Microstory 2209: We’re in the Endgame Now

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Might wanna skip this one if you have depression or anxiety issues, because they may be triggered by my words. The doctors have no clue what’s wrong with me, but the signs and symptoms are clear. Long before I started traveling the bulk, I watched my maternal grandfather slowly die of Parkinson’s disease. I don’t actually know if that’s what killed him, but it certainly contributed to it. I’m exhibiting a lot of the same problems that I remember him having. Stiffness, numbing, tremors. You don’t use the same term for it here, but after some conversation, the doctors were able to assure me that their idea of this same disease could be ruled out. It’s something else. That’s neither good nor bad, because it can’t be cured on either world. Neither can whatever it actually is...probably. Based on my rate of decline, and their lack of understanding, they don’t see any reason why I would improve. It’s likely going to keep getting worse until I become nothing more than a shell of my former self. Death is almost certain to follow. It will be slow, painful, and extremely frustrating. So far, the mental component hasn’t been too bad, but it has still been an issue. I’ve forgotten things, and I’ve been snapping at people, even before I went into the hospital. I’ve asked them to keep me alive at just about all costs, but at some point—probably rather soon—you won’t be hearing from me anymore. I won’t be able to think, let alone type or talk. We’re in the endgame now.

Microstory 2208: Steep Physical Decline

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Weird and unexpected news today. Do you remember that high school student that I worked with at the nursery? Well, after she graduated, she went straight into an intensive program to become a lifecare assistant. It’s a lot more socially acceptable on your world to forgo a college degree, instead focusing on training for more specific fields of study or work. The reason it works here is because of how careful and methodical you are with your children’s skills, and learning schedule. You see, where I’m from, every student from before first grade to when they become an adult is expected to learn pretty much all the same things. You do that too, but you don’t take it quite as far. By the time a kid is fourteen years old, you should have a pretty decent idea of where their strengths lie, and instead of forcing them to struggle and struggle through the topics that they have a harder time with, you encourage them to concentrate on what they’re probably going to do with the rest of your life. Sure, you hear a few stories here and there on my planet of someone ultimately becoming a brilliant scientist after failing chemistry class, but really, how often does that happen? Anyway, I don’t have to tell you people this, you obviously already understand. My former co-worker has now become my lifecare assistant. It wasn’t even planned that way, it’s just a coincidence. I’m her first patient since she aced the final exam. She’s going to live with me in my extra bedroom. Due to my steep physical decline, while I don’t need a whole lot of help yet, the doctors believe that it’s only a matter of time. By the end of this, she’s going to be doing pretty much everything for me, including the gross and awkward stuff that no one wants to need help with. It’s a little embarrassing, yes, but I can handle it. She’s a highly trained professional, and I still prefer to be treated by a woman. I’ve always been like that. Sexist or not, it’s the way I am. I see no reason to request a new assistant either way. Be prepared for the next installment in which things get incredibly depressing and sad.

Microstory 2207: Fork Myself

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I’ve been having both good and bad days, and the doctors believe that this is going to continue until they can figure out what’s wrong with me. They’re stumped, and they don’t want to keep me in the hospital because I’m taking a bed from someone who needs it. They didn’t actually say that out loud, but I can read between the lines. Fret not, I’m okay with it. I don’t want to be here anymore either. Most of what’s happening to me involves nurses with less education helping me. They’ve been helping me eat, and bathe, and use the toilet. I’m not embarrassed to say that I’m struggling with doing these things on my own these days. My mind is still all right, but my hands have been shaking, so I can’t be trusted to hold a knife and fork myself. To free up this room, the hospital has suggested a home care option. This person will be able to take samples from me periodically, and send them off to the lab, but they’ll do it from the comfort of my home. Some of them come to work every day, and some live with their patients. The position is called a Lifecare Assistant, and I believe that it is rather similar to a CNA back on my homeworld. Well, I think that it may be a mix of CNA and phlebotomist, because they will also be able to draw blood and administer IV when necessary. I’m currently looking over my options, but I’ve not lost my job yet, so paying for it shouldn’t be a problem. It shouldn’t last long, as I’m sure they’ll determine what’s wrong with me eventually.

