Extremus: Year 108

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Tinaya and Silveon are sitting in their living room. The latter has the day off from school while the former has a day off from work. Arqut was here earlier, and will be back later, but he had to leave for a while to meet with the Bridger Section Superintendent. They started doing this a few years ago, but they don’t reveal what their discussions are about. His family has learned to not ask questions. Well, they didn’t really need to learn that. They each have their own secrets.

“This is actually the best time for me. It’s one of the things that works in my favor. I wouldn’t be—” He’s cut off.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Thistle says. “A visitor approaches.”

“Open the door,” Tinaya says.

Soon after it opens, a woman appears from around the corner. “Sorry to bother you, Family Leithe.”

“Hey, Tondy,” Silveon says. He hasn’t finished his education yet, but he apparently already knows some of the people he’ll be working with once he earns his license.

“Hey, Silveon,” she replies. “The Captain would like to speak with you.”

“Him, and not me?” Tinaya presses.

“I’m afraid he didn’t say anything about it. What do you think? What would he have intended? I can’t lose this job. My parents will never speak to me again.”

“It’s okay, Tondalaya,” Tinaya insists. “I’ve known Oceanus for years. If he doesn’t want me there, I’ll leave, and he won’t hold it against you. He won’t even make any connection between you and me. Where is he?”

“His office. No teleportation.”

Each Captain has run their ship differently. Halan never stayed in one place too long, and rarely stepped foot on the bridge. He might not have even been aware that he had an office. Kaiora conducted most of her work in her ready room. Tamm grew up watching old scifi media, like Star Trek and Galaxy Quest, where a lot of the action took place on the bridge, so that’s where he felt most comfortable. Lataran operated out of a command center that was particularly close to the entrance to the Bridger Section. She seemingly stayed in direct contact with them during her tenure, but Tinaya was on Verdemus for most of the time, so she wasn’t really around for that. Oceanus likes his office. It’s away from everything, and he considers it to be highly secure. There is no teleportation in or out, and he’s completely cut off from system-wide superintelligence, which is why he couldn’t just tell Thistle to summon Silveon for him.

The three of them make their way down the corridors, and up to Captain Jennings’ office. “Be with you in a moment,” he says, busy typing on his computer without even looking up.  A few minutes later, he gets to a stopping point. “Admiral, I didn’t expect you.”

“Sorry, sir. It was my fault,” Tondalya begins to say.

“I insisted on coming,” Tinaya claims. “This is highly irregular.”

“Your son is an adult,” Oceanus says. “I can speak with whomever I must.”

“Based on what happened with Soto Tamm,” Tinaya begins, “I wouldn’t say that’s true.”

Oceanus nods. “Quite.” He stands, and starts to walk around his desk. “Thank you, Miss Sugar. Please take a break.”

“Much appreciated, sir.” Tondalaya curtsies and exits.

Oceanus smiles as he watches her leave. “Her teacher retired before you matriculated, Mister Grieves. She was...old fashioned. I’m sure you didn’t learn to bow.”

“We learn a shoulder bow,” Silveon answers. He demonstrates it by closing his eyes gently, tilting his head, and lowering it down ever so slightly; only enough for his shoulders to make a small dip.”

“I suppose I could be okay with that. I don’t know how to get her to stop and just nod to me plainly.”

“I see,” is all that Silveon says.

“Tondalaya is who I wanted to speak with you about, actually,” Oceanus goes on.

“Sir?”

“She’s new...new for me, anyway. As you’re obviously aware, stewards don’t have shift lengths. You work as long as you want to, and as well as your contribution points hold after you decide to leave. She’s good at her job. She’s a bit frazzled and flustered, but she knows her shit. I can’t just let her go.”

“What is this about, Oceanus?” Tinaya asks, stepping in. “Did Silveon ask you to fire her, or something?”

“Oh, of course he would never ask me that, would you, Silveon?” Oceanus casually leans against the edge of his desk. “No, I just wanted to get ahead of this. By the time you’re seasoned enough to become an executive steward, my shift will have ended, and your only hope for an executive position of any kind—let alone her job—will lie with my successor, or perhaps even their successor.”

“Sir, I wasn’t expecting any sort of special treatment.” Silveon looks over at his mother. “That my mom is an Admiral, or that she knows you, has no bearing on my pursuit of stewardship. I’m not even sure that I would want an executive assignment.”

Oceanus chuckles. “Everyone says that. They wanna sound humble. But everyone wants an executive assignment.” He reaches over to a book on his desk that’s sitting on a display stand. He flips it open. They catch glimpses of past captains before he finds the right page. On it is what they call his main Star Photo. The captain gets photographed a number of times throughout their shift, with various important figures. This has included standing with their Admiral, with the council or the First and Second Chairs, and some other leaders. Tinaya had one with her family, though she’s unique for that since she was the only captain with a family of her own. The main photo is always with the lieutenants, since they’re the primo team. Oceanus’ First and Second L-Ts aren’t the only people in this photo, however. Tondalaya is there as well, standing in the corner, almost not moving at all. If not for her occasional blinks, they would think it was a still photo of her inserted into the animation, but for some reason, not animated as well. The three men aren’t moving that much either, but trying to look regal and sophisticated, with puffed out chests, and rising chins. “The Captain’s Steward is always in the Star Photo.”

