Microstory 2651: Wildly Successful and Alive

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Reagan jumps out of his seat. He doesn’t press himself against the wall, but he looks incredibly scared of Mandica, and is not relaxing. He starts clutching his chest, and for good reason. With Mandica’s heightened senses, she can hear how hard his heart is beating. “How are you alive? How are you here?”

Mandica hops off the table, and strides over to the mirror to check her back. The stone is still embedded in her skin, exactly where it was before. It’s glowing again, just as it was in the mortuary. Why is he so confused? It worked again, that makes sense. “Was your memory erased?” she asks him. “I don’t understand why you’re surprised.”

“You were a pancake,” Reagan retorts. “There was—oh my God, it was horrific. You were completely unrecognizable. I...I don’t want to describe the carnage in greater detail, but there was nothing left besides the stone. It was perfectly unharmed, but that’s it. After they removed the train, I swiped the stone, because I didn’t want it falling into the wrong hands, but I didn’t think it would bring you back from that. You...Jesus, Mandica. I’ve not been able to sleep for the last two nights. I felt responsible. I encouraged you to become the Ravensgate Rescuer. I helped train you. I...I...”

“I’m sorry for that. I guess we didn’t know the extent of the stone’s power.”

“I was in love with you!” he cries. “Well, I still am, but I started to mourn, and now I’m profoundly confused. I should be relieved, but it feels unreal.”

Mandica nods. “It’s a shock, I get it.” She looks down at her naked body. No injuries, no scars. No blemishes either. Everything looks brand new. It is new. If her body was pancaked under that train, then the stone would have had to rebuild her from scratch, which is probably why it took two or three days for her to come back this time. “We’ll get through it, though. This is a gift. I think I might not be able to die at all. I mean if a 300-ton train couldn’t do it, what could? I’m like you now, and our friends. You don’t worry about them dying, do you? Your anxiety will go away.”

“Their minds are backed up. That I understand,” he reasons.

“This is even better. I seem to walk around with my backup. As long as the stone survives, I will too.” She places a hand on his shoulder, feeling him twitch at her touch.

“We don’t know that the stone is invincible. Maybe blunt force isn’t a problem, but it has some ridiculous weakness, like battery acid, or...chocolate.”

She smiles as she pivots his body so they’re facing each other. “What kind of life would I be living if I couldn’t have chocolate?”

“Stop joking. We can’t get too excited. It might turn you into a zombie, or—”

“You stop,” she insists. “You’re spiraling. These worst case scenarios are not helpful. I’m not gonna go looking for death, but I’m not gonna hide away either. I’m done with that. I put on this suit without us even knowing that the stone wasn’t a one-time thing. Now that we know it’s not, I’m emboldened. I was hesitant out there with Velvet Thunder. It’s what got me killed. I’m not saying it won’t happen again, but this experience has given me a huge boost in confidence.” When he looks away again in sadness, she gently pulls at his chin. “I want you there with me. If Blue Umbra doesn’t come back, I would like us to be partners. I can’t promise you anything beyond that,” she adds awkwardly, “but I think we make a great team.”

He sighs. “We don’t know that yet. All I know is how I feel. I’ve met a lot of superheroes, but none like you. You walked right in here without protection. You are the bravest person I know; probably the bravest in the galaxy. But yes, I would rather have a working relationship with you than nothing at all.”

“And would it be okay if Cardinal Sin is with us as a trio? She expressed interest.”

He smiles now, starting to relax. “She doesn’t go by that anymore. She realized that it didn’t make any sense to maintain her original name if she switched sides. She’s Cardinal Virtue now. People are really starting to accept her. She reacted quite strongly to your death, and people saw that. Even though Velvet Thunder didn’t technically drop the train on you, they’re blaming him for it. He never wanted to be that hated. He may exit the game because of this. You should go see him.”

“I think I will. I don’t want him to feel any guilt.”

She doesn’t end up doing that. Instead, Reagan invites everyone to a meeting, reportedly to discuss funeral arrangements. It was Mandica’s idea to lie. He reaches out to Malika, who has to return from Castlebourne’s north pole first. Elysia left the simulation too, but was closer by. She will not say where. It sounds very hush-hush. Once everyone has arrived, Mandica makes her grand entrance. They’re all upset and all overjoyed at the same time.

No one else confesses their undying love to her, but Elysia does give her a certain look. After the hubbub dies down a little, she pulls Mandica aside for a more private conversation. “Listen. After you died a few days ago, I threw myself into work. After I died, the executive administrative authority offered me a sort of...job. I was holding off on making any radical commitments because I was training you, but I thought that was over. I didn’t want to think about what happened, so I tried to put Ravensgate in my rearview mirror.” Wow, a lot managed to happen in the last few days. “Since you were dead, it didn’t seem to matter, but now that you’re back, you should know...they know about you. They saw what happened at the jewelry store, and the train yard. They’ve been watching you. I didn’t get the impression that they were all that upset about it. I mean, they had weeks to pull you out, and didn’t. Still, you have a right to know.”

“I suppose we should not have been too optimistic about that. They got cameras all over the place. They were bound to notice. Thank you for telling me, I’m sure it will end up okay.” She means it. “Can you tell me about the project? Will you be going back?”

Elysia nods. “Ravensgate has been wildly successful in their eyes. They only built one city under one dome so as not to waste resources on an unproven concept. After decades of play and hype, it’s become one of the more popular destinations for visitors. They have had to start a waiting list because there is too much demand. You don’t want too many superheroes in one city, so they’re building a new one, under a new dome.”

“Oh, cool. That’s impressive. Congratulations,” Mandica says to her.

“Thanks. It’s not yet announced, but since my version of the Rescuer is dead, they might have me become a new character, after I’m done helping design it.”

“That’s really great, Lys, I’m happy for you.” She notices Malika eyeing the exit door. “I wanna hear more about it, but I need one moment before Malika escapes.” She jogs over to her other friend. “Hey. Are you going back to Aquilonian Deep?”

“Yeah. I’ve just been going through my own stuff. It’s not about you.”

“I can appreciate that, and I don’t wanna pressure you, but if you’re gonna be out there, maybe you could take a detour? I can’t leave the dome even though it might not matter anymore. Could you pick something up from someone who owes me a favor?”

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: September 4, 2548

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Echo Cloudbearer explained his mysterious origins to the team, giving a brief overview of his life. When Olimpia screamed to create the Sixth Key parallel reality, she also created him as a conscious component. The theory was that the DNA in the saliva that came out during her scream somehow rearranged itself, and gave birth to a new living being. Exactly why this being wasn’t a perfect clone of Olimpia herself was the least insane unanswered question about this whole thing. As a lone entity in the center of reality, Echo had to raise himself, absorbing random psychic energy from everywhere in the galaxy to even grasp the concept of survival. His mind conjured memories that were not his own, or maybe not even real at all, to explain to himself where he had come from. Years later, members of the Rock peace talks spontaneously sprouted from a magical tree, headed by an antagonistic godlike woman named Clavia.