Microstory 2206: Securing a Private

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Stress, vitamin deficiencies, sleep disorder, depression, anxiety, or maybe even dementia. These are the possible explanations for my most recent health problems. It could also be cancer, because it could always be cancer. The doctor ordered blood tests, and the results have not come in yet, but the preliminaries have. The biggest evidence of an infection is a raised white blood cell count. Due to my history of infections, that is the first thing that they looked for, and they’re not seeing any issues in that regard. I was half-hoping that that would be the thing, because then we would know, and it could be treated. I’m actually feeling okay now, but since the mystery remains, I know that this issue is just going to keep dragging on. They asked me to check into the hospital, so they can keep observing me, even though my symptoms have abated. There is no telling how long I’m going to have to stay here, so I guess I’m glad to have this great job. I imagine my hospital bill will be pretty high in the end. I tell you this in all honesty to remind you to please not try to raise funds for me again. Really, if you do, this time I’ll just let it sit in whatever bank account it ends up in. The only value in money is how it’s spent. Until that happens, no matter how high the number is in that account, its value rests at a perfect zero. So don’t waste it on me, I’ll be fine. Now that I have the sense that I might be in here for the long-haul, I’m working on securing a private room, which will allow me to continue working remotely. The medical staff has asked me not to do that since stress is the number one suspect. Yeah, no. I’ve been stressed out my entire life, and yes, it has caused a lot of problems for my health, but that’s never meant that I’ve ever been able to stop. Back then, I had to keep working to survive. Now, I have to keep working, because it’s too important. I tell them, if they don’t want me to work in the hospital, then discharge me, and let me go to work. They try to point out the flaw in my logic, but I still don’t see it. People are counting on me, and there is too much to do. I can’t just let go.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 7, 2459

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Mateo and Angela suddenly appeared in the Third Rail version of Russia on August 16, 2398, standing next to a younger version of Mateo. He wouldn’t recognize his future self, even if he managed to look behind him in time. They were both in full IMS, their faces obscured by their helmet visors. He had just activated a big teleportation machine, hoping to transport him and a piece of timonite to Lebanon, Kansas without having to actually look for the mineral first. He needed this to save their friend, Trina McIver from being lost in time. The plan didn’t really work, though they did end up finding her anyway. The machine reached critical mass a second later, and took them away, along with two Russian soldiers who were trying to stop Past!Mateo. But they didn’t end up in Lebanon, and this fact was apparent immediately upon their arrival. The ground around them was gray, the sky was black, and the air didn’t exist. They were on a moon, or an asteroid, or something. A pinch of atmosphere managed to come with them to this place, but it did not last. The three men not wearing any special suits quickly begin to die. Future!Mateo couldn’t save them all, but he could save one.

Spacesuits in the past were traditionally slow and difficult to assemble. For many years, it was actually impossible for a wearer to accomplish the feat on their own. For emergencies, it was vital for an Integrated Multipurpose Suit to be designed to be put on quickly, without any snags, and without any help. For the most part, when the armor module was needed, the two inner modules were also needed. But it was technically possible for the armor module to function on its own when there was no other option. It was also the easiest to remove, and the fastest. Future!Mateo swiftly disconnected it, and opened it like a lid. He stepped out, and pushed his past self into it, letting it close up automatically. He then gave him the helmet for a complete seal. Past!Mateo could still be dying, though, because he had been exposed to the vacuum of outer space for too long, so Future!Mateo tapped on the arm interface to release a cocktail of exposure treatment drugs. This solved one problem, but created another, because of course, Future!Mateo was now the one at risk of dying. He could survive out here for a little bit, but not indefinitely. They needed to find shelter.

As Future!Mateo was looking around for somewhere to survive, Past!Mateo and Angela appeared to be talking to one other via radio. He had no idea what they were saying, though, so he just kept searching the horizon. Angela started to tap on her own arm interface. She pointed in one direction. Past!Mateo nodded. The both of them walked over to Future!Mateo, and took him by the arms. They teleported away, into a pressurized environment. Future!Mateo blinked, trying to recover. He would eventually, but he wouldn’t say no to his own shot of the treatment drugs. Angela knew this, so she removed her gauntlet, and placed it on his hand to administer the dermal flash. His health began to return to him, and he was able to speak. But before he could, Past!Mateo had something to say. “Did you think that you could survive better out there than I could?” he asked accusatorily.

“Indeed,” Future!Mateo responded. “My body has been upgraded again.”

Past!Mateo looked over at Angela, who nodded back, confirming that to be the truth. “Well...thank you, then. I appreciate your support. Now...report.”