That is a lie, and an easily disproven one too. Soto Tamm is the first captain to employ an ever-present steward. She was just as mousey and invisible as Tondalaya appears in this anipicture, but she was always there, somewhere nearby. He wanted her to be available at all times, but not close enough to even look like they knew each other. Looking back, what he turned out to be shouldn’t have been surprising. He was a self-centered dick. His predecessors didn’t use stewards at all. Halan didn’t even allow one to be assigned to him, preferring to get his own hands dirty. Olindse and Kaiora basically always had their stewards work from home, which really meant, I don’t need you. Enjoy your life. Lataran and Tinaya typically asked their stewards to assist their respective Lieutenants’ Stewards on whatever projects needed to be completed on that side of things. So the truth is, Oceanus is the only one using his for the job’s intended purpose, both utilizing her skills, and respecting her boundaries, while also respecting her as a person. Tinaya could clarify all this, but she zips her mouth shut.

“Be that as it may,” Silveon replies, “I’ll be happy wherever they place me, or with whoever they place me with. There are all kinds of stewards on Extremus. Some of them are attached to people, while others are tied to a particular area, or even one room. It’s actually the only role that crosses the imaginary crew-civilian boundary. It’s just one big department. That part is what some don’t truly understand. A lot of people look down on the job, because it always feels like something that anyone can do. And when you look at only one steward in a vacuum, sure, it might seem like that, but the truth is that that person did not go to school to learn how to be that specific type of steward.

The department is fluid, with workers shifting from one assignment to another, sometimes by the week. You have to know how to be an engineering steward as well as a Lieutenant’s Steward, or even a Captain’s Steward. That’s obviously when you’re at the show, and the most coveted type of all, but you can’t rely on that during your education. Stewards know the entire ship. If you have a relatively basic question about how the material reclamation system works, try asking a mess hall steward. Unless it’s overly complicated, and something only a reclamation maintenance worker would know, they’ll probably have an answer for you.

“I just wanted to mitigate your expectations,” Oceanus explains. “When I found out that you were studying stewardship, I thought maybe it had something to do with me, and I wanted to make sure you understood the timeline. You’re just too young.”

“If my son wants to work directly for a captain, you could help with that. Pick a good captain to succeed you.”

Oceanus smiles widely. “That was always the plan. There are too many captains with criminal records, I’ve always said that.”

“Is that all?” Tinaya asks. “My husband will be back from his meeting soon, and we were wanting to play a game of racquetball together.”

“All three of you? Playing cut-throat.”

“We don’t call it that.”

“Well, I’ll let you go soon, but I do wanna ask, Silveon, what made you decide to go into stewardship? It’s about the furthest you could be from your mom’s path, and your father’s, for that matter. Bit of a rebel?”

“Just my personality, sir. I like to move around.” What he likes is to be a fly on the wall. The reality is that this is his best way forward if he wants to protect his mission. He and Waldemar are growing apart, and it would not be politically prudent for Waldemar to select Silveon as one of his lieutenants, or any other high-up position. It wouldn’t garner extra support, and it wouldn’t give him access to anything special. Stewards are generally invisible. They’re there to help if you need something, but when you don’t, you don’t pay them any attention. They see everything, and they talk to each other. That is the benefit of having such a large department. They can meet up and swap stories without shirking their duties, because one of the others can jump in to cover them at a moment’s notice.

Managing Stewards are just as gossipy as the rest. They’re not really bosses, but more like human schedulers. Getting the promotion doesn’t earn them significantly more contribution points, and doesn’t gain them clout. So they’re still just stewards themselves, and are willing to move things around when secrets need to be shared. Even if Silveon doesn’t ever make it all the way up to an executive assignment, he’ll be able to track Waldemar’s movements and decisions. Oceanus has nothing to do with it, and he never did. That’s what they were discussing when Tondalaya showed up. The timeline is going well. Silveon is getting his licensure right now, and at the right age to be in a good spot when Waldemar rises to power.

“Well.” Oceanus steps back over to the other side of his desk. “I won’t keep you two any longer. Enjoy your day off together.”

“Thank you, sir,” Silveon says. He leaves the room.

Tinaya decides to hang back for just one moment. “Oshie?” she asks. She doesn’t call him this often, but she’s the only one who does, other than his mother.

“Yes, Tiny?”

“You’re doing a fine job. My son would be honored to be your steward, if the timing worked out. Tondalaya seems very happy.”

“Thank you for saying that.”

She looks over her shoulder, but changes her mind once more. She steps over and picks up the Star Book. She comes around the desk and sets it down in front of him. “Did you know it could do this?” She places her index fingers on the top of the photo, and her thumbs underneath, farther apart from each other. After holding for a few seconds, she turns her index fingers outwards, and her thumbs closer together. The image shifts. It looks about the same as before, except Tondalaya is now the one in the foreground, while the men are relegated to the background in her place.

He smiles up at her. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“All anipictures can do it.”

“Ha. Could you erase Tamm from his own Star?”

Tinaya flips over to Soto’s Star Photo. She places her three middle fingers on Soto’s image, holding for a few seconds again. She then swipes all the way over to the left, carrying him with her. When she crosses past the border, he never returns. Soto Tamm is gone from his own picture.

“Interesting,” Oceanus responds, seemingly deep in thought. “Very interesting.”

