Tuesday, February 4, 2025

Microstory 2337: Vacuus, February 16, 2179

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Dear Pascal,

Thank you for reaching out. I would say that it’s the first step towards mending our relationship. I’m sure that your son told you that I would be out of range for a period of time, so that’s why it’s taken me this long to respond. As for you and me, I can’t promise you what will become of us in the future, but I can promise that I’ll try. You’ll always be able to send me a message, and I’ll always open it. Condor and I kind of have a weekly thing going, but we don’t have to write as often, and I won’t hold it against you in terms of resolving our issues. That being said, there is no quick fix here. Forgiveness is a really strong word, and I’m afraid I’m going to need more time before I can even consider it. That may be all it takes. We could not talk to each other the whole time, but I may one day get over it just because it’s been long enough. We’ll have to see. I understand that you were in a difficult position, and having known my mother for 36 years, I don’t doubt that she forced her ideals on you. She has a way of making you live the kind of life that she wants you too. I’m not sure if it was about being vicarious, or if she just wanted control. I’ve always thought she only wanted what was best for me, but looking back now, it doesn’t really make much sense. I mean, if this was a social experiment to see how two twins grew up if they were raised separately, why did she try to make all my choices for me? It sort of taints the results, wouldn’t you say? I dunno, it just seems like a weird choice to me, or maybe she just couldn’t help herself. It strained our relationship, and I pushed back at every turn. She didn’t exactly hope that I would become a solar flare watcher. I’ve spoken to counselors here, and on the ship, but other than that, to my knowledge, I don’t undergo any tests or evaluations. No one seems to be recording my behavior in any way, unless they’re doing it from a pretty big distance. What can you tell me about Condor? Do you report in to someone about who he is, and what kinds of things he does? Is someone writing a scientific paper about it? I would prefer it if you let me know, but it’s more important that he knows, so if you only tell one of us, I would rather be the one left in the dark.

It was nice to meet you,

Effectively, a stranger,

Corinthia

Monday, February 3, 2025

Microstory 2336: Earth, February 3, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

This is your birth father, Pascal. I’m terribly sorry that it has taken me this long to send you a message. I could make something up about how much work I’ve had to do, but we would all know that it doesn’t work like that. It’s probably going to take me ten minutes to write this thing. What’s taken me weeks is working up the courage to even start with the first character. As I explained to your brother, I was complicit in the separation scheme that led you to living out half of your life on a ship, and the other half on a dark world beyond the orbit of Neptune. I didn’t want to let you go, but your mother forced my hand. I’m sorry, I don’t want to bad mouth her, but I feel like I need to defend myself. What you may not know—what I have not yet explained to Condor—is that the original plan was to have both of you leave Earth in separate voyages. For medical reasons, I’m not fit to travel in space. At least, I wasn’t. The restrictions have gradually been eroding, due to excessive need for planetary exodus, and advances in space travel which make it easier to treat at-risk patients off world. As much as it pains me that I never got the chance to know you, I know it would have been worse if I hadn’t gotten to know either of my children. So I made a choice, and it was the hardest one of my life. They would have taken Condor away from me, and I would have had no legal ground to stand on. Your mother had powerful friends who I believe were manipulating her into carrying out this unethical social experiment. She wasn’t like that when we first met. She was loving, kind, and loyal. That’s why I married her, and honestly, it’s one reason I never married anyone after she left. There’s also a law that prevents people from divorcing their spouses when they’re separated by at least one astronomical unit, yet not presumed dead. I regret not fighting harder for you, and for not trying to follow you later. Your mother and her friends could have stopped me and Condor from getting on that ship, but they wouldn’t have been able to stop us from getting on another one. It would have cost me everything I had to commission a new journey, but now I realize that it would have been worth it. I hope that you can forgive me one day, but I don’t expect it anytime soon, or ever. And I also hope that I’ve not ruined the impression you’ve had for your mother this whole time. She really thought that what she was doing was right. She wanted science and psychology to progress, and she thought she had to make the sacrifice of never knowing her son. If you’ve not already, perhaps you could one day forgive her too.

