Extremus: Year 62

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The Department Fixer. That’s what they call Tinaya now. The Resource Allocation Team was only the beginning. Well, the Forestry Department was the beginning of this new chapter in her life, but she didn’t realize it at the time. Since the RATs asked her to help them with their image problem, she has helped three other departments with their own issues. For the RATs, she first encouraged them to lean into their once-negative nickname. She conscripted a graphics designer to change their logo to a rat. She distributed materials about how great rats are in real life. Of course, the allocators aren’t actual rats, but that wasn’t the point. She wanted to make them look like a fun group of people who are in on the joke. She wanted to keep it light, and associate the department with something positive.

Next, she lobbied the government to relegalize teleportation for all with sufficient contribution scores. Not only were the civilians happy to receive new teleportation tech after all this time from the RATs, but it also served to increase Tinaya’s personal popularity. She wasn’t specifically trying to do that, but everyone knew that she was the one who finally made it happen, and they credited her for it appropriately. The fact that she accomplished it without wielding any real power was a testament to her value on the ship, and people were taking notice.

Immediately after this was done, the Civilian Engineering Corps asked for her help. These are different from the engineers that run Extremus. They manage inessential projects, such as remodeling quarters when changes are requested for a family’s living situation. They receive a lot of requests, but have to reject the majority of them for logistical reasons. They do lots of other things, though, which have nothing to do with the crew engineers. Most of the students who go to college to study engineering want to be on the crew, and when the slots fill up, a surprising number of them decide to pursue other interests. Even so, the CEC receives an excess of applications for employment, and has to make even more rejections. They don’t like doing this, and needed to expand their scope to new and original projects, which necessarily required raising their staffing limit. But that also meant figuring out how to get through all this red tape, which Tinaya was now quite familiar with. So she navigated it for them, and fixed that problem too.

Following that, Tinaya organized a Quantum Colony Tournament for the Recreation Department. It was not built as a player v. player game, so she had to devise an in-game competition from scratch. This meant that she planned everything in the real world, and in the virtual space. Her stint here was the shortest according to the calendar, but also the most time and labor intensive, so after it was over, she took a break from doing anything for a couple of weeks, and returned to the spa where Lilian’s brother welcomed her back warmly. When she was ready, she logged back into her account to find a couple dozen applications for her assistance. She did not create an official template for this process. Someone else did it for her, and dispersed it to the entire ship on her behalf. If she knew who it was, she might have scolded them for doing something like that without her permission, but honestly, it was making her life easier. The applications were clear, easy to read, and most importantly, easy to filter out.

There was only one application that she was willing to accept, which was for Captain Soto himself. She didn’t choose him because she liked him, because she doesn’t, but she wanted a challenge. That is becoming increasingly important to her; being challenged. Like the RATs, Captain Tamm too had an image problem, and even though it wasn’t strictly necessary for him to be well liked to do his job, it helped to have his crew respect him. He also needed help communicating with the civilian government. Tinaya was not a miracle worker, so he was never going to be as belovèd as Halan Yenant or Kaiora Leithe, but she did her best, and saw markèd improvement in the man. He still needs more work, but her obligation to him is now over. She’s not a saint either.

This morning, she’s woken up to only one application in her mailbox, which is weird, because she had five in there last night which she had yet to find time to review. They were somehow deleted, or perhaps rescinded? All of her maybes were gone now too. Perhaps whoever generated the application form for her in the first place still had access to them in the system. Hmm. Last year, she tried everything she could to locate the source, but was never able to, and she can’t think of anything that’s changed since her initial attempts. All she can do now is pretend that she was completely mistaken, and there was only ever one in here. Let’s see what it’s about. It’s from Arqut Grieves. This is the guy who always has to attend Tinaya’s meetings. Well, not all meetings, but the ones that could plausibly impact how the government is run.

A representative from the Office of the First Chair is required to be at such meetings, but it doesn’t always have to be the same person. Yet it has been for the last year and a half. Arqut is always the one, whether that means he volunteers every time, or someone else assigns him to Tinaya’s projects. She’s never asked him. And he’s never asked anything. He’s remarkably quiet. Before he took over the job ad hoc, a few others filled the same role, and they were very concerned about how this would impact the government, or rather specifically the First Chair themselves. He didn’t seem to care. He let her do whatever. He was so mysterious. What could he possibly want from her now?

The application itself is filled out in a funny way—read: incorrectly. It’s not sophisticated enough to know whether a given input field has been entered appropriately. The only requirement is that something be in every box. Next to NAME, he put the word Dear. Then next to DATE, he wrote Tinaya, and for the TIME, only a comma. The rest of the fields add up to what look like a standard freeform letter, each field handling the next two or three words until the DESCRIPTION box finishes out the rest of the body in what has finally become easy to decipher:

Dear Tinaya,

Request that you provide your assistance with the following project. This is top secret. Extremus exists in a constant state of danger of being destroyed, and a new plan has been put in place to ensure the continuity of our people in a dire emergency. It is paramount that you share nothing of what you read here today with anyone, nor anything we discuss later in regards to this matter. A fourth ship is being designed upon the direction, and at the discretion, of the civilian government, somewhere in secret on Extremus proper. This emergency ship will be run by a shadow crew. This crew will ultimately be privy to every development that the current captain, Soto Tamm is made aware of. They will recreate the decisions that the real crew makes, and also run parallel simulations that imagine new solutions to these real problems. Should the worst happen, and Extremus is destroyed, this shadow crew will break away, and restart the mission using what will probably be determined to be new parameters. Again, tell no one of what you’ve just learned. You have been selected as a candidate for the first captain of this crew on a temporary basis. Your job will be to lead the simulated ship for a short time, and use your experience to select the new captain, who will continue on for the duration of the next real captain’s shift. Please meet me in the Mirror Room at 16:15 to discuss details.

