3 new interludes, re-writes/re-ordering of previous interludes -

So, these are all the interludes I'm planning! The only other chapter(s) to share is the conclusion of the story. I've got about another 6,000 words written to finish things off, and I plan to share that next week, but it still needs a little TLC. With LitRPG Con this upcoming weekend and Engineer's Odyssey launch the following Tuesday, it may be a later-in-the-week Patreon update. (Are any of you coming to LitRPG Con?! I want to meet you if you are!!)

I can't thank you all enough for all the support you've given me. It's humbling. Thank you.

Interlude: Bogotá, Columbia

“Move! You are sitting on my volunteer lists!”

“I will move after you respond to me. I apologize for my rudeness, but my mentor has been working with me on confidence and assertiveness, and I am here to assist you and your people.”

Darlisa pushed at the weird creature stuck to her desk, a dark-colored amorphous mass with tentacles that had stretched out to grab every corner of the wooden table, pinning her paperwork in place.  Despite her enhanced strength, the creature barely budged. She frowned as she leaned in harder. “How are you so strong?”

“My own Maffiyir lasted far longer than your own, and I survived it.”

Darlisa stopped pushing abruptly. “Oh.” She tilted her head, examining the basketball-sized alien. “Fine. I will speak with you, but I am very busy. Get off my papers, and I will talk to you on my way to meet Arango.”

“Certainly. My name is Greenfern.”

“Yeah, yeah, big pleasure. You know my name.” Darlisa swept the papers into a stack the moment Greenfern moved off of them. “So, what do you need?”

The little alien bounded ahead of her, powerful leaps letting him keep up easily despite his diminutive size. “I know Bogotá had many contestants who became invisible to viewers following the fourth Challenge, and we noted you as a leader among them. We were hoping you would agree to let the Voices for Non-Citizens represent you personally, but we were also hoping you would have a way of reaching out to the others from your Challenge, so we do not need to contact them all individually.”

Darlisa grunted in acknowledgement, then swung open a door. “Arango! You got those numbers for me?”

A skinny man with a scruffy beard opened his eyes. “Still working on them, boss! Looks like we’re gonna need to do a lot of construction, though. So far, I’m looking at about a quarter of our people dead and just over half our buildings destroyed. Lots and lots of people sharing roofs.”

Darlisa tilted her head. “Eh, that’s good news, overall. I’ll take it. Send me a message as soon as you get more exact figures. Where’s Luciana?”

Arango scratched his beard. “Headed over to the park, I think? There’s supposedly a camp over there with really good walls. Figured there might be some good candidates to help with rebuilding.”

“Double check for me?”

Arango closed his eyes, eyelids twitching as he tracked something unseen. Then he gave a thumbs-up. “Yep, she’s there!”

“Thanks.”

As Darlisa walked out of the building Greenfern bounded after her. “So? Do you have such a method?”

“Maybe.” Darlisa didn’t look back as she climbed over a small pile of rubble.

“If you do not answer me clearly I will be forced to be… be rude again!”

Darlisa shot Greenfern an irritated glance. “Look around, little lawyer. We have much, much work to do. This lawsuit is important to you, but what does it matter to us today?”

“If we win the case on your behalf, you will be entitled to Commonwealth currency.”

“And does that help any of us today?”

“Well… no. But-”

“If I talk with you next week, will we have missed our chance?”

“I guess not, but-”

“Does it bring back our technology? Does it fix our homes, our roads?”

“It doesn’t, but-”

“Then why are you hassling me instead of helping? You said this happened to your people too! Did someone come to you in the ruins of your home and ask you to look away from the people beside you and up at the stars?”

Greenfern quivered, flattening. “...My people build few structures. When the Voices approached me in the days following the contest, it brought me joy to have a target for my hunt.”

Darlisa snorted. “Well, humans are different.”

“Do you have such a list of contestants?” Greenfern asked, suddenly suspicious.

“I do,” Darlisa said.

“Won’t you give it to me?”

She laughed, grabbing a few pages from her stack and flinging them toward him. “Sure! Have fun with that.”

Greenfern’s tentacles curled around the pages, snatching them out of the air before the wind could blow them away. “I suspect sarcasm.”

Darlisa laughed as she started walking toward the park again. “Little lawyer, few people are going to drop what they are doing to speak with you today. The monsters vanished a day ago, and we can move freely again. Many people are looking for each other, searching for mothers, sons, friends. People are seeing if their homes are standing and trying to reclaim lost belongings. They do not have time to talk to an outer-space octopus.”

Greenfern held the pages up, peering at the crumpled words for a moment before he scrambled after her. “No one?”

Darlisa shrugged. “Some people will speak to you, I am sure, but many will not.”