“What do you have planned?” She asks him.

“You’ll see. One day.”

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Microstory 2510: Foundation Director

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Yeah, I think I should take a little bit of credit. I didn’t come up with the idea of the Foundation, but I definitely pointed Landis in the right direction. I suppose that’s why they call me The Director now. I was the first person he told when it happened. He actually gave me the whole story, and I’ve been sworn to secrecy for a lot of it. So let me start at the beginning of this journey. We were goofing off in our apartment, as we did all the time. He moved in after his girlfriend dumped him, and neither of us could afford something big or fancy. I slept on the pullout couch that didn’t pull out, because it was totally broken. Anyway, he was always so irresponsible, and on this day, he had left, like, a big knife on the counter, hanging over the sink. I tripped, instinctually tried to reach out for something to keep from falling, and ended up grabbing that knife on the wrong end. Had it been sitting right on the counter, I think I would have been okay, but the fact that it was hanging over the edge meant that I gripped it, so the blade dug deep into my palm. Well, he was freaking out, hyperventilating, and wishing that it would heal. Of course, you know how this story ends. It worked! I was healed. I won’t go into the gory details, but we spent the rest of the day testing it out, and pushing the boundaries. We made some mistakes. Like, we didn’t know right away that it was his breath where the magic was coming from. But as you can see, I’m okay now. We have all the answers. As I said, I didn’t come up with the idea of making this whole organization, but I did say that he could make money. I knew there would be people who would pay their entire life savings for a cure, and for some people in this world, that meant a lot of money. I’m the one who did the research, and found his first real guinea pig, who ended up paying a buttload of cash for it. That’s how Landis and I were able to buy the hotel, and get this whole thing officially started. That’s right, I’m part owner of the hotel. I don’t really do anything to keep it running, so my title is a bit of a misnomer. We hired a lot of great people to do all the work for us, but the staff asks me for approval to make changes and stuff, because Landis obviously doesn’t have time for any of that. I’m not this big, smart businessman, but I do speak for Landis in this regard. You might never have heard of me, and it might not be much, but that’s how I contribute to the cause.

Microstory 2509: Former Girlfriend

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Landis wasn’t always the great and noble guy you’ve heard of. I’m not surprised that he became what he is today, but I do wish that it was happening while we were dating. He wasn’t a bad guy, but he really struggled with motivation. He didn’t want to work very hard at anything. He didn’t want things handed to him, but he didn’t want to have to think too hard either, and figure the solutions out for himself. He wanted to know how to do something, and understand why he should be doing it. He didn’t have a great job, bu he was content with it, because he gave an unremarkable interview, yet they gave it to him. He didn’t care about being promoted, or even making more money. His budget was always based on the bare minimum, and he didn’t care about anything else. He didn’t want to improve, or have a better life. This sounds really selfish of me, but it might have been nice had he treated me to dinner every once in a while. I felt like I was the only one making an effort in the relationship. I had to leave him, because it was so one-sided, and when I finally did, he didn’t seem to care. This goes to show how dispassionate he was. I wanted him to want something, even if it wasn’t me. I couldn’t tell you how he got his powers, because I wasn’t around for that, but I’m happy for him. I am not bitter, and I’ve not tried to get back together. He’s doing his thing, and I’m doing mine. I feel lucky that the path we walked took us to where we are. Even if I were miserable, at least he’s a superhero now, and that’s a beautiful thing. People ask if I regret not sticking by him but if I had, the Foundation might not exist. It’s all so mysterious, so we don’t know how he ended up with the abilities, but he has told us that we received them. He wasn’t born with them, so he would not have randomly developed them in an alternate reality. He was reportedly simply at the right place at the right time. If we had still been living together, he would have been in a completely different place at that particular time. We would have gone on with our lives none the wiser, still not happy, and none of you would be cured. I guess I should say...you’re welcome.

Microstory 2508: Lie Taster

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I can taste your lies, and numb your reality. Now. What does that mean? Well, the first one is obvious, but you might be surprised to learn that lies taste sweet. They actually taste really good. You might think it should be the opposite, but what you have to understand is that my ability was something that all humans possess, just to a lesser degree. We can all tell when someone’s lying, depending on how good they are at being deceptive, and how good we are at picking it up. Think about it, if someone tells a lie and it tastes bad, it’s going to be quite obvious to you, and you’re just going to reject it. Lies are meant to make you happy with something that isn’t correct, so they tasted good to me, so they would feel good. Of course, I wasn’t doing my job if I just accepted the taste, and didn’t do anything about it. It wasn’t hard either, to ignore that part, and just use it as a tool to get to the root of our subject’s issues. Only when they were honest with me could I be sure they were being honest with themselves, and only at that point could I help them not have to lie anymore. If you genuinely enjoy your job, for instance, you won’t have to lie when your boss asks if you’re happy doing it. My responsibility was to get the taste of these lies out of my head, which didn’t involve anything beyond just talking with them in a therapeutic setting. I’m the only one who almost never used my active Vulnerability gift. There just wasn’t much reason to. The best use cases were when someone was having a panic attack, and I happened to be in the room. By numbing them to their struggles, they could gain some much-needed perspective, and maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much when I brought them back to reality. It wasn’t always prudent to do this, though. I mean, they really had to be going through it at the time, and acting violent, or threatening to harm themselves or others. It was a last resort that thankfully did not come up most of the time. There is one time that I wish I had used it, and it was our last client. He could have done with a hell of a lot less emotion on that night, and we would not have ever been in danger from him. Or not. He might have used that against us as well, fueling his anger, and making him even more vindictive. There’s no way to know, but I think it all worked out, because the world has Landis now. I am enjoying being able to walk into a restaurant, and taste food, knowing that what I taste is real, and not coming from a lie coming out of someone else’s mouth.