The EXPECTED START DATE was Thank you, and the EXPECTED END DATE was Arqut Grieves. This is highly irregular, and super suspicious. It sounds like a coup. It sounds like the government making plans to overthrow the crew, and take over the ship for themselves. She has to tell someone. She can’t just take this man’s word for it that this is just some kind of simulation. They’ve barely spoken, she can’t trust him. She can’t trust anyone, though. So who’s the closest option? The Bridgers? She rarely makes contact with her spy handler. She can’t go to the Captain, even though she does have a personal relationship with him now. She obviously can’t reach out to the First Chair either. Basically anyone in the government is a risk. But this Mirror Room meeting is not an option. The Council. The Council sucks, but she’s gotta do it. If it’s come to the point where they are her only option, though, then nothing else matters. Because if they’re dirty, then the whole ship is fucked.

It was then that she noticed that there was just a little bit more text, which she originally ignored as some kind of short disclaimer, or something, but that’s not what it says. It reads, THIS DOCUMENT UTILIZES EYE-TRACKING SOFTWARE THAT WILL—PRINT. Tinaya hates paper today as much as she always did, but the law requires that she make hard copies of every accepted application, so she has a ream of the stuff for such purposes, which she predicts she will never get through completely. She’s grateful for it now, because after the application is done printing out, she finishes the fine text in the footer, which goes on to say, TRIGGER A SELF-DESTRUCT ONCE THE INTENDED RECIPIENT READS IT IN ITS ENTIRETY, OR AN UNINTENDED RECIPIENT BEGINS TO READ IT.

True to its word, the application disappears from the screen, and all traces of it are removed from the system. Like the origin of the application template itself, she’s unable to retrieve it, or find any proof that it ever existed, besides this hard copy. She makes ten more copies of the letter, and teleports all over the ship to hide them in secret places. Then she returns to her cabin to get dressed for her impromptu meeting. Whoever is engineering this coup isn’t going to get away with it...or they will indeed upon her failure, which is a distinct possibility. Either way, she has to try.

The council used to be a loosely defined collective of crewmembers and government officials who were only there to make sure that everyone was doing their jobs correctly. It was more of a committee than a council, and the level of power they wielded was limited to how much, or how little, respect that a given person that they were trying to control at a given time had for them. This has changed over the decades as members have been turned over to those with greater and further-reaching ambitions. Now they call it The Council with a capital C, and if they make a decision, it’s pretty much final. It can be challenged by others, but most of the people with any real chance of overturning their decision are already on the council anyway. Checks and balances are more of a joke at this point, but don’t tell them that, because they’re the only ones who don’t find it funny. They’re also all full-time members now, except for the Captain, First Lieutenant, First Chair, and Second Chair. All they do is hear complaints and make executive decisions, like a king in open court. At least this works in Tinaya’s favor, because she knows where they’ll be, so she won’t have to ask for them to convene.

Dreading doing it, she takes the long way ‘round with good ol’ fashioned walking, instead of teleporting straight there. Today is a good day; the line is not very long. There are about eight parties ahead of her who seek audience with the Council, and they all make way for Tinaya. She’s never tried this herself, but she commands a level of respect enjoyed by few others. Again, she’s not exactly itching to get there, but she hates waiting, even if it’s for something she doesn’t want to do. So she accepts their gracious gesture, and jumps to the front of the line. When it’s her turn, she walks into the room, and heads for the center platform. The proctor who watches the line steps up behind them, and whispers something to Council Leader Whatever-His-Name-Is. She never bothered to learn it, because she doesn’t care. Let’s just call him Cleader.

Cleader nods, and sighs as he’s turning his head back to face Tinaya. “Miss Leithe, what can we do for you today? What is so urgent that you had to skip the line?”

“What the proctor might not have told you,” Tinaya begins, “is that they offered. I didn’t ask for it, and I didn’t want it, but refusing it would have been ruder.”

“Very well,” Cleader replies. “Proceed.”

Tinaya steps towards the dais. She places two hard copies of the suspect request form before Cleader, so they can pass them down each way. “I received a request for my assistance this morning in a most unusual manner. It deleted itself from the system as soon as I finished reading it, but I managed to print these out just in time. As you can see, I have been asked to serve—”

“That’s enough,” Cleader says to her dismissively. “I think you passed.”

“What? What did I pass?”

Cleader lifted his watch up to his mouth. “Teleport here at once.”

A second later, Arqut Grieves appears. “What is the about?” he questions.

“When did the message self-destruct?” Cleader asks Arqut.

Arqut checks his own watch. “Twenty-four minutes ago.”

“Who did you speak to about this before coming to us?” he now asks Tinaya.

“No one,” Tinaya answers truthfully. “I came straight here.”

“Why did it take you half an hour?” Cleader presses.

“Because I walked. I like to walk.”

Cleader purses his lips, and whispers something to the members on either side of him, which pass whatever message down the line. “Explain to her,” he orders Arqut.

“There is no secret shadow crew,” Arqut begins to tell Tinaya. “It was a loyalty test. We still need to verify your whereabouts after you opened the message, but I’m proud of you. You made the right decision, coming to the Council.”

“You should know, I hid more hard copies around the ship, so my location records will reflect that. But I promise, I spoke to no one.”

“That was smart,” he says nicely. He may actually be a decent guy, unlike the Council members.

“If I may,” Tinaya begins, “what was the point of this test?”

Arqut smirks. “Not yet, Tinaya. Not yet. Just keep doin’ what you’re doin’. Your real applications have been restored to your inbox.” He winks, then disappears.