Clavia wanted to use Echo’s powers for nefarious purposes, so he regressed her to a childlike state, with no memory of her past. To protect the future, he had to do the same to himself. The two of them were raised as siblings by the Sixth Key leadership, and eventually ascended to power themselves. They used their reality-warping abilities to create another universe called The Eighth Choice. The Reality Wars had been subverted, hopefully forever. There was now more than enough room, and enough resources, for everyone.

After the rundown, Olimpia and Echo stepped away alone with each other to have a more private conversation, though they could still be seen. They were all kind of watching the two of them, but Ramses was paying especially close attention. Mateo walked over to him. “Are you worried for her? Do you think this Echo guy is lying?”

“If he’s gonna try to hurt her, we’ll be here to stop him,” Ramses said. “That’s not what is on my mind, though.”

“What are you thinking about then?” Mateo asked.

“He looks Sri Lankan, right?” Ramses asked.

Mateo nodded. “I would say he does. I don’t understand how he was...created, but he looks like he could be her son.”

Ramses nodded. “Do you think he perhaps...could also be something else?”

“Something else, like...a vampire?” Mateo had no idea what he was driving at.

“No. I mean...” He shook his head. “God, maybe I shouldn’t say it. It’s nuts. But then again...I was there. I wasn’t there when she created the Sixth Key with her scream, but I was there just before she did it.”

“Wait. Are you saying you think he looks Egyptian?”

“I....maybe.”

Mateo tilted his head as he was looking at the mother and son. His resemblance to his supposed mother was undeniable. Echo was definitely Sri Lankan, even if that meant he bioprinted a fake body just to sell a con. But he could be half Egyptian. That was harder to see, but absolutely not impossible. “Well, you have a DNA testing kit in your lab, don’t you?” he figured.

“Yeah, but he would have to consent to it.”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Mateo encouraged. “We don’t have to do the thing where we give him a cup of water, and then steal the cup, or pull a hair out from his head. He might not be trying to hide the truth about you from us. We may not know. Like you said, if you left before she made the Sixth Key—and him—Echo might not have any reason to suspect a connection. If your hypothesis is true, we would have to figure out how your DNA ended up there.”

“Well, I did give her a hug while she was trapped in the proto-Sixth Key,” Ramses explained. “We couldn’t actually touch each other at the time, but I guess if you can make a baby without having sex, it turning out that the dimensional barrier separating the mother from the father was semi-permeable—allowing a second sample of DNA to pass through—isn’t any harder to believe.”

“Why don’t you go get that kit, and then let’s have an open conversation?”

Ramses knew that there was no point in wasting time. He jumped into his pocket dimension lab, found what he was looking for, and returned. Only Mateo went with him up to the mother and son. The rest didn’t know what was going on, though they might have spotted the scanner, and guessed. Or guessed part of it.

Echo’s eyes darted down to the scanner as Ramses approached. “You want proof.”

“I don’t think it’s too much to ask. It will barely hurt.”

Echo chuckled. “Pain isn’t a problem. But my origins are bizarre, as you heard. I’m not sure what that test will say. I’m not a Boltzmann brain, but I’m not a normal person either.”

Ramses shook the scanner gently. “I designed this myself. It accounts temporal anomalies, and looks for signatures of cloning or bioprinting. It will tell us if this body is her genetic son. Even if you’re an evil psychopathic killer who stole her DNA to infiltrate our team, it will know if it’s even worth trusting you in the short-term.”

“I understand why you need this. I have no problem with it.” Echo made a fist, and presented his arm. He didn’t flinch when Ramses placed the top of the scanner against his skin, and pierced it with a tiny little needle.

Ramses then did the same for Olimpia, but against the side of the scanner. He made a fist and lifted his own arm up. “I have a hypothesis. I don’t know if you know the answer to this question, or if you had even considered it, but this machine is designed to capture both parents, and a child. That’s why there are three needles.” He placed it against his arm, but didn’t prick himself yet. “Do you see why I feel like I should be doing this?”

Echo narrowed his eyes and studied Ramses’ face. He looked over at the woman he was certain was his mother, then back to Ramses. “I see it. If it’s true, I want you to know that I didn’t consider it. I never thought much about whether or not I had a father, and it did not occur to me that it might be you. But you should also know that if that comes back positive, I’ll be twice as happy as I was when Olimpia finally showed up.”

“Okay.” Ramses pierced his own skin, and captured the final blood sample. The results came in within seconds. After interpreting the data alone, he showed them both the screen. “Mother, father, and offspring. It’s struggling with your sex, but leaning masculine. If you didn’t know before, you are intersex in a way that does not exist in the natural world. Your sex appears to be rather fluid, in fact.”

Echo nodded. “That is not surprising.” He took a deep breath, then let his body transform. In only moments, he had fully transitioned into a more feminine form. “My pronouns are whatever you feel like. I spent most of my childhood masculine, but I have taken this form from time to time.” She pulled her shirt collar away from her body, and looked down, widening her eyes at the sight. “It’s been a long time, though.”

“You get those from me,” Olimpia told her daughter.

Ramses looked at his scanner again. “Hm. Fascinating.”

“What is it?” Mateo asked him.

Ramses looked back up at his daughter. “The sample you gave me, it’s leaning more genetically female now. You didn’t simply transition yourself. You changed blood that wasn’t even in your body anymore.”

Echo shrugged. “It’s still a part of me.”

Ramses sighed, and dropped his arms.

“Wait, what just happened?” Mateo questioned. “That sounds cool, why are you upset now?”

“Oh, shit,” Echo began. “That means I could be lying entirely. I could be some untrustworthy shapeshifter.”

“I don’t believe that,” Olimpia promised, entangling her daughter’s arm in hers. She looked over at Ramses. “We still don’t understand how this is possible, but I’m choosing to believe that it’s real. Rambo, you can think what you want, but we have met more good people in this universe than bad ones. The odds are in our favor.”

Ramses exhaled before wrapping his arm around Echo’s shoulders to bring her into a hug. “I choose to believe as well.”

Echo went back to his masculine form as the four of them were returning to the rest of the team to explain the most recent news. Then all eight of them walked back up to the reality portal, and slipped back over to the main sequence version of this planet. Echo didn’t know what he was going to do at the end of the team’s day in the timestream, but he was going to stick around at least until then. Romana knew of a perfect spot for a picnic, having spotted it during her surveys. While they were eating, Echo gave them some more details about his life. They were less factual, and more personal. The team talked about the things they had been up to as well, but he had kept up with their dealings, so there was little that he didn’t already know about.