Microstory 2507: Pain Feeler

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I can feel your pain, and kindle your ecstasy. Isn’t that such an interesting way to put it? You know, these gifts we had; they didn’t come with instruction manuals. We had to figure out how they worked, and develop ways to explain them. Other people’s gifts might be a little vague and profound, but mine was simple. If you were in physical and/or emotional pain, I could feel that. Fortunately, I could choose not to feel it. Not everyone on the team could exercise so much control, and switch it off when they didn’t want it. I don’t know if I could have lived with myself if I couldn’t so I’m grateful for that, and I’m sure Landis is too. Basically, what I did was make people feel better. It was only a temporary solution, and a very complicated and delicate process to navigate. Sure, I could have run around the world alone, essentially as a walking-talking recreational drug, but that’s not going to help anyone in the long-term. And honestly, if they wanted to feel better in the way that I could help them, they could just do it themselves. What I did was only one step of the program. When it was the right time, I eased their suffering, so they could think clearly, and figure out how they were going to improve their lives. It wouldn’t work if I did it too early, because then they would have kind of forgotten what was so upsetting to them in the first place. They would basically treat my gift as the only useful solution, and not worry about what would happen when it wore off. I couldn’t do it too late either, or they would get frustrated that they did all this work, and I could have just solved their problems right away. I had to find a balance, which was the hardest part of the job. These days, I’m pretty happy. I loved what I used to do, and I think about it sometimes, but it’s kind of nice to just have a regular job, and live a regular life. Things were so complex, and I was always having to think about how I was going to kindle someone’s ecstasy. Now I move boxes from a truck to a shelf, or a shelf to a truck. There’s an answer for everything, and you know when you’ve done it wrong. And the burden of responsibility was a weight on my shoulders that I didn’t know I was carrying until it was gone. Basically, all I’m trying to say is that I’m glad that it happened, and I’m happy with what I have now. I don’t think I could say the same if my life were just one or the other. Landis is going to cure everyone one day, and while it won’t necessarily alleviate pain, I know that it will help, and it’s more than I could have ever done on my own.

Microstory 2506: Desire Hearer

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I can hear your desires, and sing your fears. I am not like the others. Their passive gifts are all negative, while their active gifts are positive. I can’t tell you why I’m the opposite, but truthfully, it has always made me feel a little left out of the group. To be clear, they never made me feel like that; it was just the nature of my condition. It’s kind of hard to explain what I could do. Landis might have better wording, though I think he actively ignores this side of him. It’s not that I could hear your thoughts. It’s not even that I could see the images in your mind. It’s more like I could hear the music of your soul, if that makes any sense. When I would listen to people’s aura—for lack of a better term—I could hear where it was pointing, be it another person, or an object, or even the future. The tone of their aura music was key to understanding and interpreting their desires. I would say that mine was the toughest job, because they had to be open with me to clarify exactly what they wanted out of their life. It was just so...abstract and intangible a lot of the time. Sure, if they were staring at the person they were secretly in love with, their desire song for them would be obvious. And to be fair, anyone who is just naturally good at reading others could probably see it all over their face without any special gift. The key was getting them to come out of their shells, and be honest about what they wanted. It felt like cheating, just straight up asking them to vocalize their feelings. No one else in the group had to do that. They were just able to sense what they were meant to sense. That’s kind of why I had to step up as the leader; not because I was particularly suited for it, but because I had to drive the progress for us to get anywhere with people. The client’s own goals were paramount in helping them. It didn’t matter how they felt, or whether they were lying. If they didn’t have an objective, what were we gonna do for them? How were their lives gonna turn out? I didn’t always have to use my active Vulnerability gift, but there were many times when it was necessary. They sometimes even asked for it. To get what they wanted, and get past what was holding them back, it was necessary for them to face their fears. It was easier for them to do that if they were confronted with them directly using the fear songs, rather than having to conjure them up in their own mindbrains. It usually went all right. The client and I were both always in control, and I could clear the sounds if they became too much to bear. Obviously, it went wrong one terrible time, and that’s why we’re here, but I can’t help but think that all of that happened for a reason, because now we have Landis. I do miss having the gifts, but I’m glad that someone else has them, even if he never uses them. At least they’re not gone forever. And the sweet song of life on Earth continues.

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 6, 2519

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The honeymoon was going well. After horsing around in Mud World: World of Mud for a little while, Mateo, Leona, and Olimpia spent the night in the Sovereign Suite of the Palacium Hotel, which was pretty much the most extravagant, opulent place to stay on the planet. Hrockas actually booked it for them for more than a year, so they could sleep across midnight central, and not worry about anyone having used it during their interim year. It was too much, and completely unnecessary, but he insisted. While it was luxurious and beautiful, people really didn’t need such things these days. They mostly came for the fun and adventure, and to do things that they could not do anywhere else. The majority of the residential dwellings were functional and unremarkable, because it wasn’t a big draw for anyone, and there were plenty of nice places to live on other planets.