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Microstory 2000: All Fifty

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Hello. My name is Desta Jarpez. Thank you for being here for my presentation. Mrs. McKinney told me that I could get extra credit if I did a presentation on my papa. My papa’s name was Aubrey Jardine, and I loved him. Before he died, he went to every state in the United States. He didn’t do it on purpose. That would have been much easier, because he could’ve just driven through all of them really quickly in, like, a few weeks maybe. I think people do that. He mostly just happened to need to go to every state for different things. So for the next fifty slides, I’m going to tell you why he did that for each one. Please enjoy the flags that I used as the backgrounds, and I hope you like my presentation. I worked really hard on it.

Thank you.

Love,
Desta

Microstory 1999: False Targets

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Leonard: Myka, I couldn’t decipher your abbreviated message. What is going on?

Myka: Oh my God, it’s a shitshow. Um, hello? Who is this?

Keziah: Hi, I’m Keziah Miazga. Is this her, Len-Bear? She’s pretty.

Leonard: *uncomfortable* Myka Tennison, this is my ex-wife, Keziah Feldman.

Keziah: It’s nice to meet you. I’ve not yet decided if I’m going to change my name back.

Myka: Okay, well...we have some sensitive information to discuss. Leonard, I’m not sure if she should even be in the building.

Leonard: She’s from another universe, Myka. I think she knows about aliens.

Myka: Still. *waves Henley over* Maybe she could just hang out in the break room while we deal with the mess that’s been made of the day? Hen will show you the way. It’s so lovely to finally meet you, though. Leonard has told me so many great things.

Leonard: That was a little rude, on both of your parts. I do hope that we can be civil about this. I know it’s a complicated—

Myka: I don’t care about that. Reese is missing.

Leonard: What?

Myka: I said that Reese is missing!

Leonard: I heard you. I just don’t understand. How did he go missing? He sent us a group text telling us that he was on his way back from the Capital.

Myka: I know you heard me. I’m just...frustrated. Not only has this happened, but they think that there’s been yet another alien arrival, and the people who have been investigating the whole mole thing all over the government are here, and they say we should be informed of something in that regard. Plus, Navin is having an episode. He’s fine, he’s getting checked out by the medic, but he was trying to repair the broken central heating furnace, which we’re gonna need, because winter is coming. It’s just one thing after the other, and oh my God, Leonard, Reese is missing!

Leonard: Slow down. Let’s take this one at a time, starting with the easiest. I’m here now, so I can take a look at the furnace. I wasn’t always a parole officer. It’s not a priority, though, so let’s move on. As for the internal investigators, they can wait where they are. I don’t know what all that has to do with us. Now. where are the aliens?

Myka: Wyoming again. Pretty much the exact same place that we found the others. My guess is that it’s a second wave. Or really, it’s the real wave, and the few Ochivari we found were just the little advanced team. According to our satellite, the one that just happened is a lot bigger than anything we’ve ever seen before. The scientists still haven’t measured enough instances to come up with a scale, but based on what few experiences they do have, they’re estimating dozens of arrivals. *takes a much-needed breath*

Leonard: Okay, did you send a team?

Myka: I was the only one here, so yes. I had to make an executive decision. Anaïs is leading recontainment. *consults watch* They’re probably taking off from our airbase.

Leonard: Recontainment? What is that? I’ve never heard of that.

Myka: That’s what they’re calling recon plus containment. I thought you were the one who came up with it.

Leonard: No, it’s confusing. It sounds like we’re containing something that was already contained before.

Myka: Okay, whatever, Leonard, Reese is missing!

Leonard: Okay, let’s talk about that. What do we know?

Myka: I’ve been on the phone with the Transportation Regulatory Authority, but of course, they’re still investigating. All they’ll tell me is that the plane was last seen making an emergency landing in St. Louis, and then it deblipped.

Leonard: Deblipped?

Myka: Does your version of Earth even have English? Deblip. It’s a phenomenon where an object appears on radar before suddenly disappearing. It blips away for no apparent reason. It’s usually a false target, like a fast-moving bird. I don’t know how it works.

Leonard: Okay, so if that doesn’t happen normally...

Myka: What?

Leonard: Can we access the satellite data? There was a reading over Wyoming, but...maybe there was one over St. Louis too?

Myka: You think the aliens got him?

Leonard: I think it could be worse than that. *shaking his head* We’re always talking about people coming to this universe, but it’s just as likely that people are taken out of it. It may be a daily occurrence, for all we know. Hell, maybe the satellite doesn’t even know what to look for. Departures could show up as the opposite as arrivals. We should ask them to reverse the polarity, or some shit like that.

Myka: Okay. The new science team started working last week. I’ll see what they know. You need to take homebase command.

Micro: *walking up* That can wait. The away team will still be in the air for the next couple of hours. We have another problem. I just got an email.

Leonard: An email from whom?

Micro: Remember when you and Ophelia needed to get out of Memphis? You asked for help from Anaïs’ criminal contact, Moenia. He said that he would do it for a favor.

Leonard: Crap, he’s collecting on that debt now? Today of all days.

Micro: I don’t think he knows how crazy this day is for us. He didn’t say what he wanted out of us, but it does sound time sensitive.

Leonard: *looks between Myka and Micro* Valentine, I need you to take point on this. He’s right, we owe him. Find out what he wants, and if it turns out it can wait, then make him do just that. Tell him we’re busy, obviously don’t tell him why. Read Timotei into it, and take him as backup if it comes to that. Actually, talk to me again once you find out what the favor is. Then I’ll decide if you and Timotei should go anywhere.

Micro: Timotei? He’s in procurement.

Leonard: He’s in procurement, because he was a smuggler. The two of them speak the same language. I think he can handle himself too. If you need a real fighter, though, you’re free to conscript any of the newer agents who didn’t go on the mission. Tell them whatever they need to know. Again, though, keep me posted. *turns back to Myka*

Myka: We have no idea what the hell we’re doing. We’re just winging it.

