead of the ship as a whole. Halan made contact with Team Keshida on Gatewood to find out if the three people who ended up taking the device had shown up at any point in time, but it was a negative. Best guess is that Halan was meant to be sent to somewhere in the vacuum of space, while Omega and Airlock Karen were just going to be collateral damage. The reason Old Man and Rita were sent instead was because both of them touched the device with their bare skin prior to activation. Since the former was screaming about not being able to wash his hands well enough, the device probably gave off some kind of residue, which adhered to their hands, and linked them to it. When the button was finally pushed, it took them all away.

The Captain ordered a full head count of the entire ship; crew and passengers, to find out whether anyone else was missing. One other young man was, but the other passengers couldn’t place him, so it’s unclear whether he had touched the device as well, or if something else had happened to him before that. He may have never been on the ship at all. This was a terrible oversight that Halan knew he needed to rectify. Nothing like that could ever happen again. Even without a transportation device of some kind, better safeguards need to be put in place. If someone gets lost in the lower deck engineering section, for instance, there needs to be some way to know that they’re missing in the first place. This was an eye-opening experience.

Eckhart Mercer continued to prove himself an invaluable member of the team. His popularity with the passengers made him the obvious choice to replace Rita Suárez as the Lieutenant. They would miss him on evening announcements, but Mercer was already training someone to fill in for him, and she was more than prepared to take the baton. She too has a fun personality, and her own interesting spin on things.

Despite the tragic mystery that would likely never be solved, things went pretty smoothly over the course of the next year. Omega was released from hock, and joined the engineering team. His claim that he had learned his lesson was more than just an excuse to be free. He was being positive, helpful, and obedient. With Airlock Karen out of the way, the general population felt a lot more at ease. With Old Man out of the way, Halan personally felt more at ease. It was a fitting end to a potentially disastrous situation. As useful as he could be, he was the kind of guy who would ultimately do more harm than good.

Right now, Halan is sitting at his desk, looking over the micrometeoroid report. They’ve been getting worse every day, and while the teleporter field has been able to dismiss every object thus far, the experts still don’t know why the numbers are increasing. Mercer walks in. “It’s happened. It’s finally happened.”

Halan smiles. “You’ve all finally decided to stop celebrating my birthday? What a relief.”

“Actually, that may be true. It might be best if we cancel it for the sake of morale, and optics. What I mean is that the first death has happened.”

Halan falls into a frown. “I see. Report.”

Mercer consults his tablet. “A Kaiora Sambra. She was seventy-three years old, terminal. She refused advanced treatment, and boarded Extremus in order to spend her last few years with her family. She evidently died peacefully in her bed, monitored by hospice, and after some long goodbyes. Word is already spreading. Still, I think you should make an announcement.”

“Of course,” Halan agrees. “Please have Andara write something up for me. I’ll be doing the evening announcements in her stead today. Until then, I would like to speak with the family, if they’re up for it.”

“I’ll ask the counselor to coordinate.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“Sir.”

Halan quietly walks down the hallway, and gently knocks on Dr. Itri Meziani’s door. Though this is the first death on the ship, it’s not like the grief counselor has had no work until now. Many left loved ones behind on Gatewood, and will almost certainly never see them again, which is a form of grief, so she’s had plenty of patients. One of them could be in there with her right now. She opens quickly, and Halan can see that she’s alone.

“Come in, Captain. I think it’s a nice idea for you to meet with the family of the deceased, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

“How do you mean?” Halan asks.

“Have a seat,” she offers. She sits down as well, and smiles with her lips closed. “There are thousands of people on this ship, which is why I’m training—not just a replacement—but extra help. People are going to start dying. You will one day die. Setting this precedent could have dangerous consequences for the safety of this vessel, and all those still living on it. It might seem fine to do it this once, but what happens when the second person dies? Will people expect you to go speak with them as well? What about the third, or fourth?”

“I can count, Doctor.”

“Quite. The point is that my job is to help the survivors through this kind of thing. It is not yours. Trying to take on everyone else’s responsibilities will cause all such responsibilities to suffer, whether you were always obligated to them, or not. Again, seems fine now, but eventually, we’ll start measuring the death rate in months, weeks, days, even hours. I’m not questioning whether you can handle that. You would probably be fine. Throughout your entire twenty-four year shift, you probably wouldn’t notice any scheduling strain. But remember that you’re only the first of nine. You don’t want later captains to feel this burden, do you? They will not be able to handle it.”

Halan laughs, and holds his forehead against his thumb while he scratches his eyebrow with his ring finger. “Quit makin’ sense.”

Dr. Meziani nods. “It’ll be okay. I can report to you that the family is in high spirits. Mrs. Sambra died happy, and it was her time, according to her, and everyone who knew her. She got to see one last beautiful thing before she died. The survivors are not expecting to see you. I didn’t tell them you wanted to, and no one suggested you should.”