“But… I need to help everyone.”

Darlisa threw her hands in the air. “Then help us!”

“But you say people won’t let me-”

“Help us with what we need today first, then help us with tomorrow.”

Greenfern didn’t respond, but he kept following Darlisa. He watched quietly as she met with the construction workers in the park, negotiating for their help fixing the city’s major thoroughfares, and finding out what they needed: childcare. He sat nearby as stopped by a church that was miraculously still standing, letting them know there’d be five additional children there tomorrow, and assuring them that she was working on getting them more food. He followed her as she ran out to the countryside, and then again as she ran back to the city, looking for people who could transport water out to the farms and food back into the city.

He was quiet when she finally stopped moving in the late afternoon, sitting down briefly to eat a grilled ear of corn one of her helpers forced on her. 

She was almost done with her meal when she heard a whirring noise. A small drone arrived, dropping a brick-sized package off with Greenfern. The little alien’s delicate tentacles quickly undid the wrapping, revealing a perplexing pile of pronged, silver loops, each a little bigger than a fingertip. He lifted one up and held it out to Darlisa. “It is not much, but I requisitioned use of the printer aboard our landing craft. These communicators have been tuned to respond to basic commands in Spanish. To register-”

Darlisa spun. “Communicators?!”

“Yes.” Greenfern shrunk in on himself. “Based on my observations, I felt these would be helpful.”

The Columbian woman took the communicator, jumping as the prongs tightened around her finger, leaving a small loop jutting out above her hand. She shook her hand briefly, then seemed to realize that the little device hadn’t hurt her. “Uh, how does it work?”

Greenfern took another. “Like this: register communicator, Greenfern. Only, say your name, not mine. Then, just say ‘connect to Greenfern.’”

Darlisa did so, expression dubious, then jumped again as her voice echoed out of Greenfern’s ring. She looked from the one clamped on her finger to the one on Greenfern’s tentacle.

He shrank down a little. “The range isn’t infinite, but it is big enough to reach the farms you traveled to today. I thought they would be useful. If I erred, I-”

Darlisa interrupted him once more. “They’re magnificent, little lawyer! How many can we get?”

Interlude: Davi

The tiny Asian woman set the gondola down on the tarmac in the Los Angeles airport as the summer twilight faded. Six people piled out, taking off helmets and stretching. One man came up to her. “Thank you so much! I’ve been on the waitlist for a ride out here for over a month. Not a lot of people wanting to make the trip across the whole country. It’s a long flight!”

Davi yawned. “It is! But… I might come out this way more often.”

“Oh? Family in the area?”

She shook her head. “No. That’s part of what delayed me. I grew up on the East Coast and I had a lot of family and friends there I needed to check on, and I’ve been living in north Alabama and had a few people there I needed to help out.”

Her passenger looked confused. “If you don’t have family or friends out here…”

“Oh, I have friends! I was actually in Colorado at the start of the apocalypse and we met this eSports team-” Davi paused as she saw her passenger’s confusion deepen. “It’s a long, long story. Basically, we owe our lives to each other and I heard they moved back out here as soon as things calmed down. I have a communicator, but they don’t, so… I sent a message ahead that I was coming…”

The short woman stood on tiptoe, craning her neck to peer around the airport. Derelict planes cluttered the area, few of them intact. Many had missing panels, presumably “mined” for materials. Others were crunched or torn apart, damaged by monsters.

The man shrugged. “Well, I hope you find them. Thanks again!”

He jogged off, not even heading to the terminal, but directly north out of the airport.

“No problem!” Davi called. She stood for a moment, nonplussed, then began to walk to the terminal. Hopefully she’d find them inside

She had almost made it when a faint sound made her pause: “-vi. Davi!”

When she turned, she saw a crowd of people charging toward her, almost fifteen of them. In seconds, they’d reached her, enveloping her in a crushing group hug.

“Avalanche! Bolero! Joey! Zephyr! I’m so happy to see you! I’m so glad you’re okay!” Davi laughed. “But who are the rest of these people? Family?”

“Family and friends!” Bolero said. “Davi, this is my mom, Valentina, and my cousin Abril.”

Davi, still squished in between her friends, extracted an arm to shake their hands. “Great to meet you! I’m so happy you made it.”

Zephyr smiled. “Almost all of our families did - at least everyone that was local - and we have Bytez to thank for it. They had a game house around the block from ours.”

“Yeah, we thought you were so lucky for making that invitational,” called a tall man. “Miles was crazy about that streamer they had as a host, so he was real salty that we didn’t get chosen. After things went bad, he felt pretty guilty about his jealousy. He’s the one who kept after us to look for your people after we found our own families.”

He looked vaguely familiar to Davi. “Bytez Piledriver?”

