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.

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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

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

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

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

Microstory 2331: Vacuus, December 31, 2178

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Dear Condor,

Happy New Year! It’s true, religious beliefs have changed over the years, though some of the traditions remain, even if people don’t understand why they’re doing them. You were kind of right, we actually do observe Christmas, though it’s a lot different than it used to be, and that has to do with the circumstances under which we live. We exchange gifts too, but only one. It’s rocks. You might think, hey, you give rocks as gifts? That sounds dumb. Well, we’re not talking just any rock. Obviously, since there is no breathable atmosphere out here, we can’t just walk outside whenever we want. If you want to pick a rock off the ground, it’s going to be this whole to do. You have to put on a suit, and you might need to climb into a rover. The farther the rock was found from the base, the more impressive it is that you managed to get all the way out there, and the more meaningful it will be for whoever you’re giving it to. Every year, the hardcore gift-givers train to lower their heart rates, and learn to control their breaths, so they can travel farther than ever before. Some try to run, and some try to sloth their way there, deluded into thinking that it’s making any significant difference in their range. If you look at a map of excursion sites, however, there’s a limit to how far anyone can go, even if they lug extra air tanks with them. Everything they try to use to gain an advantage has its drawbacks that regress them towards the mean. And if you do choose to use a rover—if only to go part of the way—it’s less impressive, and less of a big deal of a gift. I’ve never done it. Mother was as much of a homebody as me, so she didn’t make a trek, and I never learned to value it. I’m a bit too old to care. It is mostly for the younger crowd, who are indoctrinated as children. They don’t go outside themselves. An adult who is rated for surface excursions collects from nearby, and hides them around the base for kids to find, and give to their families. We actually do this twice a year. There’s another holiday called Valentine’s Day, which is for romantic partnerships, though people tend to grow out of it. That one usually involves pebbles, and kids look for them in a scavenger hunt too. Once they’re older, signs of affection typically come from spending extra money on a luxury food item from the synthesizer, or something else more substantial. Christmas is about effort, other gift-based observances are about sacrifice. Either way, it sounds like we’re even more into Christmas than people left on Earth are. We also celebrate New Year, and surely your people do as well. It’s not a religious concept as far as I know, though maybe there’s something about its history that I don’t know. Someone had to come up with the calendar, and it wasn’t after the decline of superstition. Here’s to a great 2179.

May you find the farthest rock (that’s what we say),

Corinthia

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: July 1, 2484

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Mateo instinctively opened up to hug his daughter, Dubravka, but quickly took a half-step back. Like Romana and Kivi, he never got the chance to raise her. Perhaps it would be inappropriate. It was certainly presumptuous. Unfortunately, he failed to think of this beforehand, leading to an awkward moment for all. Even so, she took it in stride, and stepped up to initiate the hug herself. He was still her father, and she knew that it was neither his intention nor choice to miss so much of her life.

“Gang’s all here.” It was Kivi. She managed to appear out of nowhere just at the right time, as she was known to do.

“Kivi,” Leona said, surprised. “Which one are you?”

“The all-of-me one. I remember everything. I held a gun on an uninhabitable planet once.”

Mateo hugged his eldest as well, then followed up with one for Romana. He looked around, wondering if his children from an old timeline would show up as well, but it didn’t look like it was in the cards. “Argh. Argh!” He suddenly felt a hot sensation on his hip. Something appeared to be possibly literally burning a hole in his pocket. He hopped around, and struggled to reach in to pull it out. It was his silver rendezvous card. It was even more difficult to hold it between his fingers, but after letting go, he realized that this might activate it, so he reached out with both hands, nearly catching it several times before finally failing, and ending up on Snake Island.

Dr. Hammer was waiting for him in the vestibule. “We need your help.”

“Me?”

“Not necessarily you, per se, but you’re the one I had access to. You were talking about how you have illusion powers now, but yours weren’t as good as the others, so...”

“What do you need illusioned?” he asked.

“This whole place.” She indicated the building, and then pointed behind Mateo. “Look through the telescope. Don’t touch it, it’s already pointed in the right direction.”

Mateo approached the coin-operated binocular telescope, and peered into the eyepieces, careful not to move it in the slightest. He saw a wooden boat, but had no idea how far out it was.

