James Wylder, Writer

Should auld acquaintance be forgot

The enemy ship was large, monolithic, and boasted no interesting features to speak of, which struck the Tourist as an equally unremarkable opening she would be sure to change when she came to retell this story.

Crewed by a menace that brought dread wherever they went, they’d plunged through dimension barriers and shattered probability mirrors to lose them. But, true to their reputation, they just kept coming.

The Canon would never stop coming.

(Much better, the Tourist noted.)

She danced around the central console of her own vessel with Ashlyn, dressed in her white lace shirt and grey hybrid jumper. And oh, what a double-act they made! They were to piloting a hyper-advanced narrative waverider as Abbott and Costello were to physical comedy – they were Laurel and Hardy, Ant ‘n’ Dec, Cheese and Crackers!

Speaking of the latter…

The Tourist furrowed her brow and took a long drag from her cigarette as she spotted, in the corner of her eye, crumbs fall to the floor from the crackers that Shona was loudly munching on while studiously monitoring the tactical readout on the viewscreen. Even the Tourist’s shadow seemed independently disapproving, she noted its stern posture with its hands on its hips, before she realised that she was emulating the same stance…

She turned to see Miranda zipping across controls on the upper-levels that now existed, and Pathway was charging up a comically large directed energy weapon – preparing to deliver a swift and explosive refutation to the Canon.

At that moment, an entitlement-class torsion missile detonated off the bow (if a pyramid vessel can be said to have such a thing) and – to the Tourist’s irritation – scrambled all the controls’ functions.

“Miranda,” she called to her rollerblading companion, who was continuing to ascend up to the sixth level that seemed to have suddenly sprung into existence. “Get these systems under control, they’ve got me flying on inverted!”

“What’s wrong with inverted?” Shona grumbled through a mouthful of crackers.

“Everything’s wrong with inverted!” the Tourist and Ashlyn snapped back.

Pathway slammed the release on their ship’s entrance portal and heaved her energy weapon into an aiming position at the first of the Canon’s streaming pods.

“They’re broadcasting this?” Ashlyn exclaimed. “They must be upset!”

“Five women existing in an independent narrative? Of course they’re upset!” Miranda called down from the seventeenth level. “Just be glad that the first thing I did was mute their repeating comms at us about how we’re unrea—"

Another torsion missile detonated, this time triggering the activation of random systems. Whatever was said next went entirely unheard by Ashlyn Oswin, as she was enveloped in an emergency teleportation field.

Her form shattered into its component molecules, tumbling through unconventional space. The Pyroclastic Kingdoms of Shuntspace, the Stellar Engines of the Dead Star Nine, the Interpluvial Helix – all these places and more, until she arrived (thankfully with a successful reconstruction) on the most exciting, most luminous world she could hope to be.

Earth.

*

D’you remember the first time you went to the beach?

There’s that moment where you come over that first hill and catch a glimpse of how the sea spans the horizon. Your young mind can’t quite comprehend its expanse, all you can do is become lost in how the light dances on the waves and watch the rolling tides.

Battlefields are like that too. But instead of the sea, it seems like an equally vast plain of cold and muddy morass. It is the frigid air that is the rolling tide, the vast interconnected network of barbed wire that is the light upon the waves, as the mind attempts to untangle what it is bearing witness to.

And it’s not true, of course – the expanse of it. No, not on this particular battlefield. The average amount of space between opposing trenches was no more than a few hundred yards at most…

Ashlyn had materialised in the heart of No Man’s Land.

Scanning the horizon, she saw two strange rectangular boxes sitting on a distant hill as the only notable landmark that wasn’t wreathed in wire. She thought of the others, where they must be now, whether they would escape, if they could possibly find her, and if she was herself stepping into far greater danger here.

But as she warily stepped forward, it was not the staccato beat of single-shot gunfire that greeted her, nor the bellowing of orders from a captain.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?

It was singing.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne?

Ashlyn reached the top of a muddy ridge and saw something she wouldn’t soon forget.

A great crowd of brown and green and grey uniforms stood together, more than she could count. Some shook hands, some held onto each others’ shoulders, medics tended to the wounded on both sides.

Hateful old men would do their best to ensure that nothing like this would happen again. And their evil will endure, taking ever new forms, combat against which may well be eternal – their enmity forever unslaked.

But for this single moment in history, it was two voices that joined as one, people who realised that they had no reason to hate one-another, and – however fleeting it may have seemed – the human spirit won out.

And Ashlyn, who had seen much of this evil and would fight against it with every ounce of her being regardless of whether it was a winning battle or not, was resolute that the same spirit could prevail again.

She smiled as a bear of a German soldier joined the crowd and bellowed in

Es ist in jedem Anbeginn,
das Ende nicht mehr weit
wir kommen her und gehen hin,
und mit uns geht die Zeit

The song faded from Ashlyn’s ears, as if some kind of barrier had been surreptitiously placed between them, and she found herself moving – only half-aware of where she was going – towards an old man who looked every bit a stranger to this place as she did.

She noticed that there was only one box on the horizon now. Odd…

He stood away from the crowd. His clothes were ripped and torn; Ashlyn momentarily mistook the visible tufts of red velvet sticking through his coat for blood as she got closer. The thick, furrowed eyebrows betrayed a kindly-looking face, and his untidy mop of curled grey hair was anything but regulation-length for a soldier.

She couldn’t understand what it was that stirred in her, compelled her to keep walking towards him. It was like something written into her organic circuitry and she’d just learned how to read.

She didn’t know why she smiled at this stranger who – upon facing her – looked as if he were seeing the face of an old friend.

He said a name, but it was not her own.

I think you know who it was, and she went along with it regardless.

*

“Curator!” a young lieutenant approached in some distress. “The Canon is going down, what are your orders?”

They had sustained a hit to their ventral cannon which caused a wildcat destabilisation of the Lore Drive, not to mention their streaming pods had been picked off one-by-one, bringing a premature end to their four-hour broadcast.

“Curator!”

The Curator stood there, dazed, watching the cascading explosion cause a major breach in their now disordered hull. His wispy blond hair looked like an independent sentient being from how it stood on his head as power transferred to the inertia dampers.

“Your uniform, lieutenant,” the Curator spoke at last, his voice sounding as if it were light-years away.

“My uniform?”

“I see you have deigned to impress your peers and superiors by modelling it on the Imperial battle-dress uniform.”

“Yes, sir…” An alarm began to blare, signalling the bridge crew to abandon ship.

The Curator then rounded on him, bellowing in his face as the alarm blared louder. “AND YET, you have misplaced no fewer than THREE essential canonical details, aligning yourself not with your duties as a canonical curator, but a lowly creator! The punishment for this fakery carries a ship-wide reprimand, followed by immediate excision by airlock.”

He needn’t have bothered, for the bridge was consumed with flame and the Canon was no more.

*

It only took a few minutes for the familiar pyramid vessel to materialise and for the other four women to come rushing out to find Ashlyn, who stood waiting with an expectant look on her face, before plunging herself into the arms of a welcoming group hug.

“We were terribly worried!” said the Tourist. “Luckily, Miranda was able to track the emergency teleport’s coordinates.”

“Turns out that was on the seven-hundred-and-fifth level,” Miranda grinned. “But we’ve managed to size things down to normal again. Hopefully…”

Shona nibbled on a chocolate bourbon, offering the pack around. “Well, now that we’re all back together, let’s go and find a happy story.”

“About that…” Ashlyn grabbed Pathway by the hand and pulled her and the group over to the top of the ridge, revealing the sight of the Christmas Armistice.

“It would appear that we’re in one…”

Ashlyn thought back on the strange old man. They hadn’t spoken for very long at all. Indeed, she hadn’t really been sure what to say, but she felt in a way she couldn’t quite describe that what had passed between them carried the weight of many years.

She was certain that, in some fashion, she may well have just saved the old man’s life, and that some invisible purpose within her had been fulfilled – for the last time.

But now, the time had come to revel in merriment, as the soldiers started up their song again in a gleeful encore, and the five heroines were moved to join.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne?


​

By Sean Dillon, who is the new talented editor at Arcbeatle Press. Get the autographs now.
Art by Bri Crozier, who is just really damn good at what they do.

Oh, and this one is a bit darker than the others. Still a comedy story, still good fun and VERY GOOD, but delves into a few things that might not be for you today! Use your discretion :).

Go On, Toddle Along
An Exciting Adventure with The Tourist and Ashlyn Oswin

TW: Implied rape invocation, racial slurs.

As the Black Pyramid dematerialized, it made the groaning wheezing sound typically heard when Crawling plays on the radio. The sky was an evergreen cloudless blue as the remains of the moon were shattering down towards the orphanage of disabled puppies. There were a number of reasons why the moon was destroyed, among them being the belief that using nuclear weapons actually solves problems. As highlighted by the charred remains of a number of unnamed puppies who just wanted love and affection, this is not the case.
As the Black Pyramid hurtled through the bloody recesses of time and space, the destruction of the moon was not on Ashlyn Oswin’s mind. There were a number of more pressing things that she was dealing with, the least of which being the dead. For starters, there’s the Black Pyramid itself. As anyone who has been within it first notices, the interiors are far too large to fit within the exterior proportions. Not that they were all that large compared to a typical pyramid, but there was a slight size increase compared to what one would expect. They were designed with an air of gothic, albeit a gothic inspired by someone who has never experienced a work in the gothic tradition. Which is to say that there were a bunch of bones scattered around the walls and there weren’t that many sources of light. At times, Ashlyn could barely see a thing.
Then, of course, there was the woman she was traveling with. Most people called her the Tourist, if only to stop her from going on a long, rather tangential speech about how no one could ever know her true identity as it was forsaken to the cruel horrors of the universe, horrors which she fights day in day out, without want for reward, recognition, or friendship, Horrors that have taken so much from her, so many she cared for, and so forth. She would then go on to list these people at length in a way that made her seem like the true victim as opposed to those who died horribly. (Notable examples include Rey Taylor, who was turned into mush by traveling to a parallel universe of magic talking ponies, Mary Jones, who asphyxiated after resetting time to its proper place, and Dina Noble, who had some rather unfortunate experiences she, in the Tourist’s telling, begged to forget.)
The Tourist was a lean, almost cockroach-like, older woman, roughly in her early 50’s, and showed it. Though her hair was a curly brown done up in a pompadour and her skin smooth as a chameleon, beneath her eyes, inside her soul, was someone who constantly did the right thing, no matter the cost. Even if she had to kill, slaughter, maim, or exterminate to get it done, she would do what she deemed was necessary. The Tourist was dressed in a black trench coat (which she considered putting spikes on before rejecting it due to not being able to make it work with the trench coat’s fabric), black pants, a white shirt, a black tie, black sunglasses with circular frames, a cigarette perpetually hanging out of her mouth (though Ashlyn never saw it lit), and pink ballerina shoes. Her black jackboots had not yet arrived. Indeed, they were five years late despite her having a time machine that could arrive at the exact moment they were shipped mere moments after being ordered. Which was a shame since the Kreesus Man was the only thing that brought her true joy. (Well, that and hate fucking.)
“Something on your mind,” asked the Tourist. This was not done out of genuine curiosity so much as it was a calculated move in service to a larger scheme. Her traveling partner was in a bit of a mood. It was the kind of mood where it would be allowed to simmer if not questioned, and explode if it were. The traveling partner was a young 20 something with short brown hair cut into a bob just slightly long enough to barely miss the shoulders. Much like the Tourist, she was lean albeit more athletically so. More a dancer than cockroach (these were her shoes after all). She had the face of a movie star just waiting for her big break as opposed to the school teacher she ostensibly was. The Tourist’s current traveling partner, much like her previous partners, was dressed in a rather short blue skirt that emphasized her breasts, a frilly bow behind her head, and some basic high heels. She exuded an air of kindness and generosity. And yet, there was a wicked smile beneath the sweetness. It was a very Hufflepuff smile, the kind that no one suspects until there’s a sword coming out from you. You’d see the sword coming, Hufflepuffs always stab people in the front. But, as with the case of most self-proclaimed Ravenclaws, you’d be too busy lapping up your own cleverness to notice it happening. It was this, among other things, that ultimately pushed the Tourist towards asking the question to her traveling partner. She was, after all, always in the mood for a good old fashioned hate fuck.
“Well,” said Ashlyn after a moment’s thought, “I’ve been thinking.” Well, that’s a problem, thought the Tourist. Best fix that after the hate fuck.
“Thinking about what, love?”
“About these adventures we’ve been having.”
“W-what do you mean?”
“Well, to stick with some of the more recent ones, there was that robot you pushed out of a hot air balloon made out of the flesh of orphan street urchins.”
“To be fair, I did it because his robot army was plotting to overthrow the Queen of England and his death was the only way to stop them.”
“Then there was the pacifistic death bot you taught the necessity of killing.”
“Only other death bots! Besides, everyone knows pacifism never works. If anyone ever tried it, they would soon realize the futility of the deed. There are evils in this world who would rather all of us die. Barbarians just waiting to overthrow our freedoms, take away our friends. I needed to teach it the futility of pacifism before it got itself murdered by the hard truths of the world we live in!”
“And then we blew up the Enchanted Wood.” Ashlyn, notably, did not name the horrid sight, the blackest gnome, who, along with a pair of peg wooden dolls, helped them in their... adventure in the Enchanted Wood.
“Bah! Better to blow up all fairy tale lands then let them be converted by the Dredded foot soldiers of the Robotmen!” She perked up, hoping her traveling partner picked up on her pun. If she did, she was confused by its relevance to the nature of the Robotmen. They were not so much jack booted thugs of an authoritarian police state who dealt in order through subjugation, but rather an insidious threat dressed in utopian ideals with a fascist undercurrent simmering beneath the surface like a bag of cocaine that has just been ripped open in the insides of a Floridian man trying very hard not to look suspicious and failing miserably. Even then, the pun worked better in prose than spoken verbally.
“And then, you ruined my date with Graelyn because you were, and I quote, bored.”
“Well, that date was going to crap anyways.” The Tourist had to be careful with this next bit. Go too far, and she leaves forever without the hate fuck or attitude adjustment. Not far enough, and the plan’s ruined.
“Then,” Ashlyn continued, on a roll with her list of adventures, “we helped a bank kidnap and brainwash an intelligent life form.”
“Oh come on, it wasn’t that intelligent. Plus, the stock market needed it. Do you know how many corporations could have lost .02% of their net growth?”
“But what really hit me was our most recent adventure. It started when we got into an argument over the ethics of our adventures. A lot of our adventures have had what can only be described as… terrible results.”
“And I told you,” with an emphasis on you that only a Scottish sounding person can pull off, “that this is a hard world that requires hard decisions. Sometimes, there are only bad choices and we must pick amongst them.”
“Right, that’s what you said. And then, you put me in charge of our next adventure. We landed on the moon in the not too distant future and discovered it had been infected with carnivorous giant spiders.”
“Truly, a realistic thing to encounter in the vastly cruel cosmos.”
“We were trapped on the moon along with a platoon of Space Marines.”
“Who deserved all our support, as all troops do.”
“Who then died.”
“A tragic, but necessary sacrifice.”
“Leaving us with their nuclear weapons to defeat the Spiders.”
“And I left the decision up to you. Luckily, you made the right call in the end. Who knows what those dreadful spiders would have done if left to roam the universe.”
“Except… I almost aborted the bomb.”
“…YOU WHAT!” The Tourist was furious. Her traveling partners were typically stupid by design, but never to this degree. How could she let her down like this. The Tourist would have to scrap her sooner than she expected if this was the level of fuck up to be seen. She calmed herself quickly. There was still the potential hate fuck after all.
Ashlyn was not to be detoured. “I got a sense from them that they weren’t inherently hostile. That they reacted to us with violence because the Marines shot first. Were we to leave them alone, they would have lived peacefully on the moon. Who knows what cultures we’ve murdered, what lives they lived. I was about to abort the bomb when something hit me. Something made a horrifying amount of sense, such that I didn’t have enough time to abort the bomb. About not just that adventure, but all our adventures. It had been nagging at me for quite some time until then, but when it hit, I was awash with a sense of overwhelming clarity.”
The Tourist was starting to sweat. “So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that somehow, every element in our adventures is connected to the television show Doctor Who. That’s what I’m saying.” Shit, thought the Tourist. On the bright side, at least she’s never heard of Lady Aescalapi… Axeliu… Ascelopolis… That woman I had a drunken one night stand with after helping Better Living Industries defeat the Fabulous Killjoys.
“It is… only a coincidence! I do not even know who David Tennant is!” There was a bit too much emphasis on the word coincidence for Ashlyn to believe that it was. That, and the Tourist was moving a bit too close to Ashlyn for her liking. “Besides, we’ve had adventures that weren’t inspired by Doctor Who. Remember the time we stopped those reds from stealing the Martian death weapons? Or the time we sacrificed my own people for the safety of the universe. Or the time you got kidnapped and ravished by the Immortal Transphobe while I teamed up with my evil past self (who I had no idea even existed) to fend off the space police who were miffed because I created all life in the universe?”
“Ok, I think that last one happens to a different member of the, for lack of a better term, fam,” though Ashlyn did make a mental note to kick the Immortal Transphobe in the balls should they ever meet, “but I damn well know those are all plots to Doctor Who stories.”
“Erm... so what?” said the Tourist with a hint of desperation poorly disguising itself as flippancy, “So what if these stories are all like Doctor Who stories? Surely we can live and love happily! Besides,” the Tourist shifted her position such that she was very close to the Black Pyramid’s one door, barring any potential escape (not that one would want to leap into the veins of time), “if you want to avoid the story of Doctor Who, then this is the perfect opportunity to subvert it! Surely you remember that in that story, the Doctor and his companion drifted apart. But here, Here! We can come closer together. We can do what you always wanted to do: make sweet, hot passionate love! You’ve made the hard choices I make every single day. You understand the necessity of the world we live in. The cruel nature of life! I can make things so much better for you!”
And for a moment, Ashlyn paused. Not for long, of course. Where she the other one, the one she was blatantly ripping off, she might’ve been tempted to give the Tourist a snog and a hate fuck. She might’ve even done it. (Though, in the other one’s defense, were their roles swapped, she would’ve thought the same of Ashlyn.) But there was one thing that prevented her from doing so, the thing that was number one on her mind. It wasn’t so much that they were ripping off Doctor Who as it was the way they were doing it. Their story wasn’t fully Doctor Who per say. It was a bit grimmer, a bit darker, and a bit more fascist than a typical Doctor Who story (which usually aired towards a naïve liberalism). And she knew full well where her story would end:
A woman who died to inspire a hero to do dark, awful things to bring her back. The Tourist would rip time asunder and betray her own people in the name of the Lost Lenore. What drama, what consequences would there be to this tragic affair? This ancient story. This fairy tale. Obviously, they wouldn’t be able to be together in the end. Such stories never allow for the lovers to be together in the end. They would be separated. Usually, such things would be something along the lines of Orpheus and Eurydice, but their adventures would never allow something as light and fluffy as that to happen. It would have to be darker, and Ashlyn had an imagination. The Tourist’s people would offer a trade. Ashlyn, it would turn out, could birth machines such as the Black Pyramid because of some technobabble that only made aesthetic sense. If the Tourist were to allow them to use her as a means of reproduction, to create more, better traveling machines, then her traveling partner would be allowed to live (pacified, of course, so she wouldn’t run off). If the Tourist did not, Ashlyn would be killed. The Tourist would agonize over the decision, but in the end she would make the hard decision. She would say yes to her people and allow Ashlyn to live forever in bondage. It was, after all, for the greater good.
Not wanting that ending, Ashlyn asked a very simple question before landing the coup de grâce. “What’s my name?”
“What,” the Tourist retorted with a small laugh within.
“My name. We’ve been traveling for so long, surely you of all people must know my name.”
“O-of, Of course! Of course I know your name!”
“Well, what is it?”
“It’s… It’s… It’s… Cassandra?” Ashlyn responded to the wrong answer by punching the Tourist in the face. There was a rather nasty shiner on her left eye and the doors to the Black Pyramid were wide open. The Tourist almost fell out, but she held onto the frame of the entrance with great difficulty. She was too focused on holding on for dear life to form coherent sentences, only making snarls and animalistic growls that had the vague outline of language. Ashlyn raced to the console that controlled the Black Pyramid with great difficulty. But it was as if there was a corridor of air helping her along towards her goal lit up by actual lights. The Tourist was starting to lose her grip by the time Ashlyn reached the console. The Tourist gave her traveling partner a look which pleaded for mercy.
“Oh fuck off! Fuck off you twat! And forget you ever met me!!!” And with that, the Tourist fell into the veins of time, left adrift in the past, present, future, and neverwas while the doors of the Black Pyramid slammed shut. Ashlyn sighed, slightly relieved. Self-preservation, even for someone with her character, trumps horniness in the end. Ashlyn looked around. The interior of the Black Pyramid had shifted slightly. No longer the design of someone who had listened to far too much Linkin Park, now it looked like the design of someone who listened to far too much My Chemical Romance. There was still an edge to the design, but it was a different sort of edge, one that allowed for Queen, Janelle Monáe, spadging on sigils, and other queer things. The bones were still there, but there was an artfulness to their design, and they weren’t the only ornaments affixed to the walls of the Black Pyramid. Moreover, Ashlyn could actually see what the majority of the Black Pyramid looked like. There were posters of rock bands, bookshelves full of stories waiting to be annotated, a jukebox with a guitar leaning on it. Ashlyn looked at her surroundings and was pleased. She was less pleased by the clothes she was wearing. They just weren’t her style. And so, she traveled down the corridors, which seemed deeper than they once were, perhaps even diving into infinity, knowing instinctively where to go.
***
It had been a rough few months since Colonel Eliezer Levenston-Stalworth had been commissioned to defend the British dominion over India. They had recently locked a fusilier the troops called The Big Crazy for repeated misconduct, not the least of which being preventing several high ranking officers from doing what needs to be done to boost morale and keep those wogs in line. Natives, the Colonel corrected himself, we’re supposed to call them natives. However, he has been making a lot of ruckus as of late and has threatened to murder the next man to enter his cell. Sure, it was because he was being held without charges and forcibly having his hair cut to below regulation, but he’s been a troublemaker for so long. The Scot needed to be taught the proper British way of things.
Furthermore, the natives were beginning to revolt against the various platoons sanctioned to bring order to this fertile, savage land. They did not appreciate the troops slaughtering their cows to make steaks out of, nor did they like being stripped naked and beaten with sticks for daring to protest their lot in life. They had begun to form resistance groups under a fool named Gandhi who thought that non-violence could actually stand a chance against the might of the British military.
And to top it all off, a race of sea-wogs had surfaced and had aligned itself with the natives. They claim to be intellectually superior, but if they were, they would have used their technology to aid in suppressing the encroaching Nazis, natives, and other lesser peoples. (On the bright side, some of the men had rustled a herd of cows, so steak would be on the menu tonight.) All these things were on the Colonel’s mind when he heard news that a strange woman had been found nearby. He recalled his old ally the Tourist who helped fight against the barbarous hordes of Yeti and the insidious might of the Robotmen, who dared to subvert the glory of the British Empire. Perhaps she could help with their little problem.
It was reported that she was found lying unconscious on a mound of manure with a robot standing next to her. It was wearing a dapper hat and holding a box slightly smaller than a pair of Jackboots in her size…
***
Alice River was in the twilight of her spring when the death bots attacked. She had been teaching History for the past ten years. She was beloved by her students, the faculty, and had even been in meetings with several Labour and Liberal Democrats, though she herself was a member of the Scottish National Party. Her courses typically consisted of walkthroughs in various pre-English civilizations and how they led to the modern world, with a direct focus on the fictions told in those eras such that it was unsure by those who hadn’t taken her courses if she was actually a history teacher at all. Those who did knew she was always talking about History.
Her husband, Roland Williams, was a nurse who worked at a nearby hospice. When he started his medical career, Roland had wanted to be a doctor. However, as he began his medical degree, it occurred to him that his strengths were in assisting those in need. He could do a diagnosis like no one else, but he was stronger doing the equally complex work of organizing a hospital to have all the right people in the right place, to keep the patients comfortable in between the doctor’s visits, and to guide them to the next stage in life. He had been friends with Alice since they were kids and it was only before they went to college that they realized their feelings for one another. (Indeed, they were the last people in their small town to realize that.) They were married a year after they graduated college and loved each other for all the years that followed. They never had kids (Alice was infertile), but that didn’t dampen their relationship (bar one fight before they got married).
What did dampen their relationship was the death bots attacking. One of them struck Roland in his right shoulder. He was lucky to have survived. Practically everyone else was dying, Alice could hear the screams of her students, her fellow faculty, and all the other people wandering the university grounds. She was awash with dread and misery. The only thing keeping her going was her husband, who was screaming in pain. Fortunately, one of her students was with Alice and was able to help carry her husband to a safe location. The student’s name was Bob Potterson, and she was a rather odd student. Officially, she wasn’t a student at all. She couldn’t afford to go to college, so she worked in the cafeteria serving chips to the students. On her off hours, Bob would sneak into various lectures held in the university. The one she cared about the most, however, was Alice’s. There was a small degree of a crush to this (though Bob recognized that such a relationship wouldn’t work out), but it was mostly due to how invigorated and excited Alice was about history, about the people who once lived, the stories they told, the stories lost, all the things that make us who we are. It always put a smile on Bob’s face. Alice, when she found out about Bob, let her stay on and acted as a personal tutor. She liked Bob’s smile and how she asked seemingly obvious, yet unasked questions.
The three found themselves in one of the classrooms. It wasn’t that large, roughly large enough to fit forty students at a time. But it was enough to keep Roland alive. He weakly told the two that he was going to be okay, but his voice refused to lie to them. On a normal day, such an injury would mean Roland would lose his arm. It would take him years to relearn all the things he did with just one arm. He would have to stop nursing for a while, maybe forever. Alice would still be there for him, maybe take a semester or two off to help with the early transition. But it would still hurt.
Fortunately, this was not a normal day. For as Alice was tending Roland’s wounds as best she could, a wheezing groaning sound akin to a dying llama filled the room. The three were awash with a wind from nowhere. In its place, landing precisely atop the tables, was a Black Pyramid. In the direction facing the three was a door with a novelty maple leaf for a knob. The door opened rather smoothly; in its frame was a woman. At first, she was silhouetted by the light from within, almost blindingly bright. But as she stepped closer, they could make more of her out. The woman was dressed in a purple suit with a loose black tie dangling around her white shirt. She was wearing a bowler hat with a small bisexual flag stitched to its rim. She was wearing a fashionable pair of flip flops with a smile on their heels. She had a tattoo on the left side of her neck of a raven flying high. Her hair was cut in a bob just long enough to not reach her shoulders. She was lean, she was confident, and she had the closed smile of someone who had just recently thought about the prospect of space-age wiccan polyamory.
Alice was intrigued by the woman, but somewhat weary of the Black Pyramid. There was an implication of banal cruelty to its design. One of someone who thought brutalism wasn’t brutal enough. And yet, the woman inside seemed to subvert those expectations. She was like the imaginary friend everyone had, the one who wanted to overthrow the government because it was a bit too cruel. Roland was a bit too dazed and confused to have an opinion. Alice seemed at ease with the woman, so he tried to relax. But there was something about that smile of hers that made him think of dashing adventurers who get too close to danger and leave too many wounded behind. Though, again, he was a bit too dazed to have a full opinion. Bob, on the other hand, had a toothy grin on her face. She could tell the woman was her kind of people. She stood with a confidence Bob wished to have in herself. She was sure Helen would be fine with a threesome, right?
(Unbeknownst to Bob, Helen was already in the Black Pyramid, along with a bunch of other students, faculty, and people in the line of death bot fire. A clever plan all things considered, evacuating as many people as possible so the death bots will think they have murdered everyone and move on to somewhere else. That way, mostly everyone will live. The woman thought about the life she was about to go into. About all the places she could see. If danger came, she’d meet it as best she could. Sometimes, she thought, violence is necessary. But only a twat thinks it’s the only solution. Who knows, she thought, maybe I’ll run into her again. And then she laughed in her head and turned towards those outside the Black Pyramid with a polite smile on her face.)
“Hello. My name’s Ashlyn Oswin. Need a lift?”
    