Hoping you write back,

Your loving father,

Pascal Sloane

Sunday, February 2, 2025

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 3, 2485

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Dr. Hammer asked the team to take the Vellani Ambassador back to the future, along with Tertius Valerius. She worked with Romana in her own time period, and was able to jump to a few conclusions, though they still needed to be tested. Apparently, the dark particles that Buddy used to manipulate time were designed to replicate, and they were doing that in Romana’s system. To keep them from becoming overpopulated, she should probably find a way to purge them periodically, like the ship had to do with the excess heat shunt. Due to their immense power, these particles had become the dominant means of time travel for Romana. She wasn’t jumping forward in time, because the particles didn’t need her to. They weren’t sentient—they responded to her commands—but since she didn’t understand this, she hadn’t tried yet. Or she hadn’t tried in the right way. Theoretically, she should be able to force herself to return to her regular pattern, using techniques that a specialist Dr. Hammer had brought in to consult. They would not know until the end of the day when they could test it. But this had to be in the future, because they were trying to keep it matched up with everyone else on the team. Well, that was what she was trying to do. Mateo had other ideas.
“I know you want to be part of this, but you have an opportunity here. You have a choice. You should stay. Purge the particles when you need to, but otherwise stay in realtime,” he suggested.
“You don’t want me with you?” Romana asked.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Good, because actually, it’s not that I wouldn’t be with you. It’s that you wouldn’t be with me. I’ll have to wait a year at a time to see my own father. I’ll keep aging while you just stay like this.”
“I appreciate your position,” Mateo promises her, “but there’s a benefit to you staying.” He walked over, and slid then nearest viewport cover open. The Ambassador had landed in Castledome. Kivi and Dubravka had found swords in the castle a few months ago, and were teaching themselves how to use them properly. They were sparring now, not even worrying about amateur injuries, due to their access to great medical care. “You should get to know them. They should be your team.”
“Why can’t we all just be one team?” Romana questioned, tearing up.
He took a breath, and admired their surroundings. They were alone in Delegation Hall. “This ship was designed to protect people, not only from each other, but from themselves. We get it one day a year, and we make the most of it. But it’s not enough. Your stepmother wants to use it to rescue people from an oppressive empire thousands of light years away. This is one of the very few vessels capable of making that journey in any reasonable amount of time. And it’s not a once-per-year type of need.”
“You want us to go rescue people, one ship-full at a time?”
“I already spoke with Ramses,” Mateo went on. “He’s building a new model pocket dimension. It will be able to hold hundreds of people, efficiently, and safely. You can ferry one group per day. You’ll have to evade capture and destruction over the course of several hours, though, as there’s a time restriction for how many jumps you can make.”
“You’ve thought a lot about this,” Romana pointed out.
“Leona’s been working on the plans for a while now,” he explained. “All I did was multiply it by 365. By the time we get back, you will have potentially saved tens of thousands of people. That’s tens of thousands of people per year. This isn’t something that we can do. Only you and your sisters can, because you’re the only ones we trust with this technology, and the mission.”
“I’m surprised that you think I’m capable of such a thing,” she noted.
He nodded. “You’re eighteen now. Since I didn’t raise you, I have to assume that you’re capable. It would be as unfair as it is irrational for me to assume otherwise. But still, this is not an order. I’m only asking. Kivi and Dubra are training, whether they know it or not. If you wanna take a few years to do the same, that’s perfectly all right. You know, this planet has multiple simulations that can give you the skills you’ll need to protect those Exin refugees. The ship itself is automated, but you’ll run into conflict.”
“Oh my God, the planet...the dome! I never showed you the dome that I built for you! It completely slipped my mind.”
“You didn’t have to do anything for us,” he assured her.
“Well, I didn’t lay the bricks and plant the trees by hand.”
The two of them exited, and joined the girls. They then went around and gathered everyone else; Olimpia and the twins from the South Pole Ocean, Ramses from his lab, and Leona, who was finishing up a meeting with Hrockas and Tertius Valerius. They were trying to figure out if Tertius had any interest in staying here, or if he wanted to be transported to some other point in spacetime. They all held hands, and let Romana navigate them to the dome that she claimed for herself years ago.
They found themselves standing on the roof of a pretty tall skyscraper. It wasn’t as high as a megastructure arcology, but it clearly dominated the skyline. Everyone separated, and started to get a look around. It wasn’t the only building in the area. They were in the middle of a city fit for hundreds of thousands of people, and if their views of the outlying lands were any indication, even more. It wasn’t an original design, though. Many of them had been here before, just on a different world.
“I recognize this,” Mateo said.
“It’s Kansas City,” Leona confirmed. “It’s a detailed replica of all of Kansas City.”
“In the 2010s,” Romana agreed. “The whole metro area in the main sequence.”
“How did you do this?” Mateo asked.
“It’s actually not as hard as you might think,” Romana said. “I just searched the virtual stacks for this area, in this time period. Then I asked the computer to convert the map data to a format that the large-scale automated fabricators could read. Years later, here we are with a replica of the KC Metro within a diameter of 83 kilometers. The interiors of the buildings are predominantly unfinished, and definitely unfurnished, but it looks like the real thing from the outside. The mansion where you briefly lived with your once-mother in an old timeline is totally done, though with some creative liberties, since my access to real estate sales photos was limited.”