He nods back. “Good.”

After a pause, Dr. Meziani goes on, “I don’t have any more patients today, if you would like to talk. Losing someone under your care can be tough. I know you were so far removed from her to not have even heard of her—”

“I’ve heard of her.”

“You have? Before today?”

“I know everyone on this ship.”

“Hm.”

“I had a learning chip implanted in my brain, which uploads the history of the ship. It doesn’t...well, it’s complicated how it works. Every day, it reminds me of everything that it has already taught me. I don’t access the information from the chip when I need it. It just keeps teaching me and teaching me, and I keep memorizing and memorizing, until I get it all. It updates once a year, and teaches me every day.”

“You’ve memorized everything that’s ever happened on this ship ever?” she questions.

“No, just general information, like energy consumption, and average daily distance covered, which shouldn’t change, but it sometimes slows down slightly. Basic personal info about everyone on board is the only thing I know to any level of detail.”

“Interesting. So do you feel Mrs. Sambra as a loss?”

“No, not like that. I never did meet her. Most of the passengers are, umm...” He hesitates to continue.

“Doctor-patient confidentiality, obviously.”

Halan sighs. “They’re almost like not real people. I know all of their names, birthdays, and jobs, but I still don’t know them. Since I have to memorize so many, it’s all just data. I think it’s important, though. When I pass someone, I need to be able to greet them by their name, no matter who they are.”

“That is a fascinating stance.”

“I just consider it part of the job,” Halan explains honestly.

She nods, but says nothing more.

“If I could ask you for one more bit of advice?” he requests.

“Of course.”

“I was hoping to mention the death in the evening announcements. Do you think that will be okay, or would it also lead to an untenable precedent?”

“That should be fine, as long as you frame it as a one-time deal, because it is the first death. I won’t tell you what to say, but make sure the people understand that you’re talking about it because this is only the beginning, and that it’s all part of the circle of life, and we’re all here for a purpose, and everyone knows that they will never see planet Extremus.”

“I think I can do that. In fact, I’m not much of a writer, so I better go tell my speechwriter all of this.”

“Very well.” She stands up, and extends an arm.

Halan looks down, and smiles slightly. “The old way?”

“This is our universe now, let’s get used to it.”

It isn’t how the Ansutahan humans, or their descendants, normally greet each other physically, but it’s how their ancient, ancient ancestors did, and it’s how everyone else in this galaxy does it. Which gesture two people choose often depends on which one of them holds out their hands—or hand, as it were—first. Halan cordially grasps her hand with his own, and they shake up and down. He was born here, but this does not feel right. It’s never become common.

He leaves her office, and heads back to the bridge. He steps on deck to make sure everything is okay. The ship runs itself, as all ships do. Building a ship that actually requires a human crew would be like always expecting a mother to give birth to her child completely alone. It’s possible, and it’s been done, but it’s dangerous, and it’s manifestly irresponsible when you have a choice. The bridge crew, therefore, is primarily responsible for monitoring systems, rather than directly controlling them. In the four years they’ve been operational, they’ve not had to interfere once. Most of the time, they’re watching casually and comfortably, but not carelessly. “Report.”

“All systems optimal,” the Bridgemaster says. It’s her job to ask the rest of the crew individually how things are going, so that when the Captain shows up, he doesn’t have to go through it himself.

“Carry on,” he orders. Then he steps into the Passenger Outreach Room.

“Sir.” The current announcer hangs up the phone quickly, and stands up.

“Did you just hang up on a passenger?” Halan questions.

“It was just a friend, sir. We weren’t discussing anything important. But I, uhh...assure you that I keep both eyes on the incomings. I always switch as soon as someone else calls. I’m very sorry, I shouldn’t have been doing it...”

“It’s fine, Andara. Personal calls are fine. I just came in to talk to you about the speech. Did Rita ask you to write something up for me?”

“Yes, she did.” Andara hands Halan her tablet. “I’ve finished it.”

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to rewrite it. I spoke with Dr. Meziani, and she thinks I should be careful about how I frame it.”

Andara smirks. “Why don’t you read it first?”

Halan complies, not knowing why it matters, but as he looks over the words, he realizes that she picked up on the same things the grief counselor did. By the time he’s done, he’s decided that only a few things need to be altered. “I wasn’t briefed about this,” he says about one piece of news. “They only told me about the death.”

“I’m briefed about everything. Your Lieutenant’s filter is always preceded by my filter. And you were busy.”

“I didn’t even notice..four years.”

She shrugs. “People weren’t overly concerned about it, I guess. I don’t think it was intentional to delay this long. It’s begun now, though, and it won’t stop.”

“This is great, thank you. But it does need to be reworked a little.”

