The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 31, 1838

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Leona checked her watch when they woke up in a completely different room the morning after the doctor mission. It was now May 31, 1838; the largest jump yet. Their cuffs weren’t giving them directions. In fact, they weren’t on at all. Until now, they weren’t even aware they could be turned off. Either they were completely dead, or Anatol figured out how to use them, and decided they weren’t necessary this time. “I actually don’t know how they’re powered,” Leona admitted. “I’ve never been allowed to open them up and examine them. Yes, they could be dead.”

“Well, no one here has powers, except for Olimpia sort of,” Mateo pointed out. “We don’t need them anymore regardless. We just have to do what The Warrior asks of us.”

“What is it he’ll be asking of us?” Jeremy asked. He was a little down, even though they still had no proof that the cuffs weren’t coming back.

Just then, they heard a scream in the other room. It didn’t sound like someone was being attacked, or that they had just bumped into the coffee table. It was more like they were in mourning, or something. The six of them rushed through the door to find a woman on a bed, crying out in pain. She was very pregnant, and almost certainly in labor.”

“Does anybody know how to deliver a baby?” Mateo asked.

The woman shouted at them in a foreign language. Or rather, the native language.

“Does anybody speak German?” Olimpia asked.

Angela stepped forward. “Wir sind hier um zu helfen.”

“Ich bin allein,” the mother replied.

“Nicht länger,” Angela said. She turned to the group. “Jeremy, find clean towels. Olimpia, give me that bottle of hand sanitizer from your bag. We need all of it. Siria, find me some liquor, in case all of it isn’t enough. Leona, fresh water. Mateo, how strong is your arm?”

“You need me to lift something?” Mateo questioned.

Angela took his arm, and placed it in the mother’s grip. “Halte ihn fest.”

Mateo winced as the mother beared down. “I’m okay, I’m okay. Okay.” He placed his other hand upon hers, both to comfort her more, but also hoping she didn’t feel the need to break his radius.

“Ich muss jetzt deinen Bauch berühren.”

The mother just nodded, so Angela reached under her outfit, and started feeling around. Then she started to press harder. “It’s breeched.”

“What are you going to do about that?” Mateo asked, still trying to figure out how to survive this death grip.

“Turn it.” She looked up at Jeremy when he returned with the towels. “Hold all eight fingers right here,” she ordered. “No. Harder. Harder! You’re not going to puncture her stomach with your fingernails. Hold until I say otherwise.” Angela got to work, pressing on the mother’s belly as Jeremy held in place. It looked like she was giving a deep tissue massage, and she was feeling it more than she was looking at it. Before too long, she shook her head. “It’s not working.”

“What else can we do?” Jeremy asked.

“Let go. Give me your knife.”

“Are you serious?” he questioned

“Give me your goddamn knife right now!” She faced the mother. “Es ist okay. Du bist okay. Okay?”

“Okay,” the mother confirmed.

Siria returned. “I found some alcohol.”

“Give it to her,” Angela ordered. “Trink es. Trinken Sie alles.”

The mother was too scared.

“Trinken.”

Still scared, the mother took the bottle, and downed it pretty much in one gulp.

Once the bottle was empty, Angela took the fairly large pocket knife from Jeremy. She drenched it in the hand sanitizer, then rubbed some on mother’s belly. “Ich muss das tun.”

The mother nodded, understanding what had to be done.

Angela cut into the belly, less carefully than Mateo would have thought. She didn’t need it to look pretty, or leave a clean scar, or maybe she just didn’t have enough training. She had Jeremy pull the flesh away as she continued to cut. There were a lot of layers to get through before she reached all the way into the uterus. Mateo could see a head peeking through. By this point, Leona was back. She sat by the mother’s head, and rubbed her hair affectionately. Olimpia and Siria stood by, ready to receive. Angela reached in and pulled the baby out, again less gracefully than Mateo would assume. She just got it out of its mother, and placed it into the towel in Siria’s arms.