Future!Mateo took a deep breath. “You need to return my suit, so I can go back out there, and hunt for the timonite in all that rubble.”

“No, I can look for it,” Past!Mateo insisted. “It’s my mission.”

“It’s mine too,” Future!Mateo explained.

“So we fail in the first timeline?” Past!Mateo guessed.

“Well, no. I’m closing my loop. I always wondered how we succeeded, though. Your memory will be erased before you go back with it.”

“You must not have had all of your memories erased, because you’re wearing these suits,” Past!Mateo reasoned. “You knew that we would end up here.”

“No, we just kind of wear them all the time now.”

“We would have brought an extra one if we had known that you would need it as well,” Angela clarified. “Buddy breathing doesn’t work in space.” She turned to Future!Mateo. “I’ll go look for the timonite. You stay here with your self to find out what this place is, where we are, and how to get back home.”

“Homes,” Past!Mateo corrected. “You two and I aren’t going to the same place.”

“No, we’re not.” Angela dropped her visor, and disappeared.

“Where are the others?” Past!Mateo questioned his future self.

“They’re fine. They have their own concerns to worry about. There’s no need to give you any details, but we move past this story arc, and into new ones. The parallel realities are just the beginning of our troubles. The way I see it, your life has barely started.”

“I see.” Past!Mateo examined the architecture of this airlock, as if he were knowledgeable enough to glean any information from it. He started walking towards the interior hatch, which was fully open. Lights turned on in reaction to his presence, though there appeared to be no people here. This facility, whatever it was, may have been abandoned. Or they were just out to lunch. He stopped while he was still on the threshold. “Have you noticed, the doorways are pretty high, as are the ceilings? This was made for tall people.”

“Or they just like extra space,” Future!Mateo countered.

“I dunno. This doesn’t feel quite human to me.”

“No, you’re right about that.”

“Yes, you are,” came another voice. A being was walking down the corridor, and she was definitely not human. She was a Maramon. She wasn’t, however, alone. Four human women were walking with her. “Aclima, Balbira, tie them up.”

“Oh, no thank you,” Future!Mateo said, like she was just offering him a second glass of water at a restaurant.

The Maramon looked like she was smirking, but it was hard to tell with her anatomy. “Kalmana,” she said simply.

One of the humans quickdrew a gun, and stunned them in the face. The suits could dissipate—and even channel—most energy blasts, but they couldn’t protect exposed areas. Still, they resisted the surge, and tried to stay awake. She had to fire once more. The lights went out.

The two Mateos woke up in a cell at around the same time. One of the women was sitting guard on the other side of the bars. She seemed nice, but honestly, so did the others. Hopefully they weren’t slaves to the Maramon. Mateo didn’t know enough about their culture to have any clue why they might be working together. “Hi. I’m Lusia.” She wasn’t bubbly, but professionally courteous.

“Hi, Lusia. This is Mateo. I’m Mateo.”

“I know.”

“Can I ask, why are you working with them?” Past!Mateo questioned.

“She is of my people,” she answered plainly.

“Is she? Do they treat you well?”

Lusia smiled. “We are hybrids. Half-human, half-Mar, but loyal to the latter.”

“To what end?” Future!Mateo asked. He had encountered her kind before, on a few occasions. He had gotten the feeling that those others were the only ones, so this was a new development.

“Our purpose has not yet been revealed to us. We are still training. Mother will explain all when we are ready to hear it. Until then, I’m here to watch you.”

“She’s not your mother, she’s just your creator,” Past!Mateo tried to argue.

“What’s the difference?”

“Lusia!” the Maramon’s voice shouted from another room. “Do not speak to them! Remain silent and steadfast!”

“Oh, no thank you!” Lusia yelled back. Now she was really smiling.

“Lusia!” the Maramon complained, holding the final vowel for several seconds.

“The young do not always do what they are told,” Lusia said to the Mateos. “She really is our mother, and not actually our creator. That was someone else. She’s the one who raised us, and cares for us. We do not call the man who engineered us our father. I just want to show you that I can defy her orders, and not be abused, or anything. I can’t imagine what horrors you imagine we experience in this world. But we’re doing okay.”

Future!Mateo stood up from his bunk, and approached the bars. He leaned back a few centimeters when he noticed her trying to hide her mild fear of him. “I do not have a problem with the Maramon. It seems only that they have a problem with us.”

Lusia widened her eyes to process the information. Then she shut them and nodded slightly.