Paranoid, she takes the tablet back. “How so?”

“You need to do it instead.”

“Sir?”

“It’s your job. And they’re your words.”

“Sir.”

“Same time it always is. For now, I have to go see someone else. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Halan goes out to meet with Omega for one of their weekly check-ins. A couple of hours later, Andara begins her announcements. “Good evening, folks. This is Andara Goodman, coming to you from the Passout Room. The time, as always..is this moment, where we’re all together. Bittersweet news today; as one life ends, another begins. I’m saddened to be the one to inform you that we have experienced our first death. Mrs. Kaiora Sambra left us this morning, surrounded by her family and friends. She came here knowing that she would never see our dreams realized. She came here to help us; to help our descendants. She wanted a real home for the Ansutahan refugees, and her impact on that will live on well beyond her time on the physical plane.

“I’m also happy to announce that we have also experienced our first birth. Last night, Mrs. Sambra’s great granddaughter, Kaiora Leithe opened her eyes to the world, and the first thing she saw was her namesake smiling back at her. The Captain and I believe this to be a perfect example of why we’re doing this. The persistence of life—in a free and open world, of our own making—is vital to the prosperity of our people. Every single one of you has made a conscious decision to board this ship, including the children. There are those who wished to come, but could not, because it would mean leaving behind those who did not wish it. We do not know which choice little Kaiora would have made, but she’s here now, and she will help us flourish either way. Goodbye, Kaiora. And welcome to Extremus...Kaiora.”

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Microstory 1685: Earthbound Before Death

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After several decades of isolation—remaining physically separate from each other using small fusion-powered orbital ships—technology was approaching an inevitable step in Isoverse. When people have the ability to connect themselves to a virtual network to interact with each other, it only makes sense that many will eventually decide that they no longer require bodies in base reality. This alone would not necessarily allow a species to last and thrive. At an early enough point in technological advancement, if everyone did this, the population would stagnate. This is fine, if it’s what they want, but if they want to both do this, and propagate the species, they’re probably going to have to figure out how to make new people in the simulations. Yes, theoretically, enough of them could keep their physical substrates to accomplish this goal, but who do you ask to do that, and how long will it go on before they start feeling like nothing more than a baby-making subclass? The most sustainable model assuming no limitations in natural resources, like power and raw material, is by developing artificial intelligence. This AI will essentially replace the concept of birthing offspring, whether any given entity starts out as a blank slate, as babies once did, or is switched on with full capabilities. Such technology would allow people to upload their consciousnesses into VR permanently, and continue to live however they want there, without worrying about missing out on some basic human imperatives, like creating and raising new life. Still, not everyone in Isoverse was okay with this. Not everyone wanted to be immortal, or to only make AI children. These were the ones who would come to learn the cost of isolation, and consider the possibility that that cost was irreversible for them. When they tried to return to Earth, they found survival to be much harder than it was before.

Those who wanted to return to the surface of the planet actually weren’t returning anywhere. They were all young enough to have been born on the isolation ships, and had never once set foot outside. They were fed controlled food, and breathed filtered air. They had never gotten sick, and therefore, never developed antibodies. Experts attempted to explain this fact to them, but they would not hear of it. The government had never thought to make going back down to Earth illegal. It was only against the law to break isolation while on the ships, which wasn’t that much of a problem, because they were all too small to hold a party, or something, anyway. The best of friends have never met each other in person...ever. The reality of what would happen to their bodies by not exposing themselves to a natural environment was not lost on the Isoversals who first thought to launch themselves into space. They attempted to keep the people inoculated, but this was difficult, since a lot of research simply could not continue on the ships. They probably should have sent researchers back down on a regular basis in order to stay up to date on how to protect against the ongoing evolution of disease, but I imagine they didn’t want the public to think it was a good idea to return permanently. Not a single one of the Earth-bounders managed to survive for long in that environment. They had plenty of resources, and knew how to protect against the elements, but a single cut was pretty much all it took to get an infection that they couldn’t fight against. Had they gone right back up into space, they might have stood a chance, but their medicine reserves ran low faster than they thought, and the experiment was soon over.