While Siria and Olimpia were washing the newborn off, and making sure it was crying and breathing, Angela reached in and retrieved the placenta. Leona had apparently considered there might be a c-section, so she was ready with a needle and thread. Angela sewed the mother up like a seasoned surgeon. The baby’s cries filled the room. It had all apparently gone well. They spent the next few hours caring for the two of them, retrieving whatever she needed; water, food, more towels. Mother was able to hold baby most of the time, and even managed to nurse him a little.

“Now, no one had babies in the afterlife simulation, right?” Mateo asked.

“Never. It wasn’t part of the programming. Any baby born inside the sim would be artificial intelligence, and difficult for many to accept as real. There were plenty of medical training programs, though. I wouldn’t be able to perform open heart surgery, but I can do some basic things like this.”

“No one would call that basic,” Leona contended. “It’s a good thing you were here. I learn something new about you every day.”

“I’m sure the Warrior knows my history and education.”

“I’m not certain he does,” Leona said. “We haven’t come across many people who know about the afterlife sim. I think it’s a pretty good secret, and anyway, it would be difficult for him to gather information about things that actually happened to people in there. Or, I suppose, will happen.”

On the other side of the room, Siria was trying to communicate with the mother. “The name. What will you name him?” She pointed to her own chest. “Siria. Siria Webb.” She pointed to Olimpia with her whole palm. “Olimpia Sangster.” Now she pointed to the baby.

“Oh,” it sounded like the mother said. “Anatol.”

The room stopped what they were doing, and turned towards her. “What was that?”

“Anatol,” she repeated. “Es ist sein Großvater.”

“He’s named after his grandfather,” Angela translated.

“Anatol Klugman?” Jeremy asked.

“Ja.”

The grown up Anatol came into the room and regarded his mother, and his Past!Self. Now it all made sense. The Warrior brought them here to assist with his own birth. But obviously it went fine in his own reality, or he wouldn’t exist to ask them for help at all. This didn’t feel like a predestined time loop. So that was what made it actually not make sense at all. It made no sense when considering time travel rules. This version of Anatol existed. And no matter what they did, this version of him would continue to exist. Any other version in any other timeline would have to be assimilated either way, so who cares? Was it just his mother? Did he just want his mom to have the baby, regardless of what that meant about his own identity? “It’s time to go, you six,” he said. “Now,” he added when they didn’t move. “She’ll be fine.”

They stood, and started to leave. “Warten,” the mother said. “Herzlichen Dank!”

“Gern geschehen,” Angela said for the group.

“Let’s go,” Adult!Anatol said. Baby!Anatol, on the other hand, said nothing.

Once they were in the other room, and out of sight, he transported them all to the middle of the woods. “What?” he asked defensively.

“We didn’t say anything,” Leona promised.

“I’m not just being self-serving!”

“You don’t have to explain to us,” Mateo said honestly.

“You’re right, I don’t, so shut the hell up! And if you ever tell anyone about this, you’re literally dead. And I mean, like, real dead. All I would have to do is take you to dinosaur times, before Pryce’s computer program exists.”

“Anatol, it’s fine,” Mateo tried to assure him. “I don’t know if you’re just too used to dealing with bad people, but we’re decent. We’re not going to put your Baby!Self in danger. Do you really think that’s the kind of thing any of us would do?”

Anatol sighed. “I suppose not. But you’re also a little unpredictable, especially when dealing with someone who you would consider an antagonist.”

“No one here is gonna hurt a baby,” Mateo continued. “The Superintendent once sent me out to kill a bunch of Adolf Hitlers from other universes. They were all at different ages, and one time, he was an infant in 1890. I refused, and I’ve always kind of thought it was a test. Anyway, I still think there’s good in you, and I’m not giving up on finding it.”

“You’re right, there is good in me, and I use it every day, because what I do is good, and it is just, and I don’t regret a choice.”

“Well...that’s what I’m trying to change. Good people have regrets. If you don’t, you’re not doing it right. You either can’t recognize your mistakes, or you’re not taking any risks. I know you take plenty of risks, so...”