They were currently hanging out in State of the Art, standing on the shoulder of one of the gargantuan statues that towered over the skyline. Visitors couldn’t typically climb this high up, but teleporters didn’t share such limitations. They were trying to figure out what they were going to do next. The others on the team were right. They needed this, and if they would deign to admit it to themselves, they deserved it too.

“Adrenadome?” Olimpia suggested. They were each looking through the catalog, and tossing out ideas.

“I don’t want to shift substrates,” Leona said. “Nothing life-threatning.”

Olimpia clicked her teeth as she began to swipe away the options she had bookmarked one by one.

“We should just go to Polar Tropica,” Mateo said for the umpteenth time.

“That’s so basic,” Olimpia contended. “Are we basic?”

“Well, I suggested we try the Outer System space battle simulations, but no one wanted anything violent,” Mateo reminded her.

“Still don’t,” Leona confirmed. “Whoa,” she added, looking down at her forearm output.

“What? Something juicy?” Olimpia asked, trying to look over at her readout.

Leona read the message out loud, “you have been browsing the catalog for a while now. Still having trouble deciding? Tap here for a random suggestion, which will come from your preference algorithm. If you linked your profile with nearby friends, this suggestion will be sourced from their interest surveys as well.”

“Tap on that thang!” Mateo said.

Leona shrugged and tapped on the button. A new message popped up that read, temporal signatures detected. Rerouting. Instead of just producing the answer, they were automatically teleported elsewhere.

They found themselves standing next to a wooden wall. It wasn’t cleanly cut, but looked more like bark. The air was foggy and unbreathable. A heavy rain was falling upon them. They activated their EmergentSuits, and continued to look around. “Wow. That could have killed us,” Olimpia said.

“Must be an experimental feature,” Leona mused. “Jesimula Utkin suggested it at a meeting once. Hrockas wasn’t so sure, because he didn’t know how to distinguish time travelers from regular people. I guess they think they figured it out.”

“Not really,” Mateo contended. “The air is toxic. Unless it also knew that we had suits on, I guess.”

“It’s only toxic for us,” Leona agreed. She ran her hand over the wood wall. She reached over to her arm screen, and flicked the data over to her heads up display, which was an easier way to read when her helmet was on. “Derudome. It houses The World Tree, along with thousands of others, but this one is set to reach the top of the dome, and be three kilometers in diameter.”

“So, it’s not a wall,” Mateo stated the obvious.

“No. This isn’t even in the catalog yet,” Leona went on. “I can only see the prospectus because we’re already in the dome, and the satnav found an otherwise hidden link, but it isn’t open to visitors.”

“First!” Mateo shouted playfully.

“Hey, Thistle,” Leona began. “Erase the fog and rain through multispectral imaging. Show us the tree alone.”

The image on their HUDs changed. The fog still had them enveloped, and they could still hear the pitter-patter of rainwater on their suits, but they could now see what the tree would look like on a clear day. It was a magnificent sight to behold. People were really going to love it. Leona was in just as much awe of it, but was also running calculations through her head. How could such a thing be possible? How did it grow so fast? Did Hrockas use time tech? Or had he been working on this longer than she realized? No, even if it was the absolute first dome he started working on, the tree could not be at full height in this short amount of time. And if time tech were involved, he likely would have conscripted Ramses to make it happen.

Leona refocused her vision to the HUD text. “There’s more. It has a planned release date of...” She trailed off.

“When?” Mateo prompted.

“Year 2900,” she said.

“Whew, that’s the long-game,” Olimpia pointed out.

“Wait. Why wait?” Leona questioned. “Thistle, what are the current dimensions?”

“Nearly eight kilometers tall, with a diameter of two-point-four-two kilometers.”

“Yeah, it’s just not ready yet,” Leona determined. “The math is tight, but the rate of growth doesn’t break the laws of physics in a highly controlled environment such as this one.”

Someone else wearing an environmental suit walked up from a couple of meters away, letting themselves appear in the honeymooners’ sightlines without speaking or jumpscaring them first. Whoever it was, their visor was opaque. They held one hand towards Olimpia while the other hand was underneath their own chin. Both palms were face up. They drew both hands together until one was on top of the other, then turned them so both palms were face down. They then extended their hands back to the original positions, except with the hands switched. This was the universal sign for open up radio communications on a hailing frequency.

Leona did as she was asked. “Hello?”

“Sorry, my visor is broken,” Hrockas’ voice came through. “I refuse to wear an IMS on this planet on principle as the whole premise is that it’s infinitely survivable. I didn’t realize the helmet didn’t work right until it was already on.”

“How did you get here so fast?” Mateo asked him.

“I have a teleporter belt,” Hrockas replied. “Ramses built one for me. It needs constant charging, but it makes my daily life easier. Is he here?”

“Just the three of us,” Olimpia promised.

“Good. Not that I wouldn’t want him here. Well, I don’t plan on any of you being here. It’s just that I was worried about my lifesign sensors, but it appears they captured all visitors. You really aren’t meant to be here, though.”

“The auto random selector dispatched us here,” Leona explained.

“Oooooooohh, I forgot about that. It should not have been activated. I’ll have a talk with Jesi’s friend about it. I put the project on hold indefinitely.”