Tertius was looking towards the holographically simulated sky. “What’s happening up there?” He wasn’t looking at the clouds, though, but focusing on something protruding from the curved walls.
“Oh, that’s a second layer,” Romana said. “I started it, but commanded it to stop, because I don’t actually know what I would put there, or how big it should be.” Since these domes were 83 kilometers in diameter, the total height from the ground to the zenith was 41.5 kilometers. There was no reason why extra layers of livable space weren’t possible. In fact, one could build hundreds, or even thousands, of stacked layers, if they were so inclined. It could become pretty stifling, but with modern technology, it was certainly feasible. One extra layer several kilometers up was no problem at all. They could do whatever they wanted with it.
“I can’t believe you did this,” Mateo said.
“I thought you might like a taste of home,” she replied. “We could put Topeka in the dome next to it. Maybe Sutvindr next to that one?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Hrockas jumped in. “I didn’t approve this one in the first place.”
“Ya mad, bro?” Olimpia asked.
Hrockas smiled. “It’s fine. This isn’t where you were planning to bring the refugees, though, right? Because I have some other ideas for that.”
“Ideas, like what?” Leona asked him.
This world has lava tubes. Some of the domes were built on the mouths of these tubes, which give them extra space, and a place to hide from their enemies.”
“Are we worried about that?” Dubravka questioned. “How likely is it that the bad guys find them here?”
“Pretty likely,” Leona said sadly. “It would not be difficult for an empire sympathizer to infiltrate the refugees, and send a message back to the Goldilocks Corridor, with our coordinates, and other intelligence. Of course, it will take most of their ships 23 years to get here, but we can’t be a hundred percent sure that Bronach hasn’t cracked true faster-than-light technology, or stolen it.” She looked over at Ramses. “That’s why I had my engineer design a fleet of orbital defense platforms. In any case, I do not hate the idea of the refugees having bunkers to hide in during the eventuality of an attack. I would much appreciate access to all such domes. We don’t fully understand the politics of the Corridor. People from different worlds may not get along, or there may even be internal conflicts. This is gonna be very complicated.”
Roman stepped forward. “I’m up for the challenge.” She looked back at her sisters. “What about you two?”
“What was that?” Kivi asked, not knowing what she was talking about.
“Our father offered us a job. We’re to take daily trips to the Goldilocks Corridor to relocate refugees to this planet.”
“Uh, it won’t start that way,” Leona began to clarify. “You won’t be able to just land on a planet, pull in some passengers, then bug out. You’ll need to find out who even wants to go, and make sure that transporting them won’t make things worse, for them, or for those they leave behind. If a population of millions wants to leave, it’s going to take tons of trips, which will leave people vulnerable until their numbers are called. And that’s just one planet. The enemy will have so many chances to retaliate while you’re in the middle of this.”
“I may have a solution for that,” Ramses said. “Or a workaround.” He opened his bag, and removed a toy spaceship. “Battledrones. They can stay behind, and protect the innocent and vulnerable. They can distract the empire with war.”
Leona took in a deep breath, and exhaled it. “I was hoping to avoid violence.”
Mateo cleared his throat. “Bronach claimed that he maintained control over the resistance’s ships. War is happening. The right side needs resources, because they may not have any without us.”
“That’s true,” Leona admitted.
“There’s a lot to work out,” Romana admitted as well. “For now, I’m raising my hand to join the mission. Can you two say the same?”
Dubravka appeared to be considering it. “As long as we come up with a great plan, it would be more productive than just swingin’ swords, and lounging by the pool.”
“I’m not much of a fighter,” Kivi added, “but I believe I can use my vast lawyering skills to negotiate with the potential refugees.”
Tertius stepped forward. “I’m in too, if you’ll have me,” he announced sheepishly. “I can erase everyone’s memories. They won’t even know that their friends are gone while they wait for the next bus.”
“That’s a brilliant idea,” Leona said gratefully. “I think it would be profoundly helpful. Thank you.”
Tertius replied with a polite nod.
“I’ll need time to get the domes ready,” Hrockas reminded them. “And arrange regular transport from them to the recreational domes. I would like to create a welcome video too, so they understand what this world has to offer. It sounds like their lives aren’t all that fun. If they know how great the planet is that they’ll be going to, they might be more willing to entertain the option. I’m happy to use them as my beta testers before the grand opening fifteen years from now.”
“Much appreciated,” Leona said, grateful once more.
“I can help with the video,” Angela said. “I have some experience welcoming people. I’m imagining a series.” She looked at her watch. “The problem is I’m only around once a year.”
“Oh, we’re not ready to go either way,” Romana explained. “I need time to train. I don’t have a lesson plan yet, but it’s gonna be somethin’.”
“I have some simulations that are in alpha testing that I’m sure would be of help,” Hrockas told her.
Mateo had been listening to all this, taking note of what Romana and his other daughters were going to need in the coming years. This first year will be important, and they don’t have much time to prepare for it. Having a thought on something, he walked over to Ramses. “Sidebar.” He teleported them both to the middle of the woods on the outskirts of the dome.
Ramses looked around. “How did they get trees and other plant life here?”
“Turn off your comms.” Mateo tapped his neck as his friend did the same. “Romana wants to be trained, and I don’t want her teacher to be some artificial intelligence. We already took the VA to Snake Island today, and back again. How dangerous would it be for the slingdrive if we tried to make another trip?”
“Well, it would be two trips, not one, so...”
“So...” Mateo echoed. “You’re still the one with the answer.”
“So, I think I can make it work, if it’s an emergency.”
“It’s not an emergency, but it’s time-sensitive.”
“Are you trying to pick someone up?”
“Yeah. My brother, Prince Darko. And maybe the rest of my family. And Kivi’s beau, Lincoln. And a bunch of other friends.”
Ramses smiled. “Let’s start with the one.”