“I’m done with this conversation,” Anatol began, “and I’m ready to move you on to another mission. After five years of fighting in all of the Prussian wars, I tried  to return home, but ended up on a detour. I need you to take care of my business for me, so my Past!Self can go home.”

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Extremus: Year 5

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Captain Halan Yenant is standing at the head of the table, while the rest of the group is seated. To his left is Lieutenant Mercer, who is one of only three people who know what’s going on, and why this meeting has been called. Most of the rest are clueless. “To begin, I’ll do introductions. You may all know each other, but let’s do it anyway. I’m Captain Yenant, first of nine. This is my Lieutenant, Eckhart Mercer. Over here we have Lead Engineer, Veca Ocean, who brought the issue at hand to my attention. Next to her is another engineer, Omega Parker. He’s here, because he’s the clone of a very clever man, who was partially responsible for much of the technology that we take for granted on this vessel. I have recently named him Head of Special Projects, which is what I believe this will be, if it isn’t already. Back on this side is Head of Security, Karson Gideon. He’ll be present for every meeting henceforth, and will be largely responsible for the secrecy of this committee’s mandate.”

“What is this committee’s mandate?”

“I was getting to you, Satyria,” Halan says. “I guess I’ll skip over these others to introduce you to Satyria Ebner. She’s Passenger Chair. While I am still demanding that this project be kept secret from anyone outside this room, she has the right to be included. Coming back this way, Lead Mechanic Corey Holgersen. Across from them is our one and only Temporal Engineer, Valencia Raddle, plus her apprentice, Augustina Voll.”

“I—”

“But she goes by August,” Halan added before realizing that she was trying to say that herself. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, I didn’t know you knew that. It’s not in my file.”

“It is now.” Halan points down to the end of the table, past Satyria. “Those two down there are The Bridgers.”

The crowd looks down at them, surprised to see them here.

“I know,” Halan says, holding his hand up. “They’re not supposed to be out in public, but it’s too important. This project is long term. It will probably last the entire trip. If word gets out that this committee has formed, or why it has formed, anyone here is subject to profound disciplinary action, including me. I could be deshifted for it, it’s that serious. Anyone who reveals anything about the Bridgers, however...will be executed, because it’s even more serious. No one can know who they are, or that they’re here. Does everyone here understand this? I need verbal confirmation from every single one.” He received it.

“They probably won’t say anything,” he goes on, “and you won’t need to say anything to them, and you don’t need to know their names.” The Bridgers are a mystical and mysterious class of people. They live in a secret section of the ship, and don’t participate socially. They are immortal, having undergone transhumanistic upgrades to keep them from dying. Over time, either their current bodies will be modified, or their consciousnesses will be transferred to new bodies entirely, just to better ensure their anonymity. Now that this meeting has been called, only eleven people in the universe know anything about them, including Rita, and their personal doctor, who lives with them. The next administration will be read-in when the time comes for transition.

The Bridgers were created to maximize the chances that this project will succeed. If something goes wrong during one of these administrative transitions, they can assume authority, and put a stop to any conflict. If something goes wrong with the entire mission, they are expected to survive, along with embryos that are being stored in their secret section. If no one else survives to reach the Extremus planet, hopefully the two of them will, along with a new generation of human descendants. They can’t let this all be for nothing. Of course, this is only a last resort, but the original engineers, some of which ultimately decided to not even come along, felt it necessary to stack the deck in their favor. The very idea of the Bridgers was spread throughout the passengers and crew as a way to frighten those who might go looking for proof of their existence, while maintaining the very real possibility that there is no proof, and that it’s all just made up.

