Wednesday, November 20, 2024

Microstory 2283: Is How it Goes

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I’m sorry to disappoint you, folks but there’s nothing special to report in regards to my sleep study. Why am I sleeping poorly, besides the pain that I’m still in? Stress, mostly. Stress and anxiety. We were pretty sure that that was the issue, but we tested for it in case it was something weird. They took a lot of blood and other samples, though, and there’s nothing out of the ordinary. I’ve always had problems sleeping. When I was a kid, people would tell me that you need eight hours of sleep per night, so I would ask whether that meant we need six hours total, accounting for the two hours it takes to fall asleep, or if I need to give myself a ten hour window. They had no clue what I was talking about. It was taking them ten or twenty minutes to fall asleep. That’s when I realized that I hated people. Not really, lol, but...kind of. I apologize that I’m giving you such an unexciting explanation, because my readers may tune out because of it, but this is how it goes, and it should be for now. Maybe it’s not great for engagement, but that’s what we want. I prefer it to be boring, after all that I’ve been through this year. Stress, I can handle. I have been dealing with it my whole life, even as a child. I’m sure I’ll start to sleep better now. Speaking of which, let’s go test that out now. Goodnight, everybody!

Tuesday, November 19, 2024

Microstory 2282: Calculated Social Media

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Sorry, I’m rushing to get this thing out, because I have this little medical test this evening, so I’m not going to be available later. I could have had Kelly or Dutch say something, but I wanted to address yesterday’s post myself before I forget what I wanted to say. Before we get into that, it’s all good. My new organs are fine, and I’m not going back under the knife, or anything. I’ve been having a hell of a time sleeping, and it’s become a real issue lately. I have not been diagnosed with narcolepsy, which I want to say right off the bat, because I know people will offer that up as an explanation. They’ve already ruled it out. I’m doing a home sleep study to figure out why I get sleepy at such random times of the day, though. I’m going to be dealing with it for a good chunk of today and tomorrow, because that’s the whole thing; trying to determine how my situation changes over time. I’ll share the results when they come in, and if they’re interesting, which they probably won’t be. It’s probably just that I’m technically a lot older than I look, and old people sleep a lot. Because of my medical history, we just can’t take any chances. Anyway, as I was saying, my last post was as weird as they come, and part of the reason I posted it was because I couldn’t think of anything else to say, and didn’t want to worry myself about it anymore, because the doctor was already starting to try to understand my sleeping issues. So, why did I post that? What possessed me to release something so bad? Well, I wanted to see how you would react to it...to something so unlike what you’re used to seeing. I wanted to show you that not everything we do is perfect. In this modern world of calculated social media, targeted algorithms, and ‘like’ farming, I put something out there that was objectively terrible to see how it was received. You failed the test. You received it positively just because you had no reason to hate it. To be sure, some of you did. You could have been a little bit nicer with your criticisms, but I at least appreciate the honesty. The rest of you, on the other hand, just accepted it as deep or thought-provoking, or intentionally absurdist. It wasn’t. It was nothing. I won’t be posting anything like that again, however, so there’s that.

Monday, November 18, 2024

Microstory 2281: Their Favorite Bloopin Snooters

Generated by Google Gemini Advanced text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 3. The story below is also partially AI Generated by Google Gemini Advanced
No updates for you today, so instead, I’ll post a bad story that I wrote while I was still on narcs soon after my surgery just to see how it would turn out.

So, like, there was this dude named Bob, right? Bob the Squirrel. Not actually a squirrel, but he, like, thought he was a squirrel. Don’t ask me why, it’s a long story. Anyway, Bob’s chillin’ in this oak tree, munchin’ on some sewing machines, when BAM! A freakin’ UFO crashes right into the tree next to him. Aliens, dude! Little green dudes with antennas and laser guns. They’re all like, “Take us to your leader,” and Bob’s just starin’ at ’em like, “dude, I’m a alligator. I don’t even know what a leader is.”