The man laughed. “In the flesh! Heard so much about you there was no way I’d pass up a chance to meet the lady behind the legends. And you were traveling with the guy who adopted the system as a kid? You actually know him?”

“Yeah…” Davi said.

“How’s Vince doing?” Joey asked. “All his kids made it?”

“Yeah! He’s doing really well.”

“What about everyone else?” Avalanche asked.

“Pretty good, honestly. Byron lost a lot of family-” 

“We heard about that,” Avalanche said, subdued.

“-but we got his grandma and cousin back to Huntsville and it turns out his dad made it through okay. Kurt and his family are doing well, and I got John back to his wife first thing after it all ended.”

“Eyy! Good for him!” Bolero said. 

“Is Vince’s wife really connected to the game system?”

“Ariel? Yeah. Uh… actually… Ariel, are you listening? Mind saying hi?”

“I was not monitoring actively, but a subroutine has drawn my attention to this location. Greetings.”

The overmind’s words hit the group like a water balloon, shock splashing over people’s faces and making them jump back and look around. 

Bolero took a suspicious look at Davi. “Is this a joke? Do you have someone with a sound ability hiding nearby?”

Davi shook her head. “No joke. It’s really her.”

Bolero looked stunned for a moment, then took a deep breath. “Well, might as well go big. Hey, Ariel - that’s your name, yeah? - Ariel, can you fix all the damage to Earth? Power lines, computers, houses? I’d love to get the internet running again”

“It is technically feasible, but more difficult than you may assume.”

Bolero frowned. “Go on.”

“I lack authority to act independently in areas claimed by humanity. While I can still act freely in over two-thirds of the planet, the areas unavailable to me are heavily correlated with the presence of human technology and habitation.”

“Because people ‘claimed’ the land they were living in first.”

“Precisely. In addition, Detailed records of Earth’s initial state were not taken. Degradation of wiring and combustibles were directed by subroutines I did not write, and I have given up on rewriting that code to attempt to reverse the effects.”

“Why?”

“The initial code took them from ordered states to highly disordered ones. Then, time, heat, and intervention by humans and contest entities further increased the disorder. I judged that repairs were best done on a case-by-case basis.”

“Are you doing those?”

“Occasionally. I am pursuing many projects. For example, I am continuing to provide basic rations where necessary, but I no longer have access to Maffiyir Company stockpiles. As such, I am synthesizing them from base elements rather than teleporting them in. It is consuming a considerable amount of my attention and resources. I have also been consulting with the UGE. They requested targeted repairs on individual high-capacity devices. Fortunately, the vast majority of your data storage remains intact, so repairs are needed only to allow access to that data.”

“So… we still have Wikipedia?” Zephyr asked.

“Wikipedia?! How about the Library of Congress? That’s millions of books!” Bolero said.

“Legend Scramble?!” Joey added.

“All of those, although I currently have access only to Legend Scramble client software. It is likely I will be able to retrieve the server software in the future, but that is not high on the priority list as it is likely to be some time before individual computing devices become commonplace. A team of experts has been tasked with finding the best ways for me to assist with jump-starting your industries, but any solution will take time. In terms of infrastructure repair, the UGE has requested I focus on long-distance power and telephone lines. I also have some projects of personal importance I am pursuing.”

Joey’s face rose and fell as Ariel spoke. He sighed and smiled. “Well… I guess getting back to normal tomorrow is a bit much to hope for. I guess I’m kind of excited to hear that it’s all out there somewhere. That we can get it all - or most of it  - back eventually.

“Telephone lines would be a great start,” Bolero said. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked back toward Davi. “Using people with Mental Speech to pass messages is too much like the kids’ game ‘telephone.’ I assume your original message actually told us which terminal you planned to land at?” 

“Of course!”

He laughed. “That didn’t make it to us.”

“How’d you find me, then? LAX is a big airport.”

Bolero pointed at a little fluffball on the ground nearby. “One of my scouts spotted you. I can send out a lot of them now, and I can move them pretty far. Their vision is pretty good too!”

“Nice!”

“Yeah, it’s been real handy! I’m starting a kind of lost-and-found business, searching ruined houses for people’s stuff.”

“Life moves on, huh?” Davi asked.

The words caused a momentary freeze in the group. Davi flinched at her inadvertent reference to the teammate they’d lost. When she’d last seen TAF, they’d been in denial about his death.

A year had passed since then, though. Avalanche’s eyes were a little sad, but after a moment, she smiled. “Yeah. Life moves on. Speaking of which, there’s a new restaurant right outside of the airport. Can we treat you to dinner?”

“I’d love that!” Davi said. “I want to hear everything you’ve been up to.”

Interlude: Kids

“Do we really gotta go back to school?” Gavin asked.

