The Advancement of Mateo Matic: The Rock – Part 2

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The Pryce Tree temporarily bestowed the Vellani Ambassador with the power of time travel. Leona could navigate to anywhere or anywhen she chose. His only rule was that they could not stay in the Nucleus, and it was his preference that they go somewhere rather neutral. A region of space under control of one culture or the other could be construed as favoritism. Even a totally uninhabited planet could be claimed by one or another. Totally neutral? Where could that be? After some thought, and consultation with Ramses, they decided that the meeting would take place throughout all of time, and at no particular point in space. Instead of jumping once, and remaining at the destination, they would sail through the timestream at an accelerated rate. They were moving 108,000 times slower than objects outside of the bubble, so for every second that passed for them, thirty hours was passing for everyone else. They were ten billion years in the past, though, so there wasn’t actually anyone out there observing anything. This was about as neutral as it could get since the time period predated the creation of every branching alternate reality.

The hypertime factor was mostly for fun, but it also had a calming effect on the diplomats. The ceiling and floor of Delegation Hall could become completely transparent, allowing them to watch as the stars that they were surrounded by danced around each other. They called it the Stellar Waltz. Whenever anyone was getting stressed out or frustrated, they could just look up or down. Some of them did not care for the Waltz, so they were provided with special glasses that blocked out the view, and made the hull look opaque again. They would occasionally remove these anyway.

Olimpia served as Primary Host. She kept people fed and watered. One person needed a special neck pillow once, and another was colder than everyone else, so she retrieved a blanket. Ramses kept an eye on the ship’s systems, since it was not designed to operate in this manner, but everything was going fine, so he also split his attention to his own projects. Leona was more involved than she ever intended to be. They often demanded her insights, and her help mediating brief disagreements before they escalated. Angela and Marie were there to do that, but some of them had too much respect for the Captain to listen to anyone but her. She found it difficult to explain to some of the delegates that she was not in charge here.

Mateo’s may have been the hardest job of all, though. Pryce Tree provided them with a special AI that could receive and synthesize input from the multitudes of people watching from the Sixth Key. They had a lot to say about the situation themselves, and while it would be quite impossible to field questions, comments, and concerns from individuals, they could pare it down to consensus thoughts. There were still many hundreds of these generated ideas, so Mateo had to read through them, and relay them to the meeting members. No one but others on Team Matic could appreciate how much effort he was putting into this responsibility, so they grew frustrated when he asked for breaks. But the thing was, he wasn’t actually taking the breaks. He was using that time to catch up with the input. It was everyone else who could visit the restroom, or dine on the little cakes that Olimpia made for them using the Biomolecular Synthesizers.

They did take full breaks at the end of every day, for sleep and recharging, to prevent burnout. Each day’s worth of talks lasted for eight or nine hours, which resembled a standard workday on 21st century Earth. They were in the middle of one of these right now. For one hour every evening, the team went into their private pocket dimension to discuss amongst themselves, or to not talk at all. They were getting burned out, and they needed time away from everyone else. No one was allowed to disturb them during this period, but they were also discouraged from doing so at any time outside of the official negotiation sessions. The delegates had their own special pocket dimension. There was relatively low security in there, which could open up the possibility for one delegate to cause harm to another. Yet they were expected to police themselves, and Pryce Tree was able to protect them using his power. If he had to, he could simply transport someone away from someone else. To Team Matic’s knowledge, this had not yet come up, and probably never would. Killing one delegate, for instance, would have little effect on the outcome of this meeting, or the rest of the Sixth Key’s situation. As Ellie explained, there were so many other people in the biverse. Anyone trying to derail these discussions was going to have to work a hell of a lot harder than that.

Ramses, since he wasn’t a part of the talks in any capacity, was able to work at his own pace, so he wasn’t nearly as tired as everyone else. “Why are they calling it The Rock Talks again,” he asked, “because those words rhyme?”

Marie was chewing on her cuticles. “It’s really complicated, but the whole thing is based around rocks. They draw rocks to decide who talks first during a given segment, or for a one-on-debate. They select rocks to indicate their votes unambiguously. They even play games using stone dice when the dilemma appears to be about even on either side, and no one is too passionate about one or the other. They’re not trying to figure out who is entitled to have control over a border river, or something, like historical negotiations have been about. There are millions of little decisions that will add up to a bigger picture, and decide the fate of quintillions of people, and it’s exhausting.”

“The Rock,” Ramses repeated. “How long do you have left?” Their patterns were obviously temporarily disabled, though they didn’t know if that was a side effect of the temporal bubble they were in, or if Pryce Tree had to do something special to keep them on the same path as everyone else at the meeting.

“Are you getting bored?” Leona asked him.

