Image credit: Stephanie Ann Studzinski

            Lieutenant Suirçissa walked calmly but quickly toward the drive room. It felt like only moments ago when she had left her home world and signed up with VersOmni. Her mother had cried softly that morning as the portal melted away, taking her daughter toward her dreams and irrecoverably farther from home. That was the last time Suirçissa had cried. But not now, never now. No matter what happens, she told herself, I am Lieutenant Suirçissa, first class. As of this morning, she was on her way to become the youngest decorated officer VersOmni had ever known.

            She strode onto the bridge with only the ident flicker of her freshly pressed lieutenant’s stripes announcing her. Six officers were already present and hard at work coordinating their descent into Flacon territory. The Captain noticed her presence and nodded, acknowledging her arrival. Suirçissa hung her head. Oh, if only I had favorable news to report...

            “Lieutenant Suirçissa,” Kharon paused, giving weight to her new title, “Have we had further news from Flacon?”

            “No, Captain. We are still awaiting the Flacon arrival key. In the meantime, we are preprogramming our entry trajectory based on scalable algorithms allowing us to be able to act as soon as we reestablish contact. However, there is other pressing news.”

            “Your promotion?” Kharon smiled, “Yes, it has been noted…”

            “No, thank you, Captain. But we have just intercepted an audio recording through the chondrial netpath on Dahktakore 5. It appears to be the last transmission of an unknown entity warning us of an imminent threat. In fact, if it is true—it’s a threat to everything we know and hold to be true.”

            “I’m intrigued. Commence audio relay.”


            “This record, like the most disturbing stories—is true. I hope it finds you in time. Time. Time is              more slippery than you think. It’s hard to explain. Where do you see yourself in 15 years? 15              minutes? 15 seconds? Before now, you could be relatively sure of the immediate future.              Certain, in fact, that if you sat at the breakfast table with your loved ones and sipped your              coffee, you would still be sipping it 2 seconds later. Still be able to look over and…

             Now. However, you could be anywhere—in any time—and the door shuts. Of course, there              are no doors, and I doubt there will be any coming back. I wonder if there is anything to              come back to, any time, or more importantly, anyone...

             If you are hearing this, I’m sorry. If you don’t know, it is a warning of things to come. As              the last action of my volition in this verse, let me state what I know and what I experienced              that has led us here:

             I reached the end of the corridor and I knew. The hair stood up on the back of my neck, and              as I turned, it embraced me. When I regained consciousness, some future had overtaken              me. And I knew I could not escape—I could only experience the place where my actions              would lead. My multiplicitous, duplicitous self, fractured across time, space and              dimensions…No, not just mine—our actions. So rarely do we think about our actions,even               when we live out the results. We fail to see the path that led us here…

             I instinctively clutched my throat, gasping for air and trying to adjust to the lower oxygen              level. It was the first time in this regen that I had been off ship. And here I was in an              unknown atmosphere, unprotected. I quickly discovered that I wasn’t wearing my clothes. I              wasn’t me. Was this even my body? What does my face look like? Would I recognize myself              in a mirror? I closed my eyes and focused. At least there is atmosphere. I am breathing.              Sometimes that is enough. I squinted, sighting a tall cylinder like structure—the only shape I              could pick out of the swirling landscape of blowing particulates. I wasn’t even sure it              existed. Must getmy bearings.

             We live in a multidimensional, multitemporal, multiverse—not that you would know it. But              you will know it. We will all know it. Now that the Great Aporia has begun, we will come face              to face with this reality—every reality. So many possibilities all playing out and not just              across time and space; here and now in the very same space, different dimensions and              realities exist at every moment and we will know them, know them all…

             I believe I know where I am: Mars. Red. Dusty. Barren…Mars…The Red Planet. And yet, when I              focused my eyes, I saw a tower. A tower that shouldn’t exist— breathable atmosphere that              doesn’t exist, except that I am breathing. Who knows what rules this verse plays by. After              all, I’m here and I shouldn’t be here either, unless of course, this is exactly where I am              supposed to be. If there is an order.

             The tower isn’t far, and it looks terran. I squinted through the dust, pushing hard against              the wind and inching over to the tower. I can’t see the top of the structure and it seems              endless. Maybe it’s some kind of transmitter. Even in this advanced state of technology,              tech still requires assistance. Maintenance. Perhaps I can find some kind of refuge or              at least an emergency kit with an EmKat bar.

             Running my fingertips across the surface, I notice its construction. It is rough and gritty              and reveals a network of lines forming orderly square sections repeating in segments of              It’s the Great Aporia. It is real.

             If you haven’t heard, then know this: The Quadríkulas are believers in the Ultimate Order.              They must have been here and started it. The Quadríkulas must have programmed the              transmitter. And by heating the Earth, they destabilized the chrotosphere. That rosy layer of              atmosphere existing above the photosphere and below the solar transitional band. In truth,              we had no idea what it did. Or, that it did anything really. Until now. The chrotosphere              acts as the spine in a book, keeping all the pages in order—keeping the order. It provides us              the semblance of narrative that allows us to feel that we have causality and meaning. Now,              you can turn a page and be at any part of the story. Or rather, the page will turn you.              Your story. My story. Our story.

             This transmitter must be programmed to create a domino knock-down effect across the              verse. All this to find the ultimate order: ordo ab chao. To most of us, this is              indistinguishable from chaos. Well, there is no stopping it now. They will find it and we will              all live it whether a divine order exists or not.

             There is only one direction left: forward. I will have to explore this tower and find a door or a              maiden with incredibly long hair trapped above. Which is more unlikely? Which of us is the              Martian? I have less than an hour now to find out. Remember, time occurs in bubbles which              burst, converge and reform every terran hour, constantly opening new pockets of              existence; one hour is all you can be sure of. That and that the future is…”


            “Message ends Captain.”

            “Lieutenant, what have you been able to verify thus far?”

            “Very little Captain. Outside coms are down due to the magnetic transitional band that surrounds Flacon. From what we know, the credentials check out. But this message was only sent to us. Why send it across a galaxy when there are closer ships and stations? If it is so important, why risk the message never being received at all?”

            “How long ago was this message sent?”

            “The only thing I could find is a partial Ident code: YurEDC, with the time stamp scrambled. But, given the age of the transmitter, I would guess it was sent approximately one hour ago.”

            “If so, then we are about to find out the validity of that recording. Unfortunately, I recognize that voice and therefore already know that what the recording heralds is what is to come. Turn on all ship coms.”

            “Coms on, Captain.”

            “This is Captain Kharon speaking. I regret to inform you that this is an Orpheus level Emergency. The Quadríkulas have succeeded in upending linearity and causality as we know them. We are about to embark on our greatest journey ever. But as with all truly meaningful quests, we must undertake them each alone. This may be the last you will ever hear from me. While I am confident that all we love is not lost behind us, remember your pasts. They may be all we have left. And remember our core code: Knowledge informed by compassion enlightens the future. May this belief continue to unite us and light the labyrinthine paths that are about to unfold before each of us. Regardless of any personal or political beliefs, the Quadríkulas are right about one thing which we must all accept: The future is now.”




Author Bio: Stephanie Ann Studzinski is a postgraduate student at the Chinese University of Hong Kong researching the ecological speculative fiction of Sheri S. Tepper. Stephanie is also passionate about practicing creative writing, popsurrealist painting and ecocarpentree; You can find her more of her work on elucious.com and on Instagram at #eluciousdesign.