As if reading his mind, Dr. Hammer answered his question, “I looked up the flag they’re flying. They’re Carthaginians, and they’re currently six kilometers out, but drawing nearer. Much closer, and they may be able to see us.”

“You don’t have active camouflage for this facility?”

“Never thought we would need it. No one should be on this side of the island in this time period.”

“Woof,” Mateo said. “You’re right, I’m not good enough at illusions to protect you. We’ll need someone else. Olimpia is best at invisibility, but Angela can make holograms that last even when she walks away.”

“We’re both here,” either Angela or Marie said over comms, but probably the former.

“So are we,” Romana added.

“I’m sending down Angela to see if she can work a job that big,” Leona interrupted before anyone else could join the conversation. “Ambassador out.”

Angela appeared in the vestibule, and started to look around, but she didn’t have much to see. “I really need to get a better view. I’m going outside.”

“I cannot allow that,” Dr. Hammer said apologetically.

Angela scoffed. “I’m wearing a spacesuit. The snakes can’t get me.”

Dr. Hammer shook her head. “There are no doors. I did that for a reason.”

“I’ll be fine. We do this sort of thing all the time.” Angela took a small device from her chest compartment, and tossed it to the doctor. “This is tapped into our comms, but only has global range. We’ll need it back.” She took Mateo’s hand, and teleported them both out of there.

They stood on the beach, letting the waves crash in, and kiss their knees, though they could not feel it. Angela examined the building. It was up against the mountain, and painted natural colors, like green and brown, but it definitely stood out as an artificial structure. She would have to smooth out the right angles, and hide all the windows. She could use the mountain itself as a sort of mental template to know what it should look like. She tilted her head, and electric slid down a little to see what she was working with from slightly different perspectives. She even made a rectangle with her index fingers and thumbs, and looked through it like a movie director. “Okay, yeah.”

“Yeah, you can do it?” Mateo asked. He was some ways away now, wandering around out of boredom.

“Oh, sorry, you weren’t there for our brief discussion on the ship after Leona cut off comms. No, I mean, yeah, it’s impossible.”

“Are you sure? You’ve not even tried to do anything.”

“It’s too big,” Angela contended. “I’m good, but I’m not that good.”

“Is there anything you can do?” Dr. Hammer asked through comms. “Can you...combine your powers, or something?”

“No,” Ramses said, “but I have another idea. If you’ll allow me to meet you on the ground...”

“Please,” Dr. Hammer asked.

Mateo was about to jump back there when he looked down at himself. “There’s a snake wrapped around my leg.”

“Is it venomous?” Dr. Hammer questioned.

“How am I meant to know? It’s yellow, and menacing, though.”

“Okay, that’s probably the Golden Lancehead. Put your helmet on.”

“I got this,” Leona declared. She appeared before Mateo, but she wasn’t alone for long. Dozens of birds materialized on the ground around her, pecking at the sand, and hopping around, presumably looking for worms. They were mostly a bold red, with black wings, and black tails. Their beaks were black on top, and white on bottom.

Mateo couldn’t help but notice how badass the birds were, and whatever they were called, would probably make a great inspiration for a superhero persona. The snake had a very different impression of them. It immediately unwrapped itself from Mateo’s leg, and went for the flock of holograms. It was probably pretty upset that none of them seemed to be real, but no one stuck around to see its full reaction. All three of them were gone in seconds.

“...that’s for you to decide. I think it should be close, but you know these lands better than me.” Ramses was in the middle of explaining something to Dr. Hammer. He had come down with Romana.

“What are we talking about?” Leona asked.

Dr. Hammer crossed her arms. “He wants to teleport that whole Carthaginian boat away from here.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea,” Leona determined.

“No, it’s not. You’ll disrupt the continuum,” Dr. Hammer argued.

“Oh.” Leona dismissed it by waving her hand in the general direction of the boat. “Those people believe in gods, and crap like that. They’ll just think that Poseidon was messing with them. Or saving them.”

“Uh, Neptune,” Angela corrected.

“I’ve heard it both ways,” Leona said, again dismissively.