While they were in the middle of dessert, a woman walked up to them. None of them had seen her appear, but Echo’s face fell when he noticed her. He tried to cover up his emotions. “Sister,” he said, standing up. He wrapped his arm around her waist. “Everyone, this is Clavia...what’s left of her, anyway. I told you, it was complicated.”

They all stood up respectfully. “It’s nice to meet you,” Olimpia said, trying to shake Clavia’s hand.

Clavia didn’t accept right away. “You didn’t tell them?” she asked Echo.

“I was trying to have a nice time with my family,” Echo argued.

“Nice to meet you too,” Clavia finally said, taking Olimpia’s hand.

Ramses pushed himself forward. “What is this?” He pulled Olimpia back a little in case he needed to protect her. “You really are evil, aren’t you? This was some kind of terrible plan?”

“It’s not a terrible plan,” Echo defended. “I’m not evil. But I was sent here. I really am your son. I have not changed my DNA in any way, but the person I work for needs something, and realized my connection, so we decided to use it to our advantage.”

Off with the sundresses and casual picnic clothes. The team armored up, and prepared to fight.

“That is not necessary,” Clavia contended. “You are friends with this person. One of you has already promised to help them. It has just taken this long from your perspective for them to collect. We are cognizant of present and future events in this universe. We are taking you out of this brane at this particular juncture because we know that doing so will not cause problems. The rest of the team will remain here to build a home. Once you’re done, you’ll reunite.”

“You’re being so vague,” Mateo argued. “Who are you talking about? Who made the promise, and who did they make it to?”

“Leona?” Echo said simply.

“Me?” Leona questioned. “I don’t remember making any sort of promise.”

“Senona Riggur,” Clavia clarified, “at Origin. You said you would help them fulfill other people’s wishes.”

“Oh, right,” Leona recalled. “I did say that, and it was a very long time ago for me.” She looked amongst her friends. “They’re right, I have to go.”

“I’m going with you,” Mateo insisted.

“So am I,” Olimpia added.

“Mother, you can, and I was hoping you would say that,” Echo began. “Uncle Mateo, you can’t.”

“That’s not true,” Clavia said to him.

“I really wanna spend more time with both,” Echo snapped back in a whisper.

“Share with the class,” Mateo urged.

Echo sighed. “Only two of you besides Aunt Leona can come. If it’s Mateo then it either can’t be Olimpia or Ramses. I have a personal stake in which two it is.”

“How long will they be gone?” Angela questioned.

“Interversal travel is complicated,” Clavia said. “Based on your patterns, it would be a matter of days. Whoever goes will experience years of service, but we will not be able to return them to a few minutes from now.”

“I have to stay here,” Ramses said sadly. “The two smart people can’t separate themselves from everyone else. We realized that a long time ago.”

“I’ll take care of the dummies,” Clavia revealed. “Your tech isn’t that hard. I’m smarter than all of you combined, including Echo.”

“Debatable,” Echo said.

They continued to discuss the plan, running through a few contradictory scenarios, but only one made sense. In the end, Ramses and Olimpia chose to aid Leona in her duties, along with Echo. The ladies said their goodbyes to their husband, and everyone else. Then they returned to the Sixth Key, where a Nexus would evidently be waiting for them.

“That’s a good idea,” Marie determined. “Are there schematics for a Nexus in Ramses’ forge core? That should be the first thing we build.”

“All in favor, say aye,” Mateo prompted.

“Aye.”

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Extremus: Year 122

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With Pronastus out of the way, Waldemar has been able to sit in his chair, and get some much-needed work done. It’s smooth, comfortable, and unworn. Past captains have sparingly sat on the bridge. He knows why, but he still doesn’t think it’s right. In the scifi shows of old, the bridge was the happenin’ place to be. It was literally the seat of power for the whole ship, and given the nature of the narratives, usually the focal point of the whole universe. The fictional captains were basically gods. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work like that in the real world. There are no aliens to fight or negotiate with. There are no spacetime anomalies, or colonies to save. There’s not even anything to see out here. Faster-than-light travel does not streak the stars, or show them endless ionized clouds of hyperspace. It’s just a blinding grayish light. If this bridge had a viewport, they would never be able to open it, except before they left, or once they make it to their destination. Waldemar has changed all that. He had ordered viewscreens to be installed before his chair. The stars they’re seeing aren’t really there, but they alleviate the claustrophobia. And that’s not all they do.

When the tentacled alien character appears on screen, Waldemar chuckles at him. “Lieutenant Xaxblarg. Is your boss on the shitter, or did you finally grow the balls to overthrow him?” His voice is a bit melodramatic, but it’s supposed to be.

“You know that Xaxblergins do not have balls. You insult me, human,” the alien spits back.

“Is he named after his race?” Waldemar’s helmsman whispers to the navigator.

“Stay in character, ensign!” Waldemar orders. He clears his throat, and looks back up at the screen. “Xaxblarg, I don’t care who I’m dealing with. I want your blasted blargship off that planet. You have enslaved the Tukpluckians for way too long, and we’re here to free ‘em. If you don’t go to the devil in five Milky Way minutes, I’m gonna blast a hole in your ship so big, you’ll be fartin’ xentriflux plasma for days.”

Xaxblarg chuckles evilly. “You think you’ve won, human captain, but your sensors have been degaussed. If you look outside, I think you’ll find yourself thoroughly surrounded by my strike penetrators.”

“Strike penetrators?” the science officer complains. “Jesus.”

“That’s two days in the brig, ensign!” Waldemar orders.

“In the real world, it is called hock, sir,” the ensign replies.

“That’s a stupid goddamn word that no one ever used until we started building real starships. I refuse to use it. Three days in the brig.”

“You told me to be historically accurate with my character,” the ensign goes on. “The way you wrote me as the radically honest half-trentlamite, I would push back against your errors. You have never called it the brig before—”

“Your sentence in the brig is four days now. Keep talkin’ and I’ll make it five...years.” Waldemar doesn’t like when people argue with him. It’s ridiculous. He’s in charge here. Whatever he says is right, even if it’s wrong. That’s the whole reason to be the boss. If this asshole wanted the job instead, he should have saved the ship from annihilation several years ago, instead of Waldemar.

“Four days is fine sir. Thank you.” He leaves the bridge using the door. That’s another thing Waldemar changed. Ubiquitous teleporters are too easy. Even the shows that had the technology almost always only used them to transport down to a planet, or back up. They didn’t waste energy jumping from one deck to another. Sure, the visual effects would have cost too much, but that’s no reason to overuse them in real life.