Microstory 1684: The Squadron

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The last time I talked about this universe, I kind of made it seem like the war that the natives started against the Ochivari was simple and quick. They lured a ship back to their version of Earth, attacked it, won, and stole it. Of course, the process was a lot more complicated than that, and actually took quite a bit of time. The human confederates that the native Earthans captured were surprisingly resilient to interrogation. This was because they were conditioned not to fear pain, but to enjoy it. It was more than this, though. These ones were young enough to have received advanced medical treatments, which actually scrambled the pain and pleasure centers of their brains. The natives didn’t physically torture them, but they did try to make their stay uncomfortable, by keeping them in small cells, and forcing them to sleep on stone floors. They didn’t starve them, but they fed them very little, and they played loud music while they were trying to sleep. The confederates enjoyed much of this, though, so they realized they had to come up with a new strategy. They put each of them in deeper isolation. Soundproof rooms with no sources of light, and no human interaction, was worse than torture for these people, because it was boring. Still, they didn’t crack immediately. It took months for them to beg to be shown even one ray of sunshine. At this point, they would tell the natives anything they wanted to know. All this time, the world’s various governments were holding a sort of competition-recruitment program. Each nation was expected to supply one of the top experts in their fields. Some countries gave their best engineers, while others their best fighters, etc. They then trained what they called The Squadron to work together, and prepare to fight their common enemy.

By the time the Squadron was ready, so were the confederates, to give up the information necessary to start this war. They contacted the Ochivari for rescue, requesting a whole ship to come for them, but when that ship came, the joint military was waiting for them. Now, this wasn’t the Squadron. Their job had not yet begun. Regular soldiers could handle this mission. All they needed to do first was to get that vessel, and figure out how to use it. They did their best to not damage the ship in the battle, and not kill too many of the Ochivari, but losses were suffered on both sides. To open a portal massive enough to accommodate the ship, a certain number of Ochivari had to be sacrificed, but when the homefront battle was over, that number was not high enough. They would have to breed more. But would such offspring not be innocent? This ethics debate only further delayed the realization of their hopes to start a war. It delayed it for years, all the while, the Squadron, and the rest of the military servicemen across the world, continued to train. They never knew whether the Ochivari would eventually send another ship to investigate what went wrong with the first one. Time travel was confusing. No more Ochivari came through, and by the time they figured out the ethics, the new Ochivari were all considered adults. Not all of them were bad, but enough of them were. These were sacrificed so that the Squadron could go off and attack the Ochivari staging area in Efilverse. The good ones, meanwhile, stayed behind, and were mostly successfully integrated into Earthan society, where they learned to value life, and reject their ancestors’ crusade against nearly all civilization. The Squadron didn’t win, but they never expected to. All they hoped to do was inspire a revolution. They did.

Microstory 1683: Death Introduced

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The battle was over, and the majority of the crew of The Crossover left Providenciaverse to get back to their mission of cataloging the bulkverse. Only 148 Maramon were left to settle on the planet, one of which was the original captain, who was mostly there out of a sense of obligation to them. Still, he did not complain. He continued to lead his people, so that they could thrive on their new world. His last order as captain was to erase all navigational data, so that no one else could return to this place. He didn’t want the leadership back on Ansutah to decide that the deserters needed to be punished in some way. If they ever, ever figured out where Providence was, then they would be able to arrive for extraction immediately. Hell, they could even come at some point earlier in the timeline if they wanted. So the settlers didn’t hold their breaths for long. After a week of no retaliation, they were confident that their location would forever remain a secret. They began to get to work, building infrastructure to make their lives easier, and forming a radical propagation plan to increase their numbers as quickly as possible. In ancient times on Ansutah, Maramon felt compelled to have many children. This powerful instinct had to be quelled once the people realized that their universe was not vast enough to accommodate infinite expansion. Such population control was no longer necessary—not here—and they had no intention of taking that for granted. Despite being left there with no advanced technology, the settlers developed fairly rapidly. However, their choice to stay was not without cost. They were born and bred to be immortal, but those rules did not apply in every universe. Here, they would age. Here, they would die.

It was a pretty hard thing to digest, the fact that a universe was capable of not only having different proper physics, but that it could somehow transform a lifeform on an organic level. Their ancient texts spoke of death in the early days of their homeworld, but for most of history, the idea was more academic. Only recently was it reintroduced to them in full force when they discovered the limited scope of their universe. Even then, they remained ageless, and really only died due to the resource wars. It broke their hearts to learn that this was just the way they would live from now on, just like the way humans evolved naturally. And if they were no better than humans, as they had been taught their entire lives, what other lies did they believe about life, the bulkverse, and everything? Fortunately, their new state of being did not cause them to resort to something irreversible, like war. Not long afterwards, the original settlers all died out anyway, leaving their descendants to move on without them, having never experienced the immortal lifestyles of their forebears. They continued to progress, just as any moderately peaceful civilization will, while always keeping the environment in mind. The settlers had dedicated themselves to not teaching their young ones too much about where they ultimately came from. If the species was going to survive, they would have to think that the way things were was the way things had always been. Some stories held on better than others, but overall, the society that formed over the centuries was normal. Some people were bad, some were good. They tried to do the right thing, and made mistakes. They explored the solar system, and sent probes and colonists to the nearest stars in the neighborhood. Their Maramon brethren never did come back, for any reason, but the Ochivari did come, and that’s when things got interesting.