Chapter 41: I got nothing but time, so the future is mine.

March 1st, 2038, Washington D.C. - Earth

It was not a direct path to the President. They had to meet with other staff and the actual director, but they got their meeting. In the intervening time, every adult in Luxembourg decided to buy a hula-hoop and everyone in Beijing would wake up to wet sheets. But when the right person says, “the President needs to blow something up”, well a whole lot of boys with toys got excited. Everyone huddled into the situation room and watched on the big screen as the rocket went out of the naval ship and the sky was soon filled with fireworks. Just in time too, there was a candy shortage in Los Angeles.

Naomi and the boys were there when Oliver received his medal. The President commented it was the second time he had given Oliver a medal in this room. The boys had not practiced their excite-a-billies and were just completely blown away to meet the President.

“So, you just told them to launch a rocket and they, did it?” Lindsay questioned, finally figuring out why the White House was so important.

President Dewey Arrow looked the boy confused, but confirmed his narrative, “Yes, no one can launch a rocket like that without my go ahead.”

“Screw math, when I'm eighteen I'm going to become President.” Lindsay howled. He had found the one job that was better than rocket scientist. Oliver gave a small chuckle, the President and the rest of the staff smiled.

Naomi gave him the bad news, “You actually have to be at least thirty-five to be President.”

Age discrimination!

Jackson asked his question, “Can you be President and an astronaut?”

Oliver was fast on that with a snap of his fingers, “Like John Glenn!”

The President looked at him and shook his head, “John Glenn wasn't President.”

Naomi smiled, “Not on this planet he wasn't.”

The group laughed for a bit, and Oliver got serious, “I'm actually here on official business, there's a couple things I need to run past you.”

That got the attention of the adults in the room, the President looked at him confused, intrigued.

“The Libertalian government has a proposal for Earth.” Naomi and the boys were directed out of the room; the adults needed to talk about something boring.

The President directed Oliver to a set of chairs. Scott and the director found spots around the small table.

Oliver began, “They believe the war with Yamatoa is entering its final stages and they wanted to start thinking about larger concerns after the war. Specifically, how they fit into the multiverse. They have been working with several near-by worlds on a project, and they think Earth would be a great help to it.”

Dewey leaned in, “Are they nearing the end?”

Oliver shrugged, “Probably, yeah, in any case, they know Earth is responsible for the fact their diamond tours business has been running into expansion issues, and they kind of screwed the pooch on some of the initial worlds where they got a bit too greedy. They now understand they should play a bit nicer and be honest about what they want and what they can offer. They're taking a different approach. Right now, they've signed up about six planets.” Oliver took off his glasses and handed them to Scott, who looked at the list, and then handed them to the director.

Scott frowned, “I know a couple of these, Zemlya's a wreck and Gmay is an Earth-like that hit a fertility crisis and is just a few scattered tech reserves plus about ten million Amish.” He took a second before saying the insult, “This is the short bus of the multiverse.” The director handed the glasses to the President to review.

Oliver smiled with that, “Ha, I get it, small people. But seriously, the Amazons have a problem, the native littles are going to come back from the war and expect things to be different. Plus, they do want to help where they can. They want to be a helper like Earth, and it would mean a lot if Earth joined their club, and maybe declared them as part of Earth's sphere. That this war counts as their 'World War Two' and we're satisfied the 'good guys' won.”

Dewey handed back the glasses, “Which side are the good guys?”

Oliver gave a reserved chuckle between gritted teeth, “Yeah, I get that. Look this isn't about Earth. Scott mentioned the short bus, what's the one dimension in the multiverse that is literally retarded?”

The director spoke it out loud, though it was unnecessary, “Terra.”

“First, obviously they have a ton of problems, the reports are bleak, and I bet there are millions of people who wouldn't mind doing a ten-year tour on Amazonia. We can't take everyone here on Earth.” There was consensus there, Earth was in no position to double its population.

“They'll even take the troublemakers.” The Australia of the multiverse, send them the criminals and the desperate, the unemployable, and the hopeless.

The three men looked at him angrily, the reports had made it clear this place was supposed to be a hell.

Oliver explained, “I know, it's a harsh sentence, but Terra is life or death, and people are losing their cool. The Amazons don't just want more immigrants; they have something to contribute to Terra's real problem.”

“I attended a conference a few months back, got to contribute in a small way to something. They wanted me to talk about Earth and Terra, how the two planets split in nineteen hundred, and the current crisis. And then Dr. Bremer gave the keynote. She's basically like Einstein times Von Neumon when it comes to this, and I barely understood it. She was talking about using protomatter and psychohistorical planning and transmogrifying collective symbology to repair potential damage to Terra's space time continuum caused by these devices. Apparently, Terra will be at risk of false vacuum collapse for years, even if they turn the machines off. There is no way the Terrans are going to just accept Amazonia's help of nowhere, especially because the rumors have even made their way there, but if Earth acts excited...”