“Fair enough,” Mateo said. “We’re sorry to have imposed.”

“No, it’s okay, you three are fine,” Hrockas insisted. “I just need to include it when we update the security protocols.” He looked up at the tree. He likely couldn’t see it in all its glory, however, as the fog would be blocking most of the view. “Wady’all think?”

“It’s gorgeous,” Leona said. “We were looking for a place to spend some of our honeymoon. This place checks a lot of boxes. I like ecologies. Mateo likes water. Olimpia likes dangerous or toxic environments.”

Hrockas chuckled. “The air is saturated with carbon dioxide. Makes them grow faster.”

“So there are other trees here?” Olimpia pressed.

“Oh, yeah, it’ll be a whole forest when it’s done,” Hrockas said as he turned at the waist to indicate the area in general. “Land for giants, but not with giants. I’ll leave that to Gulliver’s World.”

“Thanks for letting us see it,” Leona said graciously. “I’m sure we’ll be back in about four hundred days, when it’s finally open to the public.”

Hrockas chuckled again. “You can stay as long as you want. The fog makes it hard to see, but hey, if you’re into that, as well as danger, you could always try Foggy Forest.”

“Thanks. After my time in Bloodbourne,” Mateo said, “I’ve decided to stay away from the intentionally scary or unsettling ones.”

“I understand. Have a good rest of your honeymoon.” Hrockas tried to tug on a pull actuator, and flip a switch on his shoulder. “Oh, shit. My teleporter’s drained again.”

“Here.” Mateo approached. “Let me take you to Treasure Hunting Dome, so Ramses can fix it for you. It shouldn’t drain that fast.”

“No, I’ve been using it all day. I really just need to be careful with it.”

“Well, I’ll make him give you a second one to use during charge cycles, or hell, a third.” Mateo took hold of Hrockas and took them both away. Leona and Olimpia followed.

They were standing in the antechamber to Ramses’ new lab, which he built when he was stuck in the past for a year. After they went through decontamination, the three EmergentSuit wearers receded their nanites, and stepped into the lab. While Olimpia was helping Hrockas remove his bulky suit, Mateo approached Ramses. Something caught his eye, though. He looked over at a gestational pod, which Romana was floating inside of. He fumed. “What happened to my daughter?”

“She’s fine,” Ramses said. “She’s taking a nap. That’s not your daughter. It’s a new substrate for her.”

“Why would she need a new substrate?” Mateo questioned.

“The retroverters,” Ramses began to explain. “They’re not proverters too. Romana asked me to give her an upgrade instead of waiting for time to age her back up.”

“We can find her a proverter somewhere else,” Mateo reasoned.

“That’s not what she wants. You should talk to her.”

“Were you ever gonna tell me?”

“Yeah, when you got back. Why are you back so early?”

“It was just a quick detour in between adventures. Now I worry I should stay, or you’ll do something drastic.”

“Mateo. We were going to tell you. We just wanted you to relax first. Don’t make this into a thing.”

“Well, you’ve obviously been working on it for a long time now. She only looks as old as the real Romana does right now.”

“That is on an accelerated timescale,” Ramses clarified.

“I thought that wasn’t safe or stable.”

“I mean, the clone is in a time bubble. Or it usually is, while I’m not here. It’s developing at a normal rate, but from our perspective, it’s sped up. I shut off the temporal field this morning so I could run diagnostics, and make any adjustments necessary...which there aren’t any.”

This made Mateo even more frustrated. “Why can’t you just do that for Romana herself, keeping her in her original body?”

Ramses shook his head. “You’re not as dumb as you pretend to be, so stop asking stupid questions. It wouldn’t work for a conscious individual. She would go insane, trapped in the pod for ten plus years. God!”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Mediator Leona said, stepping in. “Ramses, don’t be mean. Not everyone is as smart as you, and I know you get annoyed, but you need to keep control of how you speak to others. What might seem like a dumb question to you could sound perfectly reasonable to anyone else.” She too was a genius, but a part of her wasn’t. She recalled a timeline where she majored in Film Studies in college. This gave her a rare ability to straddle both worlds, and be empathetic to all. “Mateo, Romana is an adult, and this decision was inevitable. Look around. Nobody on this planet is a regular mortal being. Some people refused transhumanistic upgrades once they became available, and you know what happened to them? They died. Because that’s literally what they wanted. Their race has all but died out at this point, because fewer in each generation choose to stay as they were when they were born.”

“I know,” Mateo responded. “Intellectually, I know. I just can’t help but see her as my little girl. I never got to raise her. I think I would give her all the room in the universe if I watched her grow up, making small decisions on her own at first, before working her way up to the life-changing ones.”

“Yeah, and that wasn’t fair for you, but at the same time, it’s not fair of you to expect her to let you treat her as a child.”

Mateo said. “I know that too.”

“This wasn’t a rash decision,” little Romana said from the doorway. “I always wanted to be like you. My whole life, I’ve wanted to be like you. I grew up with stories. This...Ashvin thing was just the catalyst that pushed me to finally go through with it. I want this.”

“It’ll be ready in a couple days,” Ramses said.

“Did you hear that, dad? Plenty of time to go back to your honeymoon. I promise, when you return, I’ll still look like a child. I won’t transfer without you present.”

Mateo nodded. “Okay.”