Halan regards the people of the committee, looking for anyone who wants to ask a question, but is too afraid to. He doesn’t plan on answering such questions, but he needs to know if they’re there. “Okay. I’ll cede the floor to Mrs. Ocean, who first came to me with this problem.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Veca says. “As he said, we have a problem. It’s not one we didn’t see coming, nor are we completely unprepared for it, but it is worse than we thought it would be, and it will probably only grow worse as we approach Sagittarius A*.” She places her tablet in the center of the table, and activates the hologram. “This is a rough map of the Milky Way galaxy, based on readings taken from Earth over the last several centuries, the stellar neighborhood from the last several decades, and Projects Stargate and Topdown from the last few decades. Right now, we’re here, and we’re headed to somewhere around here.” She points. “Between us and our destination are stars, planets, and even asteroid belts and shells, but this map is missing a key component. It’s impossible to map to any significant detail, and difficult to illustrate in general, but it’s there, all around us.”

“The interstellar medium,” Corey guesses.

“That’s right,” Veca confirms. “It’s composed mostly of gas and dust, but larger micrometeoroids take up a greater share than we ever knew. The center of the galaxy is denser than the outer arms, therefore, we assume there will be even more micrometeoroids.” She brings up a data table. “Over the last five years, we’ve noticed an increase in field collisions. So far, it’s held. It teleports any incoming matter to a random spot anywhere between a few hundred meters to an AU away. Again, everything is fine. The field has never failed. We want to solve the problem before it fails, though, because that is not an impossibility. However remote, the chances are not zero. This committee was formed in order to make sure it never happens.”

“All of you need to know about this eventuality, but no one else does,” Halan says, retaking lead. “I’m not saying that we won’t ever bring in others, or even make a public announcement. It’s just not in the plans right now. I want to see if the people in this room alone can come up with a viable solution before we start getting inundated with other opinions.”

“If I may make a suggestion on how to proceed?” Omega jumps in.

Halan merely nods.

“When I was working with Team Keshida, if they ran across a problem, they would separate from each other prior to any deep discussion. It was each of their responsibility to come up with ideas without being distracted by other ideas, kind of like what you’re saying with the public. It seemed to work well with them. I propose we adjourn immediately, so each of us can return to our lives for at least a week. Then, we come back together, and present our solutions.”

Halan thinks this over. “The ship is not going to explode in the next week, and if it does, nothing we decide here today will be able to stop it. I accept the proposal. Mrs. Ocean will provide you with the relevant data. If, during the week, you think you need more than what she provides, come to me, and I’ll see what I can do. Sound fair?”

They all seem to think it does.

“Thank you,” he ends. They all get up to leave. The Bridgers activate their teleporters, so no one sees where they go. Only Halan, Mercer, and Omega remain. “Thank you, Lieutenant,” Halan says. “I’ll be fine.” He knew Omega would want to speak with him privately. That was the point of the whole weeklong recess thing. Once Mercer leaves, he turns to the engineer. “What’s your plan?”

“I don’t have any specific ideas,” Omega explains. “I just want to do something I’ve been asking for for the last two years.”

“You’ve been asking for a lot for the last two years,” Halan volleys. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“I think maybe someone’s already come up with a solution to this, and we just don’t know it.”

Halan shakes his head slightly, and tries to think. Then he realizes where Omega is going with this. “You mean Old Man.”

“We have no clue what’s in his lab. We don’t know what prototypes he’s made, what working machines he was using, what designs he’s drawn up. Frankly, it’s irresponsible to not look. Maybe there’s a timebomb in there that’s scheduled to go off in a week. Somebody should look, it doesn’t have to be me.”

“But you’re the most qualified, aren’t you?”

“Saxon was smarter than Veca ever will be. Yes, I’m the most qualified.”

Halan breathes deeply. “I supervise, and I’m putting cameras in your own lab. If I find out you’re trying to create something unauthorized that’s even so much as inspired by Old Man’s work, I’ll banish you to the Karen airlock, and I won’t even let you have a wristwatch. Those are my conditions.”

“I see no problem with that. I don’t want to engineer something if you haven’t asked me to.”

“Thanks. I’ll be reporting this arrangement in the transition file I give to the next captain.”

The two of them go down to Old Man’s old lab, which has been locked and off limits since he disappeared in 2272. It looks the same as it did before, which is good. He was always half-worried that Old Man was actually still around, and secretly hatching schemes down here.