“It’s neither,” Dr. Hammer asserted.

Leona checked her watch. “Look, Angela can’t hide your building today. Perhaps she can work through it, and cover you up in time, but not before that boat gets close enough to see it. This is our best option. We can jump the Ambassador to just underneath the boat in secret. Then we’ll make a very short jump, say, a few hundred klicks, and leave them somewhere safe. We’ll find an island of comparable characteristics, and I’m sure they’ll attribute any changes to topography to whatever god they do think would have the power to move them, or tricks of the light. Do they have a sun god?”

Dr. Hammer was shaking her head. “It’s too risky. How can you get right under them without tearing their boat apart?”

Defghij the Robot came out of the building. “Pardon the interruption, Doctor, but I’m receiving a radio message.”

“From the Vellani Ambassador?” Leona questioned.

“No,” he answered.

“Uh. Put it through,” Dr. Hammer ordered.

“Certainly.” Defghij dropped his jaw, and let the sound come out. “Hello? Hello? Can anyone here me? This is Tertius Valerius. I’m on the boat. I can see your building. I know there are time travelers here. Please respond.”

“Tertius, this is Leona Matic of the Castlebourne Sanctuary Ship Vellani Ambassador. We read you, five by five.”

“Oh, Leona, great. I’m sure you’ll understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Let’s talk in person,” he clarified. “Could someone please come pick me up?”

“Depends,” Leona went on. “How much influence do you have over that boat you’re on.”

“Total control,” Tertius replied.

“Tell ‘em to turn around. This island is full of deadly snakes.”

“Give me a minute.” They waited for about four minutes before he got back on the radio. “Okay, they’re turning.”

“Okay,” Leona began, preparing to execute the new, new plan. “If you can...jump into the water without any of the locals seeing you, and tread for about five minutes. Someone will come get you in secret.”

Tertius didn’t reply, but then they heard a splash. Dude was nothing if not reliable.

Mateo dropped his visor, and didn’t bother to wait the full five minutes. He let his HUD connect to the VA in orbit, which was serving as a temporary satellite. This piggy-backed on the signal that Tertius was sending, and told Mateo exactly where his target was. He teleported to the location—a couple meters under the surface—grabbed Tertius by the legs, and transported him out of there.

“Whoo!” Tertius cried, exhilarated. “Again!”

“Go get a towel,” Dr. Hammer ordered her robot before looking back at Tertius. “How did you get here?”

“Well, it should come as no surprise that I’ve made an enemy or two in the future. For the most part, what do I care? I can just erase anyone’s memory of their hatred of me. But occasionally, that doesn’t work. Some people are just resistant. This one guy, I won’t even bother to tell you his name, got on my bad side, as I got on his. I refused to work for him, and erase his enemies’ memories.” Tertius looked away. “Hm. That sounds like a band name. Enemies’ Memories,” he repeated. “Oh, thank you,” he said to Defghij for the towel. “Anyway, just as punishment, he banished me. He said that he was zoicizing me, which is totally not the right word to use in this context, because he was actually trying to send me back to my own time period. But he even screwed that up, and threw me over two hundred years off course! I anticipated this sort of thing happening at one time or another, so I hid this temporal phone in a cave near my home in Carthage.” He took it out of his pocket, and shook some of the water droplets off of it. “Sadly, by now, it’s out of power, but I knew that you built this Center all the way out here, so I talked my way onto a boat, and convinced them to come way, way south. At best, you could get me back to civilized times, when people used toilet paper. At worst, I could maybe charge this thing in an outlet? You use temporal energy, right?”

“How did you have power for a radio, but not the phone?” Romana asked.

“This uses lions,” Tertius explained, dropping the now redundant walkie-talkie on the ground. The temporal phone uses a small temporal battery, and lions are incompatible with it. I don’t know why it ran out when it was off the whole time.”

“It was probably leaking,” Ramses diagnosed.

“That was my thought,” Tertius agreed.

Mateo cleared his throat, cupped his hands together, and leaned in. “Did this man happen to be named...I dunno...Buddha?”

“That was it!” Tertius cried. “You’ve heard of him.”

“Unfortunately.”