“No, I love this extra time that I have. I’m getting so much done. I’m working on some things that I think you’re gonna be real excited about. I’m worried about you lot.”

“I’m worried about him.” Mateo jerked his chin behind most of the group, where the internal security feed was showing on the wall monitors. Pontus’ second from the Nucleus was pacing in front of the entrance to their pocket. He obviously wanted to ring their doorbell, but he knew that it was against the rules, so he was just stressed out, and probably waiting for the hour to be over.

Leona tapped on her armband. “Berko, what’s up?”

“Nothing. It can wait. I know you need your alone time,” he replied.

“Just spit it out,” Leona urged.

“There’s just a..minor...problem with the walking tree, and the princess, and...where they live.”

She stood up. “I’m coming out.” She headed for the door. “Matty, you’re with me.”

They exited the pocket, and walked down to the other side of Delegation Hall, to the visitor’s pocket. About half the group of delegates were in a crowd in the common area, arguing with each other unintelligibly. A couple of others were sitting in the lounge chairs, not participating, but everyone else was presumably in their respective living quarters. “Silence, please!” Mateo shouted. “Your Captain is here.”

They all fell quiet, and parted the Red Sea to show that they were standing in front of Pryce Tree and Princess Honeypea’s door. It was fully open, but there was a second door after that, which was still closed. “What’s the issue?” Leona asked.

“Those weird people,” the delegate from the true main sequence began. “I caught a glimpse of where they live. It’s bigger on the inside, like the T.A.R.D.I.S.”

“This whole thing is bigger on the inside,” Leona explained. “That’s what a pocket dimension is. You wouldn’t have a bed if it didn’t exist.”

“Right,” the delegate agreed, “but theirs is much, much, bigger. It’s outside, and I could see the horizon.”

Leona nodded. “I’m not surprised that they go home to the Garden Dimension every night. I still don’t understand what the  problem is.”

The delegate sighed shortly. “We’re living in these cramped quarters. I understand that it’s another dimension, or whatever, but we thought there was some kind of limitation. We each only get one room, and we accepted that, but there’s an entire island on the other side of that door. Or maybe even bigger, I don’t know. We just didn’t know that nested dimensions were possible.”

“Of course they’re possible,” Leona confirmed. “But that’s not what this is. That door apparently leads them back home. It’s more like...a stargate.”

“Well, why can’t we live in there?” one of the other delegates questioned, but Leona couldn’t remember who she represented. “There’s so much more space.”

“The Garden Dimension is protected ground,” Mateo answered in Leona’s stead. “We’re not even allowed there.”

“It’s a nature preserve,” Leona added. “Highly protected, highly regulated, highly secure. It’s there to shield plantlife from interference. It’s not a place where people live, except for the few who work there.”

“Well...” the true main sequence delegate stammered, “can’t you make a larger pocket for us anyway? It’s getting tough. The smell. Can’t you smell the smell?”

Leona breathed in, a reflex triggered by his words. There was indeed a stench here, which she had subconsciously commanded her nose to block. Most of these people did not enjoy the same control over their senses, so she could appreciate their struggle. “I’ll ask Ramses to fix the ventilation system. I’m sure that it won’t be that hard, he just wasn’t aware. I am not here to help with the diplomatic discussions. These are the things that I need to know about, so do not hesitate to alert me.” They seemed responsive to this, but she wasn’t done yet. “However, if I catch you trying to break into anyone else’s space, or doing anything else of that nature, there will be consequences. I don’t care what the tree says, I’ll throw you in hock, and I can’t promise that they’ll find a replacement representative, which means your culture may end up being locked out of the benefits of this budding union. Do you all understand me?”

Some of them shrunk away, but they all nodded.

Leona nodded back. “Now get back to your rooms. It’s gonna be a hard day tomorrow, just like it always is. I know I need sleep.”

“That was so sexy,” Mateo whispered as they were walking across the realspace portion of the ship.

“I’m not in the mood, Mateo.”

“No, of course not. Me...me neither.” It had actually been a long time for the two of them. This was stressful for everyone.

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Orthogradient: The Cormanu Crew (Part IV)

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Carbrey Genovese woke up. A quick look around told him that he was in the infirmary. No one else was there at first until Landis Tipton walked in. After he turned the lights on, he thought better, and dimmed them back down. He checked Carbrey’s pupillary response, and his vitals. “You have taken a long time to recover. I’m ashamed to say that I was unable to heal you myself. The theory is that my ability works on atmospheric medical conditions. You suffered complications due to temporary exposure to the vacuum of outer space, which I’ve never had to heal before, therefore my ability did not know how. Still, that doesn’t explain why I can’t repair the nerve damage you suffered due to likely traumatic injury.” He shook his head in shame. “I’ll keep trying.”