Omega slowly scans the room. “This could be awhile.”

“If I need to leave to handle Captain’s duties, you’ll leave too. We’ll come back as often as it takes for you to get what you think you need.”

“I’ll start with the main computer.” He sits down, and gets to work.

Halan looks over his shoulder for a bit, just to make sure he isn’t trying to access the self-destruct sequence, or navigational controls. Then he starts to look around on his own. He doesn’t fiddle with any of the weird inventions lying around, but he does open cabinets and drawers. One drawer appears to be DNA locked, which means it’s the one he needs to get into.

“Oh, I, uhh...” Omega starts when he sees Halan trying to break in.

Halan rolls his eyes. “What?”

“I can...get into that...for you...probably.”

“How so?”

“I’m not just a clone. I can alter my DNA at will.”

“Why would Saxon build you to be able to do that?”

“Diversity. Each clone was assigned a different module in the Project Stargate ships. Once we were done with our shifts—as you would call them—we would be allowed to go off, and live wherever we wanted. In order to sort of make it less weird, Saxon gave us the ability to change our DNA, so it wasn’t like he was trying to take over the whole galaxy with his own copies. He didn’t want to be seen as some kind of conqueror. The only reason we were clones was because otherwise, over a million people would have to volunteer for the job.”

“So you can make yourself look like anyone?”

“Not superficially. I’ll still look like me, but I can change the blood in my finger long enough for the safe to register as belonging to Old Man.”

“Do it. But just this once.”

“You’ll have to give me six hours. That’s how fast my body can replace a sufficient number of neutrophils. It would take longer if we wanted it to be permanent.”

Six hours later, the DNA safe is open. Halan reaches in to find a stack of letters that were once held together by a now deteriorated rubber band. There are also a couple of ancient storage devices called flash drives, what appears to be a really old cell phone, and an envelope full of hard copy photographs. “What is this? Who is this kid? He’s in nearly every photo.”

“Hmm.” Omega takes one of the better photos, and sets it on the table so he can scan it into the computer. Once the image appears on the screen, Omega commands the computer to age the subject. “Just as I suspected. It’s Old Man. It’s...Young Man. What is his real name?”

“That name is in his official records. I never questioned whether he legally changed it at some point, or if his parents were just weird.”

“He’s from Earth. I recognize this place,” Omega says, picking up one of the other photos. “He’s at the Mauna Kea Observatories, which were decommissioned in the late 21st century.”

Halan shakes his head. “No, I spoke to the other older people here. I wasn’t probing, but they talked about knowing him from before we were rescued. They definitely saw him on Ansutah. He was there.”

“Well, he was also on Earth...about two hundred and fifty years ago, back when they were still using actual film cameras. These sure look like it’s where he grew up, and not just somewhere he visited as a time traveling universe-hopping kid.”

“Who was this guy?” Halan asks, mostly to himself.

Omega flips the photo over. “Elder Caverness, 2005.”