​

You wake up. Looking back on all the other times you woke up before in your life, this one strikes you as different. Probably because of the woman with light blue eyes and hair with pale white skin looking down at you while pterodactyls fly through the sky, in which hangs a gigantic...thing. Like two pyramids placed bottom to bottom, with a wheel of spikes sandwiched in the middle. So that's unusual.
But somehow the thing that really throws all of it off for you is that the woman is wearing a white tracksuit with glowing blue stripes, the jacket unzipped to reveal a plain blue tee.
You mean, come on, dinosaurs and a giant sky double pyramid thing, they're both unusual. They go together in a weird way. Even the lady with the light blue ponytail, and somehow matching eyelashes and eyebrows, sure.
But the tracksuit.
Come on.
"Hey, I'm Pathway. I take it you've never been teleported before?"
Of course you haven't. She nods, face firm. She doesn't appear to be a smiler, but does extend a hand you take, as she pulls you to your feet.
"You must have gotten caught up in the Creation Machine's shift. Regardless of what you like, you're going to need to help me. Its the only way you'll get out of this fiasco alive."
Wait hold, up, you recognise Pathway! She...you saw her at class the other day. Only she had peachier skin, and brown hair. She was new along with the grungy guy, with the stubble, who...
Oh, there he is too. He bursts through the bushes, a bulky rifle in hand. It looks like something from a sci-fi movie. He is wearing a grey uniform now, with the number 789 on the breast. This detail becomes more notable when Pathway draws her sword (!) from her back, and points it at him.
"789, you're not getting our classmate."
Wait, you say, what exactly is going on?
"You shouldn't listen to Pathway here, she and the Infinite want to destabilize the universe. You and I got along, come one, just come over to my side of the clearing, I can explain everything."
"I'll cut your throat out," Pathway replies, and the edge of the sword glows blue.
Okay, at this point you just have to ask who exactly the Infinite are?
"We're guardians of the multiverse. Not by choice. We had to, when Lady Frostbite and her people, the Numbered, decided to take it over."
"We did so for the good of all! What Pathway fails to tell you is that there's only so much stuff in existence, and we're going to make sure it doesn't run out. The Infinite think that things are limitless, everyone gets a free lunch with no consequences."
Okay, so this is an ideological war?
"It's a war," Pathway replies, "over the creation machine." She points into the sky, at the double pyramid thing.
You're about to ask what that is, when a great cry breaks you out of your revery.
It's a goddamn Tyrannosaurus rex, bursting through the treeline.
How did we not notice it?
"It probably only just came into existence, get back!" Pathway shoves you back, and as 789 blasts the dino with his gun, green bursts of energy racking it, Pathway blocks it's teeth with her sword. Getting the blade between two teeth, as the Rex swings its head up to try to bite her again she leans into the momentum.
She flips backwards , and lands with her sword in the back of the predator's neck, sliding down its back and splitting its spine. She lands with a hop off of it, and looks at 789, "Sorry, what were you saying about our ideology?"
But he'd already started running.
Okay, what just happened.
"The creation machine made that dinosaur, it made this entire planet. That's what it does. We need to keep going I just need to find my orb."
Your what?"
She holds her hand out to you, "My way of travel. Now come on, there's a lot I need to explain to you. The 10,000 worlds created by the creation machine need to be defended, and I'm sworn to do that. But I'm also sworn to aid anyone caught up in this without their choice. Would you come with me?" The edge of her lips curl up in a smile.

You'd still have enough time to catch up to 789.

Do you take her hand or not?

THE WAR ACROSS THE INFINITE
10,000 DAWNS PROTOTYPE

​

​Copyright 2020 Arcbeatle Press and James Wylder
Any resemblance to persons living or dead, fictional or real, or events past or present is either purely coincidental or done firmly within the grounds of loving parody.
Any attempt to use this story to make weird claims on a wiki argument thread should probably be grounds to ignore any other arguments from the user making those claims forever. Just saying. It's an April fools story, I mean really.

It was getting late. Another day at Brightstone Farm had come to an end. Closing the latch on the barn door, Redacted Pinorva drew in a deep breath. The lush smell of the meadow filled his nostrils, carrying all the gentle flavors of summer. It was days like this he would remember for the rest of his life.
Strolling back through the fields towards the farmhouse, he saw his uncle, Uncle, stride out to meet him.
"Redacted, my boy." Uncle greeted him with a warm smile, his face as old and haggard as the trees in Hayseed Wood. He placed his arm around Redacted's shoulders and together they headed for home. "You've done me proud today, boy. Not only did you stop that pesky Xiz invasion, you also managed to get my tractor fixed." He tapped at his chin. "I think I'll make your favorite for dinner tonight."
Redacted's eyes lit up. "Chicken masala with extra chapattis?"
Uncle scratched his head. He coughed awkwardly. "No. Spinach. Now get inside and eat your greens!"
Grumbling, Redacted ran into the farmhouse. Uncle stopped at the porch and took one last glance at the sky. He smiled at the setting sun, well aware it was one of the last he would see.

At the edge of the farm, the peace was about to end. The barn door rattled. The latch leapt up and down. Something inside wanted to get out; the cows were all too happy for that to happen.
They didn't have to wait long.
With the hiss of a Zolar ray gun, the barn door disintegrated, and five people stepped out.
"Here we go again," said the Tourist, taking in her picturesque surroundings. "Another narrative to subvert."
The five intruders strode across the rolling fields heading for a solitary farmhouse, where a family sat down for dinner.

"How was that?" Uncle asked as he gobbled down the last piece of spinach on his plate.
Redacted's face screwed up into a ball of disgust. "Fine, Uncle. Though I don't quite know how you can forget what my favorite meal was."
"I'm sorry, my boy," said Uncle. His head hung low in shame. "It was so long ago I just forgot."
Redacted looked confused. "Uncle, we had chicken masala last week!"
Uncle chuckled. "Perhaps when you get to my age you'll understand."
Redacted's confusion quickly turned to concern. "Are you sure you're alright, Uncle? You've seemed ever so distant recently."
Uncle's face grew grave. He left the dinner table and walked over to the refrigerator. When he opened the door his face was bathed in a pool of golden light, much brighter than that of a normal refrigerator. For a moment Uncle seemed mesmerized. He quickly snapped out of it, and returned to the table with two bowls of rice pudding. "I hope this will help you forgive me for the curry incident?"
Redacted smiled, pulling the bowl towards him with hungry eyes. "All is forgiven, Uncle."
Uncle smiled, watching his nephew eat with pride in his eyes.
Knock knock.
Uncle's eyes darted to the door. I can't remember this part!
Before either of them rose to answer their late night caller, the door opened. Five women stepped into the kitchen, dressed in all manner of strange clothes. They looked like rejects from a prolific book series. Uncle had a sneaking suspicion they were.
Their leader stepped forward. "Hey guys! I'm the Tourist. These are my friends; Miranda, Ashlyn, Shona and Pathway. I hear you two were both neglected by your author. We've come to share our sympathies. You see, we too were scrapped, or sidelined in the creative process. We're actually quite pissed about the whole thing. We're popping from reality to reality to give our creator the middle finger. Hope you understand."
Redacted and Uncle found themselves nodding even though they had no idea what the strange lady was saying. Alien invaders were weird; these people were freaks!
"Hope you don't mind me doing a spot of redecorating?" Miranda raced around the room on her roller-skates, dousing the walls with spray-paint. "There. Much better!"
Redacted leapt up from his seat. "Stop that. This is our home!"
Ashlyn held out an arm to calm him. "Never you mind about that. What's your name?"
"Redacted Pinorva," Redacted replied.
Ashlyn batted her eyelashes at him and gently placed him back in his chair.
"Redacted Pinorva? That's a weird name."
"His first name was used by another intellectual property," Shona explained. "Happens all the time when the author doesn't finish their work quick enough."
"And what's your uncle called, sweetie?"
"Uncle," said Redacted, like it was obvious.
"Uncle?" laughed Pathway. "What kind of name is that?"
The Tourist joined in. "Your author couldn't even be bothered to give you a proper name!"
Tears formed in Uncle's eyes. "I think you'll find I DO have a name. I'm just not allowed to tell him!” He thrust a finger at his nephew.
"What are you talking about, Uncle?"
Uncle glanced at the intruders in his kitchen and rolled his eyes. "Well since you lot have barged in and broken the narrative, I may as well tell you." Rising from his chair, Uncle leaned over the table. "I'm you, Redacted. You from thousands of years in the future. You after a terrible war wipes out our people. You shortly before I slip back into my ship - that fridge over there - and usurp the throne of the Eternal King in order to break the laws of time and pluck you out of the War before its devastating conclusion. In the process you become the sole survivor of said war, and a cyclical paradox is created that ensures the survival of our race. Happy?"
Redacted's jaw fell open. "Geez, Uncle. Spoilers much?"
"Sounds quite a complicated story we've got going on here," said Ashlyn. "I'm surprised this idea wasn't made into a series."
"The author got bored," the Tourist explained, "preferred to write space adventures about the Roc's Feather and its crew's battles against the Voltron."
"Voltron!" Uncle squawked. "They're B-movie villains at best. They were nothing compared to the villains from my adventures. I stopped the Aubrite from rewriting reality!"
"Actually, on that note." The Tourist pulled a distress beacon from her pocket. "We're actually here to do just that. We're here to draw the attention of the powers that be. Figured destroying this reality might work. This distress beacon may look small, but it has the power to call upon every hostile ship in the universe. Well, this universe anyway. If there's anything that'll get our creator's attention, it'll be blowing up the main setting of one of his worlds."
Shona held up her hand. "But doesn't this Earth belong to another author? We were literally just talking about how that guy couldn't be bothered to name anyone around here."
"Hey!" shouted Pathway. "You never said anything about destroying the entire world!"
The Tourist groaned. "Not now, Pathway, I'm busy. This is all besides the point. Now we've gone to the effort we may as well blow this place up anyway." She turned her attention back to Uncle. "I'd invite you along for the ride but you're a tad… past your prime." She shrugged. Seeing Redacted's hurt look she added: "And you're too inexperienced. Sorry!"
The Tourist pushed her thumb down and the distress beacon activated. Already the world seemed different, like a countdown had begun on a quick march to zero.
Opening the front door, Ashlyn ushered everyone outside. "Come on, we may as well observe the spectacle while we're still here."
The five miscreants stood in the middle of a field, staring up to the sky. Redacted and Uncle followed, unable to form a plan quick enough as their world ended around them.
They watched as every conceivable invasion happened at once. Helicron, Xiz, Draxi and Voltron ships reigned down from the skies. A Solari pilgrimage vessel collided with an Artari sunskipper. The warpdrive of the sunskipper was hit, sending a devastating blast of Iglix radiation into the stratosphere. Every ship in the sky was caught by the shockwave, turned into molten fireballs of doom. They descended. The apocalypse had begun.
"Better be quick before the blast gets us," said Miranda.
"Hop in," said the Tourist, throwing her pyramid-shaped transport onto the grass. It grew to the size of a small shed. As her companions entered, the Tourist cackled to herself. "If this doesn't get their attention I don't know what will."
Seconds later they were gone. The crashing ships hit the Earth. The world ended.

​

​The garbage was moving.
Ashlyn Oswin squinted at the shifting trash, waiting for a rat to come out of it. She liked rats, they were underrated mammals, and right now even a feral one would improve her mood. Disappointingly, it was a human hand.
"Oh," she vocalized as if someone in the universe's editorial department could hear her and revamp her day to be more interesting.
The woman attached to the hand was not a normal woman, not that that meant a lot when you could pay for you favorite genetic and surgical enhancements on demand, though the thrill had eventually been lost for most folks on Earth. This woman wore a white track suit, remarkably unstained by the trash, win a single glowing blue stripe going up the legs, sleeves, and side. the jacket was open to reveal a blue shirt. She was an athletic beanpole, her light blue hair  was tied back in a ponytail, and along with her matching light blue eyes stood out 
against her pale white skin. Ashlyn however focused on two things: the tennis ball sized orb floating above the lady's shoulder, and the Katana in her left hand.
The woman pulled herself up, then hopped out on one food, doing a little hopping shake to get the rest of the trash off. The orb then ran a light over her, and the remains of the garbage she hadn't gotten vanished from her.
"You," the woman opened, pointing her sword at Ashlyn, "where am I."
"Why were you in the garbage, and why do you have a sword?" she asked calmly.
The lady stepped forward, eyes narrowing. her eyebrows and eyelashes were light blue, like it was their natural color... "Answer me, your answer could mean the difference between life and death for your world."
Ashlyn sighed, "Really? I mean, not that I'm not up for that sort of thing, but I was on my way to grab a cake."
"Cake can wait."
"A terrible way to live your life."
Their confrontation was interrupted by a glowing portal made of magical sigils appearing on the wall, and another woman flying out of it, and smacking instantly against the other wall of the alley, and landing in the trash pile tracksuit had fallen in.
"Ah," Ashlyn said, keenly picking up on the obvious pattern.
Tracksuit pointed the sword at this new arrival, and the edge of the sword glowed the same blow as the lines on her suit.
The new arrival, also covered in garbage, was however a bit of a let down on the threat department. She was wearing roller blades, had a packed backpack, and a can of spraypaint in her brown-skinned hand. Her black hair was neatly cared for, aside from the garbage. She looked like a teenager, and threw her hands up in the air at the strange woman pointing a sword at her.
"I'm unarmed!"
"What's that in your hand?"
"It's paint?"
"In a can?"
"...Yeah?"
She lowered the sword, "Alright, what is going on here?"
Ashlyn clapped her on the shoulder, "Finally you're catching on. No one here has any idea it would seem."
"I sure don't!" Rollerblades said.
Ashlyn coughed, "Hey blade lady, could you, uh..." she gestured at the garbage all over rollerblades.
"Yes," she replied curtly. The orb zipped over to her, and the light panned over her, wiping the garbage away. This turned out to be good timing, as white light appeared on the wall in a circle, and a fourth woman stepped out, in a red beret and gray uniform, eating sandwich.
They stared at her.
She stared back.
"Hi," she said.
"What's up?" Ashlyn asked.
"Saw a portal to an alternate reality, thought I'd check it out."
Tracksuit raised an eyebrow, "Just...casually?"
She looked back and forth between all three of them, "Is that wrong? I mean I was already taking a walk."
"I mean did you know how you'd get back?"
She shrugged.
Ashlyn sighed, "Throw yourself in the garbage pile."
Beret checked out the garbage, "No thank you?"
"Everyone else did it. Tracksuit here can get you all cleaned up afterwards."
"My name is not--"
"Shh"
Beret looked at the pile, looked back, looked at the pile, and handed Ashlyn her sandwich, then threw herself in the pile, got out, and was immediately cleansed by the orb.
"Alright, now that we all did that."
"Did you throw yourself in the pile?" Tracksuit asked.
"Of course, right before you arrived," she lied, "Now what are we all doing here in this alley?"

* * *

Around the corner, a fifth woman was looking at her watch, looking back at a black pyramid the size of a fist, and then looking out the window. She grumbled, and then it something hit her, she bolted up, cursing, and scrambled out the door of the cafe yelling "Shit shit shit."

She slid around the corner, and ran into the alley behind the cafe, where four women were standing already. Panting a little, she tried to get into a mysterious looking pose, put a little smirk on her mouth, and with a laugh (and some panting asked, "So, I assume you wonder why I gathered you all here today?"
"She's the one who dropped us all in the trash?" Tracksuit asked, swirling her sword around.
"No, hold up! You're all here for a very important reason, I just got the co-ordinates a bit wrong. I'm used to working with negative numbers and..." she took a deep breath, and posed with her hand under her chin, "Regardless of my error, I have an offer for all of you, all five of us share something in common?"
"Garbage?" Rollerblades asked.
"No, Miranda, what we share in common is that we've been wronged."
"By who?" Ashlyn asked, "Other than you who threw us in garbage?"
"By the narrative!"

* * *

The Tourist slammed a book down on the table. Ashlyn reached forward to pick it up, “10,000 Dawns, by James Wylder? What kind of a book is that, his last name is spelled wrong.”
"That book," she said, "is the end result of the drafts of your lives. All of us, in some way or another, were destined for better times. To be illustrated! Be on merchandise! Be featured in unpublished cardgames! But no, all of you, all of us, got cut out, replaced, or ignored. You, Pathway, what's your job?"
Pathway crossed her arms, "I am traveling with a great hero to save the universe from the Numbered."
"Yes yes! And do you ever get there?"
She raise an eyebrow, "Well of course not, because time goes forward linearly, and we haven't gotten that far."
The Tourist pulled her sunglasses up so Pathway could see her roll her eyes, "No! No no no. You never reached that because you were in the first draft of 10,000 Dawns, when Mr. Wylder was in High School. And in that draft, it wasn't even a novel! It was a roleplaying game! You were the preset character who went along to guide the player characters along their path. He even named you Pathway, so creative. Tell me, what's the name of that great hero?"
She paused, and then a silence emanated from it.
"...yes?"
"Well it could be a lot of things."
"What's your relationship to this hero?"
"They're my best friend, and maybe more."
"Then. What. Is. Their. Name."
Pathway coughed.
The tourist put both hands palms up at her side, "Hmn?"
"...I don't know."
"Exactly! And you," she turned her attention to Miranda, "You used to actually be the protagonist! The hero of your own story!"
"I...am the hero of my own story? I'm trying to defeat the gods, and Zeus, as part of the cult."
The Tourist waggled her finger, "Nuh uh! You get relegated, in a rather different form to being a minor character who works with Johnathan Vice--"
"John!" she lit up, "Can you pick him up too? I'd love having him around."
She sighed, "No. This is a girls only comedy holiday event. Let me finish. Mr. Wylder made you a minor character. Instead he replaced you with, of all people, Graelyn Scythes. Graelyn! Her first name doesn't even make sense! How is that Russian?"
Ashlyn raised a hand, "Oh there's a story behind that, see--"
"I didn't ask for you to retcon it into making sense, Ashlyn! And let's talk about you, how about? Your role in the novel is you show up in a flashback where you break up with Graelyn. That's it."
Finally, a good reaction, she looked absolutely offended, "That's it? What? No, I'm absolutely a major supporting character at the least. The least!"
"Nope. Though you did get a single spin off story before they forgot about you again."
She pouted.
Extending her arms and spinning around the empty cafe, the Tourist grinned, stopping in a pose to point at Shona, "And then there's you, the surprise hit popular character from 10kd! And how many times did you show up?"
Shona shrugged, "No offense, but I don't...really care?"
She threw her arms up, "And that's why they love you...are...are you drinking a bubble tea? Where...where did you get that?"
Shona shrugged yet again.
"Dammit, this is why they love you. But again, you disappeared! They couldn't even capitalize on golden characters like you. They're nitwits!"
Ashlyn stood up, "And who are you exactly?"
The Tourist spun again, landing this time in a dark and brooding pose. "I am a member of a powerful race of beings called the Elders. We ruled our universe from the sidelines, but mostly we were just really really bored."
"So like the gods?" Miranda asked.
"Like the Firmament?" Ashlyn added.
"Like both. Because as the drafts changed, the names changed, and eventually, I turned into...this!"
She pressed a button on her wristwatch, and two images were projected on the wall, both of an eccentrically dressed brown skinned woman, but not the same one, but somehow maybe the same one.
"Lady Aesculapius. My replacement. Look how cheerful it is. Beautiful illustrations though, Anne-Laure Tuduri and Johannes Chazot really should be commended. But I digress. When the Firmament was making the 10,000 Dawns, they made several drafts, trying to get the elements they wanted correct. They didn't delete those drafts though, just sort of...locked them away. I realized that I was trapped in an unfinished universe, and I escaped! I looked for meaning in it, and traveled to a universe where the 10,000 Dawns were, ridiculously, a book series by a talentless hack who managed to get a bunch of actually talented people to team up with him to make some stories, and read them. Oh the things I learned...And I thought...this isn't fair? This sucks? I don't want to live like this and I deserve attention!"
"Very modest," Pathway said.
"I thought so."
Miranda raised her hand, "So...what exactly is your plan?"
"We team up! The five of us work together to try to get everyone's attention again! We deserve to be featured characters in the narrative of the universe, and if some idiot is writing stories about people he used us as stepping stones to get to, we should at least get a piece of commissioned art?"
Shona called out from between a mouth of chips, "I literally have no idea what you're talking about."
"Oh."
"But I'm bored so I'm in. Why not."
"Oh!"
Ashlyn stood up, "I'm absolutely in. This is unfathomable. We kidnap James Wylder, and force him to write something else."
The Tourist raised both hands up, "Maybe, but I think we have another option first, if the rest of you are in."
Miranda tapped her roller bladed foot against the floor, "...yeah. Yeah I'm in. Let's make some noise!"
Pathway screwed her mouth up, "Do I have...an analog in the final story?"
The Tourist shook her head, "No, there wasn't really a need."
She slowly nodded, "Then I'd like to die with my name on at least one person's lips. I will come."
Ashlyn crossed her arms.
The Tourist crossed her arms too.
They firmed their brows.
"Alright then, Tourist, how exactly are we going to do this?"
The Tourist snapped, and a black pyramid the side of a dinner plate popped into being, green lines running along it's surface. It dropped to the floor, and grew till it was large enough for a doorway to slide open.
"I didn't mention? I have a ship that travels through narrative. All of the 10,000 Dawns is at our fingertips, and outside it too if we get bored. So then...where should we go first?"

* * *

Miranda skated another circuit around the catwalk around the main room of the pyramid. It would have been a lot easier if it was a circle, but she could use the railings to swing the corners so it wasn’t too bad. Even so, she could tell that everyone watching her from the lower level had the same thought: why exactly did this ship have a catwalk there. Did it aesthetically look cool? Yes. If there was a camera crew, would it let them get a lot more cool shots than if they were all trapped on the ground floor? Also yes, But as it was there was a stairway that led up to the catwalk, and the catwalk led to no other doors.
“So uh, why?” Shona finally had the nerve to ask.
“It is a prototype,” The Tourist answered. “Who knows.”
Ashlyn leaned against what she assumed was a control console, “So then, what’s the first step of this big plan, miss Tourist?”
The Tourist laughed, and made a fist, their fears reflecting in her sunglasses, “Well first of all, miss Oswin...could you get off the coffeemaker that things kind of expensive, you can even make lattes with it.”
Shona cooed, “We could open up a coffee shop!”
“Maybe later! Our first step is to take over the broadcasting center on the View, and to broadcast out to the multiverse that were here, we’re queer, and we’re ready to party!” She pumped her fist in the air waiting for applause. None came.
“What’s the view, and are we sure we’re all somewhere on the LGBT+ spectrum?” Ashlyn asked.
“Anyone not?” Miranda called down. Crickets.
“I really need to get those bugs out of here, even if they amplify rhetorical effects,” the Tourist mumbled, “alright then, what is the View? Why, it’s the place at the junction of infinity! Travelers from all over the multiverse hang out there! So what do you say, with your help, we’ll send a message to all the people who have never heard of us!”
Finally, she got the reaction she wanted.

* * *

Well, it figured things wouldn’t go as planned. Ashlyn had gone clubbing, and was now making out with a girl at a milk bar. Pathway had joined a sword-fighting contest, and was dueling Cyborg Mushashi Miyamoto, again. Shona had eaten four donuts and was taking a nap next to her now. Miranda was participating in a roller derby competition. Which, well, at least was entertaining to watch, even if Shona had fallen asleep.
“Go Miranda!” she yelled, completely dispassionately. She didn’t need the encouragement anyway, the girl was like if you gave a bulldozer gymnastics lessons, flipping over people, smashing past them. At least the day wasn’t a total waste. The Tourist didn’t know the rules, but she did know that Miranda had won, because the big light up sign said “WINNER” and the ref was holding her hand up while she stood on a podium. Subtle hints.
“Now Miranda,” the announcer asked, “you can ask for anything within the View as your prize. What do you wish?”
She stood dumbfounded, and probably would have said something like “a cola”, if the Tourist hadn’t yelled out, “Hey! Ask for the keys to the broadcasting room!”
The announcer’s face fell, “Oh. Can...can they ask for that?”
A team of lawyers checked, and as their faces fell rinkside, the Tourist let out a whoop. Victory! Accidentally! But she’d take it.

