Terna sat back and sighed. "Nothing good. For a while after you vanished, he was content, but after Tollya died, he began asking about you. Coupled with his intentional growth spurts, things got a bit more difficult," she said.

"Shit," I muttered.

"Yes. Cube was officially decommissioned four years after your death," Terna told me.

"What does that mean?" I asked, sitting forward. "What happened to him?"

"The same thing that happens to every Cube that becomes a nuisance to its affiliate. Not even breaker technology can destroy their bodies, so they are thrown away in space. There was a brief surge in their popularity, but that ended when Cube himself had an episode in Prescott. Took the better part of a year to clean up the city after his last growth phase," Terna explained. "He became too big to effectively control, especially after he stopped responding to his handlers. The Crown of Thorns took him to the edge of the Mandakini galaxy in Neolithic Earth’s universe and cast him into deep space. The void between galaxies."

"Mandakini?" I asked.

"Neolithic Earth’s name for the Milky Way," Terna said.

I nodded. "So my pet is floating through the void between galaxies and has been for decades."

Terna nodded. "Better part of a century now. Many Cubes have suffered the same fate, over thousands of years. Save the Cubes wants to rescue and rehome them."

"And it’s a non-profit? How’s that work, exactly?" I asked.

"Not well," Terna scoffed. "It’s a wealthy socialites pet project. She funds the vast majority of the work they do personally and draws from a family account to do so. When she can be bothered to pay attention to it, anyway."

"Which limits her reach," I mused. A mechanical zone filled the window suddenly, full of vats of water and pipes. The entire ceiling of the cavernous area was covered in a thick mist, and dozens of the diminutive mole-people Grimms worked beneath it.

"Indeed. She cannot ever afford the fleet of ships it would require to perform her goals, not without major affiliate backing," Terna added. "Which, being a non-profit, is not exactly an attractive association."

"I’m her Huckleberry," I said. "Get me in contact, I want to find my friend anyway. Cube deserves better."

"I will," Terna replied. She reached in her jacket top and pulled out a small notepad, scribbling in it briefly before putting it back away. "Good to have a publicity event nailed down so quickly. Now we need some campaign issues."

"Ooh, good call. Yeah, let's talk about those. I’m at a significant disadvantage, I don’t really know of any," I said, sitting forward in interest.

"We should focus on Nu-Earth's primary political issues, since that’s where the voting base is. Other worlds are involved, of course. But . . . our primary focus has to be what the voting base cares about," Terna said. She pursed her lips as her eyes looked through me for a long moment. "Dream-crime," she finally said, snapping her fingers.

I scowled.

"Dream-crime is a recent phenomenon, and it's almost entirely happening on Nu-Earth. Axle’s Knowle leadership faction has failed to introduce any new measures against it in almost three years, so it’s a point of political vulnerability," Terna explained.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

"Is that like a dream-storm?" I asked. "We dealt with a few of those in my day, but they mostly dried up once the wealth accumulated under my affiliate. We took steps to make sure no one with access to the funds had nightmares. Spent a lot of morties on mental health care and meditation training."

"During your rule, dream storms and even undesirable dream-purchases became uncommon. Your affiliate set a generational habit. Everyone transferred funds into holding accounts while they slept. It became culturally commonplace," Terna said.

"But as Nu-Earth became a wealthy playground," I started.

"Yes, the habit degraded. Children were less attentive than their parents, and that has trickled down over roughly 4 generations since your time," she replied. "Now dream control meditation is rare. Only high level affiliates can afford to use BuyMort holding systems, and there have been several local banking affiliate scandals that drove most of the wealthy to manage their own morties."

"So what happens with this dream-crime?" I asked.

"A few years back, there was a popular news story that stayed in the news cycle for about three weeks. A wealthy couple had been held at gunpoint and robbed by an individual that was hired in to fulfill a BuyMort dream order. The husband, who held most of the couple’s morties through a family inheritance, had a nightmare about getting robbed," Terna explained.

"And it spread from there," I concluded. "Wow, though. That’s a pretty cunning criminal."

"The first one perhaps, but there’s a broad mix now. Junkies on Storage, low level strong-arm robbers, even well-organized cartels now," Terna said. "We don’t have much of a problem with them here, but it's become a small-scale epidemic on Nu-Earth."

"I bet the media perpetuates it too," I added.

She nodded. "It does. Badly. It’s a sensational topic, really brings in the viewers. There have been accusations about the coverage, but the news associates all claim that the viewers want the coverage and nothing changes."

"Of course not. Why would a for-profit media company fail to continue something that provides them with a profit?" I asked mockingly.

"Exactly," Terna replied. "It’s a self-perpetuating cycle, and the wealthy bring it on themselves by festering in their thoughts of it. Now an entire criminal underground has sprung up around that one nightmare so many of them now share. A great many of the semi-wealthy on Nu-Earth invest in art, or precious minerals, even necessary circuitry, to avoid fluctuating mortie markets."

"Have those ever stabilized?" I asked quietly. "I had a heavy hand in messing them up, a long time ago."

Terna shrugged and took a deep breath. "Not really, I’m sorry to tell you. War has been a near constant since your time, in one universe or another. Sol system is relatively peaceful, aside from our situation here."

"And even that seems primarily hidden. Not a big news story off Terna’s World when the revolution burns down a police precinct, for example," I said.

Terna’s eyes flashed as she glared at me for an instant. "Or a public execution of my people."

"Point taken," I replied. "I’m just not used to stuff like that happening on my account."

"Few are. You have come to a unique position in life, Tyson. You are a man out of your own time, and hunted by more than a few for it," she said.

"Oh good, more problems. Hopefully the hunting thing will be over for a while," I said.

"After your favorable ruling, so long as you do not cross BlueCleave again, you should be okay from the biggest threat. But there may be others. A delf cult has gained some notoriety in your absence. They, uh . . . they don’t like you very much," Terna explained. "Blame you for quite a few things, and part of their belief system is to kill you if you ever came back. So I suspect you’ll have to deal with them sooner or later, at the least."

"Ah," I said, nodding. "Yeah that makes sense. Any orc houses left? They might have a gripe or two against me."

Terna smiled softly, looking out the window as the end of the maintenance area approached. "I’m not sure, actually. Probably not. There haven't been many major Orkreshi militant factions since your time. You really did a number on them."

"Not my proudest moment," I replied.

We sat in silence for a few moments as the tram shifted onto a new track. The only scenery was metal walls, and the occasional door that flashed by.

"Not to change the subject, but this was productive. We have a publicity element and a campaign issue, it’s a good start. You should spend the day in rest," Terna said.

"No, I want to get started. I’m not tired," I replied. "Besides, if I have a delf cult hunting me, I should get off Terna’s world as quickly as I can. Can you get me in touch with your contact in ‘save the Cubes?’"

Terna nodded. "I appreciate your concern, and yes, I’ll do that. Let’s get you to your safehouse first."

I nodded, and we did as she said. The tram shifted tracks a few more times and when we got off, it was only a short walk to the safehouse.