“What happened?” Carbrey asked.

“It’s not my place to say.” Landis paused before going on, “I mean, it’s not that I’m not authorized. I’m not qualified to understand it. Khuweka, could you get in here please?” he asked through his comms device.

She appeared out of nowhere. “Mister Genovese, I’m glad to see that you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“Confused,” Carbrey answered.

“That’s understandable, given your recent medical issues.”

“He asked for the story,” Landis relayed.

“Right.” Khuweka cleared her throat. “For reasons we still haven’t been able to piece together entirely, the Project Stargate probe was flying in the wrong direction. We successfully teleported around it, but instead of matching its vector, it just tore right through the back of the ship.”

“Casualties?” Cabrey asked.

She took a moment to respond. “Freya and Limerick didn’t make it. They shouldn’t have been standing so close.”

“You’re blaming them? This was my fault.”

“We do not believe that it was,” she said.

“It was my job to calculate the vector. I must have made a figure negative when it should have been positive, or something. Going the wrong way? Who does that?”

“We recorded three temporal energy signatures,” Khuweka began to explain. “It’s impossible to assign them to any particular temporal manipulation event, but we were only expecting one. Diamond Zek teleporting us to the probe was the only thing that we were going for, so what could the other two have been? My guess is that the probe was also altered, by some other party. We did detect that we were being followed. That was always a risk. If the Ochivari ever found out what we were trying to do, they could have gone to any extreme to stop it.”

“It wasn’t the Ochivari.” Another woman was in the room, who Carbrey did not recognize. Judging by the expression on Landis and Khuweka’s faces, neither did they.

“Who the hell are you?” Khuweka questioned, all tensed up.

“Sanaa Karimi. Who the hell are you?” she snapped back.

Khuweka relaxed. “Oh, you’re fine. How long have you been here, though?”

“Longer than you.” Sanaa had a bit of an attitude.

“Care to elaborate?”

“Not really.”

“She was in stasis.” Eliana walked in as well. “Diamond Zek finally picked her up when the primary power source on her pod faltered from the crash, and it reverted to the secondary. That split second power distribution anomaly tipped us off. Otherwise, we never would have found her.”

“Actually, it is I who found you,” Sanaa claimed. “Where do you think the ship came from in the first place? It was randomly shifting through time and space to escape the clutches of an evil trio from the future. They were tracking it the entire time, and it was running out of power. Its only hope was for me to fake its destruction, and command it to make one final jump. Unfortunately, the only jump that I was able to trigger was back to its underground hangar of origin, where you happened to be. Everything was fine there until you decided to take it out for a joyride, putting it back on the trio’s radar, allowing them to catch up to it. To you. To us.”

“I’ve never heard of an evil trio from the future,” Khuweka contended.

“You’ve not heard of everything,” Sanaa reasoned.

“What can we do now?” Eliana asked. “I assume they’re still after us.”

“They don’t care about you,” Sanaa explained. “They want this ship. It’s important to them, and they won’t stop looking for it. There’s only one place where it can survive, but if you take it there, there’s no coming back.”

“Unacceptable,” Khuweka determined, shaking her head, not even bothering to ask for specifics. “We have to stop the Ochivari. That is the only mission that matters.”

Sanaa sighed. “I’ve been reading your ethicist’s mind. She knows more about this than you believe. You expected to be able to pose any problem to her, and have her vomit a response, but you didn’t think she would do her due diligence? She’s been studying just as hard as Freya has with her engineering courses.”

“How long have you been out of stasis?” Khuweka questioned.

“You can read minds?” Carbrey asked, still lying back in his recovery bed.

Sanaa ignored them both. “The Ochivari are bulk travelers, and as you know, each brane operates on its own timestream. They have absolutely nothing to do with each other. You can leave 2337, and when you end up in the neighboring brane, it might be 2024. You didn’t travel back in time, you simply pierced the membrane at the spot where 2024 exists, because for the membrane, time is a spatial dimension.”

“Yes, I know all this,” Khuweka asserted.

“Then why were you under the impression that you could stop the Ochivari? They’re bulk travelers!” she reiterated. “Once you leave the universe you were born in, your existence becomes inherently locked in. You cannot be erased from the past. The best anyone could hope for would be to erase the timeline where you were from, but at worst, if you ever go back to your home universe, you’ll just end up in the new timeline. It’s irrelevant that you were never born there, because you were born there at one point. That cannot be undone anymore.”

Khuweka grimaced. Or she was horny. It was really hard to tell what a Maramon’s facial expressions meant. “Yeah, I was afraid of that.”

“This mission was never about stopping the Ochivari,” Sanaa said.

“What was it about?”