Leonard: Myka, I have been to two planets, and if there is one thing I’ve learned, it’s that everybody is a fraud, and everybody is making it up as they go along. We will get through this. We’ll find Reese, we’ll do whatever needs to be done with the aliens, and we’ll fix the heating. But until then, come here. *takes her in his arms* And somebody call the goddamn president, or whatever he is! I have questions about that jet of his!

Microstory 1998: Vastly Irresponsible Plan

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Leonard: Where is she? She’s not in a jail cell still, is she?

Street Proctor: No, no, no, no, no. She’s in the VIP quarters. She’s perfectly fine.

Leonard: The law station has a VIP room?

Street Proctor: Of course. They don’t on your world? [...] Oh, don’t look so surprised. You told me that you were in the wrong world when we first met, and now you’re some big shot secret agent. It wasn’t hard to figure out that you were actually telling the truth the whole time. I really wanna apologize for how I treated you back then. I was going through some stuff that had nothing to do with you, but it was no excuse for being unprofessional and unhelpful. And I’m not just saying that because you super outrank me now. I’ve been to some seminars, one workshop, and counseling every week.

Leonard: Well, I appreciate you saying that. It’s...very big of you.

Street Proctor: Yeah. Well anyway, your wife is right through here.

Leonard: *steps into the room* Keziah.

Keziah: Leonard. What the hell is happening? Where are we?

Leonard: What is the last thing you remember?

Keziah: I was going to Yuuna’s baby shower. I was driving around, thinking that I was very lost, until I realized that I was actually very, very lost. None of this is familiar. They call this place a law station, instead of a police station. The guy who helped me said he was a proctor, which is nothing I’ve ever heard of either. What is this room all about?

Leonard: Yuuna’s baby shower? That was months ago. That was...that was the day that I disappeared. You and I left our Earth on the same day, but I’ve been here since June.

Keziah: Time travel? We traveled through time? Wait, does this have something to do with your little friend? Where is he? He has to send us back home.

Leonard: It’s not really time travel. It’s that—let’s see, how did he put it—the timestreams for two separate universes have nothing to do with each other. And anyway, I’ve not seen him. I don’t think he had anything to do with it. It’s just something that happens sometimes. In fact, I believe that our link to him is the only reason either of us realizes that there’s something different about this world. There could be others here who  are from different versions of Earth, but don’t even know it.

Keziah: Either way, I wanna go home. Do you have a plan? It’s been months, right?

Leonard: Hold on... *starts to wave a little device all over the room*

Keziah: *turns the sink on* Is that a bug detector?

Leonard: Yes. We’re in the clear, but let’s whisper anyway. I have indeed been working on a plan, but I’ve had trouble enacting it. Number one, if we use the only tools we have at our disposal, we could be dooming our world to profound destruction, so if we try it, I’ll have to kill the alien who transported us right away, but that’s assuming he even took us to the right brane in the first place. And now that you’re here, I’m not sure we can both fit in the portal. Plus...I’ve sort of...built a new little life here.

Keziah: The ink on the divorce papers you texted me to say you signed, sealed, and sent out for delivery isn’t even dry yet. But you met someone, didn’t you?

Leonard: Yes, I did. You would like her.

Keziah: I don’t doubt it. But I still wanna go home. Tell me about this alien.

Microstory 1997: Wild Beasts

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SI Eliot: *sits down across from Reese*

Reese: I thought we agreed to stay on opposite sides of the jet, and never speak to each other again for the rest of our lives.

SI Eliot: Yeah, but I’ve been thinking about what happened at the meeting, though, and I think we should touch base about it.

Reese: Calling that a meeting would be like calling a stampede of wildebeests a casual jog with a few friends. That was one of the most horrifically uncomfortable experiences of my life, and I just wanna forget it ever happened.

SI Eliot: Lower your voice. There could be listening devices on this thing.

Reese: That would just be like Commander Virtue. You’re right, but I don’t care. Let the plane go down. At least that would leave me in peace. I’m still drunk, and now hungover.

SI Eliot: Ha-ha, he’s joking. Commander Virtue is an honorable man, and we are lucky that he lent us one of his aircraft for the trip home.

Reese: *sighs, then takes a device out of his bag* I swept for bugs while you were in the lavatory. You think this is my first time on an unsecured mode of transportation? Please.

SI Eliot: You see, I knew there was a reason you were promoted over me.

Reese: Are you still on that?

SI Eliot: No, I’m... I meant that sincerely. I was bitter before, but I’m over it. Besides, I’m not exactly envious of all the meetings you’re gonna have to have with that man now that you’re a director.

Reese: Oh my God! I wasn’t even thinking about that. I was just relieved to be out of there, I forgot that it’s still not over. It will never be over, will it?

SI Eliot: Not until the next administration.

Reese: When will that be?

SI Eliot: Three years, if he doesn’t secure reëlection, of course.

Reese: Of course. Gah! Hold on. Deputy Director.

SI Eliot: You mean Celandine Robles?

Reese: No. The deputy often accompanies directors on meetings and conference calls. If I made you my deputy instead, you could help me deal with him.

SI Eliot: Oh, no. Have you heard Director Washington complain about him? She hates him too, but she’s never described that kind of craziness before. He’s different around men. He thinks he can be himself, and that we’ll understand. The way I see it, Deputy Robles is your best option on that front, along with all the other fronts.

Reese: That was a test. I needed to know if you were still gunning for my job, and just decided to be nice and underhanded about it.

SI Eliot: If anything, it’s gotten me to seriously consider switching to the private sector.

Reese: Really? You would do that? You’re such a...patriot.