When Mateo showed up the next day, still in the middle of the honeymoon, Romana no longer looked like a kid. She didn’t look like herself at all.

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Extremus: Year 107

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Tinaya decided to not tell Arqut, Silveon, or Audrey about the post-death asteroid that could be waiting for them once they finally leave the ship at the end of their first life. It isn’t something they need to be worried about for now. They still don’t talk to Audrey a whole lot, because it’s riskier than ever, but not impossible. Waldemar isn’t the least bit suspicious, and he’s not all that possessive. He sees Audrey and his friends as props. He really doesn’t care what these props do when they’re not busy making him look like a normal, well-adjusted person fit for leadership. While he ended up announcing his engagement instead of declaring his intentions to restore the civilian Chair system, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t plan on doing that eventually. He holds secret meetings all the time, with all sorts of people, some of whom have obvious political connections on this ship, others who seem unremarkable and inconsequential.

They don’t have time to worry about that today, and won’t for a good long while. Everyone else has become quite preoccupied with the upcoming event.  It’s the halfway mark. The thing to remember about this mission is that the outcome is, by definition, unknown. No one has ventured out to space this far, and they have definitely not gone as far as Extremus eventually will. The mystery is part of the experience, which they all hope their descendants will appreciate, and not resent them for it. The idea of it taking 216 years has always been more of an estimate than anything. There is no clear boundary forming the edge of the galaxy. The galactic halo alone makes it undefined, and with there being plenty of stars in the intergalactic voids anyway, there really is no standard scope of the Milky Way. Someone—no one seems to remember who—supposedly chose the duration to be 216 years simply because they liked the number. It’s impossible to verify that since the figure predates any serious discussion their ancestors made regarding the Extremus mission itself. It wasn’t like some fabled “founder” stood before the cameras, and unveiled a fully baked idea to travel across the galaxy. People started murmuring about it first, with different concepts being bounced around until landing on this one. It was a years-long process.

So basically, July 17, 2378 is only halfway between their starting date and their ending date because they had to make some sort of plan, even if it was always going to be subject to change. It definitely will change, because statistically speaking, there is almost no way that their 215th anniversary rolls around, and they happen to find a viable planet on that very day. Which is okay, because there is also no way that they let this nebulousness stop them from celebrating. Not even the Bridger section knows what happens at the end of the target deadline. It’s written into the charter that no one possesses knowledge about the future that far in advance. They could have hypothetically asked a seer to warn them of how things would turn out, and craft their plans meticulously to account for every eventuality, but that would have gone against the spirit of the endeavor. They don’t want to know what they’ll find, because then what’s the point of looking for it?

They’re arguing. Well, Tinaya isn’t arguing. The council members are arguing with each other while she, Lataran, and Oceanus sit in silence. Their first issue? The theme. What will the theme of the party be? Well, hopefully nothing, because that’s a little childish. Plus, there is no single area on this ship where every passenger and crewmember can congregate. The Attic Forest might be big enough, but there are hills, trees, and other vegetation blocking views, so it’s not a great place if you want to have some kind of presentation or performance. Plus, Tinaya really doesn’t want all those people in her forest all at once, trashing the place. There will be multiple gatherings, some happening at the same time, some happening on different dates. The exact date of July 17 is important, but they’ll be doing things in the weeks leading up to it, and probably after it too. The council will decide on some of them, but passengers can party whenever they want, for pretty much any reason, so other events will be unaffiliated.

Oceanus has clearly grown weary of all this back and forth, but the expression on his face isn’t enough to clarify what’s going on in his head. Not even when he blurts out; “a committee!”

“What?” Councilman Linwood questions.

“Why are you handling this?” Oceanus questions. “You’re the council for the ship, made up of crew and civilian policymakers. You have important business to attend to. Why are you wasting your time on a party?” Hm. It’s not just about the pointlessness of this particular debate.

There is silence for a moment. “You may leave if you wish, Captain,” Head Councillor Spalden says to him. “This is not a mandatory meeting.”

“It’s not just me,” Oceanus begins. “Yes, I’m too busy for this, but what I’m trying to tell you is that you are as well. I’m not saying that members of the council can’t also be part of the party planning committee, or whatever you wanna call it, but it should not be taking up all of your time. This is a different subject of discussion, and therefore requires different voices. Let’s open it up, and invite others to join. Meanwhile, you can move on to more crucial concerns.”

“Would you want to be on it?” Spalden asks.

“Absolutely not,” Oceanus retorts. “I don’t care.” He gives the side eye to Tinaya and Lataran. “The war is my current worry.” The Admirals are aware that there is a war against the Exin Empire, and that it is being fought by the Verdemusians, in whatever capacity they are able. They are not, however, privy to current operational details. It’s not technically relevant to the ship, and more of a diplomatic problem, so they don’t need to know. It sounds like something happened, or is happening, which has Captain Jennings anxious. They’re both curious to learn what that might be, but not entitled to any such answers. “With all due respect,” he adds.

“We recognize, appreciate, and understand the duties of the Captain,” Spalden says, “which is why I invited you to leave, and return to your post. There will be no hard feelings here. The Halfway Party is vital to keeping passengers enthusiastic about our mission, and to pass this enthusiasm down to the next generations. It is not frivolous. It is not irrelevant. It is vital to our survival as a people, and for that reason, I must insist on maintaining our commitment to the matter. Thank you very much.”