“It was about how great I am at timing big reveals,” Sanaa said cryptically. She stepped over to the smartwall, and masterfully transitioned it into a hull camera feed, making it appear as though it simply turned into a large viewport. A tiny ship appeared out of nowhere. “It was about making her.”

Khuweka went over to the wall, and opened a channel. “Unidentified vessel, please identify yourself.”

“Cormanu, this is the Strongbox. Please open an airlock for boarding. We come in peace. We have some mutual friends.”

Khuweka looked over at Sanaa, who nodded approvingly. Khuweka hesitated. “Zek, mauve alert. I don’t know if we should be trusting whoever the hell that is.”

They all teleported to the airlock, even Carbrey, who was placed in the future’s version of a wheelchair, though it had no wheels. It was electromagnetic, which allowed it to hover around thirty centimeters from the floor. He could steer it with a simple and intuitive joystick. The seat was soft and comfortable, and the cushions could conform to suit his needs as they changed. He was still in a lot of pain, and he couldn’t move his lower body, though he could still feel down there, particularly the pain. The autodoctor’s initial diagnosis was an incomplete spinal cord injury. He was immobilized, but not fully paralyzed. The prognosis was not yet available, but he may never walk again.

The mysterious little ship entered its side of the airlock, and waited for it to be pressurized. Once that was done, three people stepped out of it, and patiently waited for the hatch to open, which Khuweka was still reluctant to do. Sanaa rolled her eyes, and just opened it instead. “How did you know the co—oh, right; psychic.”

The three new strangers stepped through. One of them was a teenage girl. “My name is Treasure Hawthorne.” She didn’t say it with her mouth. A voice came out of a tiara-looking thing on her head. “I am Freya and Limerick Hawthorne’s daughter. This is my friend Rosalinda James, and my lover, Quina Velsteran.” She was horrified at herself. “I shouldn’t’ve said it like that. I’m sorry,” she said to him.

“It’s fine,” he replied.

“It’s just that we never really defined the relationship.”

“Really, Treasure, it’s fine. Let’s get back to business.”

“Right. Here’s the thing. I have my father’s ability, and each time I use it, I end up somewhere that has recently experienced its own bulk traveling event. At least that’s our theory. I think my body is seeking sources of bulk energy. I can’t figure out how to get home, even though I know for a fact that the Transit recently showed up there—”

“The Transit?” Khuweka asked, hope and excitement in her eyes. Or she was bored. Again, it was hard to tell. “Who’s piloting the Transit?”

“Azura.”

Khuweka’s eyes widened now. That had to be surprise. “She survived. Ho-ho-oh my God.” She stepped away to pace. “Azura is the founder of the Transit Army.”

“Uh, no, my mother is,” Treasure clarified.

“Right,” Khuweka accepted. “Because she’s alive. What happened to her?”

“I don’t have time for the full story,” Treasure said. “I need to get back to Voldisilaverse, and I think you can help, and I think that my power sent me here for a reason, because maybe there’s some sort of separate sentience to it. I’m rambling again, but the point is that I need to link up to your power-boosting platform.”

“Uh, power is limited,” Eliana chimed in. “This thing can barely hold life support online. We’re dead in the water, so nobody’s using the platform right now.”

“I can make it work,” Carbrey informed them.

“You are in no condition to do anything,” Landis countered.

“My brain is fine,” Carbrey argued. “I just need to be sitting while I do it.”

“I’m good with my hands,” Quino said. “You tell me what to do, and I’ll do it in your stead. Will that work?”

They all looked to Khuweka. “I am not a doctor,” she began, “nor Carbey himself. If you’re feeling up to it, you can go ahead, but Landis is in charge of your health, and he can override any decision you try to make in regards to the work that you perform. He has the power to bench you, which may mean getting some rest back in the infirmary. We’re time travelers, people. There is no such thing as urgency. Doctor Spellmeyer, please accompany them, and make sure that everyone is happy and safe. Treasure, Sanaa...you’re with me.” She walked off.

Diamond Zek teleported everyone to their stations. The three ladies were in Captain Kadrioza’s Strategy Room, which was just a fancy thing to call her office. She sat at her desk while the other two sat in the two opposing chairs. Eliana teleported in soon thereafter. “You are not needed here,” Khuweka told her.

“Yes...I am,” Eliana insisted. She stood by the door like a bodyguard. Back in her home universe, she underwent the same basic combat training that everyone in her agency received, but was never on the operative’s track, so there was only so much she would be able to do in the event of some kind of attack or altercation. Though with Limerick gone—and besides Khuweka herself, who was a nigh invincible alien—Eliana was the probably best fit for ad hoc ship security.