* * *

The five of them sat at a desk, looking out at the 4D cameras. Makeup was done. Lighting was perfect. Time to tell everyone who they were.
“Hello multiverse, and all of you reading at home. My name is the Tourist. You might not know me, but you will. Along with my new friends Ashlyn, Pathway, Shona, and Miranda, we’re the new heroines of this story! We’re taking over. So you’d better get ready. You may have forgotten us, you may not have even known about us, but today, on this day where you should absolutely take everything you read on the internet at face value*, you’ll remember us! Watch out, because our adventures are just starting.”

*do not do that

THE FORGOTTEN HEROINES OF 10,000 DAWNS BIG TAKEOVER

A NEW ONE-DAY EVENT SERIES WITH ART BY BRI CROZIER

FEATURING NEW STORIES BY
JAMES WYLDER
JAMES HORNBY
SEAN DILLON
ALEX WAKEFORD
AND
ARISTIDE TWAIN

ARCBEATLE PRESS APRIL FOOLS 2020

England, somewhere outside a pit, 1651.
The young man ran. He’d been running for what seemed like ages now. He’d fought, and lost, and fought, and lost again, and now all there was left was running.
But this time, the running was a little different than he’d expected.
He slipped behind the tree, trying to keep his breath quiet. His face was still dirty from hiding in a hole to escape the last people chasing him. Now this.
Nervously, he leaned his head out around the tree, slowly edging his way out, and bumped his forehead into someone else’s.
“Ow!” said Lady Aesculapius.
“Ow!” agreed the young man.
“Why are you hiding behind a tree?”
“Why are you creeping around a tree?”
“I’m on a secret mission!”
“I’m being chased by soldiers.”
Aesc stuck her lips out and nodded. “That’s the pits. Like, the violent type of soldier?”
“Is there another?”
“My girlfriend was a soldier and...no she still punches people, forget that.”
Beyond the trees, they heard approaching voices and footsteps.
“Hey, new friend--”
“Charlie.”
“Awesome, how about we run for our lives?”
They ran, until the sounds of the soldiers behind them faded, and they wheeled to take shelter behind a different larger tree then before.
“Ow!” Jason said as Charlie slammed into him.
“Ow!” Charlie replied.
“Ow!” Aesc said as she slammed into Blanche.
“Huh, so you just looped back around?” Blanche said.
Aesc frowned as she rubbed her nose. “You were supposed to say ‘Ow!’, we had a bit going!”
Blanche looked at the young man. “Who is this?”
“He’s Charlie. Soldiers want him for some reason.” Lady Aesc turned to face him. “We’ll protect you, and keep you safe, alright?”
He bowed his head. “Thank you, thank you so much but...what are you doing here?”
There were shouts, and the sounds of terrified soldiers fleeing into the night.
“I think we just found what we’ve been looking for,” Aesc grinned. “Does everyone have their secret weapon? I have my book of matches!”
“I have my thermos of hot liquid!” Jason volunteered.
“I have my military-grade flamethrower,” Blanche finished.
“Good, we’re all set then…”
From behind the tree, the sounds grew closer, and hazarding a look, Charlie peeked to see what it was.
It was made of ice and snow, a long limbed thing with a forked tail and a big sack hoisted over its back. It turned its head from side to side, ice eyes rolling around till it stopped, and began to pull the sack open.
It was a funny feeling when the sack opened up - it wasn’t so much that things looked different, as they felt different. The world felt...colder.
“Aesc, this feels...wrong,” Blanche noted.
“That snow-imp thing is...it’s putting the day into the sack. This day. The first day of Christmas. But...why? Why would it want time?”
Blanche took the safety off the flamethrower. “Well, we should probably stop it stealing time then.”
“Eh, nevermind, new plan. The flamethrower probably isn’t the best call here,” Aesc jumped out from behind the tree, and held up a glass marble at the creature.
“Come at me, bro!” she yelled. The creature gave a roar, and rushed at her, and as it got close to the marble...shrunk down and seemed to zip inside it. With a wink, Aesc followed, and then Jason shrank after her!
Blanche looked at Charlie, and as he tried to find words to describe the witchcraft happening around him, she grabbed him by the shirt and chucked him at the marble.
He shrank! Or, maybe the marble grew? Before he knew it, he was standing in a crystal room, next to the three strangers and the creature. It roared again, and then began melting as the temperature rose.
It stumbled forward, feet turning to puddles of water leaving behind only the sack, and a card.
“What is happening?” Charlie cried out. “And what was that monster?
Aesc hopped in the puddle. “A snow imp. No idea where it’s from.” She picked the card up from the ground. “Wow, never mind, I should have waited literally ten seconds.”
Jason took the card from her and looked at it. Charlie peered at it over his shoulder.
“Co-ordinates!” Jason exclaimed.
“Precisely, so I guess I do know where it’s from, whoops.” Then her brow furrowed. “Crap. I missed something obvious there. Let me see the card with the coordinates again."
"Why can't we just give it to Phil, wouldn't that save time?"
"Phil?" Charlie asked.
"I'm the ship," Phil answered from the entire room.
Charlie nodded, his pupils growing expansive.
"Just hand me the card already."
Jason slipped it over, and Aesc's brow furrowed. "These are negative coordinates."
"Coordinates inside the 10,000 Dawns are never negative." Blanche said.
"That's...not entirely true. Damn it, Festive Firmament..." she sighed, and looked up at the ceiling. "This Lady Frostbite, whoever she is, took the 12 days of Christmas into the Sketch."
"Obligatory response you want where we ask you to explain what the Sketch is," Blanche monotoned.
"During the creation of the 10,000 Dawns, there were several...beta versions. Rough drafts. When the 10,000 Dawns were all finished it was decided it would be immoral to get rid of them, despite each one having some sort of major flaw to it. You know how sometimes when you play a videogame they leave in levels they deleted early on in development in the code because it's easier to leave the code there than cut them out? It's sort of like that. Each negative Dawn is one of those universes. A few of them are close to a finished state, most of them resemble a white canvas with a plot of land smack dab in the middle."
Blanche and Jason applauded, and Charlie started applauding too so he wouldn't feel left out.
"Excellent info dump Aesc!" Jason praised.
"You're really getting better at exposition, babe!" Blanche noted.
Aesc brushed the compliments out of the air but didn't hide her blush. "Well, I have been practicing."
“Are you angels or demons?” asked Charlie. “Spirits?”
Aesc picked up the sack, and looked inside it. “Well, think of us as guardians of existence. Whatever that means to you personally, I’ll just roll with it for today.”
“If that’s true...is this some sort of angelic sphere?” Charlie looked around at the incredible shining room, with its crystal walls and crystal terminals.
"It's extremely crystal, isn't it?" said Blanche. "'Crystal' always seems to be THE adjective."
"This is the Factory of...wait for it...Crystal," said Lady Aesc. She dumped the snow imp's sack on a nearby table. "A sack that can steal time? That's going straight in the sanctum."
"It can travel to different dimensions, and shrink and grow to any size," said Jason, trying to be helpful. "The Factory, not the sack. Fun fact: we're tiny right now! But so is the whole Factory, so it doesn't look that impressive."
Charlie moved to the window and looked out at the deep blue horizon. He smiled, not really listening. "Excellent. Wonderful. That sounds...fine. This whole place is filled with wonder...I feel happier than I have since Cromwell banned Christmas.”
“In 1647,” Blanche whispered to Jason. “Since we should try to be mildly educational."
"Just entering the co-ordinates on the card," said Lady Aesc, swiping her fingers across the sharp points inside a geode to type letters and shapes on a screen. "With luck, it'll take us to Lady Frostbite's universe in the Sketch."
"So what exactly are you doing?" asked Charlie.
"We've been recruited to save the twelve days of Christmas," Blanche answered.
"I see. Recruited by whom?"
"Ooh, we love a good 'whom'," said Lady Aesc. "By the Firmament of Festive Cheer. We were having a nice relaxing break on Pastellion Major when they reached out to us."
"They made all the gifts from the ‘twelve days’ song appear, like the five gold rings!" Jason explained.
Lady Aesculapius rolled her eyes. "Obviously those weren't THE five gold rings. I've seen THE five gold rings, when their power was brought together by the five Gingerbread Lords to defeat King Kralltova'ar and his Tinsel Armada. Hold onto your stockings," she said as she reached for the switch.
Charlie reached down and grabbed his stockings.
"Oh, Charlie dear that's just an expression, sorry."
She flipped the switch, the Foce began to spin, and a white circle appeared beneath it. It dropped down, and fell into the Labyrinth below the Dawns, the shining crystal bifrost path winding through it.
"She wasn't kidding. Everything is crystal," Charlie whispered. Jason and Blanche just nodded knowingly.
"Now, we go through to the other side."
Jason looked over at her. "You told me the only thing on the other side of the Labyrinth was chaos."
"That wasn't a lie."
The Foce dove down below the road, far into the darkness.
Eventually they reached some sort of barrier, which the Foce pushed through, and there stood a circular gate. Perhaps it could be called a portal - it looked similar to the white ones the Foce always travelled through, only older, with strange symbols floating in its swirling white.
Inside the Foce, a rectangle appeared in front of Lady Aesc.
"Terms and conditions." She scrolled through it without reading it, and hit the ‘accept’ icon floating in the air. "Alright, here we go. Into the unknown."
The gate opened, and the Foce flew through. On the monitors and out the window, they saw a whirlwind of places, some like notebook sketches. As wireframe figures looked up at them, they passed soldiers in samurai armor fighting space marines under an ocean falling from the sky, then passed into another world where rollerbladers sped down a spiralling crystal ramp towards a dark portal at its center, as a being with a horse skull for a head watched them. They passed through a time machine being grown under a building in Indianapolis, and through a battle of velociraptor cavalry charging toward mechs.
"All of these are rejected worlds?" Jason asked, in awe.
"Yep. None of them were quite right."
"You're saying we could have been riding dinosaurs and that got rejected?"
Aesc sighed. "Yeah that was a bad call."
The negatives increased, until finally the readings stopped.
"We're here! Wherever here is. I really don't know."
Below them was a great battlefield outside a domed city in the middle of a frozen wasteland. Aesc directed the ship in a casual glide to get a good view of the place, then suddenly began scrambling, letting out occasional "Ahhh!!!"s, "Oh no, bad, BAD!"s, and "I completely forgot they made a third Highlander movie..."s.
"I don't really understand all this," Charlie said, "but this isn't good right?"
"It's terrible!" Aesc yelled. "Uh, turns out there are some problems with the laws of physics here."
"What do you mean a problem with the laws of Physics?" Jason shouted. "They're laws, but for physics!"
"And this place was a beta test of some bad ideas about physics! Gravity is a mess here, and so are crystalline energy structures. The Foce is getting sucked dry. I'm going to take us in for a landing..."
The three non-Aesc residents of the room huddled together, grabbing onto things as the walls began to dim.
There was a plop, and the Foce set down, promptly ejecting all four of its travellers onto a snowy field. Aesc picked up the marble-sized Foce. It wasn't glowing.
"So, good news or bad news first?"
"Good?" Jason said.
"Your new haircut looks really nice on you, I know you've had it for a few weeks now but honestly? Keep it. Also, I managed to get Phil to send a message to the Firmament of Festive Cheer, letting him know where the issue is coming from. Okay, the BAD news is the Foce can't generate new power to open a portal out of here so...I don't actually know how we're getting home."
Blanche stood up, and looked around them. "It looks like years of battles happened here. What sort of place is this?"
Around them, the snow rose up. The white blanket grew teeth and legs and arms, and with a great sack it swept them up, one by one, and dragged them towards the dome.

The sack opened up, and they were met by the inquisitive blue and brown lynx eyes of a rather gangely but cute young woman with a snowman beret in her light-blue hair.
"Oh! More people from outside the bubble! Hello!"
"Uh," Lady Aesc said, "are you Lady Frostbite?"
She laughed. "Of course not! I'm Krioka, the lead scientist in charge of snow imp development. Pleased to make your acquaintance!"
"I'd be happier to meet you if I wasn't being held in a sack, but hello!" Aesc replied.
"Have they arrived?" a voice called out, firm and imposing.
The young lady bowed her head. "Yes, Lady Frostbite. The snow imps retrieved them. Some of them are pretty cute!"
There was a scoffing noise, and then the group were dumped out of the sack unceremoniously at the feet of another woman. She had the same shade of light blue hair but done in one long thick braid, and the same shade of blue and brown lynx eyes. There the similarities ended. Her expression showed firm displeasure, her arms were crossed and legs were apart in a power stance. Her white military uniform was perfectly fitted, and gave the impression that the insignias and pins on the breast had all been earned. Surrounding them were dozens of snow imps.
"Tell me," she said, "who are you?"
Aesc popped up. "I'm Lady Aesculapius! Which I hope is easier to spell in this negative universe. You must be Lady Frostbite? I've heard nothing about you except your name and that you're stealing time, but that lends you an air of mystery! Why exactly are you stealing time?"
Frostbite looked over at Jason, "You?"
"Jason Jackson, pilot, newly an interuniversal adventurer."
She nodded. "The armored one."
Blanche looked the woman up and down. "Blanche Combine. I'm a baker and girlscout troop leader."
The woman scowled, then turned to Charlie. She looked at his clothes. "He...he's not even from the same time as you is he?"
"No, but I love picking up strays," said Lady Aesc. "Guest casts are fun!"
Krioka cleared her throat. "Supreme General, Lady Frostbite, I believe we've made a breakthrough on adding the first day to the loop."
"Excellent, but don't disturb me for the moment."
Aesc frowned. "I demand to know why you're stealing Christmas. What do you have against the holiday? It's a cheery time, one for family and friends!"
Frostbite did not change her expression. "You really think it being Christmas meant anything to me at all?" She walked towards the glass wall of the dome and looked out. Great metal striders, spindly legs jerking as they walked, patrolled the perimeter. "The twelve days of Christmas are held together by the power of the five Gingerbread Lords. The days are a concept we could steal, easily, and graft onto our own time. Time is what we want - what we need. There isn't enough."
Charlie squinted. "You can't steal time."
"You can steal time," Jason, Blanche, Aesc, Krioka, Lady Frostbite, and a passing janitor all said in reply.
"I stand corrected."
"But what does puzzle me," Aesc said, "is why you'd need to steal time of all things."
Frostbite furrowed her brows. "To understand that, you need to understand the world. Our world, our people - the Numbered - have been at war with the Infinite for generations. When I ascended to lead us, we were on the cusp of victory but...things fell apart. Our enemies allied against us. We fell back, and fell back, until only this city remained. But our scientists-" (Krioka waved) "-developed a way to save us from death and defeat: we could set up a time loop. A seven day cycle that would repeat over and over, never allowing the moment our city falls to reach us." She gritted her teeth. "But never enough time to change the future."
"Well, there's your first problem. The same loop will just repeat itself over and over with that plan."
"Oh!" Krioka's hand shot up. "After Lady Frostbite threatened to cut both my hands off, I had a great idea. See, we could distribute the energy caused by the time loop happening at its end point, and use that to send the memories of one person back to the start of the loop! So naturally, because I didn't want my hands cut off, our Illustrious Leader has kept her memories of...however many loops this has been now."
"And over that time, I realized there was no way to change our fate, because one week is simply too little time," she grinned. "And then I learned of the outside universes."
Krioka looked down at her feet.
"We tested sending men into those other worlds, but it turns out gravity works differently there, and they died instantly. So Krioka created my new minions," she gestured at the snow imps.
"Doesn't it bother you that you're creating living beings to throw their lives away?" Blanche yelled.
"Huh?" Krioka looked shocked. "No, they're not alive at all. But analyzing them has taught me a lot about gravity outside our bubble..."
Jason nudged Charlie and Blanche, and they leaned in so he could whisper to both of them. "Isn't she telling us a lot of her plan?"
"I am," Lady Frostbite answered. "You weren't really being that quiet. But I have my reasons. Imps, bring the boy to me, leave a guard on the rest."
The imps dragged Charlie away, holding back the others, as Krioka turned her back, trying not to watch.


* * *


Charlie was dropped into a room filled with memories that weren’t his own. Pictures, medals, pieces of junk with some event attached to them he couldn't know, and there in the center of it all, Lady Frostbite.
"Hello there. Charlie is it?"
He rose to his feet, trying to regain his posture. "That is I."
"I separated you because you're not like those three. They were on some ridiculous adventure and dragged you along. That's how it always goes, isn't it?" She ran her hands along a ceramic cylinder on a stand.
"They saved me. They're good people, though I don't know them well."
"Oh is that what they did? Saved you? Look at you, I know exactly what kind of person you are."
He raised his chin. "What kind of person is that?"
"A survivor. I can see it in your eyes. What have you been doing to survive? Hiding in pits? Fleeing from place to place. Maybe you're some sort of deserter, or criminal, or just a victim of misfortune. It doesn't matter. You know what it takes to survive. Like I do."
He looked into her eyes. She held her gaze on him, those firm eyes that seemed to dig into him like screws.
"You're a survivor?"
She reached onto the shelf, then handed him an empty can. "That can you're holding once held the only food I had for a week. I kept it, I don't even know why. I dragged myself through the mud, and learned what put me on another level from the people who stayed crawling in the muck their whole lives."
He looked at the can. The label had peeled off long ago; there was no hint as to what it had contained once. "What was that?"
"I have no time for frivolity, and no qualms with exacting vengeance. I may have pulled a little fib." She allowed herself a smirk, and twirled a strand of her light blue hair on her finger. "I was just a young girl then, when my father was lost fighting the Infinite, and I was left to flee...running from place to place. A Lady with no land, a title with no meaning. And I remember those fools celebrating with their loved ones who I begged from, and even more foolishly they gave me bread. What point is there celebrating the time you have? To be merry isn’t practical. It isn’t useful. And I didn’t survive by having fun. So of course I wanted to take the twelve days of Christmas, because I hate the idea of people outside our bubble having fun. They deserve to suffer, as I suffered."
Charlie set the can down. "I...can't believe that. There has to be more to life than just...surviving.”
"There is. There's focus and power. Join me here, Charlie. You're like me. A survivor. You know what it's like to live without the wastes of entertainment."
Charlie thought back to his home in England. He loved the plays, the theatre...the theaters Cromwell had shut down.
"So then Charlie, what will it be?"


* * *


"Pst, PST, Scientist lady!" Blanche said. "Get over here."
"I'm...working."
Jason cut in. "And I can tell this isn't what you want to be doing. You're a scientist, not some flunky for a dictator who couldn't win a war so much she's lost it who knows how many times, the same way, over and over."
Krioka turned around. "Well...perhaps."
"Not perhaps," Blanche said. "I was a soldier once, Krioka, I can tell one when I see one. No offense but that really isn't you, and that's fine. This isn't where you'll be happy."
Krioka, who had been picking up a partridge and examining it for pear tree remnants set the bird back into its cage. "You're right...but there's no other path."
"Of course there's another path! What's the hardest choice you’ve ever made?"
Krioka laughed. "Easy. Transitioning. My parents didn't accept me and that...hurt a lot."
Jason leapt on it. "So, think about that. In the grand scheme of things, Miss Krioka the crazy smart scientist who is unhappy working for an evil dictator, she's already been brave. Why can't she be brave enough to help three people who could in turn help her get to a world where she wouldn't be repeating the same week over and over for eternity? Where she could be happy the way she dreamed she could be?"
Krioka looked at the snow imps. "Let's say...lets say I want to help you. I can't survive outside of this loop, the gravity in your universes--"
"I can work around that!" Aesc interjected. "No worries. I have a plan."
"Huh. Alright then...when would your escape plan start?"
"As soon as possible."
"Right," said Krioka, looking again at the snow imps. She walked over to the thermostat. "I hope you know what you’re doing."
Lady Aesculapius smirked. "Trust me, my plan is absolutely flawless."


* * *


There was a knock on the door, and Frostbite gestured for Charlie to open it, which he acquiesced to.
A soldier was there, same lynx eyes and light blue hair. "Ma'am, we just caught your prisoners and lead scientist Krioka attempting to escape."
Frostbite glowered. "Krioka? Well well well. I've wasted enough time. Execute them. Immediately. Along with Charlie here, who turned down my very generous offer."


* * *


Aesc blew air up from her bottom lip.
"Are you...trying to move your blindfold?" Blanche asked.
"Maybe."
"You're such a dork," she half laughed half cried.
"Blanche?"
"I'm sorry, I just didn't think we'd be going out this way, on Christmas Eve. Didn't even get to see the real day."
"I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have dragged you, Jason, and Charlie here. Or gotten Krioka in this mess."
"You'll be fine though, you'll just get a new body."
"Not here...the rules are different in the Sketch. I don't think I'll come back. Though I won't complain if I'm wrong."
Blanche sniffled. "I love you, Aesc. Merry Christmas."
"I love you too. Merry--"
"Firing squad at the ready!" A voice called. "By the order of Lady Frostbite, you are to be executed."
"Can I have a final word?" Jason asked.
"No," the firing squad leader answered. "Ready your rifles!"
"Blanche?" Jason called out.
"Yeah?"
"I'm real glad we met."
"Me too, Jason."
"Aesc, same deal."
She laughed. "Same deal to you too. Charlie? You've been really brave, and I'm so sorry."
"Oh, it is alright...I suppose I was just running from it this whole time anyway."
"Krioka? Thanks for being brave too and--"
They could hear the sound of jingling bells, followed by clomping hooves.
"What's that?"
There was a massive thud, and the skidding of something to a halt.
"I really wish I could see right now," Krioka noted.
A blast of wintery air blew through and whipped their blindfolds up, revealing the firing squad, and…
"Father Christmas!?" Charlie exclaimed.
"Ho ho ho! The one and only!" called the jolly old man in the red suit. The reindeer pulling his sleigh clomped their hooves in greeting.
"The Firmament of Festive Cheer!" Aesc cried "You got my message!"
"Of course I did! I hear every wish on Christmas!"
The firing squad captain clapped his hands together. "Right, so, shoot them quickly then. Let's not lose our opportunity."
Santa held his hands out. "Wait, hold up there. It's Christmas Eve, and nearly Christmas Day!"
Krioka gasped. "It is?"
"Merry Christmas, Krioka!" Aesc called out.
"Aesc, hold it off, just a little longer. We haven't seen Christmas in hundreds of years here."
"How is--OH. OHHHHH. Hey firing squad guy! Yes you, clappy guy, what do you want for Christmas?"
He scoffed. "You're not going to trick me that easily. Ready! Aim!"
And then, the clock struck midnight, and the time loop reset.


* * *


Lady Aesc, Krioka, Jason, Blanche, and Charlie stood in the middle of a bustling crowd in white uniforms, blue hair going this way and that way. The firing squad captain narrowed his eyes at them. "What are civilians doing in this sector? Get out of here!"
Charlie looked around. "You mean, you're not going to execute us?"
The captain rolled his eyes. "Only if you don't get out of our way! Our analysts think we could lose this war on Christmas morning if we don't get things together, so move!"
Santa laughed. "Why, let's help the man out: all aboard!"
Everyone scrambled onto the sleigh. It looked fairly small, but they found it easily had enough space for six people and the presents of several million children.
"Hey, uh, Santa, why do I still have my memories?" asked Krioka.
"Consider it a present, ho ho ho!"
Aesc slapped her forehead as she pulled Blanche onto her lap to maximize sled space, Blanche not complaining in the slightest. "I almost forgot! Firmament of Festive Cheer! Ask Krioka what she wants for Christmas?" Aesc winked at Krioka.
Krioka's eyes lit up. "Oh, I've really wanted a new wave spectrum--"
Aesc coughed. "Gosh, what would be something really useful if we were about to leave and go to a place with different gravity."
"Oh. Right. Yeah."
Santa turned to her. "What do you want for Christmas young lady?"
Krioka squinted. "...To survive outside the Sketch?"
"Ho ho ho! Your wish is granted!"
Blanche blinked. "But how, there's an inherent molecular incompatibility for them that--"
"It's a Christmas miracle!" gasped Lady Aesc.
"But the way gravity works in our universe, won't her molecules--"
"Christmas. Miracle." Lady Aesc narrowed her eyes.
"C'mon Blanche," Charlie smiled. "The spirits can do anything at Christmas!"
"Ah yes. Of course they can..." she mumbled.
"Of course we can! Ho ho ho! Now, on Dasher and Dancer, on Prancer and Vixen! On Comet and Cupid, on Donner and Blitzen!”
Jason and Blanche broke into harmony: “But do you recall, the most famous reindeer of all?”
Santa smirked. "Punch it, Rudolph!”
The reindeer put their heads down and made a noise like an engine charging. Falling white specks of snow blurred back into lines and the sleigh blasted into hyperspace, leaving Lady Frostbite’s world far behind.
The brilliant tunnel of light flickered across Charlie's eyes. He leaned over the edge of the sleigh to check there were no strings. Everything was a stream of white and blue, with occasional silver and gold streaks that looked like the light catching on tinsel. Santa watched the kaleidoscope of colour for a while, then instinctually tugged on the reins.
The reindeer slowed and the sleigh dropped out of lightspeed with a sound like distant thunder. The white streaks of light became falling snowflakes again. Charlie was still hanging over the side, but now he could see a white ground covered in green fir trees.
Lady Aesculapius sat with a big smile on her face as they slowly drifted down to land. Krioka sat up when she saw where they were going: a large cabin in the middle of a clearing, with smoke pluming from its chimney and warm golden light emanating from its windows. The roof had a halo of green and red lights.
Jason turned to the others. "Where..."
"...Are we?" asked Blanche, an eyebrow raised. "Is that your question? Do they really need to put a sign up?"
"We literally have a sign up," said Santa, pointing.
The reindeer's hooves made contact with the snow and the sleigh softly touched down. They drifted for a few extra meters, passing by a wooden sign announcing 'Santa's Grotto'.
They came to a gentle stop and Santa stood up. "Well, here we are!"
They all gave the reindeer pets of gratitude before heading inside. The cabin was warm and inviting, and fully decorated for Christmas. Or maybe Santa's grotto was always like this, Blanche wondered. Chestnuts were roasting on an open fire, and a large colourful tree sat in the corner of the room.
"Please, help yourselves," said Santa, gesturing to a box full of Coca Cola bottles.
Jason picked one up. "Thank you. Didn't think Santa drank Coke..."
The jolly old man lowered himself into an armchair. "I don't to be honest, but they keep sending me boxes of the stuff for being in the adverts."
"I've always wondered about that," said Lady Aesc. "How did you get the Coke gig?"
"Oh, long story. You go to parties, you meet people." Santa gestured as he trailed off. "Interesting thing is, I was actually the second choice for the job. They wanted the Easter Bunny but then he ended up with Duracell."
Jason shook his head. "What is it with cute animals and capitalism on these adventures? I could write a thesis..."
Santa noticed Charlie examining photos of reindeer on the mantle. There were more reindeer in the photos than there were on the sleigh outside. "How many flying reindeer are there?" asked Charlie.
Lady Aesc answered. "Originally there were eight, then Rudolph was introduced, like the sixth Bionicle. There were ten others in 1902 - Flossie and Glossie, Racer and Pacer, Fearless and Peerless, Ready and Steady, and Feckless and Speckless - but they're part of Legends continuity now."
"Lady Aesculapius, I'm shocked," said Santa. "It's quite taboo to give anyone foreknowledge, let alone someone as important as Charles II."
Lady Aesc was quiet. "What?"
"Charles II," Santa repeated. "You're giving him knowledge of events in 1902."
"Am I?" Lady Aesc paused. She shut her eyes tightly, then rotated her body so she was facing Charlie, then opened them. "Are you Charles II?"
Charlie looked at her innocently. "Possibly."
"Oh, POSSIBLY," said Blanche, flapping her arms. "Who among us doesn't have moments where they kinda feel like royalty?"
"I have those," said Jason. "The 20 minutes after getting this haircut."
Santa leaned back in his armchair, absorbing the scene. "How does a person travel through time and space with Charles II and not know?"
"I wasn't travelling with him, he's not a companion!" said Lady Aesc. "Just a single-adventure support character!"
"Well never mind," said Santa. He turned to Charlie. "Listen my dear boy, what do you want for Christmas?"
Charlie thought about it. "I don't know. I haven't had Christmas in years, ever since it was outlawed by parliament. So I suppose...I just want to have it. The day, I mean."
Santa smiled. "Well I can certainly do that."
"Oh, you're back!" A welcoming voice was heard down the corridor and soon after a woman emerged in a similar red outfit to Santa, with reading glasses perched on her nose and her white hair up in a bun. "Hello dearies!"
"Everyone, this is my wife," said Santa.
"Nice to meet you Mrs Claus!" said Lady Aesc cheerfully. "I've always wondered, what is your first name?"
The kind old woman reacted like she'd just been asked to solve a complex equation. "Well my dear, there are many different interpretations..."
"...Of your own name?" asked Krioka, an eyebrow raised.
"Are you a Firmament too, or a human?" asked Blanche.
"And how do reindeer fly?" Charlie added.
Mr and Mrs Claus let out a hearty chuckle. "Ho ho ho!" said Santa. "So many questions, so little time! Come, let us celebrate a Merry Christmas together!"
Mrs Claus laughed joyously, then leaned in to her husband. "Good save."