Saturday, February 1, 2025

The Third Rail: Rock the House (Part II)

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They have TV here. They’re able to watch the broadcast of their Rock Meetings, if they so choose. Each episode is about an hour long, and one episode streams per day. At this rate, they’re going to be stuck on this prison world for about eight months. Fortunately for the representatives of the five realities, they’re not in any of the prison facilities. It’s a big planet, and an entire small continent has been devoted to witness protection instead of incarceration. It’s a little odd, to protect people on the same planet as the people they may need to be protected from, but it’s not a completely wild idea. Back in the Third Rail, there was only one inhabited planet, so witness relocation programs always worked like this. In fact, witnesses were rarely ever moved outside of their respective countries. There are no boats here. Any prisoner who wanted to reach a witness would have to first break out of wherever they’re being kept, then build themselves a raft. It would take them months to make it across the ocean, assuming they didn’t get caught anywhere. On the other hand, if they have access to a spaceship, it probably doesn’t matter anymore whether they have to go to a different planet or not.
Some witnesses in the program are a little more dangerous than others, so the continent has been further broken up into cities. The representatives are in the most luxurious of them all, designed for VIPs, leaders under grave threat, and in hiding, and others who need a little more consideration. Ramses was right, the accommodations are pretty good here, but Cosette doesn’t regret insisting on bringing her personal pocket dimension with her. This is her home, and it’s where she feels the most comfortable. She has installed it over the door of one of the closets in her realspace penthouse. Ayata is the one living out there instead, serving as a gatekeeper for visitors or attackers, but otherwise taking a vacation from her duties as an assistant. That’s what she’s meant to be doing anyway. “Tea and seaweed crackers? It’s a local delicacy.”
They’re by the water, about 300 meters above the surface. Each tower sits on top of the base, which grants access to a dedicated elevator and emergency stairwell. Only the structure at the top contains living space. The towers are structurally connected to one another, but there is no passage between them. You would have to go down to the first floor, and walk across the lobby, to get to another tower. “Ayata, I brought you here so you could have a break, not so you could keep working for me,” Cosette tries to explain for the umpteenth time. I thought it was a pretty good excuse, since there’s always work to be done back on Earth, so we’re always so busy. There is no business to take care of for the time being. Just relax.”
“I don’t...like doing nothing,” Ayata admits.
“Have you ever tried it?”
“Not really.”
Cosette sighs. “Do you know where that seaweed comes from?”
“The ocean?” Ayata asks in a half-question, unsure if she’s taking the full meaning here, or not.
“That ocean right there.” Cosette points through the windows. They’re not exactly real windows. They are viewscreens which are showing what the real windows see from the penthouse. They would have to leave the pocket dimension to look through them for real. “Why don’t you synthesize a sexy bikini, go down there, and sun yourself on the beach? Maybe meet someone new.”
“Ambassador DuFour,” Ayata scolds.
“Not to breach sexual harassment policy, but I remember wishing that I had shown my body off more when I was your age.”
Ayata was born in the Sixth Key. She doesn’t know what the world was like before the Reconvergence. “You can be my age if you want,” she reminds her boss.
Cosette leans her head against the backrest, and tilts her chin to the side. “I think I’m done age-shifting. I deal with people from the Parallel and the Fourth Quadrant so much, and they cured aging ages ago. It’s just not really much of an advantage anymore. Maybe it never was.”
“So which age are you going to choose? This one?”
She’s presently expressing the mid- to late thirties, which is still a bit older than how Nuadu appears. “I think so. It’s a good middle ground. I’m old enough to be respected, but young enough to be accessible.”
“And you’re not unattractive,” Ayata says with a smile. “Not to breach sexual harassment policy.”
Cosette smiles back.