But these aliens, they’re persistent, see? They zap Bob with this weird money offering, and suddenly, he can speak fluent Orangutan. Or maybe it was bleep, I dunno, alien languages all sound the same to. Anyway, Bob’s like, “whoa, cool! I can talk to fresh prince now!” And the aliens are all excited, thinkin’ Bob’s gonna lead them to the yogurt coma or somethin’.

But Sam, he’s got other plans. He’s always wanted to go to dream-dream-dream-dream. So he hops on the spiked cartwheel, tells the ghosts to set a course for the happiest place on birth. The renegades, they’re a bit confused, but they figure, “hey, why not? We’re on an intergalactic blood trip!”

So they zoom off to ashtray, and Albert is havin’ the time of his life. He’s ridin’ track, eatin’ home keys, and takin’ selfies with invisible red blankets. The sisters, they’re not so into it. They keep tryin’ to get Ronald to focus on the whole flood paper folder thing, but Grace’s all like, “dude, chill out. Let’s go fall green again!”

Meanwhile, back on laptop, the government’s in a panic. They’ve lost contact with Fulton the Squirrel, their top secret agent who was supposed to be infiltrating the alien dadaship. They don’t know what to do. The emperor have, the generals yellin’ at each other, and the scientists are scratchin’ their butts...

But Mary, he’s oblivious to all the chaos. He’s too busy havin’ a blast at rodeo clowns, hangin’ with Peanut Butter and Arsenic. The edgh, they’re startin’ to get fhd. They miss their rthrth, their weird wetwe pejyyts, and their favorite bloopin snooters.

And as the Unidentified Fillorian Objection disappears in, Bob the Squire, the accidental interhouse ambassador, waves goodbye to all the nothing, ready for his nex adventure. Or maybe he just fell asleep and dreamt the whole thing. Who knows, it’s all.

The end...or is it? Maybe I’m still out there, explorin’ the universe, trying to try to try, and having an existential rices. The possibilities are not, just like this story, which could go on forever if I let it push me around like I usually do because no one can see if drip. But I gotta stop somewhere, so... yeah. That’s it. And then there were two people.