“Very well.” Khuweka cleared her throat. “I know you by reputation, Miss Karimi. Treasure, if you are who you say you are, I’m sure you’ll do great things. But trust is not something that I can just give away freely. This is a very delicate situation, and—”

“Captain, an unidentified ship approaches,” Kivi’s voice came in through the intercom. “It’s not responding to calls. We’ve begun evasive maneuvers.”

“That would be the trio,” Sanaa said confidently.

“Is that bad? That sounds bad,” Treasure guessed.

“Yes, it does, but as I was saying, you two arrived here unexpectedly. Maybe they too are friends, not foes.”

“They’re def foes,” Sanaa insisted. “You have to get out of here fast.”

“Zektene, do you have the power you need?” she asked, but the response was not vocal. They only enjoyed a psychic connection to Diamond Zek.

The two who had not yet formed a bond with her sat in silence, Treasure having no clue what was going on, since she could only recall so much of what her mother taught her about this ship, and her long-lost friends.

“No,” Khuweka shouted with her voice, but it was too late.

Zek transported Treasure next to the booster platform.

“Uhh, it’s only been a minute,” Quino told her. “Mister Genovese here hasn’t even finished explaining to me what it is exactly. We need to divert power first—”

“There’s no time for that.” She stepped onto the platform just as everyone else was appearing in the room.

“Don’t do this,” Khuweka ordered. “Zek, listen to me. Get her out of here.”

“I’m gonna get us all out of here,” Treasure contended. She placed her hands upon the handles, and closed her eyes tightly. She let the ship’s remaining power surge through her body, mixing with the bulk energy that was already metabolizing in there. Then she screamed the whole vessel into a different universe, hopefully leaving their pursuers behind.

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Microstory 2160: Trust the Wizard

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I don’t have anything to say today. Stuff did happen, but I can’t tell you about it. I’m pretty honest with this blog, but I don’t reveal everything to you. For instance, I’ve never gotten graphic with all of my many illnesses. I don’t talk about what kind of porn I watch either. Lol, I’m kidding, I don’t watch porn, I’m celibate. Sexuality has no place in any universe. Gross, stop thinking about that, you heathens. Anyway, I’m still depressed, but I’m working on it, with my therapist, and my parole officer, and by occupying my time with work and community service. I still don’t think that I’ll ever be happy, but things have been much worse for me in the past, and are presently worse for others in the world. The point is that I have little to complain about. I still miss Cricket and Claire, but when you add it up, it hasn’t been that long. Anniversaries are significant in the bulkverse. I’m sure something good will happen exactly one year after my arrival. Oo, if this were a fictional story, we would call that foreshadowing, but this is all real, so what could I possibly know about the future? I’m not a wizard. Well, I do know some things about the future. I know that I’m going to go to jail tonight. That’s the future, maybe I am a wizard. Trust the wizard. Ugh, I need a break from this site. I’ll be back to you Monday. In the meantime, enjoy a couple of daily social media posts, and whatever else you have going on in your life besides me. I’m assuming that you have other interests, but I guess it’s possible that your entire existence revolves around me, and my life. There is a theory that only one person exists in the universe, and everyone else is just a figment of their imagination, or some kind of extension of their subconscious. I shudder to think. If that were true, every time I picked my nose in private, or watched porn, all of you have been aware of it. I guess in that case, you wouldn’t be real anyway, but it would still be weird. Stay out of my private life!

Microstory 2159: Can’t Ever Be Happy

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Yesterday evening, I had my usual meeting with my therapist. We talked about the storm a little, but it was mostly about the volunteer work I’ve been doing. It was no big secret that I got an early jump on my community service due to the traumatizing meat-eating incident the other day. She was able to piece together that I’ve been pretty depressed about it, and I think I knew that; I just didn’t want to think about it. I’ve been filling my days with tons of stuff to do so that my brain doesn’t get a chance to stop and ponder my life choices. It’s been really hard on me. I feel like I’m an addict, and I just had a relapse. It’s super not the same thing as a real addiction, like drugs, or sex, or even food in general. I made a decision to become a vegetarian for several reasons, none of which was that it was harming my life, or causing issues with others. Even so, I made a commitment to stop, and I broke that promise to myself. It can’t be reversed. It will always mark a new beginning, but in a bad way. The streak cannot be repaired, no matter how long I live without ever doing it again. And that sucks. It’s gonna take a lot, and a lot of time, for me to be able to move past it, especially since depression always reinforces itself with dark thoughts on other things. I start to think about every bad thing that has happened to me in my life, and all the mistakes that I’ve made. I dwell on it, and everything negative. My therapist tried to figure out what brings me out of my funks, but I don’t know that anything ever really has. It just kind of stays with me. It subsides after things regress towards the mean, but I can’t ever be happy. Happiness is a concept that I only understand through the lens of relativity. I’ve been happier at times than at other times, but true contentment sounds impossible, and if you tell me that you’ve experienced it, I may not believe it. If you tell me that you’re in the middle of experiencing it, I can’t promise that I won’t punch you in the face, so just don’t give me that BS. Sorry, didn’t mean to become so violent, but it’s impossible to delete my words, so I won’t. I just don’t care for braggers. We get it, you love life, now shut up about it, and leave me to brood in the shadows.