Lady Aesculapius, Blanche, Jason, Charlie, Krioka, Santa, and Mrs Claus spent the afternoon eating fine food, swapping stories, and telling jokes. Terrible, terrible jokes from crackers, that relied on wordplay Charles II didn't get. He told them all stories about his adventures escaping England, and why he was on the run in the first place. Lady Aesc compared notes with him about how hard it is to effectively hide up an oak tree. Together they ate the most delicious turkey with gravy and stuffing and vegetables piled high. Santa gave them all presents - toy trains and teddy bears and a Lynx Africa set and a thing called an Apple Watch that one of the elves had made and wouldn't shut up about owning. But mostly they just enjoyed each other's company. Charlie smiled. They might be able to ban Christmas parties and festivals and gatherings, but there was no way anyone could steal the time spent with family and friends.


Santa waved them off and bowed slightly, a twinkle in his eye, as he closed the door to his grotto. Lady Aesc turned to Charlie. "Well. It's probably time we sent you back to where you were."
"Exactly where I was?" asked Charlie.
Lady Aesc nodded. "Afraid so. I can't mess around with history. Not one line."
Jason frowned. "But all we do is mess around with history! Surely to a time traveller, everything is history! Remember all the clocks in the clock room? Time is relative, there’s no such thing as 'the present', you absolutely can rewrite time if-"
Lady Aesc placed a finger over his lips. "Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..." From the pocket of her grey tweed coat she pulled out a small music player with headphones. She slipped the headphones onto Jason's ears, handed him the music player, and moved his thumb over the play button, which was already set to play It's Five O'Clock Somewhere by Alan Jackson feat. Jimmy Buffett. She turned back to Charles II. "Anyway, time to go."
Charlie looked down, then nodded. "I understand. Thank you. All of you." He smiled at Jason and Blanche. "I've missed a good Christmas party, you know."
Lady Aesc looked at the grotto to see if Santa and Mrs Claus were still watching. They weren't. "Between the two of us," she said. "I know it'll be Christmas again one day."


Christmas Day - 1660


There was an energy in the streets that had been absent for a long time. Homes were decorated with boughs of holly and ivy. People ate mince pies and plum porridge and brawn. Businesses were being allowed to close so the workers could rest and spend time with their families.
Christmas had returned.
The king looked out the window. The palace behind him was overflowing with guests, drinking wine and eating the best food in the kingdom. He smiled. To think, once upon a time the act of eating well in December was seen as a crime.
A group of guards approached. "Your highness, there are visitors here to see you. They claim to know you personally."
Charles II turned and raised an eyebrow. "Really? Send them in."
The guards parted. "Well if it isn't Charles Episode II: Attack of the Clones!"
"Lady Askupilus!"
"After nine years, that's impressively close!" She bounded up to him and shook his hand.
Jason and Blanche followed, each greeting the king with a handshake and a small bow. "So," said Jason. "How were the 1650s?"
Charles II shrugged. "Overall, a bit hit or miss. But you were right, my lady: Christmas DID return!"
"I did indeed call it. Again, well remembered," said Lady Aesc. "Speaking of things being remembered, hope you don't mind, I've invited a few friends. They'll blend right in to the whole 1660 vibe, very inconspicuous."
Charles II looked over Lady Aesc's shoulder. Mingling with the lords and ladies of the king's court were a crew of Centro officers. Nagi Hikawa, Mia Santos, Cassie Richards, and their captain Jessica Zhane all looked fairly bewildered to be there and were attracting some attention. About as much attention as the gold woman in the corner, Professor Ko, although she was having far too much fun to notice. She swapped dimension-hopping stories with Graelyn and Arch, and shared sympathetic words with Krioka about what it’s like to invent things for evil people who control universes.
Sitting at a nearby table, enjoying some mince pies, Aria and Dory laughed and sang with Gabriele and Ezra. Everyone at the party gave their compliments to the baker of the pies, Virginia Stems-6, who was proud to be sharing her talents with so many new friends, including Nemesis (a lovely person with a sinister name) and Steve (a sinister person with a lovely name).
Dayani Mohan and her daughter Panna pulled an anachronistic Christmas cracker, having filled their days with joy and each other since being reunited. Alice McLeod, the chosen one and former leader of the C.O.O.L. Revolution told Panna new stories about young teenage heroes overcoming perilous odds. It started off as a trilogy but the final story ended up being split into two parts.
Lady Aesculapius looked at her friends and smiled. "Merry Christmas, Charlie."
Charles II smiled. "Merry Christmas, Lady Ask."
"Close enough."

It's been real fun bringing you this whole series of Lady Aesc adventures, and we hope you'll tell your pals about them now that they can be read straight through. None of this would have been possible without all the writers, artists, voice actors, and editors who gave so much of their time and talent to bring these tales to life--and we're sending crystalline thank you's out through the ether as we speak.

Oh, and Lady Aesc will be back for Series 2, along with her friends Jason and Blanche. Just give her some time; her, her friends, and the creators are all going to relax for a little bit. But rest assured, the journey won't end here.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, spend some time with the people you love.

Cheers-

Michael and James










Lady Aesculapius Series 1 is part of 10,000 Dawns, and is a publication of Arcbeatle Press.
Lady Aesculapius was created by James Wylder.
All original elements to this story are the property of the author.
All rights Reserved, Arcbeatle Press 2019.
Our cover art is by Anne-Laure Tuduri.

Any resemblance between persons living or dead, fictional characters, and real or fictional events is either co-incidental or has been done within the bounds of parody and/or satire.

You can learn more about 10,000 Dawns at http://www.jameswylder.com/10000-dawns1.html

The black staff boomed against the floor.
The hall fell silent.
The High Priest looked around the cavernous circular room at the assembled powers of the Kezarian people; the sea of shining golden skin and cool violet eyes, watching and waiting.
He lowered himself back into his throne. He looked to his right and to his left to consult the man and woman sitting next to him, and was given two nods. Then, with his gaze fixed on the tall double doors at the far end of the hall, he spoke: "Bring her forward."
There was a clunk and the heavy doors swung open.
Everyone waited for something to happen. A small squeaking noise was getting closer. Into the chamber came a young woman in a lab coat, her wild curly hair done up in a messy bun. The squeak was coming from the one wonky wheel on the table she was dragging, upon which sat some sort of machine. She moved agonisingly slowly into the center of the room, then finally stopped and turned. "So!" She clapped her golden hands together with a smile on her face. "Here we all are then, nice to see you, nice to see you, I'm Professor Ko. Let me tell ya, getting from the middle of Janterdon to the High Council chamber along the omega lightway, middle of rush hour? Nightmare, am I right?"
Silence. One of the Cardinals coughed.
She laughed and made an 'oh, you' hand motion. "Y'all know it. So, anyway! Welcome, great to be here, great to be here. Today, I've got a little invention to demo for you, something I whipped up in the lab, thought you might be interested. This," she gestured to the machine behind her, "is a little gizmo we boffins like to call...the Multiverse Window!" She gave a brief pause for that to land, then gave a little jazz hands and an "Ooooooooh!" to help build hype. "This thing, this thing, this right here? Allows you to view parallel universes!"
She held for applause.
The silence slowly lifted into a hum of confusion.
"Right, so, here's how it works, now look at this." The scientist stood over her machine. "You have a screen here and controls here. You just fiddle with the controls to tune into another universe, and the screen becomes a window into it. For example, right now I'm looking from our very own universe, home sweet home, into another universe twelve realities diagonally up, and...it's a world where my jokes are actually funny!" She let out a long, wheezing laugh and slapped her knee as she silently doubled over. Nobody joined in.


Cardinal Ley coughed and spluttered into his handkerchief.
"Something the matter?" asked the High Priest, impatiently.
"Not at all, please proceed." As many council members as could fit had piled into the lab where Professor Ko had connected the Multiverse Window to a larger screen.
The High Priest nodded. "Fire up the crystals, Cardinal."
Cardinal Ley flipped the switch. The larger screen fizzed and turned into a view of space with tiny stars dotting the canvas. There was a polite round of applause for what was in theory an image from another universe, but could have easily been a view of their own night sky.
"Now, let me just input some co-ordinates," said Professor Ko. The image fizzed again and turned into an overhead view of the omega lightway between Janterdon and the High Council chamber. "Now look at this, everyone! Look here! This is an alternate universe. You can tell from this, here, see where the omega lightway has been given a secondary lane to ease congestion? Not as bad as it is in our universe, huh?" She gave an open-mouthed smile.
Cardinal Ley considered the image on the screen. "You know, we could really use this. If we viewed this road in a hundred different realities, we could work out which design would be best for our own road."
The lightbulbs went off for all the council members. The High Priest nodded. "A sound idea. Well done, Professor Ko. It seems this has real applications."


The door slid open and Professor Ko entered the High Priest's office with a beaker of blue liquid. "Ah, Cardinal, I thought I'd find you here! Here you go," she said, passing the beaker to Cardinal Ley who sat opposite the High Priest. "This'll fix your asthma, permanently. Picked up the formula from a universe where we'd already cured it."
Ley sniffed the blue medical liquid, then downed it. It was like his lung capacity doubled. "Oh, that's marvelous! Thank you Professor. Your machine has changed history, you know that?"
"I just can't believe it," said the High Priest, reclining in his new chair that tilted back slightly to ease the tension in his spine. "In the last two years, crime rates have plummeted, diseases have been cured, the traffic is better...and soon we won't even need traffic once your mass teleportation technology has been successfully copied from universes that already have it."
Cardinal Ley nodded. "What you've accomplished with your machine, Ko, will be remembered for-"
A siren wailed. Red light flooded the office.
Professor Ko pushed a button on her watch. "Stax, what is it?"
"I don't know," said the shaky voice at the other end. "Something's entered this universe. From...outside."
Everyone in the office exchanged a glance.
The council quickly assembled in Professor Ko's laboratory, awaiting an explanation as the sirens kept wailing. "So from what I can tell, it seems, it's looking like," said Ko, "Three life forms entered our universe a few hours ago. Two of them are currently floating through space on top of the third like it's a ship. The ship is big," she said, reading numbers on a screen. "Big, big ship, made of some sort of living crystal. And this big crystal ship is scanning us. This planet. Best case scenario, some friends have arrived from another universe to say hello!" she said, an excited smile on her face.
"What's the worst case scenario?" asked the High Priest.
He was answered by murmurs from the council.
"A threat!"
"A warning!"
"A declaration of war!"
"Now, now, steady everyone, steady everyone" said Professor Ko. "We don't know if it's anything that serious. Now I would recommend...what would I recommend? Reaching out to these life forms, these mysterious people. Find out their intentions."
The High Priest considered the situation gravely. "We haven't had a war in years. Not since the Multiverse Window let us see into war-torn universes so we knew how to avoid becoming them. Now it seems these other universes are the only thing capable of bringing conflict to us."
Professor Ko laughed nervously. "I mean, what're you gonna do? End all other universes except this one?"


"Reality 5862 - 68/7 - Pod - Beetroot/50 has been successfully ended."
"Excellent," said the High Priest. "Another successful test."
"Though we believe some life forms managed to escape the destruction in...cross-dimensional escape pods," said Stax.
"It doesn't matter," said the High Priest. "Soon our strange new friend will deliver the weapon she's promised, and we can unleash the final blow, ending all universes at once. Tell me, when will that be?"
"As soon as Professor Ko finishes the universal shield."
The High Priest leaned back in his comfortable chair with a smile on his face. "Once it's done, nothing will threaten the safety of our universe. Nothing. Truly, this is the Utopia Dimension."

​The blast of cosmic umami surprised Lady Aesculapius. Blanche's buttercream frosting was delightful, and it briefly brought Jason back to his 7th birthday party, blowing out the candles and cramming a piece in his mouth before his parents could tell him to slow down. Then the flavour brought all three of them to another universe.
Their feet reached solid ground. Lady Aesculapius licked her fingers clean. "Now that's what I call a good bake." The three had materialised in some sort of alleyway.
"Oh! Hey there!" Jason waved to a stunned and stunning golden man with wide violet eyes.
"Can I just ask," said Blanche, approaching the terrified man. "What did that look like to you?"
The man stared. "You all sort of just...appeared in an explosion of frosting."
"Ooh! That's fun," said Lady Aesc. "What's your name?"
"Jaxill."
"Good name. Take me to your leader!"
Jaxill blinked. "You mean like...my employer?"
"No," said Blanche. "More like your head of state."
Jaxill blinked again. He turned away and wondered how much of his time he was willing to dedicate to frosting-centric aliens today. He turned back and nodded. "Follow me I guess."
Lady Aesc, Jason, and Blanche trailed behind Jaxill as they emerged from the alleyway into a bustling street. The people all wore bright colours and gave friendly smiles to one another as they passed.
"The Utopia Dimension," said Lady Aesculapius. "At last."
"Everyone here seems nice," said Jason.
"They're all gold," said Blanche.
"They're all hot," said Lady Aesc.
Jason looked around, sceptical. "I'll have to take your word on that last one."
"Hey, so what were you doing in that alley, anyway?" Blanche asked Jaxill.
"Shortcut. Just on my way back from my boyfriend's house. See that up there?"
The three followed his pointing finger up to a large round building on a hill in the distance.
"Is that where your leader lives?" asked Lady Aesc.
"I guess. I mean, I didn't vote for them, but yeah." They all had to lean forward slightly as they forced themselves up the steep hill. At the other side of the road, those who couldn't climb moved up the hill on a chair attached to a rail. "What do you want to see my leader about?"
"We want to stop them from destroying other universes," said Blanche.
"Cool," said Jaxill. "Can I help?"
"You are helping," smiled Lady Aesc.
They reached the top of the hill and took in the magnificent building in front of them. There was a lovely water feature outside and a small landing pad with docked ships.
"So," said Jason. "How are we getting in?"
"Front door," said Jaxill, pointing. "The chamber's open right now for people to address the council."
Lady Aesculapius looked across the courtyard and saw a small queue of people. "Ah! Right-o."
Blanche frowned as they all took a number and joined the back of the queue. "This feels like it should be more of a 'storm the place and cause a scene' sort of situation, doesn't it?"
"Well I need to take a moment and work off the cosmic cake," said Jason. "Thanks for your help, Jaxill."
"Oh I want to stay and see how this goes," said the gold man, hands in pockets. "I'm invested in the drama now."
Patiently they waited and shuffled a few steps forward every now and then as two guards ushered the next concerned citizen into the chamber. As they moved inside, Lady Aesc was in awe of the opulent hall with its high ceiling and walls covered in paintings. Eventually, it was their turn. Jaxill waited outside the chamber as the guards gestured for Lady Aesculapius, Blanche, and Jason to proceed.
The large circular room was filled with row upon row of officials, murmuring away as the three travellers took their position in front of the High Priest. He slammed his black staff against the floor like a gavel and smiled warmly. "Welcome! What is the nature of your business?"
Lady Aesculapius stepped forward and cleared her throat. "My name is Lady Aesculapius. We're here from another universe to tell you to stop destroying other universes."
An explosion of noise and exclamations from the council, then silence. The High Priest leaned forward, still smiling. "Another universe, you say? Do you have any proof?"
Lady Aesc held up her Factory of Crystal. The crystal ball started to glow and a portal opened. Loud protests echoed around the chamber as everyone watched the fabric of reality rip open. Then, through that tear came what looked to those in the back row like a small blue hairbrush. Then the hairbrush started to move, and it became clear that it was a hedgehog. The tiny blue creature sniffed around the room, occasionally making a small hop with all four legs accompanied by a disproportionately loud 16-bit spring sound.
"So anyway," said Lady Aesc, bringing the attention back to her. "Stop destroying universes. I was there when you destroyed 5862 - 68/7 - Pod - Beetroot/50. As long as I'm here, you'll never harm another."
The blue hedgehog made another Sega Genesis sound as it explored the circular parameters of Gold High Council Zone. A small confused fox, almost like the ones Jason remembered from Earth, flew through the still-open portal using its two tails as propellers.
"She has a crystal device, just like the other one," the woman next to the High Priest urgently whispered at a volume everyone could hear anyway.
The High Priest frowned. "Lock. Them. Up."


"That went well," said Blanche, leaning against the cell wall. "I feel really good about that."
"It was worth a try," said Lady Aesculapius. "Maybe I should've just gone straight to 'tearing this universe apart with my bare hands'. They have already destroyed at least one entire universe so looking back on it that sort of 0 to 100 behaviour would've been justified."
"Here's what I don't get though," said Jason. He waited until the guard had passed by and disappeared around the corner before saying what he didn't get. "Why are we in this cell?" He gestured widely to the admittedly luxurious prison cell with three soft beds, a sink, a mirror, and a selection of novels. "Why can't we just Factory of Crystal out of here?"
Lady Aesc smiled. "Because of her." She nodded at the cell opposite them to the gold woman with wild curly hair done up in a messy bun.
"And who's she?" asked Blanche.
"An enemy of the people, obviously," said Lady Aesc. "This planet is run by a council that takes questions from a public who clearly know about the whole 'destroying other universes' thing, based on Jaxill's reaction. So: very good PR team, who tell the people that there really are threats out there. The council must do something with the people who question them, and there she is." Lady Aesc stood up from her bed and called over to the woman in the cell opposite. "Hey! Psst!"
Professor Ko looked up at the stranger. "Yes?"
"Are you in here for trying to stop them destroying universes?"
She frowned. Then she sighed. "Yes."
Lady Aesc took out her Factory of Crystal, stepped through a portal in her cell and out of a portal in the other. "I'm Lady Aesc, those two over there are Blanche and Jason, and we're all from another reality. What's your name?"
"Professor Ko," she said, excitement spreading across her face. "I'm a scientist, you see. I built a machine, the Multiverse Window, that lets people view other realities, and the council decided those realities need to be wiped out. But I can help!"
"Excellent, do tell."
"So different universes are being created all the time, based on every decision we make, every fork in the road. They're infinite!" said Professor Ko quickly, aware that the guards could come back at any moment. "You can't just go to each universe and end them all one at a time, it'd take too long. What happened to 5862 - 68/7 - Pod - Beetroot/50 and universes like it was a test. Now they've got this weird new scientist helping them build a weapon that can end all realities at once."
"How?" asked Lady Aesc. "If they did that, what's to stop this universe being wiped out too?"
"A shield I designed," Ko explained. "It has the power to section off universes from the wider multiverse, protecting the Utopia Dimension from their own weapon. If we lower the shield, they won't be able to use the weapon without destroying themselves."
"Well, now we have a plan. Off we go!"
"Exciting! Oh, I almost forgot I'm still in jail."
"Oh, right, cart ahead of the llama," Aesc said and opened a portal so they could hop back into the cell with Jason and Blanche.
With everyone together, the Factory of Crystal expanded and collapsed in an instant, transporting Lady Aesc, Blanche, Jason, and Professor Ko onboard.
Ko silently took in the beautiful crystal room. "You have one of these ships too? Just like that other woman?"
"What other woman?" asked Blanche.
"The other woman, who's helping the council."
"A shield that powerful would need an origin point," said Lady Aesc interrupting. "Where would that be?"
"There's a planet on the edge of the system called Jasek Senn," said the professor. "Big red one, lovely rings, can't miss it. It's where the council keep everything they don't want the public interfering with."
Lady Aesc ran her fingers across the crystal controls. "Excellent. That's where we'll be going. But first..."
Jason wandered over. "First?"
"First," Lady Aesc repeated. "I need to find something..."


A portal snapped open and lightly scattered the red dust below it. Lady Aesculapius, Blanche, Jason, and Professor Ko stepped though. "You realise Jaxill is probably still waiting for us," said Jason.
"Oh, yeah," said Blanche. "I'm sure he's gone home by now."
Across the sand was a large facility with radar dishes on the roof. "Professor," said Lady Aesc, turning to Ko. "Could you get us in there?"
"We could always just portal into there, too," said Blanche.
"They'd find us and lock us up again," said Lady Aesc. "We can't examine the shield and make our demands while running. Passing ourselves off as staff will be easier."
Professor Ko hesitated. "Well, let's think. I was arrested in secret. We might be able to walk in the front door, but if anyone knows I'm supposed to be in prison, I'll be sent back there immediately."
The four approached the facility's entrance and were stopped by the first hurdle. "Damn," said Ko. "I don't have my passcard. The entrance to this facility has one of the most advanced security systems in the multiverse!"
"Excuse me."
They turned to see an older gold man awkwardly trying to push his way through them. They let him pass and he swiped himself in, then held the door open for Ko with a smile. Ko took it, said "thank you", and made a face that suppressed an internal scream to the others as she let them all inside.
This facility served many functions, but looking nice was not one of them. The drab corridors with exposed pipes running overhead gave the vibe that this place was not inviting by design. Like the anti-décor was designed to drive away members of the public by making them feel they were seeing the building in an indecent state.
Every time someone passed by them was a new adventure in nerves. They all hoped nobody would stop Professor Ko because she should be in prison, but of course all of them did stop her, because they hadn't seen her in weeks, because she should be in prison. By keeping a decent pace, they were able to follow the gold man who kindly waited to hold each top security door open for them.
Eventually they started seeing less and less people and the man turned off down a different path. Ko led the group down flights of stairs taking them deeper and deeper underground. At the end of a long corridor they came to a large metal door, which Ko needed all of her strength to push open.
Inside, down one more short flight of stairs, was a huge open space filled with machines.
"What is all this stuff?" asked Jason.
"Oh, this here? This is everything," said Ko. "Technology we've copied over from other dimensions. We've got machines here that can turn anything into food, we've got the multiverse's most powerful mass teleportation engine, everything."
In the middle of it all sat a blue pyramid that pulsed and crackled with energy. It looked so tall and heavy that it would take several strong people to move.
Lady Aesc approached the pyramid. "I assume this is the universal shield?"
"Yep, that's it there," said Ko. "So what exactly is your plan?"
"Simple," said Lady Aesc, marching over to a computer console. "Gonna call up your bosses and threaten to turn the shield off."
Ko blinked. "But wait a moment, hold on, how is that a threat? All you'll do is delay them firing the weapon. They'll just lock us up and turn it back on again."
Lady Aesc smiled. "Ah, but there's something you've forgotten. And I have a feeling they've forgotten about it too. We're dealing with alternate universes here."
The screen crackled and became a furious image of the High Priest. "What is the meaning of this?"
"Hey big man, us again! We're not going to stand for you destroying every other universe, so we're gonna switch off your big shield thing. If you use your weapon now you'll destroy yourself too."
"Fine! Do it!" said the High Priest. "We'll hold our fire and turn the shield back on after we've arrested you."
"Ah! See, that's what YOU just said," said Lady Aesc, gesturing to Professor Ko. "I can't believe you two would miss the obvious."
The High Priest paused. "What do you mean?"
"A universal shield keeps out more than just you. If we switch this baby off, this universe will re-join the larger multiverse and be vulnerable to ANY attack."
"But we are the only universe capable of such destruction!"
"Nope! No you aren't. Because every decision you make creates an alternative reality. Universes are splintered off into almosts and maybes and could've beens and should've beens every moment of every second. So if YOU have the technology to wipe out the multiverse, then other universes similar enough to this one have that technology too."
The High Priest was silent, finally getting it.
"I did a quick scan back on my Factory. Hypothetically, somewhere out there right now is a universe just like this one, with a weapon getting ready to fire and take down every universe except theirs. Well, I found it."
"And? Which universe?"
Lady Aesculapius smiled. "I'm not telling. If I gave you the designation you'd send them one of your universe enders."
The High Priest was getting impatient. "How can you be sure the Utopia Dimension won't be spared?"
"Were YOU planning on sparing any universes? As far as they're concerned, this universe is a threat. Because it is."
The High Priest clenched his jaw. "All you have done is confirmed our suspicions. Other universes ARE dangerous. They DO need to be ended! Thank you, Lady Aesculapius. We will accelerate our plans and end the multiverse immediately. Our guards will be with you shortly."
The screen switched off.
"Good job, nice one," said Professor Ko, pacing.
"Thank you. Now for the fun bit." Lady Aesculapius held up her Factory of Crystal and brought herself, Jason, Blanche, Professor Ko, and the glowing pyramid onboard.