Sunday, November 17, 2024

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 22, 2474

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Mateo and Olimpia actually did lose a little bit of the temporal energy that their bodies would store for regular use, namely for teleportation. The Livewire was also tapped out of whatever reserves it had for itself, if any. They didn’t know how it worked. Having no interest in staying here, the two of them exited the apartment through the door, and walked down to the ground. They spent the rest of the day enjoying the island’s amenities, focusing predominantly on the water jetpacking sector. Neither of them had tried it before, and it appeared that they had no other way out of here. They periodically checked their own energy, and the Livewire’s, but nothing. It wasn’t until the next year when their bodies were replenished by the jump to the future. They now appeared to have the power they needed to activate the Livewire. They still didn’t know what the hell they were doing, but they hoped there was some kind of psychic control connection.
Having no better ideas, they borrowed a boat, and went out to the middle of nowhere. They each held one end of the wire, and stepped back to make it taut. They tried to focus on what they were trying to accomplish, returning to the Vellani Ambassador thousands of years ago, but the opposite happened instead. Their ship appeared over their heads a few meters in the air, and crash landed into the ocean. Fortunately, this was dozens of kilometers off-shore, so probably no one saw it happen. Mateo and Olimpia teleported into the Ambassador to reunite with their people.
“How did we get here?” Leona questioned. She and Ramses were on the bridge, making sure that all systems were still in working order. “Where are we?”
“That was us,” Mateo answered.
She spun around, and exhaled with relief. “Thank God. We were trying to figure out where you two had gone. You had us worried sick!”
“We thought you had gone down to Ex-01, but we couldn’t find you, and Oaksent seemed just as confused as we were,” Ramses added.
“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,” Olimpia interjected as they were hugging. “This doesn’t make any sense. Mateo, you did teleport down to the planet. You were detoured by the trip to the island, but you were only really gone for one second. You should have returned to that very moment three days ago to close your loop.”
“That’s not what happened,” Angela contended. “Mateo disappeared, and never reappeared. You did too, at the same time. We’ve been looking for you for the last three days. We were pretty mean to Bronach because of it.”
Olimpia and Mateo exchanged a look. “We’re in a different timeline,” she determined. “What changed it? This thing?” She held up the Livewire.
“I don’t think it has the power to shift timelines,” Ramses said, taking it from her, and examining it. “Something else changed history.”
“Did you guys notice that we’re still sinking?” Marie asked, looking at the viewscreens to see bubbles shooting their way upwards towards the surface.
Leona instinctively looked up to see it too. “Yeah, it’s fine,” she brushed off. “We need to make sure the timeline is okay. What are we missing? What didn’t happen that should have?”
“Well, Matt rescued Elder Caverness,” Olimpia replied. “That’s about it, I think. Well, he also punched the Oaksent.”
“We did that,” Angela said. “The Elder rescue, that is.” She reached up to switch the channel on the nearest screen. They were looking at the security feed for the guest room now. Elder was sitting up on the twin bed, leaning against the wall, perpendicular to the head and foot. If they didn’t know any better, they would think he was dead.
“He’ll just make more,” Olimpia explained. “He scanned and stores multiple copies of Elder’s consciousness.”
“I can fix that,” Ramses decided. “Just give me some time to build a consciousness nullifier.”
“That sounds bad...and difficult,” Mateo thought.
“It will just make it so that this Elder here will be the only one in existence,” Ramses clarified. “We’ll have to go back to that time period to use it, though, which means I’ll also have to figure out how to make the navigation systems work properly.”
“Maybe that thing will help,” Leona suggested, gesturing towards the Livewire.
“Yeah, I need to run some tests now that I have better resources than I did when we last saw this thing in the Third Rail.”
They felt a small shudder as the ship landed on the ocean floor when the internal inertial dampeners were briefly insufficient. Leona and Ramses casually looked over to receive the damage report, which was minimal. Escaping the situation was not urgent. Or maybe it was. There was a ping on the sensors. “Someone is headed right for us,” Marie pointed out.
“It’s probably Search and Rescue.”
Unidentified sunken vessel, this is Search and Rescue. Please respond,” came a voice on the radio. She was right.