SI Eliot: Well, I don’t mean to toot my own horn, but I’ve gotten an offer or too.

Reese: Well, congratulations. Hey, wait, that’s the St. Louis Arch. It’s gigantic.

SI Eliot: What? We shouldn’t be able to see that. Reese, I think we’re landing.

Captain: *through the intercom* Folks, you may have noticed we’re a little off route. No need to worry. We just have to make an emergency landing. I’ll update again soon.

Microstory 1996: For the Lulls

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Leonard: How is it that we both have free time right now? Reese is still on his way back from the Capital, but everything’s goin’ so smoothly out there.

Myka: It happens, these people know what they’re doing. So let’s take advantage of it.

Leonard: What are you doing?

Myka: Taking advantage.

Leonard: This is the napping room. 

Myka: Yeah, and Navin is the only one who ever uses it. He’s off today, so we’re alone.

Leonard: It’s still not appropriate.

Myka: Leo, I have fifteen minutes before I have to get back to finalize the quarterly reports. I’m not driving all the way back home.

Leonard: Then we should just not do it. And don’t start thinking it’s because I’m not attracted to you anymore, or some nonsense like that. I just don’t want to have sex at work. Like you said, this is Navin’s room. That’s his bed. It’s not right.

Myka: You’re a better person than I.

Leonard: Let’s just talk. We don’t get to talk anymore. I mean, of course we talk about work all the time, but it’s gotten so busy with all these new recruits that that’s all we can talk about. It seems like I have to run a tour of this place every week.

Myka: Yeah, okay. We’ll just sit and talk. Is it okay to sit on Navin’s bed?

Leonard: I think that will be all right.

*awkward silence*

Myka: This isn’t working.

Leonard: Are you breaking up with me?

Myka: Of course not, but we have to figure out some sort of work-life balance. I’m no good at scheduling time to have a conversation. I’ve tried that. I had a cousin who moved to live abroad in Europe. We tried to have weekly talks in ChatChapp, but eventually just stopped setting the next week up. I haven’t spoken to him in years.

Leonard: That’s sad. But see, it doesn’t matter that we have to be more formal and scheduled. We can talk about that. Tell me about your relationship with this cousin. Have you ever visited him, and-or has he ever come back stateside?

Myka: Neither. At least I don’t think so. Honestly, if he ever came back home, he might not even tell me. *checks watch* Maybe I should just go back to the quarterlies.

Leonard: No, we’re doing good. Let’s change the subject, though, since you’re struggling with it. Let me tell you about my cousins. I have sixteen of them. Don’t know if I ever told you that. *phone rings* Oh, shoot. It’s...it’s the law station.

Myka: Better answer it. They don’t know what time your break is.

Leonard: I love you. *answers phone* Hello?—Yes, this is Supervisory Agent Miazga.—Wait, what? What name did she give you?—Are you sure?—No, I know her.—Yeah, I’ll, uhh...what was that?—Of course not. Is she in there right now?—Let her out of there this instant, give her whatever she asks for, and tell her I’m on my way.—Okay. Thank you. *hangs up*

Myka: What was that about? Did they lock up someone you know?

Leonard: Yeah. It’s my wife, Keziah. She somehow crossed over to this universe.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: April 26 2417

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The representatives from the Sixth Key were sent back home through the Nexus, and locked back out of a return trip unless invited. It was still possible to communicate from there, though only if Venus deemed it allowed from her end. The majority of Nexus functions were handed out at her discretion, using whatever parameters she had come up with while the network was being put in place. Generally speaking, interactions between universes was strictly forbidden, but Hogarth’s brane was directly attached to Salmonverse, making this more of a biverse, which was a notable  exception to this rule. Though she could change the rules at any moment, and not worry about suffering any consequences. She was a god in any meaningful use of the term. It wasn’t clear where she even was, if she wasn’t just somehow everywhere all at once. Either way, Team Matic wasn’t going to worry about Heath or the others anymore. They were only in charge of protecting Romana Nieman, and her family, and they had to trust that the Dardieti would do their part too. They had not let them down yet.

Now that all the drama was over, they were all back at the penthouse, with nothing that they absolutely had to do. Leona and Ramses went back to working on their projects. Angela and Marie were learning more about government and society. Olimpia was getting ready for another trip. Mateo and Karla were playing with their girl. The two of them had not been able to leave the room this whole time. It was very important to Durune culture for the parents to stay with their child pretty much non-stop to ensure a healthy and successful familial imprint. The doctor, which in this case was Constance, was expected to be involved as little as possible in order to avoid confusion during this crucial period. Today was day four, which meant that they could probably take short breaks, but this was a months-long process. Short was the keyword here.

“You should go,” Karla encouraged. “Spend time with your wife.”

“It’s okay, I can stay. I want to stay.”

“If you don’t go, I won’t feel okay to go later.”

“What do you mean? Do you want to take a break?”

“I don’t want to take a break. I...”

“Karla, you’re not a bad mother if you spend a few hours away from your baby. I promise, she is not going to forget you. You’ve known her for years. Let me catch up a little. She and I need to share some secrets anyway.”

Karla chuckled voicelessly. She didn’t budge though.

“Go on. Get some sun, or some soda, or whatever you need.”

Karla nodded, internally trying to convince herself that it really was okay. “All right, I think I’ll go to my family’s Wednesday lunch. You have my number.”

“Yes.”

Karla stood up, and headed for the door. Before she reached it, she turned back around. “It’s not a cultural thing, and it’s certainly not a family thing. In fact, I think most of the mothers in our bloodline have not loved the man who helped them pass along the responsibility.” She waited a moment to continue. “It’s just me. It’s important to me. That I...that we...learn to care about each other.”