“It'll be like sending the older brother and the younger brother to the same camp.” Dewey interrupted.

* * *

Oliver is on the couch in twenty twenty-three and he's also on the couch in twenty thirty-eight talking to the President.

Just a few weeks prior to this meeting in the future, Oliver was receiving a standing ovation from a large contingent of Amazonian scientists and government officials. He had just finished a long presentation on the history of Terra and Earth and explained how similar the planets were and what had happened when they split.

He even included the photo from his Terran self-showing how he had recreated an exact photo on Earth, to give an idea of what convergence was like. It was impressive that a little could give such a long speech without messing up a word, and it added a bit of fun to an otherwise serious night. Then they got to the important part, Dr. Bremer's new paper. The old bat still had some fuel in the tank. She even added Oliver Young as an acknowledgment, alongside her own children, Alisa and Emily and Astra.

“The odds of running into your twin in the multiverse on a stable world are ten million to one. The odds of a little having a birth twin is about seventy to one, and rarer for identical. If one had visited Earth one hundred twenty-five years ago, you could visit a little, and then hop to Terra and visit the same little in the same place. Actual twins, perfect twins in every way, same background, same knowledge, same experiences, and same personality.”

“Earth and Terra's space time bubbles have a natural affinity to come back together, the rate of convergence is too high in their historical records to suggest otherwise. Using application of pseudo historical indoctrination, selective population removal, and space time manipulation, it should be possible to push the two dimensions back together and repair the damage to their universe that has been ongoing since splitting in nineteen hundred. It helps so many Terran children are growing up on Earth, it should be easy to preference the world in their minds.”

Finally, a solution to the twin problem. If Earth and Terra worked with Amazonia on this, in a hundred years everyone could have their own twins like Alisa and Emily, just like Dr. Bremer. There was even a short discussion about entanglement. Was it possible to determine if events happening to one would trigger a similar event to the other?

The paper was over Oliver's head of course, but everyone seemed happy.

***

Oliver answered the President, “Yes, camp is a good analogy. If it would work on us, it'd work on them, and I think if Terra was joining a group like this we'd want to join too.” Which was true, Earth had signed up for the council because Terra was on it.

Oliver finished and switched to a new slide and handed the glasses again to Scott to look at and pass around.

“They have a gift for us if we sign on, it's not really a gift for Earth, more like a gift you give to someone else. Like a whoopee cushion or a bag of dog vomit. I was thinking Theia could use a bit more jolly in their step. Those twerps are always sucking up to Verdant.”

Theia had joined the council at the same time as Earth, and at the request of Verdant. Everyone knew it was a counterweight to Earth and Terra, but officially it was said Theia had earned it through their dedication to the greater human race. The Theians had no army, no space program, and their computers never advanced past the nineteen fifties. They were basically a tourist world with beaches. Practically a water world, with less than a half billion humans spread over it. They always voted the same as Verdant and made no efforts to explore or fix the cosmos.

Dewey looked at the picture of the third satellite. One was destroyed at Sing-A-Ling, another was just destroyed this morning, but this one had been captured by Libertalian commandos. This would be perfect. A little schoolyard prank never hurt anyone. Tit for Tat.

The President moved to end the conversation with something he had seen with a TV show, “Let's do it, what's next?”. The President had a habit of using the same queues from the idealistic Presidents from Hollywood. He tried to be the symbol of a perfect President and hoped that translated through to his administration. The other two directors took it as a signal to stand up, but Oliver stopped them.

“Sir... there is one more thing,” Oliver explained.

Dewey stared him down, “I'm not vetoing the nap law.”

That caused the other two men to stop and look at him, Oliver ignored them as he was focused straight on the President, “No, not that, I noticed your hair has less gray in it than the last time we met.”

Adults were not supposed to be taking the milk. Dewey’s eyes narrowed, “What are you implying.” It was a well-kept secret at this level, most of the people in the room were on it.

“Five years ago, I came into your office, and you wanted to see my soother, what pocket was it in? What color was it?” Oliver quizzed him.

He snapped the answer, “Silver handle, black O, and that pocket.”

Oliver smiled and showed the pacifier, “Excellent memory, what's the source” he got subtler, “Of the nectar.”

Dewey mumbled the answer, “The First Mommy.” He shook his head, and then said, “wait, that's.”

Oliver gave a soft chuckle and a thumbs up then said, “When's the last time you had a smiley face.”

Scott was wide-eyed, you do not ask the President of the United States that question, “Oliver!”

“Two weeks.” He turned his head ashamed.

“You're cocooning,” Oliver got to the point.