“Where are they coming from?” Leona asked.
“Star Island.”
“Turks and Caicos?”
“Closer to Hawaii.”
“Never heard of it,” Leona said. “But either way, we need to figure out how we’re going to get out of this mess. We could teleport, but they would see. We could turn invisible, but we would still be displacing the water.”
“It’s 2474,” Angela said. “Don’t these people have reframe engines by now?”
“They’re certainly aware of them,” Leona answered, “but they’re not commonplace yet, if our projections from The Edge meeting are at all accurate. We basically allowed them to tell the public that it was a thing, but it’s been their job to develop the tech on their own. There may be some prototypes here and there.”
“Then that’s what we are,” Angela decided. “We’re using a prototype reframe engine. We’ll surface, and launch right in front of them. No teleporter, no invisibility, nor any other kind of holographic camouflage.”
“There’s no such thing as a water launch,” Ramses countered. “I mean, it’s technically possible with fusion rockets—which we have, and wouldn’t have to explain away—but it’s not feasible. The question those rescuers will be asking is not can we launch from the surface of the ocean, but why the hell would we bother?”
Unidentified sunken vessel, please respond. A submarine is en route.
“I know the cover story,” Mateo jumped in. “We tried to launch from a floating platform, similar to the ones that Aldona constructed in the Third Rail. We tried to launch with our new reframe engine, but something went wrong. The platform sank, and we crashed here.”
“Where’s this imaginary platform now?” Leona questioned. “What we’re the coordinates of our launch position?”
Mateo just shrugged. That was true, they might try to look for the platform next to corroborate this complete fabrication.
“Computer, downshift the radio signal to five by two.” A ping indicated that it had made the change. Leona pressed the comms button. “Search and Rescue, this is unnamed reframe prototype one. We attempted to launch from a floating platform, maybe...uh, thirty kilometers away from here, due southwest. We, uh, ended up flying horizontally pretty early, and managed to crash into the water. We’re presently repairing our buoyancy systems, and should be resurfacing within the next hour with no help. We appreciate the concern.”
Thank you for your response,” the voice came back. “We’re gonna go ahead and sit tight until the submarine arrives for a more thorough investigation. You have breached Moku Hoku territory, and we need to assess the situation ourselves. We hope that you understand, but your cooperation is not required.
Leona made sure the outgoing signal was off while she shook her head. “This isn’t going to work. They’re gonna come down here, and they’re gonna look for that platform. Our story does not make any sense. How did we make it all the way here without satellites, or other cameras, seeing our arc across the sky?”
“Rambo,” Olimpia began. “When’s the last time you purged the hot pocket?”
“It’s been a while.” He pulled up the systems. “We’re about three-quarters full. Why? What are you thinking?”
“Leona, get ready to teleport on my mark,” Olimpia went on. “Maximum range, to the other side of the sun.”
“You’re gonna fake an explosion,” Marie realized.
“It won’t stop them from asking questions,” Olimpia believed, “but it’ll stop them from expecting answers.”
Leona considered the plan, weighing it against the risks. She looked over at Ramses. “Do it. Purge the energy upwards to conceal our disappearance. She’s right, we won’t leave any debris behind, here or where this supposed platform sunk, but we’ll be long gone before they realize that. It will just have to be a mystery that these people never solve.”
They carried out the new plan. Ramses purged the excess energy from the heat shunt. It only took a second before the explosion overwhelmed the water above them. At that moment, Leona teleported them away. They didn’t jump to the maximum range of 300 million kilometers, though, because then the L3 research station might see them. They were now relatively close to the sun, which was radiating so much interference that no one would be able to detect their arrival. Now that they were free from scrutiny, they could reenter reframe speeds, and be on their way. But the question was, where were they going to go? Ramses still wasn’t confident in the navigation for his new slingdrive. Then again, it didn’t matter where they went, as long as they didn’t try to stay here. Sol was the most dangerous star system to be in when you were trying to stay hidden. They needed a good place to practice and experiment discreetly.
The group decided to make a list of all the places they could go, in the stellar neighborhood, and beyond. Then they plugged the suggestions into a randomizer, and had the computer pick one out. They were headed for a little world called Castlebourne.