“So we are in Ansutah,” Past!Mateo assumed.

“No,” Lusia replied, shaking her head. “This is Fort Underhill. June 7, 2459.”

“Really?” Future!Mateo asked, very surprised. “How did we wind up here?”

“No idea,” Lusia said. “Ukodenva ‘Underkeeper’ Unedisalk came here accidentally as well, with the rest of her cadet squad. Our genetic engineer was the son of the man who made the other hybrids. Yes, I noticed your sense of familiarity when I said that. I guess he wanted to follow in daddy’s footsteps.”

“Is Hogarth aware that you are here?”

“She found herself the unwilling commanding officer of the cadets, due to some odd laws that they were clinging onto from the Crossover,” Lusia began to explain. “Things reportedly went well for a time, but they fell apart eventually, and became hostile. A truce was later formed, which basically lets us do whatever we want, as long as we do not leave this moon. Hogarth could not stop us from being created.”

“Are there more than the four of you? Does he intend to make more?” Past!Mateo was more curious than he ought to be.

“Hopefully not.”

“What will become of us?” Future!Mateo asked her.

Underkeeper walked into the hock section. “That has yet to be decided. I’m advocating for you to keep your hands firmly attached to your necks, but I’ll be honest, your prospects are not looking good. The others are not as fond of humans as I am.” She looked upon Lusia lovingly. Perhaps she really was her mother.

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Extremus: Year 75

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Eagan Spurrs is not a man, and that is not a derogatory way to put it. Artificial intelligence is a complex subject. There is no clearly defined point when a robot becomes truly self-aware and conscious. There are ways to test this, but no one here is qualified to do such a thing. Not that they would have to anyway. Eagan fully admits to being artificial. Research into the field of AI started in the 20th century, and by the end of the first quarter of the 21st, generative AI was the hottest form on the market. These were extremely sophisticated programs, which could answer unique queries, often in ways that would not inherently give their true origin away. They were used to analyze and synthesize vast amounts of data to organize people’s lives and work, and teach users about various topics, but they couldn’t actually do anything. Humans were still needed to implement any ideas that their collaboration produced. The natural evolution of them was the realization of something known as Performative AI.

PerAI is an offshoot of GenAI, and in fact, requires the latter in order to function. A request is fed into the system, and a response is formulated. This response is sometimes an answer to a question, but it also sometimes requires the manipulation of other systems. For instance, one might ask a GenAI how to write the code for a website. A PerAI could come up with that answer too, but also plug the code directly into the coding program itself, and even debug it. Further advancements allowed PerAI to be incorporated into robotic substrates, so that they could perform physical tasks in the real world; tasks which they hadn’t necessarily ever been asked to do before. That’s when the general population really started taking notice. All of the sudden, all of your chores could be done by someone else. Your handy dandy personal robot could wash your dishes and clothes, mow the lawn, and buy your groceries. This solved a lot of problems in the world, even if it took a little time to be adopted. But in the end, who would bother spending all their time on work that bored them, tired them out, and prevented them from enjoying their life? Only people without the money. Fortunately, that problem was eventually solved too, thanks in no small part to the advent of General Intelligence, but that’s a topic for another time.

Eagan is a PerAI with an android body. It took Tinaya and Belahkay a few frustrating minutes to figure this out, though. Being such an old technology, neither of them was initially aware of Eagan’s limitations. He can tell them why he was created, and what his job is here, but not why, or why anyone built the structure. Who was supposed to live here, and who decided that? It’s his responsibility to welcome new residents, and teach them how the megablock works. Or rather, it was going to be his job. Ever since the time mirror exploded, no one else will be coming here, leaving Eagan without a purpose. He’s not even been allowed to enter the interiors unless accompanied by a human, which is why he’s been staying out of the elements in this wikiup.

There’s another question, which they will likely never get an answer for. When Belahkay’s crew first showed up here, they scanned the surface of the planet. That was how they found the settlement in the first place, and started getting involved in the survivors’ lives. The megablock is the biggest above ground structure across the globe. It should have been easily spotted by the Iman Vellani’s sensors, so why wasn’t it? According to Eagan’s information, construction began eleven years ago, so it should have already been visible a few years ago. Belahkay dispatched a drone scout to explore the buildings while the two of them had lunch together. Once the survey was done, the three of them left the area with the images and specifications to report back to the group. Everyone else was just as surprised, and couldn’t explain it, but it did prompt them to find out whether there was anything else hiding around here.