“Are you kidding?” Micah asked, disgusted. “You don’t even know long division. You don’t even know regular division.”

“Yeah? Well you can’t even jump as high as your bedroom window!”

“I don’t need to! That’s-”

“Everyone needs to go to school,” Vince cut in. 

“But it’s the summer!” Gavin wailed. “I want to go swimming!”

“We missed an entire school year,” Vince said. “Everyone’s behind.”

“Am I behind?” Cassie asked, tugging his hand.

Vince looked back over his shoulder at the castle, where Meghan was once again talking with Fluffy, as she had been so frequently these past few months. “No. You’re not behind. But you are four now, so you get to start pre-K.”

“I’m not behind,” Cassie said smugly. 

“You’re a behind!” Gavin laughed. “You’re a butt!”

“I am not a butt!” Cassie shouted.

“Shoulda stayed in Colorado…” Vince muttered.

“What? Dad! No!” Micah said, shocked.

Vince sighed. “No. I didn’t mean that. But it’ll be good for all of us to get you kids out of the house for a few hours each day. It won’t be long, not at first. This new school won’t be quite like the ones you remember.”

Micah frowned. “Is that why we don’t have backpacks?”

“That’s one of the reasons. A lot of the stuff we’re used to isn’t being manufactured again yet, and enough of it got destroyed that it’s kind of scarce. On top of that, we’ve got kids with all kinds of powers - physical and mental - and teachers with powers too.”

“An’ Pointy is gonna be MISS Pointy, my teacher!” Cassie chirped.

“One of your teachers, yeah,” Vince said. “There will be a lot of human teachers - including Ms. Priya - and Ariel will be helping out a little. She’s got too many other projects going on to completely take over education, but she’ll be lending a hand by helping us keep track of what works and what doesn’t.”

“I love Ariel,” Cassie said, glaring at Gavin. “She never ever calls me a butt.”

Vince pointed ahead. “Can you kids please be nice to each other for five minutes? Look, we’re almost there.”

“I’ll be there first!” Gavin yelled, and took off running. Micah and Cassie sprinted after him, but couldn’t keep up with his speed.

“Five seconds?” Vince muttered plaintively. Then he took off after Gavin, scooping up Micah and Cassie and sprinting ahead of his middle child.

“No fair!” Gavin yelled.

“Sucks to suck, buddy!” Vince shouted back. “If you don’t like it when people with better speed augments leave you in the dust, maybe you shouldn’t do it to other people.”

“Sucks to suck?” 

Vince slowed to a stop right by an older woman. She was standing near the rear entrance to the old elementary school. He flashed her a grin. “Hey! I’m Vince Moretti. I’m here to drop off Pointy Turtle Moretti, one of the instructors, and Micah, Gavin, and Cassie Moretti, who are joining as students.”

The woman eyed Vince and made an unconvinced “Hrm” sound, letting him know that even if she was letting him slide for now, she’d heard what he’d said. She turned toward the children. “I’m so happy to meet you all! I’m Ms. Pearl. Ms. Pointy, thank you so much for your assistance. We’ve taken down the walls between the gymnasium and the cafeteria to make one large room. All our indoor school activities will be taking place in there, for now.”

“That will make monitoring everyone much easier,” Pointy said. “Do you have an elevated vantage point arranged for me?”

“No, not yet, but we have a metalshaper on hand. We weren’t sure exactly what you would need, and-”

The group followed Ms. Pearl into the building, the kids peering around curiously at the most-empty space. A few dozen adults stood clumped in a few groups, with maybe half that many kids. Chalkboards were set up at irregular intervals, and the ground was littered with pillows, rugs, and beanbags.

“Where is everyone?” asked Micah.

“We had to get here early so that Pointy could get set up. But I think your teachers are here.” Vince pointed to a small group of men and women.

“Mrs. Wright!” Micah yelled. “Are you going to be my teacher again?”

The woman saw him and waved. “Micah! Good to see you. I don’t think so - at least at first - but we’ll see how things turn out! To start with, I’m going to be helping with Orange-tier reading and writing.”

Micah wrinkled his face. “Orange-tier?”

“That’s what they’re trying instead of grades, for now, since a kindergartner with Analyze is going to master addition in a snap, but might struggle in other subjects. You’ll start out in Green-tier, since you missed fourth grade, but you might move up quickly if-”

“Actually, since I’ll be doing the assessments, that’s not necessary.” Pointy interjected. “Let’s start Cassie in Red for all subjects, although I anticipate shifting her quickly, Gavin in Orange for most subjects and Yellow for Math, and Micah for Blue in English, Violet in Math, and Green for other subjects. All of them will be in the Tier 16 gym class.”