Saturday, November 16, 2024

Extremus: Year 90

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It’s been about a year since Niobe moved to the Extremus to establish herself as a passenger. She’s been laying low, of course, instead of making some big announcement to the whole ship. Right now, she’s living off of her newborn contribution points. While she’s obviously not actually a newborn, as a new citizen, she’s enjoying the benefits of the vessel’s amenities without having to work for them. The naturalization program was created at the beginning of this project, just in case they somehow came across time travelers, or human aliens—or regular aliens—sometime during the journey. No one expected to ever do it, and officially speaking, it still hasn’t happened yet. No one needs to know that Niobe was born on Verdemus, and that she immigrated here. All the people she’s met so far have to know is that she moved here from a different section of the ship, and that she’s not currently in the workforce.
Silveon is thuh-riving. He’s reaching his developmental milestones at a healthy and typical pace. He can walk, run, and even climb. His obsession with exerting his independence has become a bit of a problem, but they’re dealing with his mischievousness. He can say a few random words, but not the ones that they expected. He says reframe a lot, as well as crew, light, and function—though, he fails to pronounce letter N in that last word, which is funny and cute, and embarrassing in mixed company. Tinaya has agreed to talk less about work in his presence, so he starts using fewer technical words. They would rather he focus on mama and dada. He likes to color, but he does not like to stay in the lines. Some people in the family think that this means he’ll grow up to be very rebellious, but his parents know that he’s a toddler, and this is how the toddler do. It doesn’t mean anything. He’s been rather curious about the little potty that they set up in the bathroom. He is just about ready to use it.
They have him set up on it now, trying to encourage him to try. “Go on! Go potty! You can do it! Just relax.”
He stares at the two of them like they’re speaking a foreign language, which they kind of are from his perspective. He starts to fiddle with the bidet settings. They’re on a child lock fortunately, so nothing is happening. Suddenly, he stops, and they don’t know what’s going on. He takes a breath as he’s looking around, at them, at the room, and even himself. He discovered his own body a long time ago, so what was this?
“Do you think he’s developed a rash, or something?” Tinaya asks, worried.
“I’m fine, mom,” Silveon says. He takes another breath before tinkling in the potty without issue. Once he’s done, he expertly disables the child lock to use the bidet and dryer. Then he stands up, and climbs the step stool to wash his hands.
Now they’re the ones staring at him. Arqut seems to realize something. “Who are you, and what are you doing in my child’s body?”
“Relax, father,” Silveon says as he’s slipping his pants back on, sans diaper. “I’m your son. I’m just an older version of him.”
“How much older?” Tinaya questions.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“When do we get our baby back?” she presses.
He lifts his little arms up, and they realize that he’s trying to place his hands on her shoulders. She gets down on her knees to allow him to do this. “I’m sorry, mother, but your baby is gone. I’ve overwritten his mind. This was a decision that I did not take lightly. I didn’t want to have to do it, but it’s the only form of undetectable time travel available. No one can know who I really am, and they certainly can’t know what I know, and why I’m here. I have chosen to reveal myself to you purely for practical reasons. I am not an actor, and would not have been able to fool your for long. It’s better to be honest now, so you can help me fool everyone else.”
“Why so young?” Arqut demands to know. “Why did you take our son from us at such a young age?”
Silveon sighs, and walks past them, into the main room. He struggles to get himself onto the couch, clearly not used to maneuvering such a tiny little substrate. “As I said, any other form of time travel would be detectable. I would have come here years ago, but this was as early as I could do it using this method. Studies have shown that breast milk improves child development, so I didn’t want to interfere with that, but I didn’t want to experience nursing at my true age either. This was the only time, really, when you think about it.”
Both parents start to cry, but desperately try to hold the tears back.
He watches them in sadness. “We’ll tell Niobe the truth, but not Zefbiri, and not anyone else. Aunt Ni will understand, as she’s no stranger to being reyoungified. We need her to take care of me for the next few days while you mourn your loss.”
“What are you talking about?” Tinaya’s eyes are watering even more, and there’s nothing she can do about it. “How the hell are we going to mourn this?”
“It’s an ambiguous loss. I know it won’t be easy, but we came up with a plan before I left the future,” Silveon begins to explain. “I’ll write it up for you. You will get through this, and one day, you’ll just see me as your son, instead of the stranger who took him from you.”
“Who came up with this plan?” Arqut asks. He’s doing better with the tears, but not by much. “Was it us? Did we send you back here?”