They all looked at him like he had lost it. Oliver explained, “The disease used to be called maturosis, and you probably didn't even notice the signs because the whole planet has gone crazy with the hypnosis. I'm sure that hasn't helped the condition at all.”

The director looked around and he nodded to the Vice President who had wandered for the next meeting that Oliver had disrupted, “Do we need to invoke the twenty sixth, what are you saying?”

Oliver shook his head, “No hardly, I mean, if our friend Dewey here wants to continue his journey, sure, he can resign. As much as Amazonia is hell, it is also one of the few places with the ability to um... turn you into a butter-.” he quickly changed it, “a moth. But that is a long process, and there's no guarantee you ever get out of it.”

The President shook his head, “No, I'm still needed. I can't resign, I'll just have to tough through it.”

Oliver folded his glasses and handed them to the man, “There is a second option. I can try to take it out.”

Scott nodded, “Oliver used these earlier to help Naomi and myself. It hurts like hell, but I think we're better for it.”

The President looked at the glasses and then slowly unfolded them and put them on. He sighed and then reached into his pocket. “Last time I'll get to do this” and put his pacifier into his mouth. He was going to miss it; he was going to miss how close he got with the First Lady. He had taken to calling her Em Em after their nightly feedings, and she did not seem to mind changing him in the morning, so long as he called her (the First) Mommy.

Several men and women in the room took out their binkies and followed the President's actions. Just soft suckling could be heard, before Oliver addressed the room. “This is going to be a bright flash, so be prepared to cover your eyes. Well, except you Mr. President.” The glasses were slowly warming up. The room mostly shuffled around, there was the occasional cough. A photographer crawled over and took a discrete shot of the four men.

Oliver got up and got close to the President. He started clicking a few things on the glasses and looking at them, “Yeah it's in there pretty hard, but I think we got to it in time.”

Vice President Wenig frowned, sticking his own pacifier to the edge of his mouth, and then sucking it back in. He had been so close!

Oliver informed the room, “Everyone be ready to close your eyes. Three”

Scott moved his hands to his face and covered and ducked his head. He knew what was coming. The director looked at the other men and followed suit.

“Two” Oliver noted.

The remainder of the room turned their head. Some moved their hands up to shield.

“One”

It was a huge flash. Like the kind that used to be used for the old timey cameras. Like the reflection of the sun bouncing off a magnifying glass into your pupils. Anyone looking directly at it would have lost their vision for a minute. With the warning though the men and women slowly turned their head back.

The chair the President was in was now empty. Oliver was also nowhere to be seen. In mutual confusion a half dozen men and women looked around the room and found nearly nothing. Just a shimmering heat effect and blue light to indicate that a dimensional hop had been done.

It was a portal to an unknown dimension. Secret Service members rushed with abandon into the shimmer and then found themselves in the Red Room.

Naomi's plan had been a great one. It was so good Oliver decided to make her forget she had invented it so he could take credit for it himself.

* * *

5 Prairial Year CCXXXIII, Potat, South Windland, Libertalia – Amazonia

Dewey Vickrey had met Oliver years ago when Oliver was first making inroads into Engineering. He had been the whiz little of the department. They said it was just a model for the new wind chamber, but it was far more advanced than cardboard and fiberglass. It was risky, it had government stamps all over it, but he went out of his way to learn as much as he could, asking teachers, and looking for documents on the internal network. He even talked with Commander Powell, who encouraged him to join the Libertalian Army Air Force. He joined the reserve and there picked up the basics of flying.

He had a small job at the Fair-Child plant, doing busy work. He was not designing planes or testing them, like he had spent six years of school for, he was installing wires that were too tiny for big hands. It was enough to live independently. When Fair-Child got the contract for the special project, he asked to become a test pilot. He grew to love flying and he and Oliver had a shared passion, and they remained best of best friends even though Oliver was an adopted little and he was an independent adult. He went home each day to his one room shack of an apartment in the bad part of town, but it was his.

Dewey had not even known what had caused it. Perhaps too tight of a turn, or an improper seat belt, a spiked drink or a random hypnotic ad on a bus. He just hopped out of the canopy when he landed his “toy” plane, and his suit and seat were soaked. His boss Elinor had dressed him down, both literally and figuratively. “This is a ninety-million-dollar plane we're testing here we can't have you peeing all over the seat”, but she covered it up, because Dewey was that important to the project. He was training other pilots, he knew every aspect of the plane from both an engineering and pilot perspective, and only he could unify the two worlds. She could not replace him and definitely not with an Amazon. No big would fit in the “model” planes.

Elinor would put him in diapers on days he was flying, it became their shared secret. He started getting problems in his stomach and was afraid he would go number two, and she put him on a special 'pilot' diet which was more pureed, like space food. It helped make the movements regular on a useful time schedule.