Waldemar takes a breath. “Now. Does anyone else have a problem with my script, or are you ready to get on board? Here’s something you need to understand—and perhaps I was unclear about why we’re doing this—the simulations are not just for fun. We all believe that there are no aliens out here, and we all believe that we’re never slowing down or stopping until we make it to the Extremus planet. But we don’t actually know that. What if we do encounter an alien race of slavedrivers, bent on our destruction? What if we fall into a black hole, and end up in another universe? And what if that universe is the opposite of ours, where I’m evil, and Adolf Hitler was good. We’re doing this to be prepared. I made it fun to keep you engaged and entertained. But I can make it boring if you want. Is that what you want? To be all technical and realistic,” he says with airquotes. 

“No, sir,” they grumble.

“Good. Now someone find me a replacement science officer who isn’t gonna backtalk me, and let’s run it again, from the top! I wanna get through this at least once.”

The next attempt went better. The crew performed admirably, and was able to kill everyone in the Xaxblergin fleet efficiently. He wrote the script himself, but they’re still not taking it seriously enough. Maybe he needs to hire some writers. He can still take credit for it. He doesn’t have to admit that he didn’t come up with the new storylines himself. Maybe his wife will have some thoughts on that. “You have the conn, Lieutenant.” He teleports off the bridge. He’s back in his stateroom now where Audrey is waiting for him, as usual. They have gotten into this habit where she cooks for him. The synthwrights didn’t want to engineer and build them a real kitchen, but they fell in line. They always will, or else.

“Welcome home, honey. How was your day?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Waldemar sits down. “What are we having?”

“This is chicken tetrazzini with cheesy white sauce and oven-roasted cherry tomatoes on top. For the drink, I chose a rosemary-infused sparkling lemonade.”

“I don’t like lemons,” Waldemar counters.

“Oh, you’ll like this. Lemonade is very different. The sugar—”

“I don’t like lemon anything,” he volleys, raising his voice, but still not yelling. “Bring me the milk we had last night.”

“We had turkey chili last night. Milk paired well with that, but it will not pair well with this dish,” she argues.

He swipes the cup off the table, letting it spill and break on the floor, but not shatter. “I’ll decide what pairs well with what.”

Audrey calmly stands up, walks around the table, and raps him on the nose. “No! No! We do not throw things, and we don’t knock them over. No!” She strikes him again.

She is the only person on this ship who can do something like that to him. Anyone else would be six feet under the Attic Forest or floating in the black nothing by now. He flares his nostrils, but doesn’t otherwise react. It’s not easy, holding himself back with her. He can’t just do it. He has to concentrate on it. Most things he tries come easy to him, but not social etiquette. That’s why he usually doesn’t worry about it, because it’s too much work, but she’s worth it. That ass alone...

“Okay.” She lifts her hand and taps on her fingers in the right command sequence. A bot emerges from the floor, and begins to clean up the mess.

“I told you, I don’t like those things. Your job is to keep house, when I’m not here, and when I am. If you’re going to outsource that work, what’s the point?”

“Good question,” Audrey replies as she’s returning to the kitchen. She takes the milk out of the fridge, and starts to pour. “What’s the point of playing house at all? You’re a captain for Christ’s sake.” She sets the glass in front of him. “You don’t have time for domesticity.”

“We all have our roles, dear.” He takes a bite of the chicken pasta. “I didn’t want to be captain, it was my destiny. I was born for this.” He takes a drink of the milk. “Blech,” he exclaims, letting the milk shoot out of his mouth, and land on the cleaning bot, confusing it. For a moment, he’s embarrassed. He looks back up at Audrey. “I guess you were right.” He wipes his lips with his sleeve.

“Oh, you animal,” she utters with a sigh. She sits on the edge of the table, and dabs his face with a napkin. They stare into each other’s eyes. Then she leans down and kisses him passionately. He has little need for most personal connections, but having someone to take care of him like this is nice. He won’t give it up, for the job, or anything.

He takes her hand in his, and kisses it too. “I’m sorry I got mad.”

“It’s okay.” She goes back to the kitchen again, and pours another glass of the lemonade. “It’s like you said, it’s my job to keep house. Unlike 99.98 percent of the population, I know how to cook. That’s just about all I spend my time doing. Trust me.”

Waldemar accepts the drink this time, and tries it. She’s right, as always.

He’s still feeling uncomfortable with the emotion he emulated during dinner, so Waldemar leaves the stateroom afterwards, to go on his rounds. The people know by now that when he’s walking at this pace, with this gait, he is not to be disturbed. If he wants to interact with someone, he will initiate contact, not them. And he’s not there to help anyone either. This is his personal time, which he uses to clear his head, or work through problems. He likes to be seen. He wants to be present, and for the citizens to associate him with every corner of this vessel. His focus is on the bridge, but they should not forget that he can go anywhere, and do anything he wants. He can show up any time, so it’s best not to be whispering about him, or planning some misguided coup. He absolutely detests not knowing what people are discussing or thinking, and while he hasn’t had to explain this out loud, people understand that. When he’s around, they go silent. If he wants them to speak, he’ll unambiguously let them know.

He doesn’t usually pay attention to where he’s going. Again, he has free rein, so he doesn’t have to plan a specific route. He finds himself in the park. Before Tinaya Leithe was even captain, she worked for the Parks Department, and eventually used her power to build the Attic Forest, which takes up the whole upper deck. People love it there, and use it all the time, which is why Waldemar doesn’t go there. He doesn’t care for nature, nor people. The original park is still here. It’s only a fraction of the size, and poorly maintained these days, so regular people have no use for it. He typically only comes here when he wants to be alone, but today, he has more stumbled upon it. Perhaps his subconscious mind is trying to tell him something.

He’s not alone this time. A young girl is sitting by whatever these plants are called. She’s...what is she doing? Is she drawing them? On paper? What a weirdo. He’s intrigued. “It doesn’t have any color.”

The girl doesn’t look up, and doesn’t stop. “Yeah, it’s a sketch. It’s not supposed to have color.”

“What is the point if it’s not going to be accurate?” He catches himself asking that question a lot. He used to ask it even more frequently. Silveon taught him that people notice because he’s questioning things that are obvious to normal people.

“It’s art, it doesn’t need to be accurate.” She’s still not looking at him.

He smiles. She has no idea who he is. It’s a relief, really. Yes, of course he wants people to respect him and do as he says, but there’s something intoxicating about the few who refuse to. That’s why he hooked up with Audrey in the first place, because she doesn’t take his shit. She’s almost as strong as he is, and can work at his level. This girl here, whoever she is. She might be even better.

“I’m not much into art. I’m so busy. With my job.”