Silveon has a really good poker face as he’s refusing to respond.
“We couldn’t have,” Tinaya reasons. “If we were still alive when this apparent time travel needed to occur, one or both of us would have done it instead, and gone back to whatever point in the past would have given us the advantage that he lacks by showing up today.”
“Not if we didn’t want to incidentally prevent our Silveon from ever being born in the first place,” Arqut reasons better. “November 2, 2357; that’s as far back as any of us could have gone.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Silveon reiterates. “It’s done. It can’t be undone. I know what I’m here to do, and you don’t need to know anything beyond what I’ve already told you. In fact, it’s better if you don’t. Plausible deniability, and all that. Please. Go on your vacation, and let Niobe pretend to babysit me. When you come back, I promise you’ll be able to handle this situation better. I consulted the experts. I could tell anyone I wanted in the future, because that timeline has since collapsed, destroying the secret along with it. This is the timeline that needs to exist. We’ll all move on from here. It will be better.”
“How do we know? Tinaya asks him. “How do we know that you’re telling the truth? You could be anyone. We can’t test your identity. Even if we could, we would have to tell this supposed truth to someone who could actually conduct that test.”
“Yes.” Silveon nods. “That’s a wrinkle in the general plan that we were never able to iron out. Trust is something that you’re just going to have to give without any proof. Even if I recited a secret that the three of us had between us, maybe I’m a psycho who tortured it out of one of us in the other timeline. You don’t know. You can’t. I wish I could give you a better answer, but I don’t know what else to say to help. How can I make this better? How can I make you feel better?”
“We could tell Omega and Valencia...unless they turn into bad guys in the future.”
“Omega and Valencia’s time on this ship is coming to a close,” Silveon says. “They’ll be preoccupied with the Ex Wars, and they have their own son.”
“They do?” This was news to them.
“Yeah, he’s a handful. He lives on Dardius. Or he will live there, rather.”
This conversation has been disheartening, and also exhausting. Arqut literally can’t stand it anymore. He sidesteps over to the reading nook, and sits down. Tinaya does the same with one of the dining chairs on the other side of the bathroom. Neither one of them knows what to say anymore. There are time travel laws, which prohibit consciousness travel too, but this is their son we’re talking about. There is no way they’re turning him in, even though there’s a strong possibility that they’re looking at an entirely different person who stole his body. He’s right that they’re going to have to learn to trust him, which is exactly what an impostor would say to protect his cover. It really would be nice if they could trust someone with the expertise to test him. As part of their regular checkups most people go in for yearly brain scans. This becomes optional as they age, but it’s mandatory for babies. Human minds change over time, which is why it’s advised to keep doing it periodically, whether you like it or not. But even with Silveon’s advanced age, may there be a way to definitively prove his connection to his infant scan? The problem is they can’t even inquire if that’s possible without revealing too much about the secret. They’re stuck...stuck in the uncertainty. Or maybe not.
“We’re going to have you tested,” Tinaya insists. “I don’t know if we’ll come to the right conclusion, but we’re going to take you to the Chief Medical Officer to try.”
“We can’t trust them. I don’t even remember who it is in this time period, because they did not factor into the plan. Only the four of us can know anything.”
“As Captain, I enjoy certain privileges that are not afforded to other crew members,” Tinaya begins. “I can erase the doctor’s memories once we receive the results, and I can order him to not pursue the investigation into his missing time. In case he does keep pushing it, I’ll have him record a consent video for himself.”
Silveon shakes his head. “It’s not that simple. Memory technology is fickle. Your aunt knew how problematic it can be.”
“This was years ago,” Arqut contends. “Science marches on. Your mother’s right, Silveon...if that even is your real name. We need help. I know you wanted to keep the circle tight, but whatever your mission is, we can’t even begin to let you move forward with your plans unless we have some reason to believe that you’re someone we should care about. If you’re really our son, you were either raised by us, or our most devoted family members, which means you’ll do what we’re asking of you now. We’re still your parents, no matter which one of us is the oldest. You will do as your told.”
“I miss your bluntness.” Silveon appears to be thinking it over. “Your words are wise, and your heart is pure. I agree to your terms, father.”
“And we’re not going on a vacation,” Tinaya adds. “If we can prove who you are, we will be able to take solace in that truth, even though we have missed the opportunity to raise our son from youngling to young man.”
“I do apologize for taking that from you,” Silveon laments. “I assure you, this was the only way. The future of the mission depends on what I do for the next 31 years.”