Mateo smiled at her. “It’s called love, Karla. It doesn’t have to be sexual or romantic. One day, we’ll fall in love. I would know by now if we couldn’t ever. At least one of us would have to be an asshole.”

Karla slowly lifted her chin to absorb his words. Then she nodded once with her eyes closed, and left the room gracefully.

Mateo turned his head to look down at Romana in her bassinet. He expected her to be asleep, but she was awake now, and watching him intently while sucking three of her fingers. “I already love you.”

Karla returned. She looked like she had seen a ghost.

“Did you forget something? Wait, are you okay?”

She kept staring into empty space for a moment. “I think I just met a seer.”

Mateo hopped out of the bed. “Really? Those are...elusive.”

“Yeah. She was old. She was really old.”

“What did she say? Can you tell me?”

Karla was lost in her thoughts. “What? Oh. Um. Maybe?”

“Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. We always do. You’ll learn that about Team Matic. You’re one of us now.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think I am. I think you’re gonna leave. I think you’ll have no choice. I don’t think you’re gonna raise her.”

He pursed his lips in frustration. “Seers see a possible future. That’s the whole point. Knowing of a future you cannot change would be useless, and anyone with such inactionable knowledge has an obligation to keep it to themselves.”

She shook her head again. “I think that’s what she was trying to tell me. You have to go...to protect her.”

“Was she in the hallway? Did she break into this penthouse?”

“I spoke with her for five minutes. Was I gone that long?”

He sighed. “No, you weren’t. I don’t like that either.”

“This building has the best security in two galaxies. It’s not foolproof. There’s some very powerful people out there. I believe that she’s working for someone who is trying to help, and I got the sense that they are working against someone who’s not.”

“I’ve made powerful enemies,” Mateo reasoned. “We’ve been looking at this all wrong. Dardius may only be the safest place for her if I’m not here.”

“We’re never gonna fall in love if you leave, and you may never see her again.”

Now he shook his head. “In my experience, I don’t never see anyone again.” He frowned, and pulled his head back. That didn’t make any sense.

She laughed. “I understand what you mean.”

Mateo looked back over at his precious child. “If I wait to leave until a threat actually rears its ugly head...”

“Then leaving may not do any good,” Karla finished his sentence for him.

“Those Sixth Key people. I don’t think they threaten her directly, but they may have just been the first domino to fall.”

“The seer spoke in riddles, as they are legend to do, so we can’t be sure of anything. We’re on the verge of deciding that you should leave your family behind, but that could be a grand mistake.”

“I won’t leave you alone, and I don’t just mean the cops and soldiers downstairs.”

“Now you really do need to go talk to your wife.”

Mateo did go speak with Leona, along with the rest of the team, including Constance. She was key to the new plan. She was an intelligence apart, and would not feel the sting of being separated from the group like anyone else would. She was a genius, strong, and incredibly difficult to kill. And she was on Romana’s temporal pattern already. She would continue to serve as her doctor, but also probably her nanny, and maybe later her teacher, and eventually her cool aunt. But she couldn’t do it alone, because knowing someone off the pattern was just as important as having someone who was on it. That was where Silenus Koolen came into the picture. He was still heavily invested in the Nieman family, and had expressed his dedication for the last four years. If he agreed to it, he could move into the penthouse, and make sure that things remained safe while the ladies were away. Hopefully he would agree to it.

“Yes. Oh my God, yes. Please!” Silenus cried. “I’m so in. You don’t have to ask me twice. You didn’t have to ask me the first time! I’m ready. I can move in today.”

“Are you sure about this?” Karla asked. “I know it seems like us being gone for an entire year sounds like an easy job, but you can’t really leave the penthouse. Wherever we are when we leave the timestream, you’ll need to protect it. Constance and I will be fine, but Romana can’t take care of herself in any sense. You’ll be long dead before she even learns to walk. This will consume your entire life. You’ll be the guy who lives here.”

“You hear me, girl? I’m all about it. Let’s do it, but one thing, I have a better idea.”

“Oh, no, here we go.” Karla was worried.

“This baby, before she was born, your ancestors had to keep finding mates so they could make an extra baby who would grow up, and take care of this baby, right?”

“Yeah, that’s how it worked,” Karla confirms. “Not in those specific words.”

“Well. What’s changed?”

“Huh?”

“Baby still needs taken care of, right? Just because she’s born, that hasn’t changed. It’s just, instead of being transferred to, like, a new womb, she needs to be fed and stuff.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“So I’m there to help with that, right?”

“Well, not that, but that’s what we’ve been asking. Have you not been listening?”

“Oh, I’ve been listening, and I’ve been thinking. You just said it, when I die, she’ll be a few months old. Who’s gonna help ya then?”

“I suppose we’ll have to find someone else,” Karla reasoned.

Silenus nodded coolly. “Why don’t we make someone else?”

“Excuse me?”

“Restart the bloodline. Make Romana some siblings. That way, when I die, they take over my job. And then they have kids, who take it over for them. And so on, and so forth, and ad infinity.”

“I’m not sure what benefit that would have. I mean anyone we trust could do it.”

“Who better to trust than someone who was literally born already invested in their family member’s life?”

“So let me get this straight,” Karla began. “You want to have sex with me to make a baby, raise it by yourself, since I only live one day a year, and then just hope they turn out right for the job when it’s their time?”

“Well, you’re not officially on the pattern, right. You could take a break from it for eighteen or so years. That’s only a few weeks for Romana, and it’s not like you won’t actually be with her. She’ll still see you every day of her life.”

Karla just sighed.

“Karls, if all I wanted was sex, I could have anybody. I’m famous. I’m not as famous as you or your baby daddy, but I’m famous enough. You know how many I turned down just this week. I’m just sayin’. I’m here for it. I’m here for you. I’m here for Romana. I’m thinkin’ about her future. Aren’t you?”