“Yes, I’m sure you are, Captain.” Oh. So she does know who he is, if only by his voice. But wait, if that’s true, why is she being so casual and distant? Why is she not looking him in the eyes to gain favor, or down at his feet to show her fear and reverence?

“Do you mind if I sit?” he asks.

She sighs, and closes her notepad. “If that’s what you’re into.”

He sits rather close to her. “Can I see?”

“Go ahead. I’m not ashamed.”

There are a ton of other drawings in the sketchbook, some also without color, but some with. Many of her subjects can be found around the ship, but others are nowhere near here. Lots of animals. She likes cows. She’s a cowgirl. “These are really good. uh...oh, what’s your name?”

“Sable.”

“Sable?” he echoes. “You’re Admiral Keen’s daughter.”

“That’s right.”

“Royalty.”

“Huh?”

“Uh.” Why is it so hot in here, and why is he stumbling over his words? She’s pretty, yeah, but she’s so young. It’s...that doesn’t matter at any rate. He can have any woman he wants. Why worry about this one girl? “I meant your art. In the past, you could have sold it for money, and I think they called that royalties.”

“Cool.” God, she’s such a—what word is he looking for?—renegade. Just an untamable, fierce, defiant badass. She smells nice too, and the curve of her neck is so enticing. Who cares how young she is? He must have her. She reminds him of Audrey, back before the, ya know...sagging and wrinkling.

“Have you ever painted a mural before?” He asks her, leaning in a little. She needs to know that he’s interested without it being obvious to someone watching them from the outside.

“Like on a wall? We don’t have the right kind of walls.”

“Say the word, I’ll make one. You can paint anything you want on it. Do we have paint? I’ll get you some paint. If it’s not the right paint, I’ll get you the right paint.”

“Captain, I really appreciate you trying to engage with your people, but this is really not necessary.”

“I just see your talent, and I think everyone else should too.” He places a hand against her back, noting that she doesn’t flinch at his touch.

For the first time ever, she makes eye contact. “Do you really think so?”

He begins to lower his hand. She doesn’t reject this either. “Unequivocally. Let’s talk about this some more.”

“I would like that.”

He moves under her shirt, definitely not only touching her back anymore.

She smiles. She’s so into him.

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Microstory 2650: There and Back Again

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Mandica awakens again, but not in a morgue drawer this time. She’s lying on her back in a beautifully pleasant meadow. She has never felt so calm in her life. Oh, that’s right. This isn’t life at all, but death. It feels oddly familiar, even though she has certainly never been here before. Except perhaps she has, after Morgana killed her a few months ago. That must be it. This is where you go when you die, even if you die twice. It’s nice...a bit boring, but at least she maintains a continuity of consciousness. “Oh, God,” she says out loud. “This is exactly what the transhumanists are talking about.” It’s probably not because they want to keep living. It’s because they want to keep thinking. They don’t want their selves to end. And who would? Her family was wrong. It—they had to be. There was no way they could have known there was a legitimate afterlife. They took too much of a gamble, and got incredibly lucky. No, she shouldn’t be so hasty in her presumptions. She doesn’t know anything. This might not be an afterlife at all. She absorbed Elysia’s powers, and while consciousness streaming isn’t technically a special ability, she might have absorbed that trait too. Who knows? She sure as shit doesn’t.

There’s rustling in the grass. A pair of bare feet are walking towards her. They’re attached to bare legs. It’s a woman in a very short white tunic with floral embellishments on the hem, just like Mandica’s. She’s smiling down at her. “Welcome back.”

Mandica sits up. “I’ve been here before, but don’t remember.”

“It is rare that we have the opportunity to return someone to base reality,” the kind woman begins, “but when we do, it is important to clear their minds. The truth of what happens following death should not be revealed to the still living. We could not handle the mass suicide which might ensue.”

Mandica stands now. “Will I be returning again? To...base reality?”

“There is no way for us to know. The technology that you use to resurrect has nothing to do with us. We will facilitate the transition back if it’s necessary. If this world did not exist, we believe you would still come back to life. Pardon, I should reintroduce myself. My name is Ellie Underhill, and this is the afterlife simulation.”

“Another simulation?” Mandica questions. “Like Underbelly?”

“Not like Underbelly. Walk with me.” She starts to wade through the tall grass, smiling up at the sun with her eyes closed. “This is a virtual construct. Years ago, I had the idea to eradicate death. I had not considered the ramifications of the plan yet. I was not given the time to explore the model before someone stole my idea, and implemented it himself. Meeting you last time has sort of opened my eyes, but it cannot be undone. I’m not going to shut it down now. True death has always been an option, for the truly terrible and irredeemable, or for people like you, who disagree with the artificiality on a philosophical level. You were digitized from birth, and I understand now that this robbed you of consent. I suppose that’s why Tamerlane stole my idea, because he knew I wouldn’t go through with it after I thought about it for much longer. He took the responsibility for the questionable ethics for himself, so I never had to shoulder the burden. The choice is still yours. If that’s what you still want, I’ll zero you out, and—”

“I’m not sure I want that anymore,” Mandica admits. “I’m starting to see things in a new light. If this is a manmade simulation, that means there is no real afterlife.”

“It does not mean that,” Ellie contends. “No one yet knows. It is that uncertainty that led to the creation of this place. Those who choose Black Oblivion do so at the risk of total consciousness cessation. We inform them of the risks. It hasn’t happened in a long time. But before you try to make a decision that may or may not be permanent, there are two people who would like to speak with you.”

“Someone wants to meet me?” Mandica questions. Who could that be?

“Yes. It took a lot, getting them here. You can’t hug them, but I made the executive decision to create a window to the other side. I am glad that we have this opportunity this time. We weren’t prepared before.” Why would she want to hug them?

They’ve come across a giant tree. It is impossibly large. She only even knows that it is a tree because of the bark, but from here, it appears only as a wall, it’s so wide. How did she not see it before? It towers all the way up into the clouds. A fog or cloud begins to swirl right before them, against the face of the trunk. Once it settles, it does appear as a window. Two people are on the other side of it. They are Mandica’s mother, and her father. She runs up to them, but remembers what Ellie said. “When you said I couldn’t hug them, was that a procedural rule, or a physical impossibility?”

“The second one,” Ellie answers. “I would let you if I could, but they are not in the simulation. This is kind of like a long-distance video call. I won’t clarify the mechanism.”

Mandica turns back to her parents. “I’ve missed you. It’s been so long.”

“Longer for us,” her mother says. Oh, yeah, they died nearly 120 years ago.

Mandica places her hand upon the window. It just feels like bark. “I’m sorry you’ve been waiting. I never wavered in my convictions.” She tilts her chin away in shame. “Until recently. I think I might be immortal now, but not by choice. I promise, I always planned on dying. I just...wanted to live a different life before I did.”