Most of the visiting starship crew are gone by now, but they left them with a shuttle to use as they wished. The Kamala Khan has been slowly flying all around the world unmanned, looking for energy signatures, right angles, and even lifesigns. For the last several months, nothing has come up, besides a heavy water processing plant under the ocean, which will help refuel their fusion reactors. Today, the shuttle has detected something else. It’s an underground complex, hard to detect with the shuttle’s limited sensors. It’s running on very low power, presumably due to the now absence of a human presence. But that’s just conjecture. The group has not yet uncovered what the purpose of this facility is. They’re going down to the main level right now. It’s a long ride.

More than a kilometer underneath the surface, the elevator stops, and the doors open. They’re immediately struck by what’s been hiding down here. They stare up at it, gradually walking forwards to the guardrails, and then they keep on staring. “It looks like the Extremus,” Lilac points out.

“It’s a battleship,” Tinaya determines. “Look at that exterior weapons array. That down there looks like the entrance to a fighter bay.”

“Why the hell are they building this?” Belahkay questions.

“Who are they?” Aristotle asks.

They all look over at Spirit, who rolls her eyes. “For the last time, I didn’t know everything. SCR&M. Safety, Compartmentalization...” she says, stopping before the last three words of the mantra. The Bridgers were there to maintain order in the event that it was necessary, but we didn’t have our fingers in every pie. That was... Tinaya’s purpose.”

“Lataran was also a spy,” Tinaya reminds her. “Now she’s the Captain.”

“Yes, and either she was keeping this whole thing a secret, or the other Bridgers were keeping it from me. All I know is that I don’t know what this is.”

Belahkay moves over to a console, and starts flipping through the information. “I think I know why we weren’t able to detect this before,” he soon says. “It’s running off of extremely low power, prioritizing frugality over speed.”

“Why would they need to do that?” Tinaya asks. “If this planet, with its abundance of resources, is nothing more than staging grounds, why not get it done?”

“The megablock,” Spirit realizes. “That’s to house, and probably train, an army, and maybe even raise them. That would take time. Getting the ship done quickly wouldn’t be necessary, so you may as well save the hydrogen.”

“Wait,” Niobe jumps in. “Who were they planning to fight?”

Tinaya and Spirit exchange a look, and simultaneously say, “the Exins. We believe this world to be relatively close to where they live.”

“It makes sense,” Aristotle figures, “to find the one world perfectly hospitable to humans to prepare for an attack.”

“Belahkay, keep doing what you’re doing, and report in when anything interesting comes up,” Tinaya orders. She didn’t set out to become the leader here for their tiny little group, but whenever a decision has needed to be made, they’ve routinely looked to her to make it. Everyone just fell into their roles. “Niobe, you can stay with him. Spirit, there are three more levels. Explore with Lilac, stay on comms. There could be people living down here for all we know, or more Eagans. Totle, you’re with me.”

“Where are we going?” Aristotle asks her.

“Into the ship, of course,” she replies.

They step into the second elevator, but this one is fully exposed, and running down the side of the hangar. They then have to get into a third elevator in order to go up into the ship. They begin to search it with flashlights, but the lighting systems turn on by themselves to show them the way. Tinaya was right that there is a hangar bay here, but it’s for transport shuttles, not fighter jets. They are apparently troop transports for ground assaults. The fighters, on the other hand, are designed to shoot out of tubes that litter the hull everywhere there is not some kind of gun to protect the battleship itself. They find the bridge, the engineering section, and a few staterooms, but the rest of it is taken up by stasis pods. Tens of thousands of fighters can sleep here in wait for the long journey ahead of them. Belahkay would be the one to figure out where exactly they were going to be sent, and how long it would take them to get there, but unlike the Extremus, this is not a generation ship. The people who were meant to live here would lie down one second, then wake up the next, but it would be decades later in realtime.

Who were all these people expected to be? The battleship could accommodate the entire current population of Extremus, and still have plenty of room to spare. Even if every security officer and reserve soldier were conscripted into this, there would be absolutely no need for this much space. There was never any reason to build something quite this large unless they had more time to build their army. Or perhaps they had some other means in mind, like cloning. The ethical ramifications of this whole endeavor is making Tinaya’s head spin. Lataran was keeping this from her, and the Extremusian people. This is not what the mission is about. If the Exins were going to attack, then protecting the ship they already had is the only thing that ever made any sense. This thing is new. If it had been built in the past with plans for it to meet up with Extremus before it flew out of range, that would be one thing. But they’re in the present day, with no hope of catching up without a new time travel event. None of this makes any goddamn sense. They need answers. They need to contact their people, now more than ever. This is no longer an extended vacation. Now it’s a mission.