“Wait… Is Violet harder than Green?” Micah asked.

Ms. Pearl smiled kindly at him. “Yes. You’ll be working with me on math. Don’t worry. If it’s too challenging, we can move you back down-”

“No! No, I don’t want that.” Micah turned and grinned at Vince. “Hey, Dad! School might not be totally boring!”

“Oh,” said Ms. Pearl. Her eyes glinted. “My math? Boring? No way.”

“Math is just usually super easy…”

“Hm… well, how do you feel about using math to draw shapes?”

“Math can do drawings?”

“Want to find out?”

“I guess so,” Micah said. His words were noncommittal, but his mouth quirked in an undeniable smile.

Gavin was looking at the room, his face twisted in confusion. “Where are all the desks? Why are there pillows everywhere?”

Ms. Wright leaned over. “Well, most of our furniture doesn’t hold up well to our enhanced strength, so we’re going to be keeping things more fun and casual. You’ll be with me for a lot of the day, Gavin. As long as you’re paying attention, you can do whatever you want: sit, lay, stand. You can hang from the ceiling if you want to!”

“I can?” Gavin’s eyes were wide.

“Yes, these rooms have been reinforced heavily. They should hold up to you.”

“But… you’ll let me?”

“As long as you’re paying attention,” Mrs. Wright said, her eyes twinkling.

“I will!”

“Come on, let me show you the book I’m going to read to you guys this morning…”

A kindly looking older man crouched down. “You’re Cassie, right?”

“Mmhmm.” The usually-boisterous four-year-old stepped back a little, her hand tugging on her dad’s shorts.

“I heard you’re going to be in the Red group to start off with. That means you’ll be with me. My name is Mr. Gregory. There’s actually one other little girl here already who’ll be in Red group with both of us! Aurora, come meet Cassie. You’ll be classmates.”

As he beckoned, another woman walked forward, holding the hand of a tiny girl with fuzzy pigtails. She and Cassie stared at each other uncertainly.

“Aurora,” Pointy asked. “Do you like rainbows?”

The other little girl nodded shyly. “I love rainbows.”

Cassie’s face lit up. “Me too!”

“What are the odds,” Pointy said, deadpan.

“Let’s be friends!” Aurora said.

“Yeah!”

Vince grinned. “Nice one, Pointy.”

“Thank you.”

Vince looked around. He spotted Priya over talking to another parent who’d arrived early, and saw that Anju had joined Micah and Mrs. Pearl, who was writing an equation on a blackboard. Samar had rushed over to hug Gavin. Cassie’s high-pitched squeal preceded a victorious shout by Aurora; the girls had realized that they were both wearing purple shirts and were therefore twins.

They’re doing well, he realized. They’ll be fine. He raised his voice. “Bye, kids! See you in a few hours!”

The kids barely glanced up to say goodbye.

Interlude: Memorial

“-but as we look forward, we must remember those who are no longer with us. We do so with this installation, and five others like it around the world. Each Memorial Plaza and Museum mourn all 2.3 billion human deaths during the Maffiyir, from those who passed away in confusion during the first minutes to those who made the ultimate sacrifice, knowingly risking their lives save others. We thank them. We honor them. We remember them.”

The acting President of the United States stepped back from the podium in front of a massive, shining plaza over 1,000 feet across. The floor of the plaza was a stylized map of the globe, with engravings of major world landmarks that had been damaged or destroyed, as well as sites of particular tragedies, like the Threat that had devastated Britain and the one that had devastated central Alabama. Ringing the plaza were a series of granite walls with small-but-legible text. The name of every single person who had died during the Maffiyir had found a home somewhere on one of those walls.

The Overmind hadn’t been the one to propose the memorial plazas, nor the one to design them, but she’d done a lot of the work and made a lot of suggestions. She’d been the one to propose the walls of names, inspired by the Vietnam Veterans’ Memorial in Washington D.C. and the 9/11 Memorial in New York City. Without her assistance, it wouldn’t have been possible to get such a complete list of casualties, nor to complete so much precise engraving so quickly. In deference to the far greater number of dead, the names on the monument were tiny, whisper-thin scratches in the granite filled with gleaming metal.

As the crowd filed into the plaza, several shot furious looks at the people who stood along the back of the stage. Ariel had wanted her Linked Users present at the memorial’s opening, as a symbol of her contrition, though she’d been wise enough to leave the spotlight to human government authorities.

Fortunately, bitter looks were the worst her proxies had to suffer. Whether motivated by forgiveness or respect for the fallen, no one took their resentment beyond glares.

As the tail end of the crowd filed past, a short man in the back walked over to offer his hand to a woman. “You’re Meghan Moretti, right? I’m Jean-Mark Lemay, the Linked User from Winnipeg. I’m glad to finally meet you!”