Microstory 2158: No Such Thing as Extra

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I did more volunteer work today. After the storm, a bunch of people came together to help with the cleanup effort. This isn’t any sort of official organization. There’s a special social media app that they’re all on, where people can stay connected to each other based on proximity, rather than other reasons, like mutual interests. I only heard about it from my next door neighbor, because I’m not on the app, so I wasn’t a part of it from the beginning. They’ve done this sort of thing before, when there have been other issues. I picked up and broke down a lot of fallen limbs, which was not fun, but I did feel like I was getting a lot of important work done for people who were unable to do it for themselves. Working from home makes it a lot easier for me to just do stuff like this, and not everyone’s life is like that. Like I said, it wasn’t a real charitable organization, so I didn’t think that anyone could sign my community service log. So I just wasn’t going to bother, because I only did it for the one day, and I figured that it was just more of a rounding error. Apparently, that doesn’t matter for people in my position. When you’ve been sentenced to CS, there is no such thing as “extra” until that sentence has been completed, and then you’re free to choose whatever service work you choose, just like you can as a normal person. Don’t worry, though. I didn’t get in any trouble, or anything, but my parole officer is certain that he told me this before, and he’s probably right. That’s the thing about me. If someone claims that I should have known something, or that something happened in the past, I often kind of just have to believe them, because I can’t trust my own memory. Anyway, it’s fine; no harm done. I could never understand the legal ramifications, but essentially, I’m required to record it every time I volunteer my time or effort for anything more than holding the door open for someone. That’s okay. A thousand hours is the minimum, not the maximum. I think that this is all meant to get people used to the practice of giving back to the community, not just to punish them. But far be it for me to explain the judge’s intentions. That’s why they sit in that raised chair, and I’m over here. Ugh, I’m getting too philosophical. All I’m trying to tell you is that you don’t have to have a reason to help other people. You don’t have to be a convicted criminal, or a juvenile delinquent. This world is better for all of us when we all try to be better for it. That’s all I have for you today. Stay frosty, and keep shakin’ that bush.

Microstory 2157: Jail For Everyone

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All right, the power’s back, and we’re okay. I mean, we’re not okay. Three people died in the storm, and another in the aftermath. Did I not tell you that there was a storm? It didn’t seem that bad, but I was in jail at the time, and I don’t have a cell with windows. The wind was apparently really bad. It knocked a bunch of electrical poles over. Contractors from all over drove in to help restore power. I think I heard that some of them were from as far as Arkansas, which is so crazy to me. I could go into more detail about what I experienced during this time, but I think I’ve said just about everything I need to about it. I will tell you that my fridge and freezer did fine. I deliberately didn’t open either of them even once that whole time, to keep as much heat out as possible. I drank directly from the tap, and I had a peanut butter sandwich, since I couldn’t access the jelly. I know a lot of people had it a lot worse than I did. I was able to open some windows in my apartment to keep the air circulating. It was still hot, but not unbearable, and it went back to normal overnight. I was gonna try reading a book to pass the time, but I really only have these so my built-in bookcase doesn’t look empty and pathetic. I don’t actually like to read, and I don’t want to read any of them. I mostly just took naps, and went on a few walks. I took care of my plants and flowers, though, so that took all of ten minutes. There’s a bit of good news, though. For everyone who was in intermittent jail at the time of the power outage, or was scheduled to be while it was still going on, those days were erased from our respective sentences. That means that I don’t have to make up for it later, and push my end date further back than it already is. The way I’m guessing they reason it is that the power outage was basically jail for everyone, though they didn’t actually use that as an explanation. Either way, I’m grateful.