Professor Ko landed alongside the others in the control tower, where Lady Aesc was already plugging the shield generator into one of the crystal terminals.
"With this shield," she said, "boosted with the power from the Factory, we can isolate the Utopia Dimension and this other evil universe I found. For clarity let's call the other one..." she paused "...the Schmutopia Dimension. Once I do this, if either of them trigger their weapons, only the Utopia and Schmutopia Dimensions will end. Every other reality will be just fine."
"But what about the people?" asked Jason. "That's still two universes full of innocent beings."
"Innocent beings who want to kill each other," said Blanche.
"Their councils want to kill each other," said Jason. "But not the Jaxills. Not the ordinary people on the street. It's like what happened with universe...uh... 5862...67...?"
"5862 - 68/7 - Pod - Beetroot/50," Lady Aesc, Blanche, and Ko all reeled off in unison.
"Yeah, that one," said Jason. "We can't allow innocent people to die."
"No we can't," said Lady Aesc. "There." She stepped back from the terminal, admiring her handiwork. "The two dangerous universes are cut off from the others." The glowing pyramid pulsed slowly, holding stable as energy from the Factory flowed into it. "Final step of the plan: swoop in and destroy both weapons. Simple." With a press of a button she opened a portal.


Lady Aesculapius' head popped around the corner, followed by Jason's, followed by Blanche's, followed by Ko's. The council was in session, responding to the threat the four of them were posing to their scheme right now. Everyone being drawn into the main chamber meant they could sneak through the corridors in peace to look for the weapon.
"Lady Aesculapius."
They jumped and turned towards the two cloaked figures behind them, who definitely weren't there a moment ago. Lady Aesc instinctively moved in front of the others. "How can I help?"
"This is no place for you." With an unnecessary flourish, they removed their hoods to reveal a woman with a head of curly ginger hair and young girl.
Lady Aesculapius rolled her eyes. "Professor Meistras and Ofelia. You shouldn't be here either."
"Those two...they're the ones from your funeral?" asked Jason.
Professor Ko looked around. "What do you mean 'her funeral'?"
"Nice teleport," said Lady Aesc. "Quicker than a Factory of Crystal."
"More accurate too," Professor Meistras smiled. "It's amazing what technology a perfect universe can create when they're not occupied fighting one another in wars."
"Why are you helping them?"
"Stumbled into this universe a while ago," said the Professor. "They offered me anything in return for my help."
"'Help' like trying to kill Lady Aesc with a mysterious parcel for snooping," said Jason.
"Ooh, we all love a good call-back, don't we ladies?" Ofelia deadpanned.
"Do you know where the council are right now?" asked Lady Aesc. "To be clear, I do know, I'm just testing you."
Professor Meistras smirked. "Go on then."
"They're in session, organising the immediate firing of their weapon. I reminded them of the possibility that a near mirror parallel universe could be about to fire theirs, and the High Priest panicked. Didn't any of your new friends tell you?"
"I'm sure they will," Meistras monotoned.
"Really? Or is it possible that, like you, they're only in this for their own personal gain?"
"Why would they turn against me?"
"You know why. Because you're a threat from another universe. You're the sort of thing this multiverse-ending scheme was designed to prevent."
Professor Meistras pressed a button on a wrist-mounted communicator, waited, and got no response.
"We're going to sabotage both universes' weapons," said Lady Aesc. "Wanna come watch?"
Meistras considered this offer. "Ofelia, where did they move the weapon?"
Ofelia pulled a small silver device with a screen out of her pocket and pushed some buttons. "Massive energy signature below us. It's in the basement."
"Of course," said Blanche. "Do these people keep any super-secret technology on ground level?"
Lady Aesc lifted her Foce and opened a portal. "That leads to the Schmutopia Dimension. Jason and Blanche, you two go through there and destroy their weapon too."
"Ofelia, go with them to make sure they find it," said Professor Meistras.
Ofelia sighed. "I can't believe we're helping them."
"We can blow up the multiverse later if we want to, okay?" said Meistras, reassuringly.
Ofelia sulked. "Fine. I guess. Let's go, morons."
The girl walked into the portal and Jason and Blanche rushed after her.


At first it was like they hadn't gone anywhere. Ofelia, Jason, and Blanche were standing in an otherwise empty corridor in the middle of the High Council building, with a high curved ceiling and artwork covering the walls.
Slowly, they noticed things that weren't there before, like how the gold detailing on the roof was now silver, and the portraits now showed a completely different roster of historical figures, presumably from a completely different history.
"So the Schmutopia Dimension is the same as the Utopia Dimension but...different," said Jason.
"You could say the same about literally any two places," said Ofelia, rolling her eyes.
"Go on then, where's the weapon here?"
Blanche stared at her device for a few seconds. "Above us...in orbit."
Blanche and Jason looked at each other. Jason smiled. "I seem to remember some ships docked outside."
"You might not get up there in time," said Ofelia. "Someone needs to delay it firing."
"I'll go," said Blanche. "High Council chamber's this way, right? Assuming this universe is similar enough to the other one."
Ofelia handed the scanner to Jason, then turned to Blanche. "I guess I'm coming with you then."
Blanche and Ofelia ran off towards the council chamber as Jason headed outside.
He ran across the courtyard towards the landing pad, which despite a few small differences, was exactly like the one in the Utopia Dimension. On the landing pad was a small one-person ship; the kind Jason had trained with for years. With one fluid motion he jumped into the cockpit, strapped himself in, and ignited the engines.
He felt the rush of adrenaline as the small craft lifted up and blasted off into the sky. The cries of three angry guards were quickly left behind.
Meanwhile, Blanche and Ofelia crashed through the doors of the council chamber. This High Council looked exactly like the one in the Utopia Dimension, except the small blue hedgehog and two-tailed fox had been replaced by a small black and red hedgehog and a pink bat.
"What is the meaning of this intrusion?!" The High Priest stood up and banged her white metal staff on the floor. "Who are you?"
Blanche opened her mouth. She paused. "We're two concerned citizens who want you to consider sparing the multiverse."
"And why the hell should we listen to you?" asked the High Priest.
Ofelia snorted. "Because we'll melt you if you don't?"
"Ofelia." Blanche shot her a look that told her to stand down. She knew going in all-guns-blazing would just make them fire the weapon instantly. This situation needed diplomacy. "I'm sorry about her. You don't need to listen to us, but we believe other universes deserve to exist, because they contain as much good and as much evil as ours. After all, everything good about this universe was copied in from others using the Multiverse Window. Killing them all just doesn't seem fair."
There was a murmur from the council.
The High Priest fumed at Blanche's words. "You have no idea what you're talking about. Our world is perfect, superior to all others. These other universes can be nothing but a threat to our magnificent perfection!"
The council erupted in cheers.
"With respect, I don't believe that," said Blanche. "I believe there's still a lot we can learn from others. And I believe that good can come from anywhere."


Far above the chamber, on the edge of space, Jason looked ahead at the field of stars in front of him. If he focused on just one of them, he could feel his speed as the others appeared to blur around it. Far in the distance, he could make out a glowing green orb: the Schmutopia Dimension's doomsday weapon.
A red laser tore past his ear.
Jason looked down at the ship's monitor and saw three enemy fighters coming in behind him. He smirked, and barrel-rolled to avoid their blasts. The ship behind stopped firing immediately to avoid hitting the weapon.
He kept turning, always just outside of his pursuer's crosshairs, before spinning out the other way to dodge the other two coming around.
For a moment, the way ahead was clear. Jason aimed at the orb and squeezed the triggers.
Two bolts of plasma ripped across space. He pulled up sharply, turning back towards the planet as he watched the weapon in the rear monitor.
BOOM.


On the ground, the High Priest smiled. "Your concern is touching. Truly. But you do not know what's out there."
"Do you?" asked Blanche.
"Yes. Using the Multiverse Window we've seen the dangers that lie in other universes. We're seen the damage they could do to us. The wastelands of Hazuukai Runn. The world-ending ships of King Tritarus' Fleet. The Infinite Armada of the Great Assimilation. The galaxy eaters of-"
A portal opened, and Lady Aesc stuck her head through. "THIS FUCKING THING'S INDESTRUCTIBLE AND IT'S ALREADY SET TO BLOW, GET BACK HERE."
The doors opened, and Jason Jackson stuck his head through. "I blew up the weapon!"
The High Priest raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"Good job," said Ofelia. She grabbed the others and dragged them through the portal, exiting the Schmutopia Dimension.


Back in the Utopia Dimension, Lady Aesc, Blanche, Jason, Ofelia, Meistras, and Ko stood in a large white room with a green machine, similar to the one Jason just blew up.
Lady Aesculapius tapped away at a screen on the side. "It's already been armed. I can't switch it off or destroy it."
"I was able to destroy the one in the Schmutopia Dimension," said Jason. "Just shoot it!"
"Tried that," said Professor Meistras, holding a smoking blaster. "Slightly different universe, slightly different rules."
Lady Aesc was pacing frantically. "This thing's going to wipe out both universes and everyone in them."
"Don't you mean 'wipe out every universe ever'?" said Professor Meistras.
"I stole the universal shield and used it to separate the two evil dimensions from the others."
"Oh. Right. Well in that case."
Everyone blinked and she and Ofelia were gone.
Jason blinked some more to make sure he saw that right. "What just happened?"
"That would be a teleport," said Professor Ko. "Remember, they have access to the multiverse's most powerful mass teleportation engine, the one I showed you earlier."
"I'm sure we'll see those two again," said Lady Aesc. "But first, our problem."
Jason was starting to panic. "There's got to be a way to get everyone out of these two universes safely. Right? Like with Reality Pod Beetroot 27 or whatever?"
Lady Aesculapius thought about it. "A way to evacuate two entire universes, all at once, in an instant." She turned to Professor Ko. "In the blink of an eye."
"Wait, what's this?" Jason looked between the two women, who were giving each other knowing smiles.
"Let's get back to the Factory," said Lady Aesc, pulling out her crystal ball. "We need to find two more universes."
"What's happening?" asked Blanche.
Lady Aesc finally addressed her companions. "Have you two ever heard of The Berenstain Bears?"


Jaxill sat alone in the corner of the café, sipping his mug of tea. He couldn't stop thinking about those three strangers he'd left at the council building. What if they'd been killed for trying to stop the universe-ending weapon? What if they'd tried to sabotage the universe-ending weapon and something went wrong? What if the universe could end at any second?!
A flash. Everyone shielded their eyes.
Then it was gone. Jaxill looked around. He made awkward eye contact with the barista, who pulled a face like 'that sure was weird, huh?'
Everyone soon went back to eating. Jaxill decided it must have been a trick of the light and went in for another sip of his milkshake.


"So everyone REMEMBERS The Berenstain Bears from their childhood as being spelled with an 'e' when in fact it was always Berenstain with an 'a'," Lady Aesc explained as she paced around her Factory of Crystal. "This led to a whole bunch of theories that maybe everyone on Earth suddenly jumped into another universe one day, and the 'e' they remember from The Berenstain Bears is the only clue left."
"Terrific," said Blanche. "Why is this relevant?"
"Because using this here, the Utopia Dimension's perfect teleportation engine," said Professor Ko, gesturing to the machine, "we just teleported everyone from the two evil universes to two almost-identical unpopulated ones! We saved them all, they're fine!"
"The two evil universes, the Utopia and Schmutopia Dimensions, have been destroyed, the devastation safely contained within the universal shield," said Lady Aesc. "And the two evil councils, plotting to end all of reality, are gone along with them. The day has been saved!"
"But why would there be two empty people-less universes sitting around waiting to be filled?" asked Blanche.
"With different universes, anything is possible," said Lady Aesc. "Every imaginable alternative has happened or is happening or will happen. It therefore stands to reason that there are some universes where people just...disappear. Maybe it was a plague or a weapon or a big purple alien who snapped their fingers. Regardless, now those two empty universes have people. No more evil councils, no more evil universe-killing weapons."
"But hold on," said Professor Ko. "If anything is possible, and there are infinite universes, how do we KNOW there won't be another evil council with another evil universe-killing weapon?"
"Oh, I'm sure there will be," said Lady Aesculapius, smiling. "But there will also always be people like us to stop them."


Professor Ko said her goodbyes and stepped through the portal to her new home dimension. The portal closed and she noticed that, yes, this new dimension was basically the same as her old one. The buildings were all here, the birds were flying overhead, the weather wasn't amazing but she wasn't being rained on. A normal day.
On the way to her new house, which was entirely identical to her old house, she smiled and nodded to Gahra, out for his usual evening run. The same kids were playing and laughing in the same streets.
She'd almost stopped trying to find changes, reassured that whatever changes existed were minor. Then she noticed a crowd gathering at the end of the street. The skyline had changed. At the top of the hill was a big flat empty space with no High Council building. Instead, there was just a blue hedgehog and a fox with two tails.
With the building gone, the animals could now see a large cyan emerald sitting where the High Council's treasure room would've been. The hedgehog and the fox touched the emerald and vanished along with it to the sound of a 16-bit Stage Clear theme.


Three moonloungers lay under the stars on the pink sand of Pastellion Major. Beside them was a bag of cupcakes from Virginia's Cosmic Bakes. Lady Aesculapius, Jason Jackson, and Blanche Combine looked up at the alien constellations.
"What's that one?" asked Blanche.
Lady Aesc followed her finger upwards. "That's called The Spoon. See how those two bright ones make a line and there's a circle of stars at the end?"
"Oh yeah," Blanche smiled. "I see it."
"Hey, what's that one?" Jason pointed.
"Oh, that's The Last Battle of Zazaarek-Neth, 7829. See how those 220 stars make the Palace of Xantrox Rurr and those 541 stars over there are all soldiers in the army of H'g'en Balo-o?"
Jason stared blankly up at the dots. "Oh yeah, I get that."
"Good job blowing up the weapon by the way," said Blanche, turning her head to Jason. "You're a great pilot."
Jason smiled. "Thank you. That weapon would've gone off in my face if you hadn't kept them talking. We make a good team."
"Agreed." Blanche turned back to the stars. "You're fun to hang out with."
"I'm glad you're around."
Lady Aesculapius was lying with her eyes closed and a peaceful smile across her face.
"So, where to next then?" asked Blanche.
"No idea," said Lady Aesc.
Jason idly skimmed the soft sand with his fingers. Then he felt something hard. "Whoa!" he sat up straight to show the others. "I found a bunch of gold rings! From the sand, just now."
"Yes..." Lady Aesc narrowed her eyes. "Five of them."
"Can you hear that?" said Blanche, listening to the birds. "They sound like two turtle doves. And...and..."
Lady Aesc slowly turned to face her. "Say it."
"...Three French hens."
Lady Aesculapius stood up from her moonlounger and felt the wind gather around her, like she was in tune with the current of the multiverse.
"Why the fuck are there twelve drummers drumming over there?" said Jason, gesturing down the beach.
Lady Aesc breathed in deeply. "Hold on to something. I think things are about to get...festive."

For Lady Aesculapius' birthday, Jason Jackson and Blanche Combine put together cupcakes with some of Aesc's favorite flavors combined together: blueberry and chocolate! That started off their wild adventure in "The Great Cosmic Bake-Off".

We thought it would be fun if you could make it at home, so we brought in the amazing Molly of "What's Molly Makin'?" to bring their recipe to life!

Oh, and if you didn't read the story, it's a hoot and you can read it by clicking right HERE. 

Jason and Blanche's Cosmic Cupcakes by What's Molly Makin'

Ingredients:

1 1/2 cups flour (or substitute with cup for cup gluten free flour blend.)
3 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
1 cup sugar
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon white vinegar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
5 tablespoons sunflower oil
1 cup water
1/2 cup chocolate chips

Directions:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Either grease your muffin tin or line it with greased cupcake liners. In a large bowl mix flour, cocoa, sugar, baking soda and salt, mix well. Next, make a well in the dry ingredients. Pour vinegar, vanilla, and vegetable oil in the well. Pour water over all. Mix until smooth. Fold in the chocolate chips before filling each cupcake liner 3/4 full with batter. Place on middle rack of oven and bake for 15 to 20 minutes. Or until a toothpick in the center comes out clean. When ready, remove from oven, allow to cool for a minute or two then remove from tin and place on cooling rack. When cooled, top with blueberry frosting (recipe below.)

-Blueberry Frosting-

Ingredients:

1 pound of frozen wild blueberries
1/4 cup sugar
2 tablespoons lemon juice
1/4 cup water
1 1/4 cup butter (or vegan butter substitute) 
1/2 cup powdered sugar

Directions:
Combine blueberries, sugar, lemon juice, and water in a sauce pan. Put on medium heat and simmer until it becomes a syrup. Remove from heat and strain until all the syrup is extracted. Combine butter (or vegan butter substitute) and powdered sugar in a mixer and beat until fluffy. Add blueberry syrup to taste and color preference. Once done pipe frosting onto cupcakes and serve.



​Enjoy

​Jason looked down at the box of kitchenware Blanche was holding, “Alright. I’m really going to need you to give me a little more about what’s going on.”
Blanche shook the box, “It’s a peace offering. Baking. We’ll bake. Baking things.”
“I’m...not following.”
“Aesc’s birthday is tomorrow. I was thinking we could make her cupcakes together. You know. Bonding experience. Be pals.”
Jason narrowed his eyes, “Is this...like a weird ploy for something or?”
“Jason, I am literally just asking you to bake cupcakes with me so maybe we can stop being so weirdly suspicious of each other.”
He scratched his temple, “Okay that’s fair.”
“I really appreciate that you supported me coming on board but like...”
“No, yeah. You’re absolute right. I accept your peace offering,” he took the box from her, and held it awkwardly, “we’re just going to carry this back to the kitchen aren’t we?”
“...Yeah.”
He handed her the box back.


The kitchen on Lady Aesculapius’ Factory of Crystal was stocked with everything you could imagine you’d need to cook or bake anything: blenders, ovens, food printers, stasis pods of produce, knives, utensils...everything that is except, apparently quality whisks. Blanche was quickly discovering this as she sorted through the drawers and cabinets.
“These all look like Aesc got them at a 1-credit store, they’re junk...you having any luck?”
Jason shook his head, “Any idea what kind of cake Aesc likes?”
Blanche tapped on her cheek, “Hmn...well I know she likes chocolate.”
“That’s a good start.”
“She likes...blueberries?”
“Okay, then how about chocolate cupcakes with blueberry frosting?”
“Will that taste...good?” Blanche inquired.
Jason shrugged.
“Well, I guess we can try it.”
After running a few hundred meters to find where the blueberries were stored, Blanche brought them back, setting them down on the counter next to the flour, chocolate, sugar, and all the rest of the ingredients.
“Alright, so, I found a chocolate cupcake recipe and a blueberry one but not both...” Jason said.
It was Blanche’s turn to shrug, “Well, if we get it wrong, I suppose it’s not a big deal.”
He smiled at her, “That’s the spirit, let’s have some fun with this.”
She began looking over the two recipes, “Baking is all about precision, I do find it comforting.”
“How so?”
“In baking, there is a right answer to get a desired effect. If you do not get the effect, then it’s likely you simply hadn’t considered some variable that effects the result. Baking makes sense, even when most things don’t.”
Jason began to measure out some of the ingredients, “Had no idea you were a cake philosopher. I’ll take the frosting, you do the cake?”
She nodded, “Sounds good. And baking was something I could do back in Russia and not get scolded for it, so I suppose it’s that too...”
“Blanche, I’ve always wondered, what’s your name in Russian?”
She paused and squinted at him, “What do you mean what’s my name in Russian?”
“I mean, Blanche Combine, that’s English.”
“My name in Russian is Blanche Combine.”
He blinked repeatedly in surprise, “Really?”
“Blanche is a name there. Maybe not a common one, but it is one. And the Russian word for the English word combine is...” she stared into his eyes pointedly, “Combine.”
“Oh. Well see, I just got educated!”
She chuckled, which Jason counted as a win.
He sorted through the pile of ingredients, “I’ll start getting this frosting together then...aha, powdered sugar!”
“The recipe says I should whisk the batter together. Alright...”
Blanche looked skeptically at the cheap looking whisk she’d found in the drawers, but got to work anyway. She tried to whisk the batter together, but it just wasn’t getting the right consistency, “Screw this, I’ll be right back.”
Jason held his powdered sugar covered hands up, “Where do you think you’ll find a better whisk? It’s just a whisk. It does one thing. Which is whisking.”
“In the Sanctum. Aesc keeps her Quantum Whisk there, right? It has to be better. It’s Quantum.”
“What does...do you even know what that means?”
Blanch pushed her lips out, “Well, no. But look, it’s never done anything while we’ve traveled with Aesc. She just keeps acting like it will. Honestly I think it’s just a really nice kitchen utensil.”
Jason had that odd feeling in his stomach that marked the other kids in school swearing they wouldn’t get in trouble for something that was absolutely against the rules, but Blanche was right: the whisks Aesc had in the kitchen sucked. “Alright, yeah.”
They walked past the pedestals of artifacts Aesc had: an ancient Greek Helmet, a strange crystal sword, a Power Rangers Action figure, a set of manikins with her previous iconic outfits, and...there it was. The Quantum Whisk.
Jason Frowned, “I thought it was Purple.”
The golden whisk glittered preternaturally.
“Oh, yeah, I think Aesc paints it sometimes. That’s probably why she hadn’t been using it to cook,” Blanche answered, circling it’s pedestal to look for security devices.
Jason was going to ask why she would paint it, but decided the answer would leave him with more questions. Blanche took a breath, reached her hand out to the whisk and…picked it up from the pedestal with no effort.
“Huh. I really thought there’d be security. Anyway, let’s bake!”
Mixing the batter, and the frosting, was suddenly a breeze with the new tool, it was at the very least a very well made whisk.
Jason set out the cupcake tins, and Blanche poured the batter in. They placed it in the oven, and Jason finished work on the frosting, which he used the whisk on after Blanche cleaned it (which took very little effort, as the batter seemed to just come right off when she wanted it to). With the frosting prepared, they played Mario Kart together until the timer went off for the oven (Jason won, easily). Pulling the cupcakes out, they let them cool, and went back to play more Mario Kart (predictably, Jason won again. He actually tried to let Blanche win once, but she kept driving off the track and if he’d lost it would have been too obvious he’d let her win so he just went ahead and beat her. Blanche proceeded to complain that she’d beat him just as easily at Halo as he beat her at Mario Kart, after which they played, and she utterly annihilated him at Halo).
Finally, the cupcakes were cool, and the pair frosted them.
Jason nudged Blanche in the side, “Well, time to see if they’re good enough to serve to Aesc.”
She smiled, and Jason felt even better about this whole bonding time thing, “I do love the taste test.”
Each picking up a cupcake, they clinked them together, undid the paper wrapper, and bit in as Jason hoped they would be friends after all.
The flavor combination worked, and it worked better than Blanche or Jason expected. They felt like the flavor transported them, carried them off on it’s subtle flavors running under the bold ones.
They opened their eyes to find themselves on a grassy plain.
“Uhhhhhh,” Jason said.
“Hmn,” Blanche answered.
In the distance they could see two children, one with white hair, and one with dark curly hair. A lot like their own.
“Oh sh-”

“Hold onto your cupcakes!” Blanche yelled, as she and Jason ran towards the children, who were kicking a ball back and forth.
“Who are you?” said the girl darkly.
“I’m Blanche,” said Blanche.
“But I’m Blanche,” replied little Blanche.
“And I’m Jason!” replied little Jason.
“Oh, no,” said larger Jason.
“What do you mean ‘Oh, no.” this is where we met, all those years ago.”
“Blanche we can’t have met at the same age when we were kids!”
Blanche frowned, “Why not?”
Jason leaned in, “You’re from the future. I was born in 2441.”
“Oh,” said Blanche, who was born in 2458. “Wait, you’re right this never happened.”
“But I’m absolutely remembering it now.”
“Are you guys talking about science fiction?” little Jason asked, and big Blanche squatted down.
“We sure are! You like sci-fi, Jason?”
“I’m gunna be an X-Wing pilot when I grow up!” he replied
“I like things based in reality,” said small Blanche.
“How did you two meet?” large Blanche asked.
“Through the magic woods!” Jason answered, pointing at the normal looking forest.
“I reject the hypothesis, but I’m still studying it,” said small Blanche.
Large Jason pulled large Blanche backwards, “Great meeting you kids have fun playing!”
They looked at each other with wide eyes, “Jason, what happened with the cupcakes?”
“They uh...transported us through time and space.”
“I’m from an alternate reality from you.”
“...Right so that too.”
“And I remember being your friend! We weren’t even friends this morning!”
He frowned, “It’s hard to hold onto...remembering that.”


Jason and Blanche were on the floor of his Newcastle home, playing with a toy spaceships.
“Blanche, Jason! I made iced buns!” his mother yelled and the pair scampered up.