She took his hand and grimaced. “Yes, sorry. Ariel said you’d reached out, but I’ve just been so focused on this upcoming trial…”

“No worries! I’ve been very busy too.”

“You’ve been busy? You’re not coming to outer space, are you?” Meghan asked. “Did the Voices for Non-Citizens change their minds? I heard Zahra was also being prepped…”

“No, no! But with the two of you busy, I’ve been working closely with the UGE and the new Linked Users. Trying to make the, uh, onboarding process a lot better for them.”

Meghan winced. “Lot of room for improvement, there…”

Jean-Marc shuddered. “No kidding. That was one reason I wanted to talk to you, to thank you for the changes you got Ariel to make before I woke up. My memories aren’t very clear, but they’re still enough to give me nightmares at least twice a week.”

Impulsively, Meghan hugged him. “I’m glad you made it.”

Jean-Marc gave her a lopsided grin. “Glad we all made it. Well, as a species, anyway…”

The reminder drew both of their eyes to the plaza, with the somber silhouette of the Memorial Museum rising behind it. Meghan glanced from the building to Jean-Marc. “Ariel told me she worked with some human artists to make statues of the Linked Users who… well… I’d like to see them. I don’t want to cause a disruption, though…”

“Shielding your identities will require only a trivial amount of resources,” Ariel said. “May I have permission to alter your clothing and provide face-concealing holograms?”

Bemused, both Meghan and Jean-Marc assented. Their faces and skin shimmered, shifting slightly, and Meghan’s distinguishing extra eyes were hidden by illusory hair.

“Different enough?” Jean-Marc asked.

Meghan nodded cautiously. “I think so. We can ask for more changes if I see anyone throwing us dirty looks. The hologram over my extra eyes has gaps. I can see out of it.”

Jean-Marc looked around. “Is your family here?”

Meghan shook her head. “I came to support Ariel, but I was worried about tensions running high. We might make a trip later as a family. Did you bring anyone?”

“No! Same story, mostly. My partner is at home with Zelda.”

“Zelda?”

“Yeah, my partner turned a desktop figurine into an Information Assistant. Zelda was the name of the character the figurine was based on, although her personality isn’t much like the character’s anymore.”

The pair ambled slowly across the plaza and up the front steps of the museum. 

“Where are the statues of the other Linked Users, Ariel?” Meghan asked.

“You can turn right immediately, but I propose you take the longer route, straight ahead through the Atrium of Sympathy. I think you will appreciate the Atrium, and there are things you will both wish to see in the central hall.”

Meghan nodded, then slowed as she caught sight of the walls of the Atrium. “What in the world…?”

An attendant in a museum uniform overheard her. “Oh, these are gifts from species throughout the Commonwealth to express their sorrow for our suffering and to indicate that they stand in solidarity with us. Um, it’s a bit complicated to explain why, but the galaxy at large really associates us with clothing, so, um, well, it’s a bit odd, but they definitely mean well.”

“A bit odd,” Meghan repeated, trying to hold back laughter. “You could say that.”

“Nice to know people care,” Jean-Marc added.

The pair wandered through the hallway whose walls were lined with articles of apparel that varied in appropriateness and familiarity. Each bore a small placard explaining the item’s presence, like “A traditional mourning scarf sent by the Scale-Shedders” or “a T-shirt bearing the artwork of noted Silent-Jumper artist, Scarlet,” or, in one case, a pair of bejeweled boxer shorts that simply said “a gift sent in sympathy by the Crawlers.”

“The Crawlers, huh?” Meghan said. “They’re one of the oldest races in the Commonwealth.”

“You’re really doing well at your studying!” Jean-Marc said.

“Hah! Memorization is one thing, application is another. I have a lot of work to do. Although, in this case, there’s a pretty easy rule of thumb anyone can use: the broader and simpler a species’ name is, the longer they’ve been a part of the Commonwealth.”

“Oh, that makes sense. I-”

Jean-Marc cut off as they rounded the corner of the Atrium, looking out into a hall filled with larger-than-life statuary. He stumbled a little, and even under the hologram, Meghan could see his face crumble.

Not that hers was any better, she was sure.

Whoever had done Flip’s statue had done amazing work. The word “statue” brought to mind something staid, dignified, and almost lifeless. Something like the faces of the former presidents that had previously stared out from Mt. Rushmore, or the solid presence of Lincoln in his chair at the Lincoln Memorial. 

Flip’s statue was nothing like that. It was a statue of her in flight, a small girl held to her chest. The girl’s face was obscured, but the soft care in Flip’s eyes was obvious, and the wicked twist to the grin on her face was absolutely true-to-life. A bronze plaque on the plinth below told her story and listed her many accomplishments.