She found him sleeping in the plant lounge one morning before work, and he let her know he was having trouble sleeping at his apartment. He was waking in the middle of the night and unable to get back to bed no matter what he tried. He did not want to say he was scared to be alone, but the emptiness of the apartment bothered him lately.

She offered, and he thought about it, and he became Dewey Viellarm, son of Frank Viellarm and Elinor Viellarm. As far as adoptions go, they did not regress him too much, Elinor still needed him in a certain capacity. He could not lose his numbers, hand eye coordination, sense of direction, emotional stability, or alphabet. That still left her with a lot of options. All his hair from his face to down below was gone. She insisted on breast feeding and “pilot” food. He was not allowed to feed himself at the dinner table either, but “here comes the airplane” was not too bad. The crib was comfortable, he could sleep ten hours without issue, though his nursery had a bit of a stork theme he thought was cheesy.

Elinor dressed him in adorable leather jackets, and he had the coolest aviators of any little on the block. She liked having him go “commando”, no pants just a huge thick diaper on the bottom, but overdressed up top – shirt, jacket, sometimes even a scarf. Elinor loved the contrasts.

Their first night had been extra special, she took him to the master bedroom after dressing him for bed, and just let him lay on her chest until he fell asleep.

He had been adopted for less than a day when Oliver invited him to join the clubhouse. It had been a difficult conversation.

“You're telling me you're the head of a planet wide intelligence gathering organization and you didn't invite me? What changed! What changed today that means you can trust me with this?”

“Today you're a slave. You and one billion other littles, yesterday you might have done anything to avoid this, and now you're just another little.” Oliver said flatly, trying hard to keep a conversation without mockery or belittlement.

“I'm a man damn it. Don't ever call me that. Don't ever call what I have with Elinor” he could not begin to describe it, just 'that'. “We have an understanding. I...” his voice quaked and stopped.

Oliver decided to interrupt his tantrum, “It's fine, you love her, and she loves you. She loves you so much that when she found out the Army-Airforce was going to offer to fly you around the country and setup training facilities like they have here, she decided to take action.”

“That's a lie. This is the best I've had it. Better than anyone. I get to fly. I get to work. I've kept my mind and my size and everything. Nothing's changed, I just moved into a bigger house. No adopted little has ever had it better than me, that's how much she loves me.” It was desperate, he wanted to believe he was still normal, that nothing had changed.

Oliver continued without changing tone, “They went to her and told her their plans for you. She bought the bladder weakeners and the diapers the same day. Put a few extra commands into your simulator.”

And he started to cry. “I hate you,” it was weak, broken.

“I hate you,” Vile, sipped with poison. It carried all the self-pity and loathing he held for himself for choosing this path, for becoming this, and directed at Oliver.

“I love her,” that one was earnest. She had been there when he was most vulnerable.

“… she” had suggested he not take the offer when he was starting to lose control.

“I hate her.” He did not, but he hated what her love for him had done to him.

Oliver came closer and moved his arms around the boy. Tears and heavy breaths came from Dewey as he placed his head on Oliver's shoulder. Oliver was his best friend again, and the worst, but mostly the best.

“Let me show you something, it might cheer you up, put things in perspective.” Oliver took off his glasses and put them on Dewey's face, it was a slide show of pictures. It was charming, an aerial view of a town with pedestrian roads, rivers, blue skies contrasting with fresh autumn trees alternating between green and orange and deep red brown. The buildings were not tall, and the town seemed to stretch into the horizon a bit. The images started to show people shopping and eating, pictures of large houses, or schools, or children and adults on bikes, and then finally the inside of a factory.

It was clean, bright, like the one he worked at. And he recognized it immediately, it was the same “model” plane he had worked on as an “engineer”, the same one he had learned to become a test pilot for. But the people in the picture around the plane were the wrong size. This had to be a big “model”, one being built for Amazons. Who would be doing this though? He knew the plane inside and out, building a scale model like this for the bigs would be impossible.

Oliver explained the vision from another dimension, “This was taken in a nice place in South Carolina. On Earth. If you had grown up there, and done the same thing you were doing here, you might work at that plant, and live in that nice town. Or not, you would be free to do something else.”

Free to do something else. He had not even gotten to choose what he wore today. Even if he quit his job he was locked in, forever. He was about to cry again.

Oliver took back the glasses, “Look, I showed you this, because this is within their power to give you. Had things gone right, this probably is what your life would have been like. If they had offered you this, in exchange for the club house, with the alternative being become what you are now, you would have sold us out right?”

It was a shock to himself, Oliver knew him well enough and expected honesty here, so he nodded, “Yes. Probably, sorry.”

Oliver was not hurt, “No it's fine, but today, after learning the truth, after realizing to what lengths they will go to control you, and after having it done to you, if they offered you this would you take it even if it meant betraying your friends?”

It would be the only choice he would ever have after today, friendship, or the 'good' life. It was not even much of a choice, “No.” Now he knew why he had to cross over to join.