Dr. Hammer took a breath. “Well, I’m glad it all worked out. Team Matic, if you could remain here for the day to make sure the boat does indeed head in a different direction—”

“They will,” Tertius insisted. “I literally made them think that it was their choice.”

“Just the same, I would like to take precautions. And in case it ever happens again, I would ask Angela to see if she can indeed eventually make this whole building permanently invisible for us.”

“I would be happy to,” Angela said with a polite nod.

“Uh, under one condition,” Leona said quickly before anyone tried to sign on any dotted line.

“And what might that be?” Dr. Hammer asked.

Leona stepped over, and took Romana by the shoulders, gently nudging her forward until she was front and center. “Help my stepdaughter. She’s fallen off of our pattern, and we don’t know what other consequences that’s having for her, besides the emotional distress.”

Dr. Hammer gave the girl a cursory examination. “Consider it done.”

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The Third Rail: Rock of Ages (Part I)

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Cosette DuFour is much older than she appears. When the temporal dam in her reality broke in 2399, she was on her deathbed. The doctors didn’t think that she would survive the night. A wave of temporal energy spread all over the globe, changing some people into something new, and giving them extraordinary abilities. At the eleventh hour, she was granted new life. Her body and mind were reverted to that of a newborn infant. She believes that this was no coincidence, and that time chose her specifically to absorb this kind of power. She was turning 100 at that very moment, and very well could have been breathing her last breath had the wave not miraculously saved her. It took a few days, but her memories started coming back to her, and she was able to muster up enough brainpower to age herself back up again. She wasn’t 100 years old anymore, but she wasn’t a baby either, who couldn’t string two syllables together. It was time to get back to work.

Cosette served as the longest running Ambassador-at-Large of the Global Council of Earth in what would come to be known as the Third Rail parallel reality. She was well-respected by members of competing religions, nations, and independent sociopolitical factions. That was how she made it to such an esteemed position, because the appointment-election angered the fewest number of people around the world. She retired from the job when she grew too weak and old, but after her physical rejuvenation, there was a rejuvenation in her support. The world had changed, and quickly changed again when reality quite literally collapsed, and the whole planet was shunted off to a new universe. The people overwhelmingly chose her to lead them in these difficult times. That was why she and her second-in-command were picked to represent the interests of the Third Rail population during the Rock Meetings.

Everyone thought that Carlin was in charge here, which is exactly how she liked it. She found it easier to allow others to believe that they had some control over her, and the rest of the room. She regularly employed this as a strategy in her past as a negotiator. In any good negotiation, all parties leave disappointed. But in a great negotiation, they all leave thinking that they came out on top. There was no one better in the world at making this happen than Cosette. When the realities combined during the Reconvergence, and she found out just how many people there were out there, she learned that her expertise extended above them as well. She continued to be the best of the best, and despite the fact that the Third Rail had the second smallest population of all, her people regularly won out over the opponents. They didn’t know it, though. They all thought that they had won, whatever they had negotiated, but the truth was that the Third Rail Earth held so much more power than anyone realized.

Time powers were the best thing to happen to the Third Railers, especially for the Ambassador-at-Large during her second term. Her age-shifting ability came in handy quite a bit, before the Rock, and during. Cosette sometimes needed to be taken seriously, so she turned herself into an elder, but she sometimes wanted to be underestimated, so she showed up as a teenager. Most of the time, she just wanted to feel healthy, which meant being in her mid-twenties. That’s how she is at the moment, back to where she feels more comfortable. She’s also finally back home right now, in her own personal pocket dimension that very few others have access to. It’s been a long time since she’s been able to place her head on her favorite pillow, and she certainly deserves the break.

The interdimensional intercom beeps. “Sir?”

There ain’t no rest for the wicked. Cosette lets out a frustrating sigh. Then she swings her arm over, and smashes the intercom button on the wall. “What?”

“There’s someone here to see you. It’s the representatives from the Parallel.”

“Tell ‘em to bugger off.”

“Um...you just did,” her assistant replies.

“Great, then it looks like we’re done here.” She turns over to her other side. “DuFour out.”

“They say that they have the tools necessary to access your pocket.”