“This wouldn’t happen to do with a certain military man who lives next door, would it? The one who’s always coming over to do his rounds?”
“He’s checking the perimeter,” Cosette reasons. “He’s been trained to be a protector.”
“No, he’s been trained as a killer. Those are the kind of soldiers who rank up to high leadership positions. He only comes over to see you.”
Cosette scoffs quietly, and shakes her head.
“How about this? How about you age yourself to seventy or eighty, and ask him to stay for dinner. Cook him a real meal; not synthesized, and give the room some ambiance. If he’s responsive, and engaged in conversation, he’s interested in you as a person, not just for your looks.”
“Maybe he’ll just say no, and I won’t learn anything. It won’t even necessarily be because of my apparent age.”
“He can’t say no,” Ayata reasons. “You’re going to cook for him to say thank you for all he’s done. He’s on vacation, so he doesn’t have anything to do. If he comes up with an excuse, I guess that’s your answer.”
“I haven’t cooked in a long time,” Cosette reveals.
“Well, I’ll help you. I like doing things the old way sometimes. I’ll probably be in charge of ambiance too since your taste is a little...”
“Bland? Is that the word you’re looking for?”
“Hey, you said it.” There’s a ring at the elevator downstairs. They look over at the security monitor to see Nuadu waiting patiently in the lobby. Ayata smirks. “Heh, it’s kismet.”
“House, let ‘im up,” Cosette instructs. They continue to watch as the doors open, and let Nuadu inside. He rides up to the top, walks inside, and is about to knock on the closet door when it opens. “Nice to see you, Harbinger.”
“Ambassador-at-Large,” he replies cordially.
“Would you like to come in for some tea and seaweed crackers?” She’s suddenly struck with a sense of relief that she and Ayata stopped to talk about the crackers first, before diving into them. They still look all nice and untouched.
“I really shouldn’t stay too long,” Nuadu says apologetically. “I’m afraid I woke up too late this morning, and I’m a little behind schedule.”
This looks like a pretty good opening. “Well, perhaps you can return this evening for dinner? I’ve been looking for a good excuse to cook.”
“Yeah, that sounds great.” He says it with a bit too much enthusiasm, but he knows if he tries to backpedal now, the drastic shift in tone will only make him look even more eager. So he widens his eyes, freezes up, and waits for Cosette to continue the conversation instead.
“Great! No pressure, but think about what you like to eat, and text me a message later. Include your dietary restrictions, of course. Maybe within the hour?”
“I can do that, thanks.” He looks over at Ayata. “And will the lovely Miss Seegers be joining us?”
Ayata stammers a bit. “I have a date with the, uhh...God of the Sea...tonight.” She smiles awkwardly. “I’m going on a walk. My boss says I work too hard, and she’s making me take a break. Away from here.” Nice save.
Cosette hopes that her comment doesn’t make Nuadu uncomfortable. Perhaps he missed Ayata’s emphasis on the word I. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she says to Ayata, under her breath, but obviously loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.
“I believe that you will enjoy the beach at night,” Nuadu adds. “There are some bioluminescent sea creatures that come out after dusk. I don’t know what they are, but Andrei Orlov of the Fourth Quadrant likes to watch them. Perhaps you could meet up with him.”
“Thanks, I’ll give him a call.” Ayata points over her own shoulder. “I gotta go into the other room now.” She points at Cosette. “Unless you need something first.”
“No, that will be all, Ayata. Thanks.”
Ayata nods reverently, then walks away.
Cosette waits until she’s gone before admitting, “I’ve been trying to get her to slow down for a while now. We just kind of had a tiff about it. She doesn’t really understand that she’s not here to work.”
“I get where she’s comin’ from,” Nuadu replies. “I’m still workin’.”
“But you know you don’t have to, right? The Tanadama installed automated sentries all over the place. You passed at least two of them on your way here from your tower.”
“I know, but I just kind of...like to see the people.”
Cosette nods. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it.” She points towards the door as if he’s just about to leave.
“Yeah, I’m gonna—” He motions to the side of him.
“Right, right. You always start in the...parlor.” Her voice softens in a gradient as the sentence goes on. She steps a little to the side so he can do his made up job.