There was a short pause, but then Dewey elected to ask, “Oliver, is this what you're offering me? If I join? That I could someday have 'this'?” He did not have a word for what Earth offered. He handed back the glasses.

Oliver shook his head, “Nah, I wish it were that easy. Though, how about I show you something neat though” while taking back his glasses.

Dewey shrugged and looked at him, this better be good.

“OK, so lick your fingers.” Oliver started showing him, getting the fingers slobbered. Dewey hesitantly started doing it. It was childish.

“And the palms, get them nice and wet,” Oliver continued.

His hands were covered in drool, Dewey fought back the urge to shake the yuck off.

“In fact, do this with your fingers stick them all in your mouth.” Oliver held up three fingers and aimed it at his mouth. Dewey shoved the fingers into his mouth, until it started to hurt, and sucked. He made an 'awe' noise, like a gurgle, then popped the fingers out.

“OK, you know how you can't pull the diapers off, because it requires 'Amazonian levels of strength'” Oliver said the last part sarcastically, putting his fingers in the air. “Go ahead and try to take your diaper off.”

Dewey moved the fingers hesitantly to where they were strapped, and the tape easily came off, and started to sag slightly on his hip.

“Like they'd really put something on babies that takes a forklift to remove. The 'zons just lick their fingers.” Oliver was laughing at how dumb the idea was.

Dewey looked at the half sagging diaper and his hands covered in slobber. He did not need to lick his palms. Oliver had tricked him! He had also shown that he could break the chains. He tightened the diaper back up, and looked at Oliver, “I can just go when my... when Elinor isn't paying attention, and maybe splash some water in there, get a change, so she doesn't get too wise.”

“Yeah, it's a good thing their sense of smell is weaker than ours. That's why they love spicy food, because spicy isn't a flavor. Water should work fine. You'll be like a spy, pretending to be untrained.”

He was excited and then it hit him, “Um... Oliver, one problem.”

“What?” His plans were perfect.

“She's going to expect me to poop in these.”

* * *

2 Fructidor Year CCXXXVIII, Potat, South Windland, Libertalia – Amazonia

How Oliver had gotten some of the planes requisitioned from the Army-Airforce he never really said, but with Dewey and his help, they got up a small team of littles to take to the sky. There were eight of them. As far as toys go, it was probably the coolest toy any little had ever had. It was not an electric car or a scooter or a hoverboard, those expensive toys that littles would play with once and then their mommies put away in the garage forever. This was like a remote-controlled model plane, but bigger. Big enough to sit in.

A six-year-old could not have invented all the cool features this plane had, even if he had a whole hour, an entire roll of drawing paper, and like a hundred crayons.

The plane could take off and land by hovering. It could hit a speed of twelve hundred miles an hour with a range of a thousand miles on internal fuel alone and could operate at a height of ten miles off the ground. It was literally invisible to entire bandwidths of light. It had active scanning, electrical-optical targeting, high data networking, and instrument landing. It even came with a defensive laser shield to shoot down air to air missiles.

Then one day the Yamatoans raided Sing-A-Ling. Freewind, seeing the writing on the wall or perhaps just moral outrage declared war, and called on the Alliance nations to take action. Their response was to pass a few embargoes and hem and haw but do nothing.

“Captain” Dewey Veillarm came into the flight room pissed, half drunk on milk. Pissed in the mouth and head, not the down below kind as he was still mostly trained. Oliver had heard the attack through the tin can network and had summoned Commander Powell to talk about what could be done. Dewey slammed the magazine onto the table between the two men. The front page was ominous:

“Dollies”

“LETTAM ANNOUNCES NEW FACTORIES OPENING IN HANCHUKOKKU” - 'The Chibikkos are coming back!'

Powell shook his head, “Libertalia said no.”

“The heck does that mean. Just let us loose on this, we can do it as pirates. You get me and the boys in the planes over these factories, and we'll show those Yams what's up.”

Oliver disagreed, “It's five thousand miles away. We need a boat to take you guys out there.”

“That's an excuse. That's big talk. What is it you told us about? Our imagination is the weapon we can beat them with. We need you to figure this out. They're counting on us.” His vitriol was directed at Oliver, not Powell, not the government literally telling him no.

Powell talked him down, “Well, unless you guys intend to bend the laws of physics, you're going to be stuck here on the mainland. Besides, this, your raid would do little good, you'd expose our secret tech and would risk a retaliation on Libertalia as well.”

Do. Little. Raid. The same names over and over. Oliver gathered his stuff, and jumped to standing, “You're right Sir, it was a crazy idea anyway. I'll talk the boys down, we'd need some way to bend space and time over on itself to make it work, and that's just impossible. We can see the fun happening at the park, we were just excited to go out and play, but we know we know we need to stay inside for now.”