They were bundled up, running through Khimki forest Blanche laughing as they finally reached the tree, tagging it, “Winner!” she panted, as Jason finished on her heels.
“Yeah yeah, I can still out-fly you...”


The pair of friends, older now, on the couch playing Mario Kart, Jason blazing across the finish line far ahead. Jason grins.
“Yeah yeah, let’s go again, smug Brit...”


Jason in a nice suit, Blanche in a red dress on his arm, her white hair laced with flowers as they walk into the school dance.
“Thanks for coming with me, I wasn’t sure if...”
“I’d go?”
“It would work, you getting so far from the woods with the whole...future Russia thing. But I’m glad you came. I still haven’t figured out how to tell my parents...you know, that I’m asexual.”
She squeezed his arm, “It’s alright, I’d make a pretty good spy probably. I’m undercover. No one will know till you want them to.”
He smiled, “Thanks, Blanche, let’s meet my friends. Sometime you’ll have to introduce me to yours.”
She looked away, “Yeah...”


“So uh, you’re going to flight school then?”
“What I’ve always wanted. And you’re off to...”
“An underwater city for an internship creating sustainable underwater living.”
He laughed, “Yeah, that sounds like you.”
She started laughing too, and then they both abruptly stopped.
“No forest in the ocean,” he noted.
“No forest in space.”
“Guess it’s...goodbye then.”
Blanche nodded, and as Jason went in for a hug, she bolted. Running too fast for him to catch her.
He thought he’d never seen her again, that was till Lady Aesc’s funeral...


“AHHHHHHHH!!!!” Blanche and Jason said as they remembered all of that very quickly.
“WHAT THE HELL?” Blanche said.
“That happened? That all happened? That’s so much of who I am?”
“Same I...but what did it? Jason...what were you thinking about when you made the cupcakes?”
He frowned, “I don’t know, just that I wanted us to be frieeeenndndss….ooohhhhhh.”
Blanche pursed her lips, and held out her cupcake, “Then let’s think about going back to Lady Aesc’s Foce, yeah?”
“Worth a shot...”
They held their cupcakes up, and took a bite. As the chocolate and blueberries swirled over their tongues, they found themselves back in the kitchen. The whisk glinted on the counter like a wink.
“We need to find my girlfriend,” Blanche said. “Now.”
The pair bolted, running through the control tower till they found Aesc who was reading a book titled, “John Boss” and laughing heartily.
“Sweetie, uh?” Blanche said, “We screwed something up.”
Aesc lowered the book, “You messed up the secret cupcakes you were baking me for my birthday? No worry! You have plenty of time!”
“No! Jason and I are friends!”
“I’m so happy to hear that! Woo hoo! We can hold a second party for that!”
“No, I mean, we’ve always been friends.”
Aesc frowned, “Well that certainly was an odd act the two of you put up. Or...was it a prank? If it was then I guess good job you really convinced me you hated each other!”
“Aesc,” Jason coughed, “what Blanche is trying to say is that...”
“I-”
“-We took the Quantum Whisk out of the Sanctum and uh, used that to bake the cupcakes. And we ate the cupcakes while I was thinking about how I wanted Blanche and I to be friends. And now we’ve always been friends. And we were childhood friends even though she’s from Russia seventeen years in the future and...I have...memories I never had before.”
Aesc dropped the book on the floor, “Oh. That kind of thing. Well uh. Look, I’ll be real with you fam,” she stood up, and put a hand on each of their shoulders, “I actually have no idea what I’m supposed to do here.”
Blanche covered her face, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to screw up! I’m sorry! Please don’t make me leave...”
Aesc gave Jason an “AHH” look, as she pulled Blanche into a hug, “No no no, sweetheart, you’re here, you’re safe. I’m not kicking you out you just made a mistake. A massive cosmic existence shaking mistake that probably has probably damaged the very fabric of reality, but a mistake! And who hasn’t done that!”
Blanche sobbed into her shoulder. Jason waved his hand in front of his neck, And Aesc gave a subtle nod.
“So you’re alright. You’re safe, not leaving. Alright?” Blanche nodded in between sobs. Then Aesc’s eyes went wide, and after Blanche had finished sobbing she pulled back, “Wait, WAIIIIIT. Hold up. I know what this is like!”
Blanche made a messy noise that probably meant, “Oh?”
"It's like Marcel Proust, that book where he eats the cake and is transported through time to different points in his life!"
Jason and Blanche exchanged a glance, "Wasn't that just like...him remembering things?"
Aesc tilted her head to the side, "Isn't...time travel more likely?"
"...Than remembering things?" Blanche said with a blank face.
Lady Aesc, suddenly aware that perhaps she was saying stuff that made her unrelatable squinted, and slowly got out, "...I mean. Who would think that? Not me certainly. Love remembering things. Way easier biologically than time travel for some bizarre reason."
Blanche and Jason mumbled.
“Right! But my point is that this is what we’ve been looking for! The whisk is probably an artifact! Unless it was something else that did that, like the flour. Super-Flour! No that sounds wrong.”
“I see why you painted the whisk now,” Blanche said. “To make sure we didn’t use it.”
There was a long silence, “Heyo, what do you mean I painted it?”
Blanche looked confused through her red face, “Well it was always purple, but now it’s golden.”
Aesc stared, mouth a little open, and finally said, “...Huh. But the point is, that if these cupcakes you made with the color-changing whisk were able to rip through the fabric of space, time, and reality, then they could be the key we’ve been looking for!”
“The key to what?” Jason asked and Aesc looked delighted he’d set up her reply.
“To find the Utopia Dimension! We can’t travel there normally, but those cupcakes already rewrote your childhoods, which, again, everyone has done that, so maybe they can get us through to there.”
Blanche was wiping her tears off on her sleeve, “That’s actually not a bad plan...I’ll...get suited up. No time to waste, I’d say.”


* * *


The three of them stood in front of the very nicely made cupcakes, a gentle breeze blowing Aesc’s coat and Blanche and Jason’s hair, “Phil turn off the AC please,” Aesc asked.
“Sorry,” the ship replied.
“Wow, you know these really are nice cupcakes! If they’d been a surprise, what a delight they would have been! Anyways, let’s try this out.” She walked to the counter, pocketed the whisk, and the three each picked up a cupcake.
“Think of getting to the Utopia Dimension,” Jason said, and all three nodded in unison, and put the cupcakes to their lips.


As they bit into the cupcakes, they found time, space, reality, and the paths between them dashing along their tongues, down their throats, and into their stomachs. Along with chocolate cake and blueberry frosting. They focused hard on what they wanted, on the Utopia Dimension, and it seemed...like they could almost see it. A sense of gold. Like they were reaching out to it—and then they bounced off some sort of barrier and landed on their butts back in the Foce kitchen.
Jason and Aesc rubbed their behinds, though Blanche didn’t as she was wearing full combat armor, and they got up.
“Well, good try then,” Aesc said, “Sorry you got your armor on.”
“No, wait,” Jason said, “We can’t get in, but what if...we think about a place that can get us in there?” Aesc grinned, Blanche nodded seriously.
“Okay, try number two then.”
They drank some milk, and then picked up a second cupcake, and bit in. The flavors seemed more intense, the flow of the frosting smoother, the cake moist, the speed with which they moved across reality intangible. And then they stopped.


The three found themselves on an idyllic plain, the grass gently shifting in a pleasant breeze. There was a big white tent set up, from which that breeze carried delightful smells of baking. Aesc took off at a quick jog for it, grinning back at her friends, who followed right on her heels.
Inside the tent were a group of folks standing around chatting, and what looked like some kind of recording crew.
"Hello!" Lady Aesc yelled, waving, "We're looking for a way to get to the Utopia Dimension, ever heard of it?"
All eyes turned to the group, and a kindly old lady with the hands of someone who'd worked their whole life, and eyes that were dark blue orbs filled with rolling flashes of light and streaks of color zooming across them gave a polite smile and replied, "Are you looking to enter the Great Cosmic Bake Off then? It would appear you're in luck, we've had some unfortunate drops from our contestants and judges, and it looks like you're perfectly suited to fill in."
Aesc's face lit up, "A baking contest? My friends Jason and Blanche are amazing bakers, just figured out how to travel through reality using cupcakes which are banger, let me tell you."
"Excellent! And they both appear to have the pitiful lifespans of mortals, which qualifies them. You will join our judging panel, Lady Aesculapius, since you're immortal."
"Oh that's fun, so I get to eat all the things they bake?"
The woman with the cosmic eyes nodded.
"I'm absolutely in. Though what happened to the other judge."
"They left to join the rip off of our show, the Amazing Interstellar Baking Contest, on that private channel.."
"That's low. I'm extra in, then."
The woman nodded, “I’m Cosma Cozy, owner of the Buttered Biscuit Bakery in The View, where our broadcaster is also located.
“Oh, love The View. Held a birthday party there once!”
“This is Treyek the Thrice Damned,” Cosma said, “it’s truly an honor to have a being as experienced as Treyek on our show.”
Aesc held out a hand, and the towering figure in black robes, with a muzzle like a horse’s skull still holding its last strands of muscle sticking out from the fathomless black hood, extended a hand from the folds of its robes. It was shifting, jerking, and almost painful to look at till it solidified into a shape everyone’s brains could mostly recognise, and then it gingerly shook Aesc’s hand, and gave a series of popping squeaks under laced with the sounds of grinding metal.
“Oh thank you!” Lady Aesc said, blushing.
“What’d they say?” Jason asked.
“Oh, Treyek the Thrice Damned is a real sweetheart. Lots of folks would be made cruel being thrice damned, but honestly it’s just made them nicer, especially since they can see everyone’s pasts now as they fought their way out of hell at the end of the universe. They thought that you making your way into flight school, and working your way towards your dream even when no one believed in you is really impressive Jason, not everyone can do that. They think you’re really amazing.”
Jason shed a tear, “Oh. Thank you.”
“And Blanche, not everyone could make it through one lowest point in their life, but you made it through two and found friends and hope again. They’re so proud of you, and you should be proud of yourself.”
Blanche sputtered an, “Oh,” eyes watering.
“And I won’t tell you what they said to me, Treyek you old Flirt.”
Treyek and Aesc exchanged finger guns.
Cosma smiled, “Well then, I’m glad we seem to have broken the ice. Now, if you two will get over to the baking stations over there, the crew will brief you and get you ready.”
As Blanche and Jason walked away, Aesc pulled out her whisk, which was rainbow colored now, “And I’m ready to judge!”
“Hold up, that’s...that the Quantum Whisk isn’t it?”
Aesc nodded and smiled, shaking it back and forth joyfully.
“Isn’t that...an artifact? Why do you even have it out in public?”
Aesc shrugged, “This is why I always have to buy two action figures: I always have to take one out of the box to play with!”
Cosma’s jaw trembled, “Righto. Well...consider putting it somewhere safe later.”
“Oh yeah, totally!” Aesc said, tossing it in the air, spinning around, and then catching it behind her back.

A crew member calls out, “We’re ready to start! Everyone at your places!”

We are now observing. The show begins, reality in real time on a ten minute delay. Here we go.


* * *


Treyek makes a series of noises that remind everyone of waking up, and hearing something strange and unknown lurking in the night, and the presenter of the show, Gwen, enters the tent.
“Thank you so much for that warm welcome Treyek. Welcome everyone to the Great Cosmic Bake Off! Today our four contestants will be competing on a special episode to determine who is the greatest Amateur baker in the Multiverse, at least till next season. Our three immortal judges are ready, so let’s meet our contestants.”


Virginia Stems-6 from the Great Assimilation:


She turns to face the camera, wearing a black button up shirt with pauldrons and black slacks, with all the buttons and filigree made of gold. She leans back against the counter and flashes a smile, emphasizing the blush in her pale cheeks and her freckles. With a long pony tail of brown hair high on her head and her green eyes that are a little too green, she's really emphasizing the colony-girl-next-door look. Her apron is a matte-gold, and has cute drawings of cupcakes with smiling faces on it.


"I first got into baking after the glorious Triad of Emperors decimated the population of my moon, and I was put on kitchen duty while they were rebuilding our moon and assimilating us into their culture!"


We see b-roll of Virginia walking through the streets of a rebuilt metropolis with towering shining skyscrapers covered in hanging gardens, a practical paradise. The camera follows her through a glass door into an office where she sits down at a desk, exchanges some words with a coworker that are obscured by the voiceover, and begins to scroll through files on her tablet.


"During the day, my job is with the Cultural Preservation bureau. We go through the history of every culture that joins the Great Assimilation, and make sure what made them unique is preserved. We all have something special about ourselves, and it might not be what we think it is at first!"


We now see her at home, a compact but well stocked apartment where Virginia is pulling scones out of the oven.


"Baking is how I unwind, and there's something really special about getting to make treats for my friends, and the family I have that survived the conquest of our moon, and seeing the smiles on their faces."


We see Virginia and a group of friends all wearing black and gold pyjamas watching a movie together, eating Virginia's sumptuous looking baked goods.


"I think my big goals at the Great Cosmic bake off are to make something that uses the knowledge of the cultures I've learned about, and hopefully surprise the judges with some great new flavor combinations! It'd also be nice if I could find the location of the Utopia Dimension so we could annihilate it and prevent it from killing the rest of my family and friends!"


There's a close up of Virginia with a confident smile, arms crossed, as the camera pans around her.
"I'm Virginia Stems-6 and I'm proud to be part of the Great Cosmic Bake Off!"


Jason glances over at Blanche and mouths, "Is she for real? She sounds way to happy about death!"
Blanche mouths back, "I can't read your lips, you need to enunciate more when you do it," with very broad lip movements.


Gwen looks into the camera, “Our next baker comes from Ghenthar, where she has a unique hobby...”
Lady Aesc gasps, “Get out!”
“The Queen of Death!”


We see the Queen of Death. She stands in front of her baking equipment, the camera doing the same pan it did around Virginia, only she has her fists clenched at her side. Her chin down, her left eye twitching. She is wearing a grey dress, with a headdress made from humanoid bones fanning out behind her head. Her apron says “Cake to DIE for!”


“I first got into baking five days ago when an agent of the Utopia Dimension informed me that my most hated enemy, the...rather stunning Lady Aesc, who frankly has only gotten more attractive with her new body, and her friends would likely be coming to the Great Cosmic Bake Off and if I wanted revenge this would be my best chance at it. I have trained every day with the greatest chefs in twenty systems, and I will,” at this point she raises a fist up, “crush her friend’s baking dreams, and now that she’s a judge, her taste buds! After she tries my scones she’ll have to go out for a coffee with me.”
There is a long silence.
“I mean I will cut her head off and add it to my collection of skulls.”


We see shots of inside the Castle of Death, which is currently under heavy renovations to repair massive fire and plasma damage. The Queen of Death walks through the hallways into a kitchen, where she rather awkwardly tries stirring some ingredients into a bowl. It looks as though she only learned how to stir ingredients into a bowl this week.


“After Lady Aesc destroyed my castle, and helped my pet dragon escape, I’ve been searching for purpose. I found that purpose in revenge. And in properly flaky croissants. I can’t wait to see the look on that stupid face of hers when I beat her friends. That stupid stupid face. With that clever smile. And those deep beautiful eyes. The way her hair is just a little bit messy, but you can tell she still cares for it. Those long coats she wears? Whew, lemme tell you? Mmm hmn.” She finishes stirring, “What was I talking about?


We see a time lapse of her pouring the batter out into a pan, waiting for it to cook, and then time goes back to normal as she pulls it out of the oven, then speeds up again as she frosts it, and cuts slices out for her and her minions.


“My goals with the baking contest are to exact sweet revenge on Lady Aesc and her friends! I will destroy them, and laugh over Lady Aesc’s bloody corpse! Or...Kiss her. Hold her all night long and...” she stops, and bites her lip her eyes widening, “What AM I feeling? Am I falling in love with her? No! She’s my enemy! But that style. And those eyes...” She throws a piece of cake at the wall, and a minion rushes to clean it up.
“No, sorry Steve. I’ll get that. No really you don’t have to—oh alright if you insist I guess.”


We return to a shot of her in the baking tent.


“I’m The Queen of Death and I maybe should have thought about my emotions before I signed up for a televised baking contest, in 20/20 hindsight.”


The camera returns to Gwen.


“Well isn’t that exciting? Now that we’ve met our contestants it’s time for the first challenge! In the Cultural challenge, our contestants will bake something from where they grew up. Bakers!”
The bakers stand at the ready in front of their cooking area.


“Begin!”


Blanche is carefully measuring out the ingredients for her bake with a scientific precision, ”Some people say you should bake with the heart, but honestly I’ve always thought that was ridiculous. Baking is a science, and you should treat it as such.”


The camera cuts to Jason, who measures out some sugar, and then puts a little extra in, “My mother always said you should bake from the heart, and anyone who said otherwise was probably compensating for something.”


The Queen of Death holds an egg, squinting at it, and then smashes it against the table, smooshing the yolk down with her palm.,” Wait. I think I did that wrong.”


Virginia carefully sifts her flour and baking powder together, and gives a coy smile up to the camera, "Lemon trees grow really easily on our moon, so lemon bars a staple. It was a bit of a shock when I realized other places didn't eat them for breakfast."


Blanche finishes forming the dough into balls, and places them on a baking sheet, "My mother used to make Pryaniki like this, it's one of the few things I've held onto from that time in my life. She'd always say, 'Little Wild Rabbit, make sure you add the spices and the sugar, just like in life,'..." Blanche pauses, and puts the tray in the oven before looking back into the camera, "Now that I think about it, I have no idea what that means."


Jason has also finished his buns, Gwen is over by him, "You were on a spaceship, you didn't get many iced buns there did you?"
He smirks and shakes his head, "Nope, whenever I got land leave though, me mum and dad would make them. They're a simple pleasure, you don't make it too complicated, you enjoy what it is. Too much would ruin it."
"That's rather profound, spaceboy."
He shrugs as he places them in the oven.


The Queen of Death is scrambling, "I think...I think I followed the directions?" Her dough is dry and hard to shape, "Maybe I just need to throw some water on it," she does, and the dough is now too soupy.
She looks up into the camera and bares her teeth, "Welp."
She pours the batter and shoves them in the oven.


Virginia has already placed her bars in the oven, "I worked quickly here, so hopefully I can have time to do something special with the frosting...I think I can do something great."


We cut to Gwen, "So, how did our contestants do? Let's find out!"


The contestants stand in front of carefully laid out displays of their baked goods, as the three judges approach.


"Alright, Blanche, we'll start with you!" Gwen says.
The three judges each pick up a pryaniki, and take a bite out of it, Treyek the Thrice Damned makes wet sound like a predator eating a carcass as they chew.
"Oh, it's quite good," Cosma says.
"You really balanced the spices with the sweetness," Aesc adds.
"SCREEEEEEEEEEEECH!!!!!" Treyek adds.
"Oh absolutely," Aesc agrees.
"Thank you!" Blanche says.
"This is a fine work, and it's difficult to find anything to criticize. A very excellent bake," Cosma concludes.
Blanche is red in the face.
Aesc grabs two more, stuffs them into her pockets, and then shoves another one in her mouth.


Jason stands nervously as the judges pick up his iced buns.
"Picking Iced Buns is a fairly brave choice, as you're going to be graded largely on your technical skill here," Cosma says.
Jason nods, more nervously. The three bite in.
Treyek is the first to speak, "KEEEEAAAKKKK!!!" they exclaim.
"Yes, I couldn't agree more," Aesc says, "that is how the texture is."
"Hard to say anything better than what Treyek said."
Jason coughs politely, "Uh, what did Treyek say?"
"KEEE--AAAAK!" Treyek enunciates.
"Ah, right," Jason says, "thank you."
Aesc grabs some buns, and shoves them in her pockets, carrying another one off with her teeth as they leave.


The judges look down at Virginia's lemon bars, which are exquisite. She's done a fancy frosting pattern over the top, and the bars look perfectly baked.
"I have to say, they're really pretty. Almost as pretty as-" Aesc does double finger guns across the room, "MY GIRLFRIEND OOOOOHH!"
Blanche gives an embarrassed wave.
Virginia coughs, "You're uh, dating one of the other contestants?"
"She's a cosmic entity, she'd never dare break the rules of a baking contest," Cosma says with a frown.
"Sorry, of course."
The judges pick up a lemon bar, as soon as they start chewing, they look at each other.
"Holy shit," Aesc says between bites.
"EEEEKAAWWWW!" Treyek replies.
Virginia's hands are clasped in front of her apron, they shake nervously.
Cosma looks up, "Virginia, I daresay, these are the best lemon bars I've ever had, and I watched them be invented."
"Yeah, o-m-f-g," Aesc agrees, and stuffs another one in her mouth, and then picks up the plate and straight up shoves some of them into her pockets.
Treyek makes a long series of sounds like listening to a cat die, and Aesc and Cosma laugh.
"Oh, I didn't know you were such a jokester!" Aesc says.
"...ha. ha!" Virginia manages.
"But yes, truly a good bake," Cosma says.


The camera starts on the Queen of Death's face. She's looking down. Her lips are pursed. We cut to the judges: Aesc's face is screwed up. Cosma is stoic. The bone and meat sticking out of Treyek's hood somehow manages to look disappointed.
We see the bake. It's...clearly undercooked. It's hard to tell exactly what it was meant to be.
The judges pick one up, and take a bite. Aesc chews hers for a second, and spits it out onto the floor. Treyek eats it all, making lighter squeakier noises than usual. Cosma just shakes her head as she chews.
"Yeah, that's gunna be a no from me," Aesc says.
"Mep," Treyek says.
"No, we're not going to throw her into the sun for how bad that was," Aesc tells them.
"It was very bad, however. It tastes like you'd only started baking this week."
"...uh. well..." the Queen of Death mutters.
"I think all three of us are in agreement?" Cosma asks, the other two nod, "The Queen of Death, you are eliminated from the competition. I'm sorry, but we'll have to send you home."
She mopes, "Before I go, Lady Aesc, can I just say, that new look is really sexy and--"
Cosma's eyes flash, and the Queen of Death disappears in a blinding burst of energy.
"Well, I certainly hope round 2 will be better!" Gwen says, “But for now we’ll let the bakers take a short break.
We see the bakers all go over and try some of the other’s bakes. Virginia and Jason both seem to really like Blanche’s pryaniki


Gwen coughs, “Hello everyone! Attention! We’re now ready to do round 2 of our bake off, the blind recipe.” The three remaining contestants are all standing in front of their tables, which all have a sheet over them, “Bakers ready! Begin!” They each pull off the sheet to reveal identical sets of ingredients and instructions.


We see a close-up on Virginia’s face, “I’ve...never heard of some of these ingredients.”
Now Jason, “They didn’t even write all the instructions.”
Blanche’s dialogue is bleeped out.
Jason lets out a deep breath, “Chin up then! I’ll do my best.”
Blanche begins combining some of the ingredients in a bowl, “That does not look right.” They begin bubbling. “Extra not right.” They catch on fire. “SERIOUSLY?”
Virginia is biting her lip hard, “I suppose maybe...if I measure out the ingredients I can...sort of guess how to combine them?” She begins rifling through the provided ingredients, and sets them all out. She stands there, hands on her hips, and looks down at all of them, “Alright, yeah, I have no idea still.”
Jason is looking intently at the recipe, Gwen walks over to him, “Alright Jason, I can see you’re deep in thought here.”
“I’m divining arcane secrets,” he says, chuckling.
Gwen laughs, “And what have you divined?”
“I think I’m...overthinking this. I can’t know what this is, but I think it’s more important I try to make it into something I’d like to eat, even if it’s not precisely what the recipe is supposed to be.”
Gwen waggles her eyebrows, “A bold decision!”
“Or a reckless one!”
“Time will tell.”
Gwen walks over to Blanche, who is rolling the ingredients together. The dough looks...yellow.
“And what are we making here?”
Blanche scrunches her face up around the eyes, “Um, well I’m just trying to follow the instructions as closely as I can with as little modification.”
Gwen nods, “It’s very yellow.”
“Maybe it’ll taste like lemons?”
“Are there any lemons in it?
Blanche laughs, “No, none at all.”
Finally Gwen reaches Virginia, who is mildly freaking out.
“Deep breaths, Virginia!”
Her hand trembles as she shakes a white powder into the bowl.
“So, that’s not on the ingredients list I believe.”
“Yeah, so...I don’t know what it’s supposed to be. But I tasted all the ingredients and I think if I can shape it a little familiar I’ll be able to bake it with a little more confidence.”
“That’s a big risk!”
“It’s why my hands are a mess!”
They both laugh nervously, and we cut to all three of them, in turn putting their bake into a pan, and putting it in the oven. Virginia is in a squat, peering into the oven, biting her lip. Blanche is leaning on the counter behind her, and blowing out a big breath as she looks into it. Jason is on his phone.
They pull the bakes out of the oven. All of them look a little concerned.


Jason, Blanche, and Virginia set their bakes down. None of them look the same: Jason’s is a lily-white braided loaf of bread. Blanche’s Is braided but...it looks yellow, and it hasn’t risen like Jason’s, Virginia’s is white, but it has weird blue spots all over it, and it also hasn’t risen. The three judges step up. They look at Virginia’s, and Treyek extends a razor made of bone from out of their sleeve, the bone seeming to glisten with half remembered faces, and cuts three slices from her loaf. The inside is a messy greenish yellow.
“That certainly doesn’t look appetizing,” Cosma says.
“The color is all wrong, but how does it taste?” Aesc asks.
They pick up their slices and bite in. Virginia is trembling all over.
“Mebep,” Treyek says.
“It is a shame, isn’t it,” Cosma says.
“I’m really sorry to say it Virginia, but this doesn’t taste anything like a Vianishnaq,” Aesc says.
“Im sorry,” Virginia says, hands clasped tightly in front of her.
“The color is wrong, the texture is dry, the dough didn’t rise, and while the flavor is actually good, it’s the wrong flavor. But this was a difficult bake, and you should be proud of your attempt.”
She holds her head down as the judges keep going. Jason gives her a pat on the back, and she reaches up to touch his hand, nodding in appreciation.
Treyek reaches Blanche’s loaf, and cuts three slices. The inside is...actually a fairly appetizing brown color. The three judges grab their slices, and begin chewing. Blanche keeps her head high.
Aesc grimaces.
Blanche scrunches her face up, “Ah.”
“You know, I have to be honest as a judge at a baking contest, it’s one of those rules immortals have to follow, and...Blanche… it’s not very good.”
“Mebeg,” Treyek concurs.
Cosma points at the bread, “You actually got the texture of the bread, it’s moist and feels good in the mouth, but the flavor is confused, the color is wrong, and the bread didn’t rise.”
“I see,” Blanch says nodding.
“But again, a difficult bake, and a good attempt for doing it blind.”
“Thank you.”
They reach Jason’s loaf, and after the slices are cut, the inside looks very different. While the crust was white, the inside is a rich raised brown. They taste the bread.
The judges are all silent while they eat it, Jason runs his tongue along his lower lip.
“Well then,” Cosma says.
Jason flinches.
“I certainly wasn’t expecting that, honestly,” Aesc replies.
“SKGRRRRRAK,” Treyek says.
Jason looks at his feet.
Cosma takes another bite, “After two mess ups, you cooked a Vianishnaq perfectly. Incredible.”
Blanche and Virginia look stunned.
“Which of course,” Gwen cuts in, “means the judges have to decide who leaves.”


