Legend

Myriad Reality

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- I don't think he does anything without good reason. He probably knew you were out and about and you could do this sorta work.

*The walk to the spaceport isn't particularly long, and it's rather easy to tell where it is, as a slim, arrowhead-shaped aircraft glides overhead with a dull roar from its direction. It pitches up and glides away with a rising trill as its engines throttle up before finally punching through the endless clouds with a distant sonic boom.*

- C'mon. We got a flight to catch. None of you have issues with high G-forces on ascent, do you?

@Tank O The Lake

G-force is something we're both more than ready to handle. It should be fine.

Myriad Reality

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- I, uh...

*She looks up, trying to find a way to put it.*

- I used to work for an intelligence agency on one of these Earths. The CIA, they called it; I don't remember what it stands for. I, uh, went into the private sector eventually and Lucy hired me as a... consultant for his work. It's a good job. Pays well, and the boss is nice.

@Tank O The Lake

Then I don't imagine we're the first recruits you've seen.

Myriad Reality

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- Bad.

*A reserved look falls over her face. She doesn't seem to want to talk about it.*

@Tank O The Lake

And what are you personally hoping to get out of us helping you?

Myriad Reality

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- It isn't. It's actually pretty run-of-the-mill over here. There's better and there's definitely worse. Lucy owns a property in another dimension; he let her stay there. She likes it, so she said. Better than here, anyway.

@Tank O The Lake

How bad does it get in some of these areas?

Myriad Reality

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- No, you misunderstand. She was born here, and we moved her elsewhere. Though... well, yes. Some of these Earths are... not good. I think this sector is... broken, in a lot of ways.

@Tank O The Lake

*Crosses my arms and leans back*
Why is this one worse than any others?

Myriad Reality

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- Yeah. Fine now. We got her offworld when we hired her. Off-universe, technically speaking. It's like defecting from the Soviets; we're always happier here.

*Something pained lies behind her eyes. Like she doesn't want to say this, but she doesn't have a choice.*

@Tank O The Lake

You're telling me there are worlds more miserable than this one in your sector?

Myriad Reality

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- You tell me. One of my coworkers is a native to this planet. She fuckin' hates it here.

*A pained look crosses her face.*

- She's fine now, though.

*The words spill out too quickly. Too forced.*

@Tank O The Lake

*Raises an eyebrow*
Fine now?

Myriad Reality

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*Naomi's mouth draws into a resigned line.*

NAOMI: Well, as far as I know, it wasn't so bad back when the folks who had fought in World War III were still alive and in control. They'd chosen to betray their countries in the name of the Revolution; they knew what they were fighting for and they wouldn't compromise on it. When they died, no one else had that spirit in them. Everyone just saw the Cooperative as the new source of power and wealth and whatever. Now we're here, and a nation that once ate the rich now feeds them.

@Tank O The Lake

A slow and drawn out death, then? Sounds miserable.

Myriad Reality

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NAOMI: Damn right you will. You'll get your papers when we get off. Just point 'em to the papers; don't do it right off the bat or you'll look suspicious, but, they ask for your identity, the papers come out. Don't say anything, don't make sudden movements. Some of the cops here are looking for a reason to rough someone up.

*She flicks the newspaper forward, flipping a page to the comics. Her face falls a little.*

NAOMI: Jesus, the funnies are awful. S'what you get when all the real artists go to jail.

@Tank O The Lake

How'd it get so bad in the first place?

Myriad Reality

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*A little while after Katherine arrives, the train begins to move. It's a wholly uninteresting ride; there are screens on the back of each seat like an airliner, but they only display safety videos, public service announcements, and the occasional tacky kids' cartoons that always end in a lesson about obeying authority figures or practicing civic virtue or whatever. The train speeds across the dark, polluted landscape at what must be hundreds of miles an hour; you're going to reach Charleston in a little less than three hours.*

*On the last leg of the journey, a young, black-haired woman in a navy-blue suit finds a seat across the aisle from the two of you and unfolds the latest issue of the Union Times, occasionally looking up at you. After a few awkward minutes, she speaks.*

WOMAN: I see you found a change of clothes.

@Tank O The Lake

*Pinches the bridge of my nose between my fingers*
A bio-hazard warning. Seriously. It nearly shut down the entire skylight club.