Microstory 2156: Whoopdee-Friggin-Do For You

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The power is out. It’s out all over the metro. It was that way in jail, which made things pretty miserable in there for several hours, but it’s no picnic out here either. First, I lost a day of jail time, which I will have to make up for at some point. They had to release us, because of the air conditioning problem. It’s particularly hot these days, so leaving us in there would have constituted cruel and unusual punishment. This post will be really short, because I had to go so far to find phone service. It’s pretty bad, hopefully it will be fixed later today. I flirted with just letting it go, and waiting until later, because that would have been easier. It’s taking a lot, just to get this out. Still, I didn’t want to leave you totally hanging, especially since I have a schedule to keep, so I drove clear to the other side of Kansas City to post this one little thing. Don’t worry, I’m not breaking the law. My parole officer, Leonard is with me. He had some of his own work to conduct, so it wasn’t a complete waste. We can’t spend much time out here, though, because he has to get back to check in with his other parolees, and I have to figure out what I’m gonna do for dinner tonight. Everything in my fridge is spoiling as we speak, because I had to open it for one bottle of water, and that let a whole bunch of warm air in, which won’t ever be cooled until the power comes back on. If you’re in the area, stay safe, and try to find a shelter nearby. They set them up in such events, and they are powered by generators. They’re not only for the unhoused. If you don’t live in the area, and your life is a-okay right now, then whoopdee-friggin-do for you!

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: The Rock – Part 1

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Mateo teleported right behind the shooter, and snatched the weapon out of his hands. He then jumped several thousand kilometers away, into outer space, and left it there before returning. He blinked and breathed to get himself back to equilibrium. “Do not shoot my wife again please, nor anyone else.”

“He won’t,” the other masked person claimed. They removed their helmet to reveal herself to be someone they already knew.

“Kalea Akopa,” Leona acknowledged. “I assume there are multiple versions of you, so which are you, and what do you want with us?”

“I want nothing of you,” Kalea replied. “Forgive us for the theatrics. The last I heard, you were mixed up with the Goldilocks Corridor; a place like that can turn a person violent. I needed to see how you would react to violence against you.”

“What’s this Resonant Parallel Coalition?” Marie asked. “That sounds genuinely violent.”

Kalea nodded. “I’m afraid it is.” She sighed deeply. “I am the leader of the Parallel, but I’m not a king. There are too many people to manage, and they like to make their own decisions. Some of them have banded together to prepare for war in the Sixth Key.”

“Yes, we are aware of it,” Mateo explained. “We were going to try to help prevent it, I think, but then we got pretty sidetracked. Has it not begun?”

“We’re staving it off,” Kalea answered before adding, “...for now.”

“Yet you want us to join your little army,” Leona reminded her.

“No, Harbinger Zima wants you to join.” Kalea nodded towards her companion, who had yet to remove his own helmet.

“Harbinger?” Angela questioned simply.

Kalea was afraid to clarify, so she put it off until the last second before the pause in the conversation became too awkward. “He commands roughly 480 billion units. They’ve not started fighting yet, but...”

“Did you say billion with a B?” Mateo asked.

“That’s nothing compared to our total population,” Kalea said.

“It’s not nothing compared to every other military force that could possibly participate in the Reality Wars!” Leona screamed at her.

“As I said, I’m trying to stop it,” Kalea responded calmly. “He and I were in the midst of diplomatic discussions when we were both spirited here.”

Before the discussion could go any further, other people started to pop in out of nowhere. The first one they saw was Carlin McIver, who was much older now, but he was not alone. A teenage girl they didn’t know appeared to be accompanying him. Ellie Underhill showed up too, along with Lowell Benton. Princes Honeypea appeared unexpectedly, as did a bunch of people who the team didn’t recognize. Two of them were either twins, or duplicates of each other, like Angela and Marie. Everyone seemed equally confused, if only by coming to this place specifically, not that they were transported in the first place. The weirdest thing to happen was the giant Memory Magnolia tree from the Garden Dimension. It faded in and out of view, struggling to maintain coherence in this time and place. It never solidified either. Instead, Tamerlane Pryce was standing where it was. He was the only one who acted as if he knew what was going on.

Pryce stepped forward and breathed deeply the recycled air. “Thank you all for coming, and I say that completely sincerely, even though you did not have a choice. Some of you are familiar with this face. The man who originally wore it was named Tamerlane Pryce. I am not this man. I am the humanoid manifestation of the Tree of Life. I chose this form because I had access to it, but if you have any strong feelings for him, please do not put them onto me. I’m just...a ghost.”

The crowd stared at him. “Right,” a woman in full military dress said. “You’re a tree. I suppose that is a flower?” She pointed out Honeypea.

Honeypea did a short little dance full of twirling and bowing. “I am a Horticulturalist. Pleased to meet you all.”

“Why are we here?” It was Ingrid Something. She was the one leader in the Fifth Division who refused to fight for her position in the deadly competition that saw Leona’s entire team get destroyed, which meant that she was the only one not to lose that position when Leona ultimately won. “I think we’re all thinking that.”