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Microstory 1690: Fade Away

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After the Eleven Guardians of Earth managed to help their foster species evolve to the point where they could leave the nest, and do the same for others, the original guardians didn’t know what to do anymore. Five wanted to follow the Sheltren into the bulk, and find a new race to protect. The other five wanted to repeat what they did before, and foster the evolution of life in this universe. Their leader was the deciding vote, but she wanted to do neither. They had been at this for a billion years, and she was ready to retire. The people they created and helped were now off on their own, and trying to do the same thing. Their numbers were great, and they were eager. What more could a measly eleven people hope to accomplish, now that they had to compare their abilities to those of their children? According to her, having raised the Sheltren so well was all they needed to do. Anything beyond that could just as easily result in terrible consequences. They could theoretically turn a race into the next Ochivari, or even something worse. Perhaps they got lucky with the Sheltren, and it would never go so well again. She voted that they find a random world to live out their eternity alone, no longer meddling in the lives of others. She was going to do this regardless, but she wasn’t going to force anyone else to follow her lead, or even work very hard to convince them to agree. She spoke her peace, and then took off. The others, meanwhile, decided to stay in their home universe, and do things exactly as they had before. They went off in search of a really good planet, and found a unicellular organism that had the potential to evolve into more complex life. They watched and protected them for the next few hundred million years, but then grew tired of it. They missed their leader, and this venture wasn’t as rewarding as it was before. So they left. They didn’t do anything to harm the new planet in any way, but they weren’t going to protect them any more. If life wanted to continue to evolve here, it was going to have to do it on its own. It did. They managed to survive, and develop intelligence, passing all of their Great Filters along the way. It was only a matter of time before they too felt compelled to travel the stars, but they did not have the same idea as the Sheltren, or their absentee Guardians. They didn’t even know that their predecessors had existed. As for those eleven, well they just stayed on their lonely paradise planet in the void, and faded away from history.

Microstory 1689: Connections

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In the early days of a universe called Universum Originalis, a civilization formed in a galaxy called Vertea. It wasn’t just a galaxy, but the entirety of the cosmos, according to its inhabitants. A bizarre phenomenon known as The Verge forced all interstellar travel to first converge in the center of what, again, the people thought must be the center of the universe as a whole. From there, they could travel outwards to where they wanted, but they weren’t able to move laterally. And they weren’t able to move beyond the galaxy, because they weren’t even able to detect that other galaxies existed at all. Once they did progress enough to figure this out, some of them decided to explore. They built ships that were bigger and more impressive than anything they ever had before, and they went out in search of new cultures. While these ships could reach incredible speeds, they still took time, and they figured that not everyone would be so patient. If it took them a hundred years to finally find some alien friends, it would take a hundred years to get back. They decided to construct something known as the Nexus Network. Machines were placed on key planets, which would allow near instantaneous travel between the stars, and even between galaxies. They could automate these network builders to go all over the place, so if one of them ever did encounter intelligent lifeforms, anyone could get to them in a matter of seconds, or maybe minutes. Well, they didn’t find anyone. They didn’t realize how few and far between civilizations were. Natural branes are designed to support life in one galaxy at a time, and most likely crumble by the time a new one rises billions of years later. Fortunately, this was just the one universe, and there were infinite places to go once they came up with sufficiently advanced technology.

By the time they came to understand how rare life was, the small group of scientists and their friends had figured out how to travel between universes. At this point, they themselves were billions of years old, so actually interacting with these others didn’t seem as interesting as it once did. They began to feel like the wisest people in all of reality, and while they weren’t pretentious about it, they didn’t think it was a good idea to interfere with the children too directly. That didn’t mean they didn’t want to help. They could remember being so disappointed about how alone they were in their home universe. They figured that the best way to help was to create connections, so no one else would experience the same feelings of isolation. They built more Nexus networks. They didn’t build them in every universe that they encountered, and not only because the proper physics in some didn’t support the technology, but because they didn’t all need such a thing. Sapioplantaverse needed a network, but only one that reached throughout their home galaxy. They were ecstatic when they discovered the Nexus on their planet, which  was deliberately hidden to avoid extremely primitive species from being sociologically harmed by the technology. The artificial intelligence that runs each Nexus is just that; it’s intelligent. The engineers who built the system programmed it to assess someone’s technological status, to decide what they’re allowed to do with the machine, and what they’re not ready for. Some are allowed to go to any world they want, while others can only go to one. Some immediately have access to advanced features, like evacuation mode, while others have to earn that right, if they ever do. The intelligent plant-based were given easy access to the control room of the machine, but weren’t able to do anything right away. This forced them to study what they had uncovered, and figure things out on their own. It took them years, but once they did, they sent an exploration team to the only other planet seen to have a Nexus of their own. It was this universe’s version of Earth, and from here, an alliance formed. Because what they discovered was that they weren’t the only two cultures in the Milky Way. The Ochivari chose this brane to reconsider their options.

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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