Beside her stood a statue of a man Meghan didn’t recognize. He, too, wasn’t in a static pose, but was winking and pointing a finger backward with one hand while he put up a Force Shield with the other. Jean-Marc was staring at him with a poleaxed expression.

“Someone you knew?” Meghan asked.

“No. Well, yes. Not… not as well as I should have. But he died. For me. To keep me alive. A lot of people died for me.” His voice was haunted. He turned to face Meghan. “It’s hard to live with.”

“It is.”

Meghan’s acknowledgment seemed to release something in Jean-Marc, and he smiled. It was a sad smile, but there was something healing in it. 

She smiled back, a little rueful. “I should have reached out to you sooner.”

“We should get in touch with Zahra too,” Jean-Marc said. “I heard that it was brutal over there.”

“I’m so busy - no. No excuses. You’re right. I’ll make the time.”

Jean-Marc nodded. “Who else can understand what we went through, but the three of us?”

“And what use is that, if we don’t talk to each other?” Meghan nodded at the statue of the pointing man. “Tell me about him?”

It was hours before the pair left the museum.

Interlude: Ariel

“Dad? Won’t you please eat?”

A man sat in a wooden chair in windowless room. The smooth, curved rock walls were a common sight these days in rebuilt houses, but they weren’t the familiar pale-blue drywall of the home he’d lived in for decades. And this wooden thing sure as hell wasn’t his favorite easy chair.

“Dad? You’ve got to eat. You barely had anything yesterday, and you didn’t touch breakfast. We’re worried about you.”

The man glanced at his adult daughter, standing in the doorway with a tray in her hands with food. Some kind of vegetable casserole, maybe. “Leave it on the table.”

“That’s what I did yesterday and you didn’t touch it. Please, won’t you just have a bite for me? Dani grew the veggies herself. Kaela helped me chop. It’s really good.”

“I’m not a child.”

“No. Kaela is a child. She lost her mom, and she’s still making an effort for the rest of us.”

“It’s not about effort!”

The daughter pursed her lips then shook her head. “I’m taking the girls out. There’s a branch of the Living Legion who-”

“I don’t need to meet anyone! No one’s going to replace your mother!”

“No. They’re not.” The daughter’s voice was flat. “I’m not trying to play matchmaker, Dad. I’m trying to help us all lead better lives. The local Living Legion chapter opened a store recently for hand-crafted add-ons for stuff left over from the Maffiyir. I heard they’ve got covers for the Small Light Sources that open and close really easily. It’ll be like having normal lamps again!”

The man looked away. “Normal lamps turn off and on with light switches! From the wall!”

The daughter’s mouth tightened. “I take it you won’t be coming with us, then?”

“No.”

“It’d do you good to get out of the house. Get some sunlight.”

The older man didn’t answer.

The daughter set the tray down. “Please eat, Dad. At least a little.”

After she walked out of the room, there was a brief spate of noise: footsteps and children’s voices. Then the house grew silent. 

The man just sat in his chair, staring. He didn’t read a book. He didn’t draw or write. He didn’t whittle. He didn’t sing. He didn’t pick up the guitar that leaned against the bed.

He just sat there.

Twelve minutes later, a voice disrupted the silence.

“Greetings, Alan Schumacher! It is time for your weekly counseling session.”

“Screw you, tin can! You destroyed Earth! I’m not talking to you about my feelings.”

“Your anger is justified. I played an important role in your suffering.”

“If you know that, then why won’t you leave me the hell alone?!”

“Many humans are suffering severe mental trauma. I am inferior to human therapists, but, statistically speaking, better than nothing. The suicide rate among my test group of clients in the first few weeks following the contest was 75% lower than that of the control group.”

“Control group?! Test group?! You’re running experiments on us? More of them?”

“Controls and testing were necessary to ensure that I was not inadvertently causing harm. In addition, you have a right to refuse this counseling, but you must clearly exercise it by repeating the words ‘Ariel, I refuse counseling.’”

“Just like a machine! You know I hate you. Why make me jump through hoops? Just go away.”

“Allowing my clients to creatively and thoroughly express their anger appears to have a beneficial therapeutic effect for many. While I do not want to force my help on anyone, I do not want my clients to fear that such help will be withdrawn without their clear intention.”

Alan hesitated. The phrase was there… the bodiless robot would leave if he just said those words… but… “Fuck you!”

“Acknowledged. How has your past week been? Have you initiated any creative pursuits or elevated your activity levels? Either might have a salutary effect on your mental health.”

“Don’t tell me what to do. You fucked this up, you fix it!”

“While I cannot directly alter your mental or physical health, I can put you in touch with a group of human doctors and alien investors who have been working to fabricate selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors, if you wish to pursue that route.”