Karla cleared her throat, and turned to Mateo. He had been quietly listening to the conversation with the rest of the group. It felt very much like none of their damn business. “What do you think?”

“I think...you should do..what...you think you should do.”

“Thanks. Helpful.” She rolled her eyes. “Love it.”

“Uh. I have an idea,” Ramses jumped in unexpectedly. “It’s more of an inevitability, though. I think it was destined to always happen.”

“Rambo, maybe we just stay out of this,” Leona suggested.

“Maybe I should just show you.” He stood up, and took a step away from them. “Yeah, I’ll show you.” He teleported away, then returned a few minutes later with a cloning-slash-stasis pod.”

“Which one of us is in there?” Mateo asked.

“Do you remember when we were leaving Scorpius station, and everyone had all of their backup bodies on the Dante, and then I went back, because I was all, I forgot something?” Ramses asked.

“Yeah, I figured you left a tool.”

“Right, after I got my tool,” Ramses began with airquotes, “I first snuck back into my lab, and hid it in there.”

Leona cracked the case. “That’s the mysterious eighth active pod. We couldn’t see who was in it, but you stole it?”

“Yes, of course I did, because it would be stupid to just leave it there. We thought the whole place was gonna get blown up. Don’t worry, I think I was meant to take it, because right before you came to us with the new plan, the pod’s partition mysteriously opened on its own. Now we can see who’s in it.” He turned it around for the big reveal. It was none other than Silenus Koolen.

“Holy shit!” Olimpia shouted.

“That’s...for me?” the real Silenus asked.

“No one else has the right to it,” Ramses said to him. “If it’s built like ours were, you shouldn’t have to worry much about dying in a hundred years.”

Silenus started crying. “This is the best birthday present anyone’s ever given me.”

“It’s your birthday?” Karla questioned.

“Yeah, girl, I thought you were throwing me a surprise party, because it luckily matched up with your pattern. This is better than that, though.”

“Happy birthday,” Mateo said. “You wanna be born again? None of our transfers was that poetic.”

“Hell yeah, let’s do this! It’s not against the law when the Matics are involved.

“Wait, consciousness transference is against the law here?” Mateo asked.

“Yes,” Angela and Marie answered simultaneously. “So is cloning,” Angela added on her own. Due to this new information, they first made sure that Silenus was right that Team Matic could trigger an exception to the relevant laws. He was, and so...he was reborn. The procedure went smoothly, but it was already too late in the day, so they decided to wait to leave Dardius until next year. Besides, Mateo needed time to say goodbye to his new family. He was confident that he would indeed see Romana again one day, but it could still be a long time.

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Extremus: Year 61

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The Attic Forest is a beautiful place. It is, in fact, the most beautiful place on the ship, though that’s not saying much, except when remembering the first time you were in the engine room. It’s not just Tinaya, Lilian, and Cainan anymore. A whole team works shifts, gardening, maintaining the atmosphere, giving tours, and performing other necessary duties. That’s not even counting the events that are held here. It’s a hot venue that people use for concerts, poetry readings, and the like. The section is frequented by a great deal of people every day. It’s hard to tell how much the Extremusians love to visit, but anecdotal evidence suggests an undeniable success.

Last year, Tinaya was able to finish the coding for the giant sequoia in the basement. It’s currently around a half meter tall, and the growth rate will increase year over year. Still, very few people know about it; only the essential members of government and crew. Most of these positions won’t even maintain the secret to future administrations. When they leave their positions, they won’t pass the information on to their successors. There is presently no strategy for announcing it to the public. The specimen is still so fragile, and that’s what they’re most worried about. It’s better to let it grow big and strong before they start letting people see it. One day, though. One day.

Today, Tinaya is in another meeting. She attends these from time to time when someone comes up with a new idea of what to do to make Attic Forest better, or at least what they believe could accomplish this. Most of them are stupid or bad, but others are not so terrible. They would just be really difficult. Extremus did not simply wave goodbye to Gatewood, and fly off into the space. The ship contains data upon data upon data. Earthan history, Ansutahan history, philosophical papers, cooking recipes, all kinds of entertainment; basically the scope of Earthan and vonearthan knowledge. While they do not maintain constant communication with anyone back in the stellar neighborhood, Team Keshida sends periodical updates with new information. It’s just about possible to know everything that everyone in the galaxy knows. Part of this data includes genomic databases for every known species on every planet.

If you wanted to know what the DNA double helix for a penguin looked like, you would be able to look that up. For the most part, that’s all you would be able to do. The people who came up with the idea of this mission didn’t accumulate most of this information for any specific purpose. It just didn’t make any sense not to have it, and it’s not like virtual storage space is a precious commodity. Now the bioengineering scholars have other ideas. They’ve become inspired by the Attic Forest project. At the moment, plants are the only things that have been grown from their genomes, but they could take it further. They’re interested in trying to develop animals now, starting with fish. It took a long time to get this project off the ground, so to speak. This next stage—if it ever happens—will surely take even longer. The ethical questions are so much more plentiful for this proposal, and it’s not something that Tinaya or Lilian can help with. Even so, they have to be at all the meetings, because they’re in charge of the biome. Today is different. This meeting isn’t with the bioengineers.