“He’s not saying that it’s not important,” Councilwoman Flowers defends. “He’s not even saying that we shouldn’t have any input. He’s arguing that we were elected to manage the safe, secure, and prosperous transportation of our passengers across the galaxy. Our obligation to them covers all matters, as well as ship morale. As morale is but a subset of our duties, perhaps a more focused committee is in order. Not only do we have other issues to deal with, but including people who are not on the council in the decision-making process would actually aid in our endeavor to boost ship morale itself.”

Head Councillor Spalden squirms in his seat. It’s becoming apparent that the issue is not that he wants the council to be solely in charge of it. It’s that he wants to personally be in charge of it.

Tinaya stands. “I move for the creation of an official Party Planning Committee, to be responsible for the Halfway Celebration, as well as any other state-sponsored festivities, which may be conceived of in the future. I would like to include in this motion a provision that Head Councillor Spalden be installed as the first Premier Facilitator of the PPC...final name to be determined by the selected Premier Facilitator.”

“Seconded,” Lataran says.

As Head Councillor Spalden is being called in this motion, he is unable to be involved in any way. He can’t even be present for a vote. Councilman Linwood stands. “Motion is engaged. All other business on the agenda are tabled until further notice. Discussion on new order will be open as soon as Head Councillor Spalden excuses himself.”

Spalden stands, and holds back his excitement. He doesn’t want to seem too eager. They’re all picking up on how he feels, and there’s little chance that they won’t let him do it. Oceanus isn’t the only one who doesn’t care what happens to the celebrations; he’s just the only one in a position to vocalize his apathy.

As Spalden is leaving, Councilman Linwood turns his attention to Tinaya and Lataran. “Admirals, as non-voting members, please excuse yourselves as well.”

Lataran points finger guns at him, winks, and clicks her tongue just before she disappears.

Tinaya nods at the council. “With respect to the Dais,” she says, which is the right way to leave these chambers. She walks out manually.

Lataran didn’t teleport too far. She’s waiting for Tinaya on the other side of the doors. “Anything interesting happen after I left?” she jokes.

“I’ve not asked in a while. How’s Sable?” Tinaya asks as they start walking down the corridor together.

“She’s good. Knows what she wants to do with her life already.”

“And what’s that?”

“I’m glad we were able to get out of that meeting early, because there’s something you should see, and earlier is better than later.”

“Okay...”

They continue to walk instead of jumping right to their destination. It’s apparently not all that urgent. Lataran exudes a sense of calm and reserved excitement, rather than anxiety or fear. This thing that she wants Tinaya to see must not be bad. That still doesn’t tell her what it could possibly be, though. They take the elevator all the way up to the top level. It’s evidently something in the Attic Forest. Lataran continues to lead her between the trees and bushes until they can see a group of children. Sable is one of them, but Tinaya doesn’t know any others since her own son has aged out of this demographic.

“This is her Enrichment class,” Lataran explains. Enrichment is a vital component of children’s education. It typically includes studies that are not, strictly speaking, necessary for the continuation of the mission. No science, no engineering, no Earth studies. It’s about art, music, and other creative activities. It’s a generic term at this age. If a student decides to pursue a career in one of these fields, the course options will narrow later on.

One of the kids notices that the Admirals have arrived, and starts spreading the news. They were standing in random spots before, but now clump together in a vaguely orderly fashion. Off to the side, a white sheet hangs over the trail between two trees, which is perhaps ready for an image to be projected upon it? Once Tinaya and Lataran step fully into the clearing, the performance begins. In their best attempt at unison, they cry, “thank you, Admiral Leithe!” They then sing a song, which seems to be wholly original. It’s not a literal interpretation about the past, but is essentially about a cold, lifeless ship being turned into a lush garden full of joy and calm, where all the children can laugh and play. It’s about the forest. It’s about her.

After the song is over, seven-year-old Sable separates herself from the group, clearly intentionally, and as rehearsed. She reaches up and tries to take hold of the corner of the white sheet, but she’s too short. “The stool!” she complains, looking around on the ground. In lieu of looking for the stool, one of the older boys picks her up by the waist so she can get the sheet. She pulls it off of the hook, and lets it drop. On the other side is a garden. Of course there’s vegetation all around, but this is a distinct section, surrounded by stone pavers. The flowers planted here are some of the most vibrant and delicate, such as zinnias, carnations, and blue alyssum. There’s a small water fixture on a small retaining wall. The water splashes into a tiny pond, which spills over the edge of the lower retaining wall, and into a tiny creek that disappears around the corner.

Tinaya tears up when she notices one last thing. On a wooden sign on a wooden post are the words, Leithe Gardens.

“They’ve been working on this for months,” Lataran explains. “Sable only fessed up when I grilled her for coming home late two weeks ago.”

“Oh, boys and girls,” Tinaya says. “Thank you. This is so sweet of you.” It’s nice, after all this heartache—with Waldemar, and baby Silvia, and just everything—to see something so pure and delightful. As a leader, she’s had to endure all too much danger and drama. It’s great to be reminded that life is about happiness, and they’re flying through the black in the search of that; not war or political intrigue. The thought and care that went into creating this masterpiece shows that it is possible to find harmony, and to build a society based on love and community.

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