“Let ‘em try,” Cosette offers. “Having the power to do something doesn’t give you the right to do it. It will still be breaking and entering, and I will be within my rights to protect my home by force. You’re in the Third Rail now, kids, and you’ll honor our laws.”

“They say—”

“Goddammit, never mind!” Cosette growls, and hops out of bed. She wraps a robe around herself, then reluctantly walks over, and out the door. “What do you want?”

“Um.” It’s the rep from the Parallel who wasn’t in the Rock Meeting. He is half of a duo who call themselves the Tanadama. They lord over their people like gods. It all sounds very sacrilege. “We were looking for the Ambassador?”

“That’s me,” Cosette explains.

“You’re not a little young?” the other guy questions. She can’t recall his name at the moment since she’s so tired and drowsy, but he was at the meeting instead, and is responsible for a profoundly huge army. 

Cosette grabs her assistant’s desk mirror. They’re right, she looks about eight or nine years old at this point. It’s only now that she realizes how big the robe feels on her. That’s the point, not for the robe, but for the bed. A king-sized mattress feels even more gigantic when she’s under four feet tall. Her body must have reyoungified itself automatically. “That’s a little embarrassing.” She transitions herself to age 24 instead. “There. Now what do you want?”

“You’ll have to come with us,” Ramses Abdulrashid claims. “You’re in the past, the Rock Meetings haven’t happened yet for the population as a whole.”

She looks over at her assistant, who confirms this, mostly with her eyes, but also a nearly imperceptible jiggle of her head. “Well, what are you gonna do about it, send me to the future?”

“That’s illegal on all worlds,” Ramses reminds her.

“Then I suppose you’re going to put me in protective custody?” Cosette asks, using air quotes. “I’ve heard many a dictator use that as an excuse to get rid of their political enemies.”

“I assure you, they are quite comfortable accommodations,” Ramses insists. “It’s important to prevent a paradox. The meeting only lasts a month. Then you’ll go back to your life. Just think of this as a long vacation.”

Cosette laughs. “Why is it I understand time better than you? The diplomatic discussions lasted a month from our perspective. We talked for about eight hours a day. We received regular input from our constituents during that time.”

“We really shouldn’t be talking about this,” Ramses urges.

“I’m trying to tell you that the talks last longer for these people than for us. The Magnolia Tree didn’t broadcast for eight hours every day. He broke it up into smaller episodes, to give people time to digest the information, and give well-thought out feedback. You’re gonna be putting us in isolation for a lot longer than a month.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that?” Ramses questions his General, or whatever the guy’s military rank is.

“I didn’t know,” Zima answers. “I suppose it makes sense. Looking back, it would have been practically impossible to sort through the public responses as quickly as they were coming in for us.”

Ramses shakes his head like there’s a bug in his hair. “It doesn’t matter. It may actually be even more vital now that you hide yourself away. Isolation is the only answer to this, again, since time travel is illegal everywhere.”

Cosette sighs. “I suppose you’re right. There’s a protocol for this. When leadership becomes unavailable, the next in line will step up.”

“We appreciate your cooperation,” Ramses says graciously.

“My primary assistant’s coming with me.” She faces Ayata. “You think your intern can handle the office while we’re both out?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay,” Ramses says. “What about your boss, Carlin McIver.”

Ayata can’t help but snort at the suggestion that Carlin is Cosette’s boss.

Cosette smiles at her, then looks over at the Parallelers. “Mr. McIver is not my superior. I’m his.”

“That’s not how I was to understand it,” Zima argues.

Cosette ages herself up into her eighties, and pats him on the head. “That was quite the point, sonny.” She goes down to her early forties. “Just let me go get dressed, and pack up my house.”

“You can’t take your dimensional generator with you,” Ramses tells her. “It’s a security risk.”

“Oh, I understand,” Cosette begins, “you thought I was asking. Let me say it slowly. I’m packing my house, and taking it with me. I had to spend a month in the garbage template dormitories that the Vellani Ambassador provided us. I’m not going through that again, now that I know it’s coming. I’ll be sleeping in my bed, in my house, and if you don’t want me taking it to your prison world, then I’ll just stay here. We’re not in the Parallel anymore, and you’re not a real god. You can’t tell me what to do.”