The Resource Allocation Team: RATs, as they’re called by people who don’t like them. And most people don’t like them. They’re a weird little bunch. They’re responsible for handing out things like watches and tablets, and teleportation devices—which are against the law for now. If you want a new set of clothes, you go to them. If you want a new couch for your room, they have to approve it. Everyone has a horror story about going to Allocation for something they need. Capitalism was mostly vanquished centuries ago, and replaced with something better, but elements of it are kept alive on the ship, and it’s all thanks to the RATs. It’s not really their fault. There’s limited space here, and therefore limited resources. Even the time traveling excursion ships can only do so much for them. There is no trade with any other culture, and there are no takebacks. So they have to be careful with what they give, and who they give it to. They pay close attention to the contribution points market, which is the best approximation of a currency here, and that can lead them to making a lot of decisions that people don’t like, even if those decisions are reasonable, or at least unavoidable. People’s perceptions of them aren’t all rational, but human beings are not rational. The question is, what the hell do they want with the Forest Guides?

“We would like to make more paper.” Oh, yeah. They’re the ones who used some of the trees they found on the verdant planet they came across a ways back for paper.

Lilian stares at them dumbfounded. “Really?” More paper? Why has the novelty of this not worn off yet. A computer will let you write and overwrite the same space virtually countless times. What’s the point of not being able to do that? And anyway, it goes against the whole purpose of this project. “You wanna kill my trees?”

“Not all of them,” RAT Two tried to clarify for his partner. “One tree can make a lot of paper.”

“And what are we doing with all this paper?” Lilian presses.

“We’re...writing books...and sharing leaflets. I mean we’re not doing it. We’re just providing the materials that are needed.”

Lilian sighs. “We survived on this tin can for sixty years without a single sheet of paper. Before that, we were in the Gatewood Collective for forty years, also without paper. It wasn’t even that common on Ansutah. There is a reason that Earth was able to move away from it as it advanced technologically. Why are you so desperate for it now?”

RAT one and RAT Two exchange a look. RAT One clears his throat. “Honestly, Madam Diamond, we have no clue. Like he was saying, we’re not doing anything. It’s the people who want paper, as stupid as it sounds.”

“Let’s stop beating around the bush,” I jump in. “Pun intended. You have a public image issue. You’ve had it since departure day. Well, you probably lasted a few days before the first generation started realizing all the things they could never have, because they were stuck on a spaceship in the middle of nowhere. But ever since then, you’ve been fighting to look like the good guys. And the truth is, you’re okay. Your job is important.” I tap on my chest. “And individually, most people know that. “Our world would be chaos if everyone could just go take whatever they wanted whenever they wanted it. We’d run out of paper in half a second. You found something that works. As you said, it’s stupid, but it’s fun, so you want to capitalize on that success. Unfortunately, you won’t be able to. That is not what the forest is for.” I stammer a little. “That sentence doesn’t really even do it justice. It’s for...very much not that. That is to say, we didn’t just build it for something other than making paper. We did it to show the value of life in its (albeit relatively) natural state. Earth long ago had a huge problem with the amount of wood it was using. Everyone knew it, no one knew what to do about it. Eventually, however, they figured it out, and we have reaped the benefits of that struggle without actually going through it ourselves.

“On my grave will I let you send us backwards! I don’t care what people think of you, we’re not making any more goddamn paper! We’re not making any handcrafted chairs. We’re not not making any fucking bonfires. We’re not doing any of that. The Forest stays as it is, and we won’t tolerate its destruction, or even just talk of destruction. If you breathe one word of this to anyone else, and make anyone believe that there is a remote possibility of this happening, I will float you myself. I’ve been in hock, it’s not that bad. I will gladly die in a cell to stop you from peeling one piece of bark from one tree. Is there any confusion about what I’ve just said?”

The RATs exchange another, very uncomfortable look. I turn my head to share one with Lilian, worried about her being disappointed in me, but she’s not. She actually looks proud. The allocators are scared out of their minds. They are not going to call her bluff on the whole homicide thing that she threatened them with. “In that case, would you consider...”

I tilt my head, prepared to go to war, showing them that I still mean business. What could they possibly ask after my speech?

He takes a breath, so he can keep going. “...working for us.”

What? “What?”

“You hit the nail on the head.” RAT Two avoids looking Tinaya in the eye. “We have an image problem. The Parks Department had one too, didn’t it? It didn’t have any image to speak of. No one thought about it. No one cared about it.” Now he makes eye contact with her. “You changed that. You joined the team, and suddenly it’s a real thing. You built all of this.” He spread his arms to indicate the forest. They’re sitting in something they call The Fishbowl. It’s a glass structure somewhat close to the center of the Forest, where meetings like this can be held. Of course, there’s no weather in here, but it’s nice to have for privacy’s sake. It’s completely soundproof.

“You want me to fix the RA—” She stops herself; they don’t call themselves that. “...the Resource Allocation Team?”

“It would really help us out,” RAT One said with a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

I look over at Lilian again, who frowns at me, but very softly. She looks to the men. “Would you please give us the room? You too.” There is a fifth person in the room. He is a representative from the government. Someone like him always sits in on these meetings in order to advocate for the best interests of the Office of First Chair. He bows slightly to her, but deeper to Tinaya, and then leaves quietly with the other two.

“Uhh...I don’t know why they would ask that,” Tinaya says to Lilain. “It’s such a dumb question, right?” She laughs. “Right?”

“It’s really not,” Lilian counters. “They’re one hundred percent accurate about their assessment of you. You are...an inspiration. I mean that in the most literal sense of the word. You are like the Goddess of Inspiration. You make things happen, and you make them better, and I would be selfish to keep you.”

“What are you saying, Lilian? Are you firing me?”

“If that’s what it takes for you to realize your potential, then yeah.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.”

“I don’t really mean that. If you want to stay, I’m not going to force you out, but I think you should go on your daily walk, and really think about whether you belong here still. You will always have a home with me, but the rest of the ship needs you, and I can’t believe it took those guys to make me realize it. Just...look into your heart, and think about your future. Even if you would rather stay, is that really what’s best?”

Tinaya isn’t sure. Is it?

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