He does what he needs to do, inside the pocket and out, and then he leaves to run a security sweep of the other towers. Or maybe he never does that, and he only ever comes here. Cosette has never asked any of the others about it, and they’ve not brought it up on their own. They don’t interact all that much. If they didn’t grow up accustomed to the isolation of self-sufficient living, the last week they’ve been here has given them the requisite experience. That was evidently a major issue in the Parallel and the Fifth Division. Avoiding congregating in large groups was easy in the former, and in some cases, vital to survival in the latter. As the more seasoned diplomat of them all, perhaps she ought to take it upon herself to make changes to that. They’re going to be here for so long, they should get to know each other better.
Night has fallen, and the hour of the date—or non-date—is quickly approaching. Cosette is putting the finishing touches on her decorations, which she decided to do in realspace, instead of her pocket dimension. She didn’t end up accepting help from Ayata, save for a few minor tasks, and some constructive criticism. If this was going to mean anything, it had to come from Cosette, or he may as well be on a date with Ayata. Was this a date? Would he say as much? She’s about to have her opportunity to gauge his feelings based on his reaction to all this. The mood lighting alone will be hard to ignore. There’s an elevator notification. He’s early, so she’s not quite ready. Instead of wasting more time on more matches, she uses one of the lit ones to light the rest, and it occurs to her that this is how she should have done it the entire time, and she’s kind of an idiot. How did people live like this in the past? She was going for a classic, rustic feel, but it has been a lot of work. Will he appreciate the retro look, or will he be super confused since his civilization has just about always had robots and spaceships. Oh my God, she’s thinking about this too much. Answer the door. Answer the door!
She races to the security panel. “Come on up!” She tries to hit the elevator button, but she fumbles. Then she fumbles again. “Goddammit.” She finally hits her target, then taps the intercom button again. “Okay, now! Sorry.” As she’s watching the graphic of the elevator fly upwards, she remembers that Ayata suggested she look like an elderly woman to see if he’s here for her, or for her looks. Now she’s not so sure if she wants to go through with that. He’s almost here, she has to make a decision. Will it just throw him off? Will it be too distracting? Her age-shifting is a choice, she’ll look like an asshole if she’s all wrinkly and gross. He’s getting closer. She’ll have no excuse, or will she? Can she come up with some believable reason? Can she do it in the next five seconds? Four, three, two, one.
The elevator doors open, and Nuadu steps into the penthouse looking at a 55 or 56 year old woman. He’s shocked, but maybe not bothered? He looks her up and down. “Wow, you look gorgeous tonight.”
“Do you really think so?” Though she compromised on the aging, she’s not come up with a plausible explanation for not being thirty at the oldest. She ought to make herself look as hot as possible.
“Yeah, that dress is beautiful.”
“Thanks, it’s conventionally made, not synthesized.”
“I can tell. It doesn’t look...too ordered; cold. If that makes any sense.”
She smiles. “Come on in. Can I take your coat?”
“Yes, thank you.”
They have a nice dinner together. Though the food is not synthesized, as she promised it wouldn’t be, she didn’t exactly churn her own butter either. The penthouse came equipped with a number of advanced cooking tools and machines which her people never invented in the Third Rail. Though it’s certainly too early to say that the two of them are in love, it feels safe to acknowledge that it was indeed a date. The way he was looking at her, he’s definitely interested in something more. At one point, she gradually started aging herself up, and he didn’t bat an eye. After they were done eating, they retired to the sitting room for tea, at which point she caught her reflection in a decorative mirror, and asked whether he even noticed that she was 75 at this point. She explained that it happens on its own when she’s not being careful, and he told her that he didn’t care. There’s definitely something between them, they just need time to explore it. Luckily, they have eight months for that.