Because traveling to another dimension on a plane while it was still in flight was impossible, right?

6 Fructidor Year CCXXXVIII, Potat, South Windland, Libertalia – Amazonia

The dimensional shift equipment was easy for Oliver to get. He had to work the system to get everything else set up, but he explained it looked like a critical canon event and the multiverse had a collective interest in making this go right. The priority went all the way to the top – first proof Earth had succeeded at something no other council planet thought was possible. Amazonia had not been the first planet this was tried on, or even the most important, but it was the first to succeed. Sometimes it is the late bloomers who most surprise you.

Oliver was filming a goodbye letter when Dewey made his way to the clubhouse party. It was a big ask, but Oliver had said he did not think he could tell their parents the truth if something bad happened. He had forged the Dimensional Travel papers, the rescinding of adoption, and request for immediate deportation from the Libertalian government. Everything to make the lie work. Brad was finishing his letter.

“Um, I want to apologize for pretending to be a person from your dimension. I always knew this day might come. Our time together has been too brief. Things are just not going right here anymore or back home, and my planet needs me to go back now. I wish I could do this in person.” Brad turned his head and coughed slightly, his voice wavering for the last part.

“You'll always have a place in my heart... Diana, Jacop, Angela... mom, dad, baby sis.” he made a wipe at his face with his sleeve, “I'm sorry, thank you, forever. I have to go...”

He took his time breathing in and out for a few seconds, before softly saying the last part, “I have to grow up now. Goodbye” and he waved. Brad then got up and left and went to the other room where his wing mates were waiting.

Dewey made his way casually to Oliver and then punched Oliver hard in the arm as hard as he could. Oliver turned, clenching and unclenching his fist. He had promised to stop hitting people, and he was not going to hit his friend.

“The fuck are we doing this for? I need my men to think they're immortal. We can't be all weepy eyed babies.” Oliver had gone through seven of these, and Dewey's hitting him, plus his insults was not helping. Oliver still had to film Dewey's.

“This isn't about you.” Oliver wanted deniability, an easy out if things went bad. Dewey sat down and stared at the camera. Oliver handed him the script so he could practice, but he shook his hand and head, he had his own speech.

“I'm ready” the lights on the camera shifted color.

“Elinor, Frank, I am Captain Dewey Vickrey. For the past few months, I have been secretly training an elite group of fighter pilots. However much I disagree with what you did to me, there are people in the world who are worse than you, and I’m going to go stop them from doing something bad to a bunch of people that don't deserve it. Gonna go punch a bully in the nose, and well, he's kind of a big one. If you're watching this, it's because I'm not coming back, in which case, thank you for giving me the opportunity to go out doing what I love.”

“Dewey.” Oliver was stern.

“Don't you start with me about who this is for, ass. Everyone here should have a parade for them when we get back. The world needs to know what we plan to do. Now you get in there with my boys, and you cheer them up.” Dewey pointed to where the somber party was happening in the next room of the clubhouse.

Oliver started gathering up his friends and said he had something special to tell them. He had a surprise no one was ready for and was going to let this group be the first to hear the secret. Being part of a small group to know the truth would help them realize the stakes of the mission, what they were really fighting for.

Oliver began, “My dad's been working on this thing. It's gonna turn the whole world upside down. It's on the origin of your species.”

“Your? What are you getting at?” An auburn-haired boy, Greg, was confused, as this hardly seemed relevant to their mission.

“Yeah, um, this world isn't supposed to be this way. I'm not sure the specifics of how things got weird, but there's supposed to be a stage after this.” Oliver made a gesture in the air, as if the clubhouse, or them or the world was what he meant by this.

They were not happy with what he was saying. He was supposed to be cheering them up. Oliver got technical, “This psychological neoteny that your species enters in your twenties or thirties, it is supposed to help you unlock skills needed for your true potential. It's an intermediate phase. Instead, the bigs do something to keep you from progressing.”

Brad was not happy with this, “Why are you telling us this? You're just making up bullshit, we're on the eve of the most important day of our lives, and you're telling us this nonsense about true potential.”

Dewey just shook his head; Oliver just did not have the natural talent to make this kind of speech work. He was no Patton, not that Dewey knew what a Patton was either. Oliver was an explorer, he could not sell a dream, make things easy to follow, or simplify things. At best he could quote a movie. Oliver was pretty sure this is how his favorite scene in “Saving Private Ryan” went back when he saw it, before a Mandela Wave had changed it to something much more serious.

“Because when I ask this question, I want you to take it seriously. Actually, think hard about it, because I'm going to make it happen.” A pause and a repeat. “I'm going to make this happen.” Oliver punctuated each word that followed, pointing at a different boy.