The personification of the Magnolia nodded Tamerlane Pryce’s head. He started talking with his hands like he was giving a Ted Talk. “You are on the brink of war. I saw it. The Nucleus saw. Team Matic sees it. I think I can help you put a stop to it, but it’s not going to be fun for you. It’s going to take hard work, diplomacy, and perhaps even your entire lives. You may die here, and in doing so, could save quintillions and quintillions of other people’s lives.”

“Excuse me.” One of the twins stepped towards the Pryce Tree. “What the fuck are you talking about? As far as I know, we are not on the brink of war.”

The Pryce tree nodded again. “You live in something called the main sequence. Your whole reality was copied, along with your alternate self over there, who you have been desperately trying to ignore, because he makes you uncomfortable. It is he who is at the brink of war, as are many others here. But you are not all here for being aggressors. You are here as representatives. One person from each reality, as well a second to serve as their compatriot, has been selected for The Rock Meeting. I’m here representing the interests of life itself, and Princess Honeypea is my second. Pontus here will represent the Nucleus with the aid of his own second, who has not yet been chosen. Ellie and Lowell are here for Fort Underhill. They have already been doing what they can to stop the war from their side of the mid-universe membrane, so I believe that they can continue to help.” He smirked, and looked over at Leona, and the rest of Team Matic. “You think you’re only onlookers, don’t you?”

“I’m sorry?” Leona questioned.

“You think your arrival here is unrelated,” Pryce Tree went on. “You came here on purpose, or so you believe. Make no mistake, you are not getting out of this. You’ll be a part of the discussions as well.”

“Why would we be there?” Leona pressed. “We do not represent any reality, nor any other significant stronghold. We didn’t even bring our ship with us.”

“Yes, we did,” Ramses countered, tapping on his backpack, where the Vellani Ambassador apparently was.

Pryce Tree chuckled. “Why do you think I helped Marie get him back for you? Your ship is vital to the negotiations. We’re going to use it for how it was designed. So go ahead, Mister Abdulrashid...let it out.”

Ramses looked to Leona for guidance, but she could see that she was not the one in charge here. If a magical tree with access to every point in spacetime wanted him to release their ship, then that ship was getting released, regardless of how she felt about it. It was powerful enough to appear to them in the form of an avatar, who knows what else it could do? So he unlocked his pack from its magnetic seal, opened it, and removed the ship. Like Hank Pym, he was carrying it around as if it were nothing more than a scale model. He turned around and hunched over it, probably to input some kind of coded sequence. Then he tossed it out into the vast open space like a paper airplane. Once it was sufficiently far away, it expanded to full size, and landed gently on the floor. Some people were impressed by this, while others weren’t, or were at least trying to act like they had been there. Ramses clicked his special remote to open the main entrance.

“Everyone in,” Pryce Tree ordered.

“And if we refuse?” another stranger offered.

“If you don’t stop this war, you’re never going home, so you can either contribute...or derail it, and stay here forever,” Pryce Tree warned.

“You said that we might die here anyway, as some kind of noble sacrifice,” the stranger reminded the tree.

“If you die for peace, you can come back to life; I can do that. If you die because you refuse to help, you’ll just stay dead, and no one will remember you. Literally. I can do that too.”

They all started to walk up the ramp. Olimpia took it upon herself to lead them in, showing them where Delegation Hall was, as well as the rest of the Ambassador, which was designed with private meeting rooms, a galley, and lounge areas. The rest of the team held back, as did the Magnolia. “We do not need to be part of the negotiations,” Leona insisted. “We’re happy to host, but that is all we can do. The rest is way above our paygrade. None of us is anywhere near qualified to mediate serious discussions.”

“You’re the captain,” the tree began. “You control their movements, their actions, and where the ship goes once it leaves this place. Ramses is the engineer. Olimpia will make a fine Hospitality Manager. The Waltons actually are counselors. They will be directly involved in the discussions.”

Mateo laughed. “Anyone here need a personal driver?”

The tree smiled at him. “You’ll just be around. I didn’t see a point in bringing your entire team in except for you. Where else would you go?”

“Are you kidding me?” Ellie was the last representative to head for the ship. “You have a job here too. You went to every reality before they were absorbed into the Sixth Key. You’ve been to other universes. You know all these people, or they know you.”

“So, what? Everyone on my team boasts the same résumé,” Mateo pointed out.

“But you see it from a different perspective,” Ellie went on. “All of us here; we’re important. People look to us for guidance, for our leadership. We make decisions, and others have to follow them. You are one of those people, and you can speak to their interests better than any of us can. They are the ones we’re fighting for, yet we don’t understand them. I’m sorry, Tree, but representative in this situation is a joke. You can’t boil this impending war down to a couple dozen people. We need more Mateos, not fewer.”

“Hm.” The tree seemed genuinely surprised by this. “That’s a good point. Let’s televise this.” He snapped Pryce’s fingers.

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