Friday, January 31, 2025

Microstory 2335: Vacuus, January 31, 2179

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Dear Condor,

Father has not yet written to me. It’s fine, I’m not disappointed. I don’t know him at all, so I can’t know what I should expect out of him. I just wanted to give you an update before it happens that I’m going to be out of communication range again. It won’t be too long, but it’s out of my hands. You see, when researchers first discovered Vacuus, they thought to send probes here before they sent people. Unfortunately, they lost contact with these probes, and were never able to gather much information about the planet. They obviously decided to just send a manned-mission without enough information, and that’s because the ship they were using was self-sustaining. If, for some reason, it wasn’t possible to reach or land on the surface, it wasn’t like a death sentence. We could have been living on it this whole time. It’s still orbiting us right now, and people regularly go back and forth. I could have gotten a job up there instead. In fact, I told you that I’m the only one doing what I do, but that’s not technically true. Someone is up there right now, using their own instruments to track nearby cosmic events. They just don’t do it for the same reasons, and have other responsibilities. It’s not for safety, they’re mostly studying the effects of deep space survival as it pertains to remoteness from the host star. I kind of forget about them, because we don’t really interact. Anyway, that’s not really important. The point is that, once we arrived here, we discovered why communication with the probes stopped working. It’s because of a periodic meteoroid shower called the Valkyries, which causes a blackout. These meteoroids are very close to one another, and interconnected via weak, yet still impactfully disruptive, electromagnetic fields. It has to do with the ferromagnetic composition of them, and the occasional electrostatic charge that builds up when they scrape against one another. This can last for years, but it’s a relatively rare event, and has only happened twice since Earth sent the probes. What’s not all that rare is when one of these meteors becomes dislodged from the shower, and we end up between it and all its friends. If we’re in the right position, it’s pretty as it’s streaking across the sky, but it’s problematic too. We don’t always know when it’s going to happen, and we don’t always know when it’s going to affect us, but it too knocks out signal transmission, though for a much shorter period of time. Our astronomers have devoted most of their careers to studying these phenomena. At first they thought that the shower was falling apart, but they now believe that the stray meteoroids eventually find their way back to the shower. Earth is aware that this is going to happen, and have upgraded their protocols to account for it. So if you send a message, it will end up being stored in a nearby buffer until the relay station receives word that signal transmission has been restored. I’m sorry to spring this on you so last minute, but if you reply, I doubt that I’ll receive you for a while. Please let your father know as well, thanks.

Hopefully not for long,

Corinthia

Thursday, January 30, 2025

Microstory 2334: Earth, January 22, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