Zima holds her arm out to block Ramses from stepping up, even though the latter had no plans to do such a thing. “Could I please come in and inspect it, from a security standpoint? You have experienced security sweeps, haven’t you?”

Cosette closes her eyes, and nods her head at an angle. “I appreciate the need for caution.”

“First,” Ramses jumps in before they can leave. “We still need to know where Carlin McIver is.”

“The way I understand it, he stayed in Stoutverse.”

“I don’t know what that is,” Ramses admits.

“It’s another universe, not Salmoverse, or Fort Underhill.”

“Right, I didn’t get to that point of the story yet,” Harbinger Zima says apologetically. Yeah, that’s his military rank. Harbinger. What an odd choice.

“Are you sure he never returned to the Sixth Key,” Ramses pressed.

“It’s time travel, Mr. Abdulrashid. “No, I’m not sure. He could have been gone for trillions of years, only to finally return five seconds ago. I’m not in charge of his daily routine. He operates mostly independently. I have too many other responsibilities to worry about his whereabouts.”

“We don’t have to find him,” Ramses explains. “We just need to make sure that he doesn’t create a paradox. If he’s gone, it should be fine.”

“Great,” Cosette says before leading Harbinger Zima into her pocket.

“How expansive is this?” Zima asks once they’re inside.

“The interior is roughly 300 square meters. The garden is about 150. It uses artificial grass, and doesn’t have any real trees. If you’d like, I can turn off the holographic projections, so you can see it all at once after you sweep the rooms.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” he decides. He begins to go through all the rooms, looking in closets, and under beds. He’s very thorough with it, making sure there isn’t any eavesdropping equipment, or people hiding in dark corners. She follows him the whole way, making sure that he doesn’t plant his own devices, or do anything with her belongings. Finally, at the end, he asks her to take him to the back. Once they’re in the simulated outdoors, he stares at the beautiful false environment, including the fake sky above.

“It’s overcast. Is it overcast outside in this area of your Earth?”

“It’s not based on real world conditions,” she responds. “I just like the gray. I find it to be a calming presence after a long day. It feels like the clouds are protecting me, even though of course, they’re not really there at all.

He nods, and continues to enjoy the view. “May I ask, ma’am, how old are you? I only ask because you have the ability to shift your apparent age. Verters are a rare breed where I come. Most applications for age-shifting are rejected due to the sheer number of requests. I’m not sure why they don’t adapt the process to mass-producible technology.”

“I had to go on a diplomatic mission in the 2430s without an FTL ship. They put me in stasis for a couple of years, so I reckon I’m 147.”

He nods. “Me too. How did I know that? It’s like I could sense a kinship?”

“I thought you people were all thousands of years old.”

“We keep making babies. My dad chose to make a new clone 147 years ago.”

“A clone? Are you just a younger version of him?”

“I am no less a son—and an independent person—than you are a daughter to your own parents. I don’t share his memories. I think he’s just a narcissist who likes the way he looks too much.”

Cosette giggles, hopeful that she isn’t being rude and inappropriate. “Are you satisfied with the security of this home? Can I pack it up?”

He stared at her for a moment. “I didn’t notice you, during the Rock. You were just a kid, and you never spoke.”

“That was by design.”

“I must say, I prefer you like this.”

“Okay.” That was a weird thing to say.

“Is it hard?”

“Is what hard?”

“To find companionship? You can’t relate to anybody? I mean, no one else is as old as you are. I don’t mean to say that you’re old. I mean, by a lot of people’s standards where I’m from, you’re super young. Not to say that you’re too young. But, I mean, you were a teenager when we met. Which makes it a little weird. I’m sorry I’m rambling, I’m just a little nervous around you.”

“What’s your first name?”

“Nuadu.”

“Nuadu,” she echoes. “I was married for seventy years. They died of age-related diseases. I haven’t even thought about dating since then, even once I gained the ability to shift my age. I’ve been too busy working.”

“I see.” He nods. He’s worried that he’s crossed the line.

“I suppose I can’t rule it out.” Cosette turns around, and places a hand upon his shoulder for a few seconds. “Come on. Your god-leader must be waiting. Let’s go to prison!”

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