Virginia extends a hand to Blanche, “Whichever one of us, it’s been an honor to bake against such talented bakers.”
Blanche hesitates, then shakes it, “You’re in this to stop the Utopia Dimension too then?”
Virginia startles a little, “That’s why you’re here? I feel a little better then, I was really worried if I lost the contest my home would be destroyed. I’m really glad to hear you’re here to stop it. I actually entered before we learned about that, I just was going to ask for my own bakery when I win, but the greater good and all that.”
“Yeah,” Blanche replies, “I’m sure the Infinite Armada would deal with it tactfully.”
Virginia’s face falls, “We’re all on the same team here.”
“Blanche!” Jason hisses, pulling her away.
“Jason, listen to me. You’ve never seen the Great Assimilation. The Infinite Armada isn’t called that as a joke, it’s large enough to invade an entire universe. Not a planet, not a galaxy, a universe. Do you really think that if they got the location of the Utopia Dimension they wouldn’t just take whatever weapon they have there, and slaughter anyone in their way?”
Jason pauses, “You’re serious?”
“I’m serious.”


Gwen steps forward, “Our judges have made their decision. And unfortunately, I have the sad job to tell you all who will be leaving today...”
The camera goes to Blanche’s face, then Virginia’s, then back and forth, then all three of them.
Gwen takes a breath, “Blanche.”
Blanche looks stunned, and gets hugged by Jason, and Virginia, and then Lady Aesc, Treyek, and Cosma all pile on.
“We’ll all be sad to see you go,” Cosma says, and her eyes begin to light up.”
“Wait!” Aesc says, “I’m actually both of their rides, so could we skip that? I’d just have to go pick them up somewhere else it’d just be a hassle.”
Her eyes stop glowing, “Oh, yes you should have said something Lady Aesculapius. We’re not unreasonable about these things.”
The judges shake Jason and Virginia’s hands, and Blanche looks at Jason and mouths with clear annunciation, “Win.”


The tent has been cleaned for the final round. Jason and Virginia stand at their baking stations, all cleaned up themselves. The cameras pan across them dramatically.
Gwen, in voiceover, “When we started today, we had four bakers, but now we’re down to the final two. So before we see their bakes, we wanted to stop in with their families.”

We see a woman who looks very much like Virginia, only older and with a bit of cybernetics replacing her left eye, and the side of her head up to the ear behind it. Beside her is a teenage girl, who also looks fairly similar to Virginia. The pair are sitting at the kitchen table, as Gwen begins a voiceover: “The Stens-6 family comes from the Great Assimilation, on the moon of Ialgo.”
Her mother speaks, “Virginia really took up to baking after her father died, I think it’s really been therapeutic for her.”
Her sister nods, “She’s so good too, I really hope she’ll win.”
We see a hologram of Virginia accepting a local baking contest trophy, her mother talks: “I know her goal is to open her own bakery someday, so I want that for her to. She was always such a shy timid girl growing up, and we’re just proud of her for being able to put herself out in the spotlight like that. She’s gained so much confidence.”
We cut to a shot of the two waving, “You can do it Virginia!” they say into the camera.


We see a couple, gray hair but both in good physical shape. One is a woman wearing a flower pattern dress, the other a man in a dress shirt with a sweater vest over it. Gwen’s voice over begins, “Jason’s parents hail from Newcastle, on Centro Earth in his home reality.”
Jason’s mother speaks, “Jason and I baked together a lot when he was a child,” there is a pause, as though she’s remembering something she’d forgotten, “...sometimes along with his friend Blanche.”
His father pauses confused for a moment, “Oh! Yes, Blanche of course.”
“So it’s been fun to see them both compete. I worked a lot at the spaceport as a mechanic, and his father was at the office so often, that baking was often some of the only quality time we had together. He’d often shake out the sprinkles on top of things and call them stars, he was always thinking of the stars.”
His father speaks, “We’re real proud of you son, and we’ll be cheering you on!”
His mother holds up a big tablet that says, “Go Jason Go!” on it, “We even made signs!”
They wave at the camera, and we cut back to the tent, as the camera arcs around the contestants.

Gwen speaks before them, “Bakers, you’ve come far, and now this final challenge will give you a little taste of home. That’s right, you will need to bake a tiered cake using the theme of Home, and whatever that means to you. Ready...bake!”


Jason and Virginia scramble to start baking. The judges as Gwen come over to each of them to ask them about their concepts.
Gwen starts, “Well hello there Jason! That’s an interesting looking construction.”
He gives a sheepish grin, “My cake is based around the two places that are home for me: Newcastle, Lady Aesc’s Foce.”
Lady Aesc gasps, puts both hands over her mouth, and jumps up and down. “You think of the Foce as home ahhHHHHH!!!!”
Treyek screeches.
“Yes, I agree this is very sweet. So you’ll be baking two separate cakes?”
“Yeah a chocolate sponge for the bottom, and a real light white cake for the top.”
“Then we’ll leave you to it.”


They arrive at Virginia’s baking station, “And what do you have for us Virginia?”
Virginia gives a close mouthed smile, “I’m trying to channel what home really means to me, which is the people who are there. Home isn’t just a place, it’s the people you want to go back to. And for me that’s my mom and sis. So I’m going to have a cake that has us escaping from the dark times together into safety.”
“That’s quite a beautiful sentiment, Virginia,” Aesc says.
“Thank you!”
“Alright, we’ll leave you to it then.”


We see a montage of the pair baking, but we don’t get to see what they’re making. It’s very carefully edited. Virginia and Jason carefully place their top layer on. Jason puts his hands on his hips, looking proud, Virginia wipes her brow.
“And...Time!” Gwen shouts, “Jason, could you bring your cake up.”


We see Jason’s cake as he lifts it up, and carries it to to the table in front of the judges. It has castle tower, complete with frosting brick pattern, and at the top it supports an orb shaped cake styled like a Factory of Crystal. Careful lines of edible glitter sparkle as the “cracks” on its surface.
He sets it down and looks up at the judges.
“I must say, this is an incredible presentation, and surprisingly stable,” Cosma says. “Tell us a little about it.”
“I wanted to show how the two places I call home, Newcastle and Lady Aesc’s Foce fit together.”
Treyek sounds like gears grinding.
“I’m very honored, yes, but does it taste good?” Aesc answers, and they carefully cut from the tower and the orb. The judges take their bites. Jason stands nervously.
“It’s incredibly moist!” Cosma says.
More gear grinding sounds.
“The two flavor sets you went with compliment each other perfectly,” Aesc says.
“Jason, you should be very proud of this cake. It’s tasty, there’s good texture, and the presentation is wonderful.”
“Thank you so much!”
Gwen gestures, “If you could take your new-castle back, Jason, and Virginia if you could bring up your cake?”
She takes a big breath, puts on a smile, and carries her cake up. The base layer is a swirling black chocolate, like a whirlpool, and in it’s center is a rainbow colored cake that looks like it’s shooting out of the base, at the top of it are three creampuffs stuck on with icing, and one orb made of carefully made semi-circles of melted sugar joined together. She sets it down.
“This is certainly a unique presentation, Virginia, tell us a little about it.”
She keeps her smile up, but it seems more genuine now, “I wanted to show how home can be an escape from the darkness. So here’s my family, rising out of the bad times, the three creampuffs are me and my mom and sis, and the clear sugar orb is my late father, still with us even though the light goes through him.”
“It’s a beautiful concept Virginia, and I think you’ve honored your family really well,” Aesc says.
“Thank you.”
“ScraaaaaaaaaK!” Treyek says, and cuts slices from it. The judges taste them. They chew. Virginia’s hands go to the front of her apron, clasped tight
“These are absolutely delicious,” Cosma says, “your flavor combinations are impeccable, and having one layer a darker chocolate and the top one a sweeter cake was inspired.”
“Thank you!”
Gwen gestures, “Bakers, if you would please take your cakes from the tent, we have a surprise for you and we’ll be making the announcement of the winner.”
Jason and Virginia exchange a look, and pick up their cakes to leave the tent. The camera follows them as the door to the tent is pulled open and...there is a crowd of their friends and family there! Jason’s parents, Virginia’s mom and sister, Blanche and all of her scouts, the crew of Jason’s Centro Exploratory Ship, and many of Virginia’s friend’s from the great assimilation. There’s music, a bouncy castle, lawn games, flowers, and lots of cheering!
Jason and Virginia smile, and set their cakes down on two prepared tables, and start exchanging hugs with their loved ones.
“I had no idea you’d be here! How’d they get you here from Earth?” Jason asks, as his mother gives him a big kiss on the cheek.
“Oh, your friend Lady Aesculapius picked us all up right after we finished the interview! We’re so happy to see you!”
He and his mom and dad hug, while in the background Blanche explains that it’s not okay to tell another child the black dirt they picked up is weird cake.
Virginia hugs her mom and sister, “I can’t believe you made it!”
“I can believe you did,” her sister says.
“Oh hush Michelle.”


Gwen yells out, “May I have your attention!”
All eyes turn to her.
“Our judges have reached a decision on the winner of the Great Cosmic Bake Off. Bakers, it has been quite a journey, and both of you are so deserving of this title. It was a hard debate, done psychically in a time stalled pocket dimension, but the choice has been made.”
Virginia smiles over at Jason and mouths “Good luck!”
He grins back, “You too!”


“So,” Gwen says. It is my great pleasure to announce the winner this year is…”


We cut between Jason and Virginia’s faces.


We cut between their loved ones’s faces.


We cut between the judges faces.


We cut back to Jason and Virginia’s faces.


We cut to Jason’s Mother’s face.


We cut to Virginia’s Mother’s face.


We cut between Jason and Virginia’s faces again.


We cut between the judges faces.


We cut back to Jason and Virginia’s faces together...


“VIRGINIA STENS-6!”
Virginia breaks out in tears of joy, covering her mouth as her mother and sister jump up and down in excitement. Jason applauds, Blanche looks horrified.
Gwen continues, “Virginia, your cake was not only delicious, but moving, and very difficult to make, and Cosma, Aesc, and Treyek all agree that you are this year’s best baker.” Gwen hands her the trophy, and she nearly falls over, barely getting out a “Thank you!”
Blanche goes up to Jason, “We need a plan B. Now.”
Jason frowns, “What do you propose we do? Everyone is really happy Blanche.”
“They won’t be for long.”
Treyek reaches into their chest, and pulls out a bag of flour, and then makes a series of clicks and pops.
“Since I know you can’t speak Treyek’s language, allow me to translate,” Cosma says, “Virginia, as the winner we present you with one bag of Cosmic Flour. With this, you will be able to achieve your wish of traveling to the Utopia Dimension. Treyek stole it themselves from Final Satan at the end of the universe, so you can count on it’s legitimacy.”
Virginia looks a little alarmed by the idea of “Final Satan” but bows and thanks Treyek.
Blanche starts to turn, but then Jason puts a hand on her shoulder, because Virginia is in front of both of them.
“I want to thank both of you, for being such good bakers and being such good sports,” she looks down at the flour, “You know, it wasn’t so long ago I thought nothing would be okay again, but things were after a time, not better but okay. And all I’ve ever wanted was to be happy, to be safe.” She holds the bag of flour out to the two of them.
“What?” Blanche says.
“You won that, Virginia.”
“I did, but if you can stop the Utopia Dimension without so much bloodshed, I want you to do it. You’re kind, and I believe in you,” she purses her lips for a moment and glances at Blanche, “Even if you don’t believe in me.”
Blanche looks at her feet.
Jason takes the flour from her, “Thank you, Virginia.”
She grins, “If I get my bakery you folks have to promise to stop by.”
“I’m sure we can get Aesc to pull a few strings,” Blanche mumbles, and Virginia tackles her in a hug.
Jason looks at the flour, and then over at Aesc, the Quantum Whisk sticking out of her coat pocket, “Actually...I have an idea. Virginia, want to help us with one final bake?”
She lets Blanche free, and nods, “I’d love to.”
After the party dies down, and Aesc takes the guests home after many tearful farewells, reappearing moments after she left, the four march into the baking tent.
“Alright team,” Aesc says, “It’s time to bake a cake.”
Virginia and Jason start work on the cake itself, while Blanche starts work on the frosting, and Aesc runs point between all of them. The whisk is tossed between them, stirring every part of the mixture. The Cosmic Flour is strange to work with, but they do well with it.
Soon, the cakes are in the oven, and the four play cards on the floor while they wait.
Finally, after the cakes cool, they put them together, homemade jam between the layers, frosting around the outside. They decorate it with more frosting, and bits of fruit. It looks delightful. Aesc takes a picture of it.
“Now, when you eat your slice Virginia, think about going home, right? We’ll be going on a dangerous mission, so we don’t want you in danger!”
She nods, “Good luck. Please save the multiverse for me, I’d rather like to live in it.”
“You can count on us!” Jason replies.
Blanche gives her a nod, “You’re alright, actually.”
The other three laugh, “That’s a big compliment actually,” Jason says.
Blanche lightly slugs him, and the four each pick up a slice of cake.
They clink them together like they were glasses, and take a bite.


Virginia found herself moving through an ocean of flavors, like the nature of cake was carrying her through reality, till she found herself on the shining clean streets of her home city. She looks around, smiling to be back, until she sees it.
There in front of her is a building labeled, “Virginia’s Cosmic Bakes.”
She rushes forward, it’s beautiful, the inside is filled with all the equipment she could ever want! There’s an envelope on the door, and she opens it to find the deed and key.
“Virginia—Ready, bake! We’ll stop by later if we aren’t all dead and all of reality isn’t violently wiped away! Make cupcakes! Love and frosting, -Aesc, Jason, and Blanche.
She looks up to the starry sky, and she isn’t afraid, “You’ve got this. See you next week.”

In a lifeless clockwork solar system - where nothing had happened for a million years with perfect regularity - some new speck of dust had blown into the machine: a blue crystal moon, about the size of a house. Jason's hair was still wet from the shower. "Ooh! Star Wars episode ex-ex-ex-eye-ex: Abeloth's Revenge!"
"Eh," said Blanche, flipping through the TV magazine, which in these days had graduated from commercial publishing to the high-end small press: the films that ran through Sunday afternoons were explored in dramatic multi-page features set in the Swiss International Style, the regular listings ran in dense columns of lightly embossed type you could run your finger over like braille, and it arrived in a glossy hardback with highly designed collectible inserts whenever a soap had an explosion in it.
"Why not?" asked Jason. "It's got the best space battles in the series!"
"I hate watching movies on TV. The art is always broken up by five-minute capitalism breaks, it’s a tax on time."
They sat on the sofa in a small alcove coming off the Factory of Crystal's control tower. This living area had a coffee table, a luminous pot plant, and a wood-panelled 70s TV plugged into a fancy crystal socket.
Lady Aesculapius, meanwhile, danced around the Foce's controls, occasionally speaking aloud about coordinates and dimensions.
"Babe, who are you talking to?" asked Blanche.
Lady Aesc looked up. "Myselves. I'm trying to find the Utopia Dimension so we can stop them destroying more universes, but I can't get a fix. I've enlisted all my previous incarnations to help run a calculation from my first life to now, but it's not really working. God, I was such an idiot."
Blanche frowned. On one of the screens she could make out images of previous Lady Aescs, most of whom looked like stock footage. There were many Blanche didn't recognise, like one with a brightly coloured jumper and a huge 1980s perm, another wearing a beige suit with an old Greenpeace t-shirt. Only the three most recent Aesculapii were in HD. Two bedraggled elvin androgynes fought at a steamship’s console in a drawing by Aubrey Beardsley, and one screen displayed a photo of a Greek oracle on a vase.
Jason resumed channel surfing. "What do you wanna watch?"
"I prefer, like, all the prestige drama," said Blanche, turning back to the TV.
"Mmmm…” Jason really couldn't stomach a lot of serious shows about violence and death where nobody got a happy ending, but he also wanted to break the tension with Blanche.
Something caught her eye. “Do you have EastEnders, in your time?”
“Oh yeah, we love the soaps in this house don’t we?”
“I have lived for a million years,” said Aesc, “and I shall live for a million more. Five seasons is a short story for me, I need Russian novels.”
“When's it on?" He looked out the window at the planet they were orbiting. The Factory was going fairly quickly, it had been night a few times since he woke up, and nobody had had their dinner yet. "Ye know what…”
"Don't."
"What?"
"Don't ask it. Don't think it. Just leave the thought alone."
Jason frowned. "Alright, geez. I was just gonnae ask 'what time is it now?'"
Without any clear movement in the room, they became aware of Lady Aesculapius breathing heavily between their faces.
"I think it's…”
She looked at Blanche.
"…time…”
She looked at Jason.
"…we had the conversation," she said, stressing each syllable.
Blanche flapped her arms in frustration, letting her open palms slap against her knees, then stood up. "Fuck's sake."

"Behold!"
Lady Aesculapius threw open a pair of double doors and Jason beheld another pair of double doors.
"Wait, hold on, I always forget about this weird vestibule bit." She approached the next set of doors and threw those open. "Behold!"
It was like an art gallery designed by M.C. Escher. The room was vast, with high vaulted ceilings and ornate patterns carved into the Factory of Crystal's bright blue walls. Staircases jutted out at weird angles and doorways led off to other rooms where the laws of physics - or, “best practices” - shouldn’t have allowed them. There were what looked like sculptural art pieces and display cases everywhere, some on the ground level, some on the walls or halfway upside-down a flight of steps.
"What is this place?" asked Jason.
"My darkest secret, my strange addiction," said Lady Aesc. "My collection of clocks from all across the multiverse. You know how it is. Someone gives you one as a gift, then someone gives you another, then people see that you have two and assume you must collect them, and it just kinda…” She flapped her arms at the lifetimes of curatorial work behind her, as if apologising for the mess.
"I see a few more since I was last in here," said Blanche.
"We'd better do the full tour then! Jason, pay attention. Jason?"
Jason was standing in a large circle of dirt in the middle of the vestibule, bounded by a kerb that had ‘STEP OVER ME!’ painted all around it in a white stencil font. He was staring at a long tree branch that had been thrust into the ground at the centre of the circle. "What's this?"
"That's for later." Lady Aesc put a hand on his shoulder, slowly but firmly pulling him out of the circle. "We need to work up to that one, let’s go through it all as Curator intended, yeah? Yeah.”


* * *


"The first thing to understand about the question 'what time is it now?' is that time is relative to where you are," explained Lady Aesc.
"Well I know that," said Jason. He glanced at each clock as they moved down the line. It was 5:57pm in London, 12:57am in New York, and 1:57am in Beijing; 4:57pm in Atlantis, 10:57xm in Jaa’stek, 57:57 on Planet 57, and high noon on Cowboy Emoji.
"These ones here aren't up to much," said Lady Aesc, breezing by them quickly. "Here we have a five-dimensional clock from Kapisto, an anti-clockwise clock built by the Time Rebellion, who I love, and a clock punched by factory workers - to pieces, I should add - during the revolution of Beta Pictoris c. Ah, here's a good one."


The Saturday Clock does not have hands, but two long black liquorice ropes that roll slowly along its irregular face. Nobody knows what powers the clock, but it barely cares to be powered at all; it is centrally driven - with no appreciable motor - by something like a big water wheel you might see on a riverside mill, that eventually falls under the irresistible weight of long slow droops of honey that ooze out from who-knows-where.


Another clock comes from from the trustless blockchain world, where it is agreed upon that everyone arrives at the agreed-upon time: at the city market that uses more electricity than Austria, and handles seven transactions per second.


* * *


Jason frowned.
Atop the pedestal was a scale model of London's Elizabeth Tower, complete with the Houses of Parliament and Westminster Bridge. The clocks on the four faces of the tower reached midnight, and a tiny bell rang.
Jason turned to face Lady Aesc.
"Small Ben,” she said.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it."


Later, Jason examined a late-Victorian pocket watch that had been embedded in a stone.
Lady Aesculapius crept up very slowly behind him.
Jason pondered the way that the watch appeared to have been fossilised. This wasn’t a natural find, the little plaque on the wall explained, this was a piece. One of the anonymous artists had placed this watch in the ground, somewhere that they had to have known wouldn’t be disturbed, and the other had known to cut it out of the stone that formed there millions of years later.
Lady Aesculapius was in the process of leaning over, behind his shoulder, making sure that her hair didn’t fall and tickle his back.
Jason folded his arms in contemplation. He thought about the complexity of this object, and how greater complexity falls so quickly into entropy, about how all we ever see of the ancient civilizations are their pots or their toy horses, just because there’s less to fall apart. He thought about carbon nanofiber skyscrapers of clear solar-panel glass, and engineering done by AI architects who couldn’t explain their methods if we knew how to ask. He thought about something as simple as the pyramids or the tombs of pharaohs. Maybe if humans went extinct on Earth, after some great stretch of time, all that an alien archaeologist would find would be pyramids and plastic shopping bags.
As Jason made sense of the fossilised fob watch, and breathed deeply because he’d forgotten to breathe for a hot minute, Lady Aesculapius’ lips hovered at his earlobe. She whispered, “rock around the clock.”


* * *


Professional reenactors braid their beards, don their druid robes and take their place at Papiermâchéhenge, encircled by a tungsten-halogen sun. To this day experts debate how the structure could have possibly been built.


* * *


In the olden days the cogs of a clock had a story to tell about where they stood: tooth in tooth with comrades big and small. With the invention of digital clocks - and the attendant innovation in computing technology - the cogs now spend their days cooped up in little transistors, sending their messages zooming along silicon superhighways. The circuit boards get smaller every year, but for the agile digital cog of today space is never an issue: when they sleepily trudge home across the copper cobbles they move through eachother like ghosts, and end up apologising if their teeth touch.


* * *


“Oh look!” Jason perked up and pointed over in the distance. “That’s one of those Salvador Dalí clocks, from the painting!”
“Oh yeah,” Aesc nodded, visibly not paying attention to it.
“Everyone loves the melty clocks, Aesc!” Blanche grinned.
“And that’s perfectly fine,” said Aesc.
“What’s wrong with the melty clocks?” Jason asked.
“I never said there was anything wrong with the melty clocks,” said Aesc.
“I just feel like I’m being made to feel like there’s something wrong with the melty clocks,” said Jason.
“It’s just…” Aesc stopped and faced the melty clock. “A bit… tourist-y? Like, I understand why the melty clock is popular, it’s sort of iconic and sort of… conceptually very digestible, sure, but like… there’s not much intellectual meat on those bones, is what I’m saying…”
“Wow,” said Jason.
“It’s sort of like an Andy Warhol-”
“Wow,” said Blanche.
“-in that you see it, and there’s a thrill in seeing it, and that’s perfectly valid, but when you actually look at it, for a while, what’s really there?”
Jason folded his arms. “You made us sit in that cinema room for ten minutes watching a video art piece that told the story of an apricot who knows exactly when he’s gonna die.”
“And what a story it had to tell!”


* * *


A bottle of amber liquid sits on a pedestal. A click, and it sprays a strong perfume that smells distinctly like quarter-past two.


The next clock looked like any other, but the numbers around its circumference were all wrong. The numbers went from 1 to 13, and between those big numbers were smaller numbers counting from 0 to 45.
"Ah, the adventure clock," said Lady Aesc. "45-minute hours, with days broken up into 13 action-packed instalments."
"Why would you need a clock like this?" asked Jason.
"It fits my life pretty well. 45 minutes is a good amount of time for an adventure; too short and there's not enough plot development, too long and it starts to devolve into filler. And 13 instalments gives your day enough room to have an arc.”


The next one along was a picture frame mounted on the wall. It looked empty, but when Jason stood in front of it, there appeared a picture of some lemons criss-crossed by the Getty Images watermark.
Jason frowned.
Blanche heard his frown. "It's the vibe clock. It gives you a random high-quality JPEG of something that evokes the time."
Jason frowned louder. "But… those are some lemons."
The picture frame faded. Then a new picture emerged, this time of Scott Bakula from Quantum Leap.
"Well now it's Scott Bakula from Quantum Leap."
"Yes," said Blanche. "The time changed."


They arrived at what was, by all appearances, an ordinary grandfather clock.
“That’s just an ordinary grandfather clock,” said Blanche.
“But is it?” asked Jason, folding his arms, slightly shivering in his bathrobe. “Is it?”
“Yesss,” Lady Aesculapius intoned. “It’s just that it stopped precisely when its owner died, is all.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Jason whispered.
“Many such cases,” she whispered back.


* * *


What will be arguably the best clock has not been designed with the average user in mind. First the team of designers, doctors, anthropologists, and explorers - all Americans - looked into clocks for the disabled: flashing or vibrating clocks for the deaf, talking clocks and stylish braille smartwatches, clocks that grounded one in time, place and purpose for those in the early stages of dementia. Then they travelled across the galaxy to the planet of Gon-polvo, where people had never had to develop linear, narrative memory. They braved the jungles of Imagurro to study the Norritevini, a species precisely the opposite of humans in every way you’d care to think. They were the first to map out - using unmanned aerial drones with LIDAR laser scanners - the lands of the Aulect, whose planet never turned and for whom day and night hemmed in the liminal biome along the equator, who were born in the morning, hunted most of the afternoon, and spent their last decades playing with grandchildren in the midday sun, between contemplative trips to the Sunset Lands with a view of the edge of the Night.
The expedition continues with no end in sight, but they and the supervisory committee believe in an old principle of accessible design: that if we fully map out the circumference, the middle will find itself. (Where better, they have determined, to place the axis from which the hands will turn?)