I beamed your contact card to dad, and he said that he’s going to write to you as soon as possible. Take that with a grain of salt, because his definition of possible might be different than yours. I would say, give it a couple of weeks, and then maybe just give up. I could talk to him again, if you wanted, but he’s really nervous. He doesn’t know if you forgive him, or hate him, or what. I have not told him anything about you. I told him that you and I were in contact now, and demanded he explain his involvement in our separation thirty-six years ago. I didn’t say anything about your job, or what your life is like on Vacuus. I did divulge that his wife, your mother, was dead. I felt like he had a right to know that, regardless of how at fault he is. Anyway, I hope that whatever happens between the two of you, it doesn’t negatively impact our relationship. I think he may be partially worried about that too. I want you to know that I won’t let him ruin our new sibling connection, and I would hope that you don’t let whatever he does or says—or doesn’t do or say—stop you from wanting to converse with me. Okay, I think I’m done with all this negativity now. You inspired me today. I actually don’t have much idea of how the platform can move from one part of the ocean to another. You’re right, it’s pretty big, so it can’t be easy. I’ve started taking some courses on it, not necessarily so I can tell you, but because I would like to understand it myself. I’m so old, I doubt that I’ll ever become an engineer, or a mechanic, or a sailor, but it doesn’t hurt to learn more stuff.

Until next time,

Condor

Wednesday, January 29, 2025

Microstory 2333: Vacuus, January 15, 2179

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Dear Condor,

That’s great news about the trade deal going through. I would be interested to know more about your floating dome, and how it’s navigated through the waters. It seems like something large enough to fit as many people as you seem to have in your population would move really slowly. As far as dad is concerned, you can give him my contact information. The way I see it, he has to take the first steps to building a relationship with me, not the other way around. If he never sends me a message, then so be it. But I’m not going to write the first letter, and then sit here in anticipation of a reply. Thank you for asking, it was very thoughtful of you, and of him. So yes, go ahead and tell him how to get a hold of me. I don’t know how, uhh, smart he is, but explain the light lag to him too if he doesn’t understand. That may make you laugh, but there are some older people here who don’t get how it works. Which is ridiculous, because they all volunteered for this mission, having been told how difficult it would be to call back to Earth. I mean, even if you’re only a geologist, you’re still an astronaut, and you still need a basic foundation of space science. I dunno. I was a baby when our ship launched. It was a passenger transport, unlike the ships of old, which were only for a crew. That is to say, technically, anyone could have flown on it, with no training whatsoever. That’s how I was, being too young to learn anything. Still, you would think an adult going on the mission would expect themselves to be  better prepared. Sorry, I’m rambling again. I’m just a little nervous. I just know that, after I send this message, the next one could be coming from you, or from our father. Don’t take that as hesitation, I’ve made my decision, but that’s not going to stop the anxiety. How about this? Why don’t you respond to me first, and then give him my number. That way, I can be a little more prepared. Again, he may not want to reach out at all. You never know what’s going on in someone else’s head. It just might be easier to at least have one last buffer. I would appreciate it.

Congratulations on your new immigrant friends,

Corinthia

Tuesday, January 28, 2025

Microstory 2332: Earth, January 7, 2179

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Dear Corinthia,

Yes, Happy New Year, welcome to 2179. I have some good news. The diplomatic discussions that my father was engaged in have finally proven fruitful. They’ve finalized a trade deal. We’re going to get the resources we need to stay afloat (pun intended), which is good, because we’re gonna need them to accommodate the influx of immigrants that we’ll be receiving from the land. We’re headed to Australia right now to pick them up. They didn’t build their dome right by the coastline, since it would have been susceptible to attack there, but it’s not too terribly far away. The roads that they made in the old world are still there, so the trip shouldn’t be too difficult. They have these giant vacuum sealed vehicles that can fit many dozens of people. They’re not amphibious, but we have our own solution here, so people won’t ever have to step foot out into the toxic air. We can drive our boats right up to the shore, and extend the plastic tunnels, which we’ll seal around the entrance of the cars so people can walk right on through without being exposed to the toxic air around them. Right now, we’re on our way across the ocean to reach them. It will take us a few weeks. We couldn’t head that direction until the deal was done, though, or it could have been seen as an act of aggression. For us to assume that they would inevitably agree—and to be ready to act on it immediately—would have been rude, and placed us at an unfair advantage when it comes to future talks. It would be like suggesting that they need us more than we need them. So yeah, that’s where we are. It’s unclear how involved dad and I will be during the immigration period, but we won’t be doing nothing. I may end up going on land to visit the dome there. I hope everything is going well with you in the first two weeks of the year. He needs to know whether he can contact you first, or if you’re going to reach out. Let me know what you would prefer, it’s super your decision. His personal contact card is attached to this message. You can open it, or ignore it and just tell me that you want me to send yours to him instead.

Sincerely,

Condor