Friday, November 15, 2024

Microstory 2280: Peaks and Valleys

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I’m back home, and feeling much better. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still in a lot of pain, and it’s difficult to move around, but this is a far superior environment. Man, I feel like I’m so out of touch these days, bragging about my large house, and private medical team. I never wanted to become this, but you have to admit, healthcare is better without all those other sick people. Jesus, what the hell! Why did I just say that? And why am I not deleting, and starting over with a more relatable tone? It would be really nice if this were how everyone lived. Or would it? How would that even work? Everyone’s rich, so they can hire a private home staff, but then who are these home staffers? This sounds like a caste system. So maybe there’s a happy medium between traditional healthcare, and private. I suppose things could get better and more comfortable for more people by improving the ratio. Fewer patients per medical professional would make it easier for each one to focus, and not be spread so thin. Maybe they could work shorter shifts, and have a better work-life balance too. Is that what I should do? Should I be concentrating all my money on healthcare reform? I’ve always thought that I should be distributing it across a number of causes, relatively evenly, but I’ve heard that it’s more productive in the long run if everyone chooses one or two causes to be passionate about. I dunno, I’ll need to see some numbers. In the meantime, despite my circumstances, things are looking up today. Watch, now people will start taking bets when the next bad thing will happen to me, and maybe what it will be. That’s how it always seems to go. Peaks and valleys. Peaks and valleys. Anyway, I’m going to put all that out of my mind, and just try to live in the moment. Nobody’s rethinking their charitable contributions today. Best not to make any big decisions while you’re on drugs, right?

Thursday, November 14, 2024

Microstory 2279: Fine to Be Discharged

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Guess who surprised me with a visit today? That’s right, it was my old parole officer, Leonard Miazga. He’s been so busy, so we’ve only been able to text occasionally, but he’s felt like a bad friend, not checking in on me until now. It’s okay, I didn’t even think about it. It was nice to see him again, though. Other than that, I have nothing to update you on. Besides the medication issues the other day, my life doesn’t really change that much anymore. I lie in the hospital bed, and stare at the TV most of the time. I do my physical therapy in my own room, and out in the hallway, and sometimes do my exercises on my own without the therapist. Then I watch more TV. The nurses come in to give me meds, and check my vitals. It’s all very routine and unexciting. The hospital, my security team, and the police are not letting anyone come in for interviews, and trust me, they have been trying. Apparently, Leonard had a hard time getting through the human barricade, even though he was on a list of approved visitors. Ugh, I can’t wait to get out of here. I’m not one of those people who say that they “hate hospitals” as if that’s some kind of unique or rare personal characteristic to have. You’re not special. I know that’s mean to say, but no one likes death and disease. I just wanna go home because I’ve been here long enough, and I’m ready to sleep in my own bed. I think I can swing it pretty soon here. A normal person under these circumstances might struggle, but we have a little hospital of our own in our house, and a small medical staff, so it shouldn’t be too hard for me to convince the administrators that I am fine to be discharged.

Wednesday, November 13, 2024

Microstory 2278: Kick Him Out of the Hospital

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Hi, y’all, it’s Dutch. Nick hasn’t had that great of a day today. It started off really good. He met the two people who donated their kidney and liver to him. After they left—and completely unrelated—he started to decline a bit. They’ve been changing his meds around to see what works, and it seems like the combination they’re on now caused problems. He is going to be okay. It didn’t cause any permanent damage to his health. This is just something that happens sometimes. It’s a very tricky and fragile balance. It’s not like there’s one perfect regimen that works with everyone. Like, sign here if you’ve had a double transplant, and then this is all the medication that you’ll need. Every patient is different, not just as individuals, but from the specific situation that led them to needing treatment. No one has lost as many organs as he did, in the same room that he was in, at his exact same age, and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. It just takes time, with some trial and error. That’s one of the reasons why they didn’t just kick him out of the hospital as soon as he could stand on his own two feet. They’re keeping him here so they can find these problems while he’s still under their immediate protection. We’re all anxious for him to be home, so he can generally be more comfortable and relaxed, but it’s obviously not time for that yet. And also, I think they found all the people responsible for doing this to him, but I’m sure you’ve read all about it in the news, so don’t go trying to use this site as your number one source for information on the investigation. They don’t tell us anything. We receive updates at the same time you do. Anyway, I’m sure that Nick will be able to give you his own thoughts tomorrow. Seeya!