“We’re not mad,” her father assures her. “In fact, it is you who should be mad at us.” He pauses, appearing to feel his own shame. “We are the ones who summoned you to Castlebourne. The world we are in now, it—”

“Careful,” Ellie warns. What the hell?

Mandica’s father sighs. “We were able to communicate back to base reality. We regret our decisions to die. It worked out, but...we still don’t want that for you. We should have held onto life so much tighter. We thought it was only precious because it ended, but we were wrong. It’s precious only for as long as you have. Once you lose it, it doesn’t mean anything. We wanted you to transmit your mind to Castlebourne, and begin to stream your consciousness, like most everyone else, not travel there physically.”

“But it obviously doesn’t matter,” Mandica argues. She gestures towards Ellie. “Even the undigitized are evidently digitized.” She shakes her head. “If this stone makes me go back, it will be tearing me away from you. Why would I want that?”

“Because that’s where you belong,” her mother insists. “Where we are is not hell, but it’s not exactly living either. We wish we could go back too. You are an adult. You can find happiness on your own, and should. Whatever stone you’re talking about is a gift. Don’t disrespect that. Let it do what it does, and I hope you can forgive us for manipulating you. We just didn’t want you to share our regret.”

Mandica’s back feels knotted. “I think it’s pulling me back. If you want me to stay alive, I’m a dutiful daughter, so I will, but I’ll find a way to see you again too. I love you.”

“We love you,” they say simultaneously. Then they disappear. It all disappears.

Mandica resurrects in Reagan’s lair. She doesn’t know how or why, but she has made a decision. She will accept her newfound immortality, and live a life of adventure.

Microstory 2649: Fake, Staged, and Phony

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Mandica is looking at herself in the mirror. The costume fits—that’s not even a question—Elysia’s tailor knew what they were doing. She’s not sure if it’s her. It feels like something is missing. Maybe it’s just that she feels like a fraud in it.

“Turn around,” Reagan suggests. “Look over your shoulder.”

Mandica turns. “Oh. You can see the stone.” That might be her problem with it.

“Is that bad?” he asks.

“I think so. I don’t think I want to advertise it. I can’t explain it, and wouldn’t be comfortable trying even if I did understand it.”

“Sorry,” Elysia apologizes. “It’s partially backless for style. I obviously didn’t have a magical stone lodged in my back.”

“No, it’s not your fault. I like the outfit. I like backless. I just don’t think it’s right for this situation, assuming I go through with my first field test today.”

Reagan chuckles. “If you’re a raven, maybe you should have wings. Those would cover up the stone.” He looks over at Elysia. “I always thought you should have wings.” He looks at Jaidia. “You too, since you’re both birds.”

“They would have only gotten in the way,” Jaidia explains. “It’s not like they would have allowed us to fly. They would not have been powerful enough.”

“Ha, yeah,” Mandica agrees. Then she realizes that this is not entirely true. She has seen a human fly with wings before. They weren’t even all that big. Why aren’t there flying superheroes in this world already? It has to be possible. Mythodome is bound to the same laws of physics. They don’t have any sort of advantage. In fact, if anything, they’re at a disadvantage, because most of the technology there is archaic.

“What are you thinking about?” Reagan asks, noticing her glassy eyes.

“Oh, nothing. Nothing,” Mandica replies. Daedalus does apparently owe her a favor. But no, that’s crazy. She can’t wear functional wings. And besides, she can’t leave Underbelly anymore, so there’s not even any way to reach out to him. She has come to accept her new boundaries. Ravensgate is her home now. It had to be somewhere, and she’s grown quite fond of her friends. She has been missing Malika, however, who has opted not to return to this simulation. She’s evidently relaxing on some island in Aquilonian Deep. Mandica doesn’t know how relaxing it could be, though. Polar Tropica is the nice vacation ocean. The north pole ocean, on the other hand, is cold and rough.

Elysia returns holding something black. Is it...a bib? It looks like a bib. “So. Cleavage is common in comic book stories. I didn’t design my costume by accident. I like feeling sexy. But I have also needed to cover up more in certain situations, namely when I participate in speaking engagements at grade schools.” She shakes the bib. “This is an accessory that I have used for that. It goes under the straps, and clips onto the collar.”

“You think I should cover up my boobs all the time?” Mandica questions.

Elysia laughs. “No. It should work in reverse.” She comes up behind Mandica, and slips the bib—she’s never going to stop calling it that in her headcanon—over her head, clipping it to the back. “Yeah. You can’t see the stone anymore; not at all. How did you get it to stop glowing?” It’s been months since the original Ravensgate Rescuer was killed. She has been training Mandica to take up the mantle ever since, and being a real good sport about losing her powers. She hasn’t complained or acted bitter once. She says that passing the baton to a young protégé is a staple of superhero stories.

“It stopped glowing on its own,” Mandica answers. “I don’t know how, but I believe I know why. I could feel it happen. I think it was fully done with its job, and was ready to go dormant, like a car sitting idle until you turn the engine off completely.”

“What happens if I touch it again?” Reagan asks, harkening back to the orgasm doing this gave her, which she has not told anyone else about.

“Nothing. Nothing will happen,” Mandica tells him. “Don’t do it.” She spends another minute looking over her shoulder into the mirror, and moving around to make sure the bib doesn’t slip off on its own. She takes a deep breath, and looks out the window. “I’m ready, but are you sure I shouldn’t start out after dark?”

“No, we want people to see your debut,” Elysia encourages. “They should see that outfit, and recognize you as the new Ravensgate Rescuer. You can move to the shadows later, but I would rather find a daytime replacement for Blue Umbra first.”

“I thought that Cardinal Sin was out there now.” With Blue Umbra gone, Wave Function has been going out on the streets without her. He’s not been alone, though. Cardinal Sin performed a heel-face turn and became a good guy, which is absolutely not unheard of in the superhero genre either. The public is generally on board with the change, but some hypothesize that it’s a ruse. They think she’s preparing something evil again. They don’t know what happened to her. She had to modify her own suit to cover up the massive scars on her face with a larger mask. She’s not ashamed of them, but they can’t be seen both when she’s Mildred, and while she’s masquerading as a vigilante. She had to pick an identity to cover them up for, with the obvious choice being the one where she’s expected to wear some kind of concealment anyway.

“I like the night too,” Jaidia says. “I don’t want to stop playing a hero, but I’ve never loved the sun. On Proxima Doma, I lived underground.”

Mandica nods in understanding. “Okay. I guess I’ll go out and look for trouble.”