When they’re done searching the whole place, they meet back up with the rest of the group on the mezzanine level. “Anything interesting? Any people?” Tinaya asks.

“Just some labs and offices,” Lilac reports. “Nothing of note. No people.”

“You?” Niobe asks.

“It’s a sleeper ship,” Tinaya answers. “No crew quarters. Everyone in that megablock could fit in here. It was...disheartening to see.”

“We didn’t come all the way out here to wage war,” Spirit agrees.

“It’s fully operational,” Aristotle continues. “We could teleport out right now, and go. The automators are still building a few things, but all vital components are done.”

“Belahkay?” Tinaya prompts.

“I can confirm everything that you’ve been saying. The weird part about it is that it doesn’t have a reframe engine. The Goldilocks Corridor, their destination, is 216 light years from here, straight back down into the galaxy. It was gonna take them 216 years.”

“I didn’t think that we were that close to the Milky Way,” Tinaya remarks. “We should be pretty deep into the void by now, given Captain Yenant’s new heading.”

“We’re not far.” Belahkay acts like he didn’t realize that the rest didn’t know that.

“We also found out the name of the ship,” Niobe goes on, building some suspense. “It’s the Anatol Klugman.”

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Microstory 2205: I Really Need It

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I don’t have much to say. I mean, I do, but it’s hard for me to say it. I got to work okay, but then I started stiffening up while I was just sitting in my chair, and my whole body hurt. Not all at once, but it was rather persistent. I think maybe we underestimated how much my body was damaged from my stair tumble the other day. I had no choice but to go home, and stop working. I literally almost can’t move around. I’m dictating everything here for you, but it is not easy. I probably shouldn’t even be trying to write this post, but now that I’ve begun, I can’t just give up. My voice is starting to feel a little difficult. It’s growing more difficult to speak, that is. I’m sure that it will all be back to normal by morning. I just need to get some extra rest. Jasmine et al. think that I should go to the doctor, but we’re not there yet. Really, let’s just see what things are like tomorrow. I promise, I’ll seek medical attention if I really need it. It’s not another infection. It doesn’t fit with any of the typical signs or symptoms. Okay, the autocorrect is working really hard to fix my slurred speech so I better go.

Microstory 2204: Data Synthesist

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My Data Analyst would like to change his title to Data Synthesist. I was surprised when he came to me with that title, because that’s precisely what I wanted to call it in the beginning, but I was overruled at the time. You see, there’s a difference between analysis and synthesis. An analyst will take data, and break it apart into its smallest parts. They will examine each one, and figure out how it works; how it contributes to whatever it’s there to do. But a system is more than simply the sum of its parts. You, for instance, are not just a collection of organs, bones, blood, nerves, and muscles. You are a full person, and you cannot be rightly defined simply by listing every aspect of your self. What a synthesist does is take the system as a whole, and looks at how those parts work together to form that whole, in all dimensions. There’s an old parable in the systems thinking field that asks whether you would have the best car if you researched the best individual parts in the market, and tried to put them together. The answer is no, you wouldn’t; you wouldn’t even have a car! They wouldn’t fit together correctly, and would not add up to functionality. There is a time and place for analysis, but that time is not now, and that place is not here. I’m all in favor of my team member changing his title, but it’s a lot more complicated than just making the declaration, and printing new business cards. It has to go through human resources, and executives in our company. Our client has to approve it too, because they have the right to decide who they contract with. Compliance and legal have to be involved, as do departments that you might not immediately think of, like payroll and benefits. We don’t need their approval, but they still need to know that it’s happening so they can adjust their systems accordingly. And with all this comes the paperwork. Oh, the paperwork. We went through all this when the process was just getting started, and I was pleasantly surprised at how fast it went, but they might not be interested in undoing their work, and starting over from scratch, even if we’re just talking about one title. It may sound like I’m complaining, but I’m confident that we’ll figure this out. It’s the right move to make, even if it may sound small and inconsequential. It’s important that we state our intentions in all relevant ways, so our clients understand what kind of value we add to their businesses.