“What”

“Do”

“You”

“Want”

“To Be”

“When”

“You”

“Grow Up”

No one had asked them that. Not once since they had been transformed. It was not a real possibility; you became a child a second time and then nothing. You did not become an adult again. Yet he said it with such confidence, Oliver truly believed everyone in the room would grow up again.

Dewey did not believe it, “We're already grown-up Oliver. We're soldiers, we're pilots!”

Oliver shook his head, “No, I mean, that's fine, the military is a career for some people, like Powell, but I asked this exact question to my friends on our last flight, and they all had answers. Ben wanted to get married, go to college, teach history, and Nick wanted to be a lawyer. I told my friends I wanted to travel the multiverse and here I am. So, I want you to aim big on this. It doesn't have to be what you did before, the sky isn't the limit here.”

Oliver was letting them in on a tradition, he was acting weird because he was trying to translate something completely foreign from another culture and planet to their experiences here on Amazonia. On Earth you would serve and then go do something else. Oliver was asking them to pretend there would be something after this. Oliver grabbed a nearby backpack and pulled it towards him without wearing it. He unzipped the front pouch and took out eight small books and an envelope with each person's name on it. The books were stiff but thin and had an eagle on the front. He flipped the first book open.

“Greg you're first, what do you want to be when this is over? After we win.” Greg took a second to look in the envelope, there was a small thin plastic wafer and a receipt. He would look at it later.

“I don't know.” It was not true though, there was something, it sometimes came to him in dreams, and sometimes when he looked out the window when he was drawing.

“No.” Oliver pointed hard at the book in his hand with a finger, causing a light smack, “Gregory Lamarck. What's he doing? You're going to become him tomorrow, so what does he want to do?”

Gregory looked at the picture of himself in the thin book, and said his answer softly, it was dumb. “A farmer.”

Brad gave a high-pitched laugh. “Your mom has a garden; you can do that now. Or do you want to have your own moo-moos.”

Oliver shut him down, “Agricultural is a serious venture on a planet with a food crisis, and it's going to get worse after tomorrow.”

Gregory shook his head, “that's... no, I mean.” He could see it; it was working with plants, but it was not on a farm. He did not know the term. Focusing on it made his brain hurt. “It's someone who works with plants and makes new ones. I don't know.”

Oliver knew, “A geneticist with focus on botany. Like biotech.”

Greg's head was hurting a bit and his pace of breath doubled for a few seconds, before calming back down. Something clicked, and he knew it was in him to do it. They had to make it through this week, but when they got back Oliver was going to help him. He was going to help him grow up. And if he could grow up, then maybe the people they were helping across the ocean could grow up too.

“Tyler,” he handed out the book, the boy went to grab it, and Oliver snapped it back.

“Architect” Oliver gave him his new identity.

“Surgeon” “Teacher” “Financial Quant” “Dentist,” “Paleontologist” and then the last one, Dewey.

Oliver smirked, “I'm a bit disappointed none of you said middle-manager at a government research facility, I thought I had the coolest job in the world. Expense reports, managing staff vacations, weekly meetings.”

“Fuck you, Oliver.” Dewey had enough of this nonsense.

Tyler flinched at that, “Hey man, we all said it.”

Dewey held up his arms out, as if to let his anger out, “No, this is bullshit. You're going to do it? Huh? You promise anything I want to do, you'll let me do it.”

Oliver narrowed his eyes, “Challenge accepted.” The arrogance. Oliver had never lost before. His arms were crossed, and he had a stare that saw straight through Dewey and the boys.

Dewey had him, “President.” Way to ruin the party. Might as well say hippopotamus.

Brad shook his head, “That'd require a constitutional amendment. No little can become President.”

Tyler agreed, “Seriously, pick something real.”

“I can do it.” Oliver was not even sure of himself there.

“Fuck you. Fuck this bullshit.” Dewey turned away.

“I'm locking you in on that. No take backs.” Oliver was not going to lose.

Tyler had a concerned nod of his head, “Seriously man, what's got you?”

Dewey lowered his head and mumbled, “Diaper camp.”

Brad laughed, “Every camp is diaper camp, it's a bit redundant.”

Diaper Camp was like etiquette school, but for boys who thought they were a bit too big for their britches and needed to be 'rebreeched'. There was even a ceremony where the hair would grow long and the boys would be dressed in tunics, pantaloons, frolics, or even dresses.

“No, I leave the moment this party ends. My daddy is picking me up in the morning, we're changing in the car, and he is dropping me off at the bus, which leaves at oh-thirty.” Dewey went from anger to sadness.

The others were putting it together. He was not going on their trip to Yamato.

“Which camp?” Oliver asked.

Dewey looked at him confused, why did it matter, “Uh, Camp Killmurderlots?”

Tyler laughed, “Dude, that's the camp that had that psycho with the shrink ray a few years back.”