And here is a soft clock with no gears and no silicon, but a musculature of threads wound on spools of stuffed silk. Where once there was hollow plasticene ticking there is now gentle tension and hard release, and sometimes a quiet brushing sound like hair on a pillow.


Eternalism tells us that time is static and unmoving and that every moment exists at once. In some cultures on the planet Theda, intelligence is negatively correlated with precision, and their totally abstract clocks are never wrong.


* * *


Lady Aesculapius arrived at a bulky suitcase from the 1980s, which sat open on a pedestal with a crisp rectangular block of cash between its leather gums. “This,” said Aesc, “is a clock from the capitalist planet where time is money.” She threw Jason an inky wad of hundreds. “I’ve just added a month onto your lifespan, spend it all at once.”
“You mean you just have this?” Jason stared at the suitcase.
“Over there is the clock from the socialist planet where money was replaced by digital tokens on a decentralised, federated econOS, each one representing an hour of labour time: what the boss once skimmed off the top is now given to the employee, and for the first time they are earning an hour’s pay for an hour’s work. The factory that makes a thousand widgets in an hour sells each widget for a thousandth of an hour, and every sunday painter’s last work is literally priceless.”


Jason was relieved to see what looked like a completely normal clock amongst this collection, before he noticed the second hand moving faster the more he thought about it, and thought and thought and thought about it.
"That's the anxiety clock," said Blanche. She leaned into Jason's ear. "It knows."
"It… knows?" said Jason. "Knows what?"
"Oh, I think you know what it knows." She moved on, smiling when he couldn't see.
Jason took one last look at the anxiety clock as he walked away. Five minutes had passed already, and he’d wasted all of them thinking about that.


“Oh shit, there she is,” Blanche whispered.
Aesculapius stopped and hid beside a window in the wall. She’d framed it like an old painting: a view of a rustic sunlit kitchen in the afternoon. “I think I can smell something baking,” said Jason. He got closer to the window and his eyes widened. “I actually can smell something baking.”
Something beeped, and Jason froze as a woman in a peachy-red dress that swished around her knees fully ran into the kitchen. She’d looked right at him, he thought, but she was too busy tunneling into oven gloves to notice him.
“What does she look like, ace pilot?” Blanche grinned, raising her eyebrows at Jason.
He made a face at her. “I dunno, I can’t see. She’s facing away from me and she’s bent over something in the oven.”
“I’m gonna wait before I turn around so it’s not that pervy,” said Aesc, sucking air through her teeth.
“What would be pervy?” Jason asked. “You can’t see anything. Oh, here she’s turning around now.”
Aesc and Blanche swooned around to rest on Jason’s shoulders, watching the woman nurse a hot pie onto the counter. She blew an obstreperous strand of red hair out of her face then rearranged the whole mass with one glove still on, stopping to recognise something outside of her big open window. Whatever it was, it registered on her soft rosy face with the smallest curl on the corner of her mouth.
“Oh my god,” Aesc fainted into the nape of Jason’s neck. “I cannot.”
“This is Sally Roe,” said Blanche. “She’s an artist who teaches primary school children three days a week. She’s English and speaks BBC-approved received pronunciation even though she was born two generations too late for that. She collects stray cats and really cares about recycling-”
“But not in a paper-straws way ‘cause she’s cool like that,” said Aesculapius.
“-and she’s sort of scatterbrained so she’s taken up list-making, and she’s been quite depressed since the breakup last Christmas-”
“Christmas!” Aesc lamented. “I’ll kill that man.”
“-but, goddammit Jason, she’s trying. She lives in the south of France and has taken up baking. We don’t know why, we only ever see her through this window, but she hasn’t baked since last summer, so.” Blanche looked at Jason, then made a sort of side-eye gesture. “She talks to herself all the time, too. We’re listening for a name. We listen for a name maybe two nights most weeks.”
Jason stood between the two melting women, who radiated little sighs and loving noises at eachother from either side of him. “Why is she here, then? Is that it?” Jason pointed at the clock on the oven. “Is that the clock?”
“Sally Roe gets prettier every year,” said Aesc. “Bolder every month and more self-aware by the week. She’s a carnivorous reader who grows more curious every day, a little wiser every hour, and today she’s becoming more comfortable with her own company every minute. Every second, she sheds one hundred and sixty-six cells of dead skin.”
“Ew,” whispered Jason.
“But everybody does that too,” whispered Blanche, almost unconsciously fingering the curls at the back of his head. “So honestly, who can blame her? Nobody said she was perfect.”


Jason examined a postcard on a pedestal: little cottages huddled on the grassy islands, some of which bobbed out from the water like seals and some of which had grown up to be soft snowy mountains in the distance.
Aesculapius glanced over at Blanche, who was chasing a little alarm clock on wheels, and slid over to Jason’s shoulder. “This is Sommarøy, a little island in Norway where the sun rises in May and sets at the end of July. The usual constraints of day and night mean nothing to the three-hundred and fifty residents, and in some universes they fought a long and hard-won campaign to abolish time entirely. Me and an ex-girlfriend once went on holiday there forever.”


“Over there,” said Aesc, “is the wing of the museum full of blurry and breezy measures of time from all over the Earth, all replicas or gifts from before Europeans landed, before punctuality was enforced at the end of a bayonet.”


“What’s this?” Jason asked, stopping at a red round plinth of bright curtain that billowed very gently at the hem, as if there were a silent breeze from whatever was inside.
“There is a version of Earth where property law shook out differently,” said Aesculapius. “In your world, it used to be the case that the matrilineal line - mothers and children - was the only thing recognised as family, and relations were otherwise so loosey-goosey that in general the men of the tribe recognised many children as their potential offspring.”
“Okay…” said Jason.
“Then agriculture got wicked good, which created the need for organisation, which created a desire for slaves, and then ownership, and in men a great need to see that their accumulated property was passed down to their sons. Former nomads built their individual clay huts, and like the human hand evolved to fit the hammer, the human family evolved to fit the household.”
Blanche continued. “So wealth compounded down the line of fathers and sons. Men inherited land, workers, and soldiers, and the man with the most of these things was made king. Civilisation was born in wedlock, and the world was built on male influence: the pantheons and the fertility cults were driven out by the Father, who so loved mankind that he sacrificed his only so on and so forth.”
“It’s not all metaphysics,” Aesculapius added. “As late as the early twenty-first century, women were misdiagnosed after heart attacks because all the medical studies had been done on men, who show some different symptoms. Women were more likely to be seriously injured in car accidents because the crash-test dummies were all made to look and crush like men’s bodies. Those kinds of things were everywhere, the whole edifice of human knowledge had been built to look like a male face.”
Jason paused, then tried not to furrow his brow too visibly. “So is the punchline here going to be something about how, like, the way we measure time is a certain way because we’re using clocks that were designed by men? Is this going to be one of those bloody awful ‘Prosecco O’ Clock’ things you see in gift shops?”
Blanche took over, preparedly. “In the twentyteens there were studies that found if you gave a man a gun his body started producing more testosterone, and that a milkshake was ‘read’ by the digestive system as more nutritious if the person had been told it was healthy. Social constructs aren’t afraid to become biological ones,” concluded the white-haired Russian.
“Now,” said Lady Aesculapius. “Cook the human race in culture for ten-thousand-plus years. Add more salt. What do you think that does to a species’ brain? The question I was basically interested in when I went searching for this place was, if a human from the Patriarchy Timeline landed in the Matriarchy one, how would they see it? On a basic, sensory level, I mean. Would the moment-to-moment experience of walking down a city street be completely overwritten? Would they be able to learn the language? Would this one alteration have completely changed the neurochemical template for the human race such that it would be as if you had landed on another planet? If you looked at one of their clocks, would you be able to tell the time? Would you be able to even see it? Or would it be so unthinkably strange to you, so radically alien that it would just bounce off your brain and refuse to go down as mere information?”
“Uh,” Jason trailed off. “I don’t know.”
“Neither do I,” said Blanche, sitting down on the floor at Aesc’s feet. “I’m human, so I’m… infected. We all are. That’s the point. What’s behind that curtain is literally impossible for you or I to think about in anything resembling detail.”
“But you must have seen it, Aesc, right?” Jason asked. “If you carried it and brought the thing here?”
“If I talked about this clock for even longer,” she smiled, “would it make any more sense?”
“Well…” Jason scratched his head, maybe just searching the dark wiry curls of his hair for something to hold on to. “Would it be, like, sexist if I asked if I could see it?”
They both laughed and stepped away, clearing the path for him and settling down to watch this.
Jason approached the textural red velvet and his hand shook as he felt around for the seam til he was on the other side of the thick warm column. He parted the curtain and before he saw it he felt another layer of curtain brush against his knuckles, felt the weight of the material cover him up to his shoulders like every time he’d wrestled the cover onto a duvet or something.
He stepped forward and let the curtains swallow him up. The museum’s smooth marble floor was newly cool with each step on the skin of his bare feet. He found this comforting, as no reassuring sound from outside could reach him here. There was light from outside shining through the fabric, but there was light shining through all the fabric, as if the layers and layers of heavy cloth were soft wedding veils against his cheeks when he pushed his nose through another fold; it had become too tiring to lift the velvet in front of him as pleasant as it was to the touch, so he started using his face and then he started using his shoulder to negotiate through the mass like he was in a crowded nightclub, like he was being pressed by sweaty bodies on all sides. He remembered nightclubs. He remembered the first time he held a stranger’s hand was in a club - he was lost and she was leading him through the hot tides of movement, out of the sweat and out to the smoking area whenever she needed to breathe or to the bar when she wanted him to take his first ever shot right there, right then, and twice. He was lost. There was a strange smell filling up his head and working its way through his chest and brain. He was lost, he felt, in the best possible way. As he raised his arms to lift another sheet he felt something bump into the back of his thigh, then it felt him and moved up the height of him and he could hear it urgently shifting everything around.
“Aesc?”
He felt smothered by touch, his ears were overpowered by actual silence. A warm hand slid into the opening between his thumb and forefinger and gently pulled him with some certainty.
“Blanche? Is that you?”
Red velvet lifted from his face and he took the moment to breathe and the air felt good as it entered his throat and warmed up in the soft pink harbour of his lungs, exciting something in the chambers of his trembling heart. He looked down and saw bejewelled fingers tighten around his hand, wondered at the black tesseractic runes tattooed between the woman’s knuckles, the black bell sleeve around her arm that vanished into the red fabric in front of him. He was wearing a fluffy white bathrobe, for fuck’s sake, was the last thing he was consciously conscious of, as the all-ensconsing veil got thinner and he heard joyful shrieking and smelled and tasted cool pine air and smoke.


* * *


There is a world where everybody wears two watches, one of which is wound arbitrarily far ahead of the other. When asked in a job interview where she sees herself in five years, an ambitious young businesswoman looks at her wrist and replies ‘going to bed’.


The binary clock only has two numbers, a 1 at the top and a 0 at the bottom, with a hand that snaps back and forth every second. Every eighteen months or so it ticks twice as fast.


The next one wasn't a clock at all but a thermometer. On closer inspection however, the numbers running down it weren't in Celsius or Fahrenheit, but in minutes and hours. On the planet Gessel - a noxious oven home only to human miners - the temperature rises and falls at precisely the same time every day, so accurately they can plan their day by it.
"See that only works because they know exactly how hot their planet's going to be at any given moment," said Lady Aesc. "Humans could've had that with Earth, but then you went and fucked it didn’t you?”


“Oh look! We’ve reached The Line.”
“What? Is it over?” Asked Jason.
“Oh no,” Aesc shook her head. She planted herself theatrically on Jason’s side of a line drawn in sharpie across the marble floor. “We’ve established that time and space are essentially the same thing, yes?”
“Yeah,” Jason nodded.
“Over here is the period of your life where you squished or flushed every bug you found in the house,” said Aesc, pointing at her wiggling toes. “And over here…” she hopped over. “Is the period of your life where you start scooping the little beasties up onto envelopes or tissues and escorting them to the garden. You only talk to them sometimes, but you always say hello.”
Jason inspected the wobbly penmanship. “Did you draw this line?”
“It’s a geological feature of temporality itself, I don’t make the rules,” she shook her head. “Sometimes a person just changes. Let’s keep going, then.”
“What if I don’t want to cross the line?” asked Jason.
“Time is all about limiting one’s options.”


* * *


For as long as you think about it, this clock does not tick. The original is unique, the only clock on its homeworld, and is believed to be the work of a blind watchmaking devil. It is protected by monks who meditate in shifts, and the religious keep the clock in their thoughts while going about their steady business. In the cities they recieve distractions from across the sea, and the irreligious have begun to even celebrate their birthdays.


* * *


The Office Clock. The clock on your desktop screen. The clock on your phone that you check, just in case. Those blessed by a nine-to-five will commonly report a sense of time slowing down between around 1pm and 4. This is not an illusion, but conspiracy and wage theft.
(In amongst the temp workers and the zero-hours, situationist stragglers from the failed Time Rebellion have come back to before the first clock-strikes - have come to light a match. Give them a minute, if you can.)


* * *


“In many cultures,” said Lady Aesc, “it’s thought that the gods weigh the contents of a life before they allow passage to the next world.” She arrived in front of a large set of golden scales. “This awful black cube is the amount of time the average person spends with their loved ones.”
“Oh,” said Jason.
“This awful black cube is the amount of time they spent at work.”
“Oh…” said Jason.


The sound of a pre-recorded studio audience turned Jason's head. Along the line of clocks was a sofa in front of a television, just like upstairs in the control tower. Aesc vaulted over and landed sitting down. Jason and Blanche both watched the screen over her shoulders.
A green blob was hoovering in a house with three walls. A door on the right-hand wall opened and an orange blob with a suitcase entered to applause. The orange blob then opened and let out a gargling noise.
The featureless green blob looked exasperated. It gargled back.
The orange blob looked straight at the camera and made a sad but violent sound, like hitting the surface of a bowl of custard with a hammer. The studio audience erupted with laughter, then applause at the character's signature catchphrase.
"What is this?" asked Jason.
“Obsulon Blom,” Blanche sighed. “It's a sitcom that's been running for four hundred years and gets less funny every season."
Jason watched for a few more moments in silence. "So how has it lasted four hundred years?"
"A weird tangle of legal issues. The studio made a typo in the contract, and now it has to be renewed every year or they have to pay the nameless, faceless actors what they’re really worth, and then the whole company goes under."
Lady Aesc was fully engrossed. “The decline in quality is linear, entropic, perfect. Like radioactive decay or carbon dating. You can set your watch against this shit. I love it.”


* * *


Jason felt a chill at the back of his neck. His eyes were drawn to a dark and narrow doorway where he heard a sound like rushing sand. Or maybe he just… felt like rushing sand. With Blanche and Aesc busy looking at a clock that measured time in the dreams of baby penguins, he slipped away.
The doorway led to a chamber filled with hourglasses. Shelves upon shelves of them. Jason looked closer. They all had names on them, and some had more time left than others. Then he noticed one that made his heart stop.
It was labelled 'Jason Jackson.'
Jason shut his eyes, trying not to think about what he'd seen. He peeped out from behind a hand. He still had plenty of sand left, but what was unmistakably the majority of it was already gone.
Then he flipped it upside down.
"Jason!?" shouted Lady Aesc.
"Be right there!" Jason replied. He began to hurry out. Then he stopped.
He walked backwards to his hourglass, then turned back to watch his sand flow in the opposite direction.
Slowly, he picked it up. He hesitated. Then he placed it down on its side.
The sand in the top half stayed in the top half, and the sand in the bottom half stayed in the bottom. His hourglass was at rest. After a long pause, Jason sighed with relief then returned to his friends, keeping his eyes firmly on the ground as he left.


The pentagonal clock of the Culinarium is based around the five daily meals, recommended to the people of Valisto Sett by the Interdimensional Chef’s Alliance. A hand points towards each of the day's five meals, in turn arranged along its five sides. In the native language of Valisto Sett, these are havvyer (post-wake), hev'noor (pre-work), hej'da'en (mid-meal), kasta'falsh'ed'nul (the closest translation for which is 'the gluttony zone'), and finally ''''''''''''''''d'''' (believed to be the Valistese teatime).


“They buggered up the clocks in Venice,” said Aesculapius, as she led them into the room with a whole clock tower on a lake. ‘This is a holographic clipping from the city in the early 21st century. Usually you can’t see it because the water’s too wobbly and it only affects old native clocks, but look.”
She pointed at the clock high above them, and then at the clock in the reflection quite far below. The clock above read eleven minutes past three, and the clock below read 9:41. “When they were building Venice, see,” Aesculapius explained, “they forgot to actually reflect the clock faces on the water and just rotated them, so if it’s 7:16 here it’s 4:44 over there, if it’s 6:45 in one Venice it’s 6:15 in another. The only thing the two Venices agree on are six o’ clock and twelve.”
“So I get the whole multiverse thing,” said Jason, “but are you saying that Earth has two Venices, built on either side of the same lagoon?”
“Earth has a lot of Venices,” Aesc smiled.
“Do they know about eachother?”
“It’s… tense, in twentysomethingteen,” she said, checking the informational plaque which was for some reason printed in both English and Scots Gaelic. “The sea levels are rising, and each Venice threatens to rush in and overwhelm the other with new words and new ways of living, but mostly they maintain their uneasy peace. We could go there and you could watch from across the canals where the streets border the surface of the water: the same merchant shouting over herself, two suntanned old men negotiating their bikes in the same parking spot, boats deploying two platoons of tourists on the same square, pairs of pasty British couples winching on canal steps, Italo Calvinos taking notes on their reflections.


"Is this a clock?" Jason approached a door standing in the middle of the room.
"Everything in here is," said Aesc, getting slowly more excited.
"How does it tell the time?"
Blanche sighed. "I don't know, how do you use any door?"
Jason walked all around it. A pale green door with twelve small glass windows, arranged three by four, stood upright in the room like it was for sale. He turned the handle and pushed it open.
"POOOOOOOUR ME SOMETHIN’ TALL AND STRONG, MAKE IT A HURRICANE BEFORE I GO INSANE. IT'S ONLY HALF PAST TWELVE, BUT I DON'T CARE-"
Jason slammed the door shut. "There’s a concert in there."
"Yes," said Lady Aesc.
"What is this?"
"It's the door Alan Jackson walks through that transports him to a Jimmy Buffett concert in the music video for his 2003 hit ‘It's Five O'Clock Somewhere’."
Jason paused, leaning his forehead on the side of the frame. "And that tells me the time because…?”
"Because it literally is five o'clock somewhere," Blanche finished.
"It's funny because it’s true," said Aesculapius. "Actually in a multiverse, everything is funny because everything is true…" Her eyes went blank and she seemed to get lost in her own mind for a second. "Anyway,” she shook herself awake. “Are you starting to understand time from a Firmament perspective? Everything and nothing are always never unhappening at no times, so just… pour yourself a Hurricane before you go insane, yeah?”


* * *


Jason’s arms trailed by his sides as they left the museum, returning to the vestibule with the stick in the mud. “What even is goin’ on with the stick?”
“See for yourself,” said Aesculapius.
Jason stepped over the little barrier with ‘STEP OVER ME!’ in its blocky stencil font, and ‘WALK ALL OVER ME!’ in ecstatic cursive. He puzzled over the stick and its shadow. “I’m sure this shadow was pointing a different direction the last time.”
“And what have we been doing between now and then?” Aesculapius asked, then she jumped over the threshold to join him and all her smug self-assuredness left her.
“We were in that museum,” said Jason. “Looking at your circles.”
“They’re not all circles!” she protested. “Some of them are squares, some of them are vegetables, some of them are really cool rocks.”
Blanche didn’t stop grinning as she cupped her hands to shout, “but what do they all have in common!?”
“A stick…” said Jason. “A stick is a kind of a vegetable, if you think about it.”
“Oh,” Aesculapius gasped, so softly. “I love watching your mind at work.”
Jason rested his puzzled face on his fist. “And there’s a circle drawn on the ground around the stick, and I suppose if you really… zoom out, mentally, the ground is kind of a rock.”
Aesc gritted her teeth as she stared inquisitively and directly into the sun.
“Don’t stare directly into the sun!” Blanche shouted.
She hid her eyes from the sun, and as she did she wondered if the shadow was hiding from the sun, too. “The shadow will always be hiding behind the stick,” she said.
“And as the sun…” Jason stopped himself, his mind racing. “…as the sun runs around, trying to catch the shadow, the shadow will move so it’s always on the other side of the stick.”
“Why would somebody build this awful thing?” Aesc whimpered. “Why would you make a shadow run in a circle forever?”
“Why would you curate a whole museum of circles?” Jason asked.
“They’re not! All! Circles!” She spat. “Some of them are triangles. Some of them are cannons. Some of them are sexy jars with no lids that someone managed to fill with sand, somehow.”
“But what do they all do!?” said Blanche. “What could you do with such devices?”
Aesculapius gripped her forehead and sighed furiously. “I don’t know. Jason?”
“You could…” He narrowed his eyes at the shadow, and imagined it moving around in a circle at exactly the same speed every day with perfect regularity, except when the sun got lower down in the sky and the shadow got longer as the days got shorter. “You could say, oh,” he grabbed a little pebble and placed it where the shadow met the circle. “When the shadow hits this pebble, somebody shout to make everyone stop what they’re doing and meet me at the campfire. You could put loads of pebbles around the circle, and every pebble would have a different meaning. You could coordinate loads of people that way, you could control people that way.”
“And the shadow only goes one way,” Aesc said, with some deep resignation. “So if you liked the last pebble better, you’re shit out of luck, b… buckaroo.”
“And if the pebbles were small enough you could put down as many as you wanted,” said Jason.
“And if you made the stick thin enough, you could tell the…” she paused, “…current pebble, with near-infinite accuracy. You’d look dead clever. I mean you’d be really, really respected. You could build a world off the back of that, you could build a universe.”
“And if one day you met someone with different sticks and different pebbles…” Jason said, eyes widening with horror.
“You’d just go gangster on them, wouldn’t you?” said Aesculapius, reclining on the sunlit mound. “You’d be like that, ‘aaahh!’, you’d be raging.”
“Wow.” Jason shook his head, just taking it all in.
Aesculapius sighed. “What pebble is it now?”
“I mean… that just sounds like a stupid question now, doesn’t it?”
Blanche rugby-tackled Jason so hard and fast that they both landed on the floor outside of the circle.
“OH MY GOD.” Jason screamed, with the terror felt by babies realising they’ve just been born.
“Now you get it!” Blanche exclaimed, dragging Aesculapius out by her ankles while the ancient time-traveller gripped onto blades of grass, clinging to the simpler world where clocks had yet to happen.


* * *


"And there you have it!" Lady Aesc threw open the doors of the main room and returned to the controls.
"There I have what?" asked Jason.
"Please don't make us do it all again," said Blanche, flopping back down on the sofa.
Lady Aesc danced up to Jason and put her arm around his shoulder. "What we’ve learned, Jason Jackson, is, why, time? Time………………………..time." She made a gesture as if to say 'and that's that'.
Jason slowly nodded. "Time."
"That's it!" Her attention was suddenly drawn away to one of the screens.
"Damn," said Blanche, watching credits scroll up the TV over an image of the river Thames. "We missed EastEnders."
Lady Aesculapius looked up and shrugged. “Why does that matter? You can just watch it anytime on iPlayer.”
Jason felt lost and wandered over to the window. He watched the sun vanishing behind a glass horizon, and at the precise moment that it did the little moon he stood on clicked into a perfect line with its host star and two planets. Four lightyears and a minute in front of him, some internal fuse ran out and a neutron star collapsed and shot out gamma rays forever in both directions. Some nearby planets might just pop immediately, and some wouldn’t see this twinkle for a billion years. Jason thought about how space obscured time, on a galactic scale, but then tried to think about it from another point of view. He thought about the arms of the galaxy, that only ever spun in one direction, and how most telescopes weren’t good enough to see the shadows that planets must cast: infinitely long spokes from the galaxy’s axial light. Time would appear to run faster near that centre, where the orbits of whole star systems could be dangerously short, compared to the stillness at the outer edges. He tried to imagine how this must all look from above the flat disc, the impressionist painting of star-stuff in purple and blue
Right now, in a city made of jelly, a membrane filled with complex proteins just saw the blob it’s going to marry one day. Some ancient ruin got swallowed by a tectonic abyss and a star just exploded into life on the fringe of a coral-reef nebula. More stars and planets than anyone knows about just aligned, secretly, according to logics that have yet to be discovered, and as the spinning solar wheels locked into a closed array of syzygetic constellations, Jason’s belly sounded one long vibratory note, and told him it was time for dinner.

NEXT TIME ON LADY AESCULAPIUS...

Episode 12: THE GREAT COSMIC BAKE-OFF, by James Wylder

“In baking, there is a right answer to get a desired effect. Baking makes sense, even when most things don’t.”
“Had no idea you were a cake philosopher.” 

Legends speak of an artifact from the days before time. A weapon able to unleash death, destruction, and delightful cupcakes.

The Quantum Whisk.

And when Jason and Blanche unearth it - they start a chain of events that will lead them to the greatest baking competition in the galaxy, and also, maybe, their greatest enemy …

Lady Aesculapius Series 1 is part of 10,000 Dawns, and is a publication of Arcbeatle Press.
Lady Aesculapius was created by James Wylder.
All original elements to this story are the property of the author.
All rights Reserved, Arcbeatle Press 2019.
Our cover art is by Anne-Laure Tuduri.

Any resemblance between persons living or dead, fictional characters, and real or fictional events is either co-incidental or has been done within the bounds of parody and/or satire.

You can learn more about 10,000 Dawns at http://www.jameswylder.com/10000-dawns1.html