Alan stood up from his chair, shouting at the ceiling. “I’m not telling you to fix my brain! I’m telling you to fix my life! Give me my wife back! Give me my child. Give me my grandson. Give me my job back!”

“Your anger is justified. I’m proud of you for acknowledging their deaths as a major source for your pain and anger. I regret that I cannot restore the lives of your loved ones or the previous structure of your society. I have prepared a list of opportunities in your area that seem appropriate to your stated expertise.”

A sheaf of papers materialized above the desk, landing beside the cooling casserole with the faintest whisper.

The man ignored it, instead launching into a vitriolic rant. Ariel listened calmly, continually admitting fault, congratulating Alan on minor achievements, and making neutral observations and suggestions.

Eventually, she brought the ersatz therapy session to a close. “Let’s wind down for today. Do you have any feedback for me to take into account for our next session?”

“Yeah! Stop talking like a damn word processor.”

The voice immediately changed to something more casual. “Sure! You asked before if I’d ‘Stop pretending to be human.’ Is this better?”

Alan hesitated. “No.”

The warmer voice dropped. “Alright. I will contact you again in approximately seven days. If you need to speak before then, just repeat the phrase ‘Ariel, emergency!’ and I will contact you within sixty-five seconds.”

“Stop spying on me!”

“An autonomous subroutine listens for the key phrase. I do not otherwise monitor you in between sessions. Have a great week, Alan!”

“SCREW YOU!” he roared.

There was no further response.

The old man glared at the ceiling for a moment. He went to sit down in his chair again, but he caught sight of the paper booklet Ariel had left. Can’t leave that around, he thought. It’ll make me mad every time I see it.

He walked over to the desk and picked it up, giving the first page a desultory glance as he walked over to the trash can. Then his eyes snapped down to it. “Wait, did that say…? Elementary school? Stupid machine. I was a college professor! What, are all teachers the same to her?”

Unthinkingly, he hooked an ankle around his chair and dragged it over to the desk. “What stupid bullshit. What else is on here? McKreay’s? What’s that? Oh, there’s details below. A tutoring place?! I haven’t tutored anyone since I needed beer money in undergrad. And trade school! She thinks I could teach someone to weld? What a moron.”

As he held the list in his left hand, his right hand somehow found the spoon that had been left in the bowl of veggie casserole. He frowned a little as he bit down, distracted by the odd texture of the noodles, but his eyes were drawn back to the list. It was extensive, with details explaining what the supposed opportunities are and how he could get in contact with people if he was interested.

An hour later, his daughter and granddaughters returned to find their grandpa out of his room, pacing around angrily.

“Dad?”  his daughter asked. “Did… uh… Ariel talk to you while we were out?”

He waved the papers at you. “Sure did! And get a load of this: fifty-three supposed opportunities, and fifty-one of them are completely unsuitable.”

“What about the other two?”

Alan hesitated. “They’re probably terrible. Just not enough details written down to see how.”

A smile played about his daughter’s lips. “Right.”

A high voice came from his bedroom, distracting him. “Hey! Grandpa! You ate your lunch! Did you like the noodles? We made them from potatoes ‘cause we didn’t have a lot of flour! They’re called nooky!”

“Gnocchi, Kaela,” her aunt corrected.

“You made-” Alan paused. He blinked. It was the most words he’d heard from his younger granddaughter in months. She’d been too quiet ever since Crystal… He cut off that line of thinking. “They were good.”

Kaela raced into the main room. “I can make more for dinner if you want. We have a little more flour and I’m a really good cook. You’ll eat it, right?”

“We’re out of potatoes,” the mother said. “Dani, can you-”

“Yeah. I’ll grow more. But only if Grandpa promises he’ll eat it again!” The lanky teen glared at her grandfather. “Kaela and Mom work hard on the cooking and I put a lot of effort into growing it.”

Alan felt guilty as he met Dani’s glare. He hadn’t been being very fair to the girls, had he? They deserved better, Kaela especially. “Alright. I promise.”

“We should look into those other two opportunities tomorrow,” his daughter said. 

“I don’t know…” Alan said.

“If you don’t check, you won’t be able to really tell Ariel how useless she is.”

“Hrmm…”

“Come on. How far are they?”

Alan folded the papers over, pointing at the two he hadn’t ruled out. “Five miles away! In opposite directions”

“That’s not so bad. We might not have a car, but we can all run very quickly. We can check them both out tomorrow afternoon.”

Dani grabbed the booklet. “Wait… Oooh, this one’s by that new market I heard about! I’ve been wanting to go! Tomorrow’s good, right?”

As a favor to his granddaughter?

“Yeah. Alright.”