“Trouble is already waiting for you,” Elysia claims. She walks over to the door and knocks on it, which is a weird thing to do when you’re already inside the apartment.

Anyway, it opens, and a man walks in. He goes straight to Mandica, and holds out his hand. “Hello. My name is Grover Pecan, but in the streets, you will see me as the supervillain known as Velvet Thunder. I’ll be aiding your debut today.”

“Wait, we’re...we’re gonna plan a fight?” Mandica questions.

“This is how it’s usually done for debuts,” Elysia explains. “You can fight the dummies in the training sector of the plaza. You can bend iron rods at The Depot. You can train in an abandoned warehouse. But nothing is like being out in the field, in a real fight. Think of it as the next—but not last—step in your training. Velvet Thunder will go easy on you, but for the sake of the civilians, he’ll make it look good. You fight as hard as you can. You do what you think you’re supposed to do. It’s staged, so if something goes wrong, you can learn from your mistake without worrying about being killed off on your first day. That used to happen constantly, so they started doing it this way.”

“Okay,” Mandica decides. “It’s nice to meet you, Grover, a.k.a. Velvet Thunder.”

He smiles at her. “I think you look great as the new Rescuer. I never got the chance to say this before, but have you thought about adding wings?”

After making a plan, Grover leaves to change into his dark cloud costume. They meet downtown and pretend to fight it out like gods amongst ants. Within ten minutes, an elevated train falls on Mandica, and she dies instantly. Maybe she does need wings.

Microstory 2648: Exploits

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Hrockas Steward watches as the ruins of the transfer warehouse crumble to the ground on top of three visitors. All of their substrates survive, and they go on with their day. That’s not the issue. This is a testing ground for people’s new superhuman abilities. He expects damage. This is quite a bit, to be sure, but the bots will rebuild as needed. The real problem is that one of them is not in the records. Using the remote identifying system, he can’t even see that she’s in the system at all. Not even a regular retinal scan is coming up with a match. He has no idea how she ended up on this planet, but he does know that her consciousness isn’t streaming, so she has no business being in Underbelly. How did she get her powers in the first place? “Run it back.”

“How far, sir?” the Custodian asks.

“As far back as it will go,” Hrockas clarifies. “I want to track her movements since she first entered this dome.”

“There won’t be sound, sir. It’s a privacy issue.”

“I understand that, C-01131-1. I’m the one who designed the protocols. Now show me her path. Show me the whole thing.” They watch the accelerated footage in reverse. The mysterious woman leaves in a car going backwards, and gets in a morgue drawer. The drawer closes, then opens again, and her body is transferred out of it by the mortician. It’s taken to a jewelry store where a blade is pulled out of her body, as well as a superhero’s. The footage skips after that as she spent weeks in a private space with no cameras. They keep watching her story, piecing together what she’s been through by witnessing the events in the wrong order. “There. Right there. What is that?”

“That is a maintenance tunnel that leads from the in-game subway to the outside world,” C-1 replies. “It’s used to travel into the city without interfering with the story.”

“How the hell did she know that was there?” Hrockas questions. “Keep going. I want to see where she was before.”

“I can’t, sir,” the custodian explains. “I only have access to Underbelly internal.”

“Right, I knew that. I’ll input my admin codes.” They watch more reverse footage. She has not been on Castlebourne for long, having come in on that second arkship. He does not have access to the ship’s sensors, so he doesn’t know how she managed to stay hidden there, but he doesn’t care at this point. She met with someone weeks ago who he recognizes. He takes out his phone, and calls her. “Are you alone?” When she answers yes, he says, “then this is a warning that I am teleporting to your location immediately.”

After he lands at the gym, she smiles at him. “Welcome, Steward.”

“I’m not in the mood, Tereth. Come with me.” He offers her his hand.

“Oh my, Hrockas. I am a married woman. What will my husband think?”

“Just take my goddamn hand.” Once she does and stops smiling, he teleports back to the custodial wing of Underbelly. He then points to the screen. “Who is this?”

Now Yunil has fully lost her joyful attitude. “Dont worry about it.”

“You know I can’t do that. What did you do? And before your respond with some quippy lie, allow me to skip it, and reiterate with more fervor, what did you do!”

Yunil sighs. “She wanted to stay unregistered. I gave her a clean ID.”

“You didn’t just give her any regular ID. You gave her admin access.”

“I...” she looks confused. “Did I? Wait, how can I do that? Our machine should not be able to do that. It’s just for the refugees, mostly the government.”

“That’s why it needed to be universal,” Hrockas argues. “You have admin access to all non-utility and non-logistical domes. You even have access to Military Dome, and you gave it to her too. Can you imagine if she had gone there instead? She would have placed global security at risk, rather than only her own life.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was that comprehensive. I didn’t know I was granting any admin access at all. I thought it would simply allow her to enter the domes. As a normal human, I assumed she would only go to safe places. Are we in Underbelly?”

“Yeah, thanks to you.”

“What happened? Is she okay?”

“I obviously can’t trust you with that information. I’ll let you agonize over what may or may not have happened to her. But I’m not yet certain what the consequences of your actions will be. I don’t care if you’re the Deputy Superintendent. This is my planet, you’re all here as guests, and I reserve the right to take it away from any individual at any time. That includes you. Your husband can’t keep you safe.”

“Now, just hold on, asshole! We’re all grateful that you provided us sanctuary, but that was decades ago. You can’t keep playing that card. We already lived under a tyrant. That is the whole point, so don’t you dare threaten me with exile, or whatever the hell else is on your mind. You may technically own the planet, but we govern the citizens. There are more of us than there are of you. The majority of your military is from the Corridor. We give this world legitimacy, so stop acting like it’s a burden. I’m sorry for what I did. I saw a lot of Dreychan in Mandica, and I wanted to help her, just as I helped him. If she’s in danger, let me go in myself and pull her out.”

Hrockas sighs. “She’s not in danger anymore. She found a loophole. We’re still trying to figure that out. As for you...you’re right. I’m sorry for treating you like burdens. I love that you’re here. I’m proud that I was able to give you safe haven. It just seems like I keep running into these vulnerabilities for people to exploit. First your now husband is almost killed, using a different type of ID spoofing, then an Exemplar in Spydome emerges, and shuts down an entire dome network with a single thought. I get upset because I’m trying to protect you from the Exin Army. What if the Oaksent finds another vulnerability? What if he discovers where we are? Again, what you did placed only this Mandica woman in danger. I do not think she’s a spy, but the next one who comes to you may be. Dreychan almost died because people thought that’s what he was. Don’t let that happen again. Don’t open the door. Proper procedure is there for a reason.”

“That’s a good point. I apologize again,” Yunil says, contrite.

He nods, but it’s still awkward.

“What...happened to her?” she asks. “You said she found a loophole? Did she decide to become a transhuman after all? She said that she was against it for herself.”

“She didn’t seem to do it on purpose,” Hrockas divulges. He runs the footage back to the jewelry store attack. “It somehow happened to her, like a real origin story.”

Yunil peers at the screen. “You do know that the Philosopher’s Stone is real, right? I don’t know if that’s it, but it’s not just a story. Bronach found it at some point.”

“Oh.” Hrockas looks at the Custodian. “Find out where that prop came from.”

“And that looks like the Sword of Assimilation,” Yunil goes on. “You should talk to one of your executive administrators. Darko Matic is the one who told me about it.”

Microstory 2647: Something to Punch

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Mandica starts looking for something to punch. She has only lifted heavy things so far, but she is starting to get a sense of how strong she has become. There are a ton of objects here for testing purposes, but she’s eying something in particular. It’s the concrete ruins of a building. Has it always been like this, or did they construct a building in the beginning of a simulation, and visitors have been smashing it apart all these years? After everything here has been destroyed, will they build it back up, or find a new spot for newbies. “Follow me.” She leads Elysia and Reagan that way, and approaches the corner. She pulls her arm back and—

“Stop!” Elysia demands.

Mandica built up too much momentum from preparing to strike the ruins. She’s still not used to her muscle weight gain, and ends up tripping and bashing her head against it. A huge chunk of concrete breaks off of the wall, and falls the rest of the way to the ground with her. Fortunately, it doesn’t hurt in the least. But it still freaks her out, because it’s not normal, and doesn’t feel right. Even a pillow fight can cause dizziness. “What? What’s the problem?” she asks.

Elysia steps closer, and takes Mandica’s hands. She rubs Mandica’s finger in her own. It’s almost sensual, but also clinical. “Soft, just like mine were.” She reaches into her back pocket, and pulls out two black gloves. They’re either the gloves she wore when she was the Ravensgate Rescuer, or an extra pair. “Here, try these.”

“I’m not becoming you,” Mandica starts to explain. “I just need to understand how my body works now. I want data to help me find a way to reverse it, or if not, go against my convictions, and transfer to a new body; one that’s more like I was before.”

“Do whatever you want,” Elysia says, “but look at my hands. They’re nice, right? Sexy. I didn’t wear those because I wanted to cover more skin. They were necessary. You are profoundly strong now. Most transhumans don’t make their bodies this powerful because it’s excessive, and comes with some downsides. Plus, with backup streaming, they tend not to worry about dying, just about dying permanently. You can still break, and if you punch that wall without protection, it could shatter your phalanges. The suit did not only represent my mystique as a raven symbol. It served a mechanical purpose.”

Mandica nods. “Okay. Thank you.” She puts the gloves on, and punches through the building like it’s butter. She can feel a ripple of energy as the force is distributed across the gloves. She must say, even though she never wanted any of this, it feels pretty good. It’s not like she thought transhumans were crazy by pursuing all of these enhancements. She always recognized and appreciated the appeal, and she never judged anyone for doing it. Her reasons for staying human were personal. But now that a different way of life has been thrust upon her, she’s questioning her whole philosophy. She’s trying not to show it, but she is scared to death...pun extremely intended.

As Mandica is brushing the concrete dust off of her fancy new gloves, she hears a crack behind her. More cracks as she’s turning back around. The building is wobbling, and with little further warning, begins to topple over. Mandica can only save one of them. She tackles Elysia to the ground, and spreads her arms like she’s trying to deter a bear, taking every hit of debris for Elysia. While it’s happening Elysia is just smiling up at her, not scared at all. When it’s over, they stand to see Reagan still alive too, balancing his sonic weapon against his knee, and pointing it towards the sky.

Mandica notices that Elysia is still smiling at her. “What? Why aren’t you mad? I screwed up, and could have gotten you killed. You’re in your regular body. That would have been the end of it. You shouldn’t even be here.”

Elysia laughs heartily. “You think I came here unstreaming? Sister, I’m always backed up.” Her eyes dart to the side. “That makes it sound like I’m constipated. But it sounds like you have a lot to learn about our subspecies. We don’t go anywhere without an exit strategy. I have no fewer than three backup bodies at all times, and a dozen more virtual partitions just in case, in addition to an airgapped duplicate that I update periodically as a failsafe. She won’t really be me, but she’ll think she is.”

Reagan nods. “Same. That’s standard procedure.”

“Oh. I guess I never really looked into how the system works,” Mandica admits. “It’s never mattered before. I suppose it still doesn’t. I remain just one person, and I can obviously still die.” She gestures towards Elysia.

Elysia frowns, and looks over at Reagan for a second. “My skin was hardened. I mean, it was soft, but hardened against attack.” She’s upset and confused. “That sword should never have been able to pierce my skin. It hasn’t before. I kind of feel like it was a different sword than the one she used a couple months ago? But still, I don’t know what happened. I don’t know how to investigate. Morgana may have come across something that bioscience is not prepared for. I suggest you stay the hell away from her.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,” Mandica says. “I wanted answers, and I think I got all the ones I’m going to get. She wants to hurt me. She hopefully thinks she did.” She looks around at the handful of other people training. Some of them are still watching the three of them and whispering to each other. Knocking down a building facade must not be that common. “Though, she probably doesn’t. So I’m still in danger, but I will not be seeking her out. She knew that I was vulnerable. She knew that I could die, and she took my eyes anyway. I don’t care what she has to say anymore.”

“I think that’s the right attitude,” Elysia decides.

“Me too,” Reagan agrees.

“But just the same,” Elysia goes on. “I would like you to see something in my car. You don’t have to make any sort of commitment, but I want you to know your options.” They walk back to the dirt parking lot where cars are parked in random configurations. Elysia pops the trunk. Sitting there front and center, folded all nice and pretty, is her Ravensgate Rescuer outfit. “It’s up to you, but you’re not that much smaller than me, and I know a good tailor who can take it in. I think you would look good in it.”

“You actually do want me to become you,” Mandica says.

“The Rescuer isn’t a symbol of hope, nor a brooding nightmare for underworlders. She’s just a first responder. She helps you out of jams, or stops you if you’re the one causing the jams. Anyone with power can, and should, use it. That’s the point of my character’s persona. You’re not a sunny optimist, and that’s not what this role calls for. It just needs someone who wants to help; who wants to fight every day.”

“I know the bots have some worldview-protecting programming, but even they’re not gonna be fooled by this. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m black.”

Elysia laughs. “You wouldn’t be the first super-successor. No one will bat an eye. You’ll still be someone new. Just think about it, okay?”

“Okay. I’ll consider it,” Mandica relents.