“Mom and dad found out I was lying about needing diapers and they think a couple weeks at camp might make me more comfortable with using them. Apparently, I wasn't random enough? Who tracks the frowny faces for statistical randomness?”

Oliver went over to their jackets and grabbed Dewey's flight jacket. “Give me your glasses,” Dewey pulled them from his front pocket and handed them over.

Oliver slipped them on his face, “I think it's time for Naomi and Oliver to go to camp.” He even folded his arms like the cartoon boy did on the movie poster. All the boys laughed, even Dewey. Another wacky adventure with Oliver! Whatever his plan was, they were sure it was going to be a hoot.

The rest of the party was pretty cool. Oliver's mom only bugged them like three times, just to see if they needed anything. Movies, sugar, soda pop, misbehaving, getting on top of stuff they should not, and then far too late they went to bed.

Frank picked up Dewey early, so he did not even get to eat breakfast with the boys. His dad gave him something in the car resembling a yogurt tube. He brought the luggage that Dewey had packed before the party. The camp had gotten a small school bus and was gathering up littles from his subdivision, an over-the-top boutique service for parents who could not be bothered to drive for an hour. The camp would be their home for the next three weeks.

Dewey entered the short vehicle with dread and made his way to the back row. There he found Oliver. He looked at the sleepy little with his head against the window, a pacifier with an O hanging in his mouth.

“How did you get here ahead of me?” Dewey questioned as he plopped into the seat next to his friend.

Oliver carefully put away his soother and looked at Dewey. “You ready for your trip to Earth?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “I got a secret weapon to get us out of this.”

Dewey's eyes went big. Littles are not supposed to have phones like that. A real cell phone, not the kind that only could dial Mr. Chicken or Ms. Cow. Maybe Oliver was going to mind control the bus driver or do something to the tweens at camp. He was going to rule diaper camp like a king. “That's awesome! Yes. Let's go!”

Oliver began pushing the large phone screen with his finger one peck at a time. Dewey noticed the telltale “ring.... ring....,” just like the toy ones. Oliver put the phone to his head.

“What are you doing?” Dewey did not know how mind control worked, but maybe this was part of the process.

“Super-secret adult tech. Just watch. It's called 'calling people on the ph'... Hello!”

“Yes, is this Camp Killmurderlots?” Pause, “Oh hah, sorry, that's just how I heard it pronounced. Is this support? Oh good, thanks. Yes, this is Frank Veillarm, my son Dewey just got picked up and I have a huge problem, and I was wondering if you could help me?”

“Victor Echo” Oliver looked at Dewey for help. Dewey started making the letters with his hands and mouth. “Yankee, Lima, Lima, Alpha, Romeo, Mike. You found him? Great. Yes, he just got on the bus.”

“Oh Good. Oh good, Bus forty-two, I think? Near Blowing Rock and Maynard?”

“Thank you, thank you.”

“My in-laws just passed away last night. My wife was with them, so I got my son prepared this morning. She just got a hold of me a minute after he got picked up.” Oliver’s tone only slightly shifted.

“Oh, thank you, that means, yes. Both. Just a few hours apart. It's still... thank you for your kind words. It happens.”

“She has been trying to get a hold of me all morning. She needs our baby boy. It's uh... been a bit rough, nana and papa were always...” Just a slight shift again.

“Can you drop him off? I mean, can you get a hold of the bus driver and have her drop him off? I'm just a few minutes away, I know you're on a schedule, I don't want to have to drive all the way.... oh, ok I'll hold.”

There was a squawk up at the front of the bus. “I just picked him up. Oh. Oh, that's awful.”

Dewey was shocked. He had never seen anything like this before. You pick up a phone and call about a problem and it gets solved. That's a superpower!

Oliver continued, “Oh, thank you. That's great. I understand you're on a timetable. Just drop him off. I'm not too far behind he can wait a minute. Yes, that's perfect.”

“Yes. Just one, one last thing. I know the refund period is... oh you don't have to do that, actually, I was wondering if you could maybe comp for next year instead? Really? Oh, thank you, that'll mean a lot to his mother. Thank you, you're just the best, we're looking forward to seeing you next year.”

Click.

Dewey's excitement turned to a frown in those last few seconds. Now he had to go next year.

“That's for hitting me by the way. That hurt.” Oliver scolded. The bus pulled over to a corner.

“Dewey? Dewey? Veillarm? Can you come up here?” Dewey made his way to the front with a pop in his step. He grabbed his luggage. The bus driver was overweight and had an androgynous face and curly long hair that suggested a woman. Her voice was hoarse, like she had a cough or smoked too much. The scratched words made the voice just too high for a man's, but too low for a woman's.

“HEY! HOW CAN I HELP! I'M READY FOR CAMP!” Dewey gave his best impression of a four-year-old.

“Camp's ending a bit early for you, sadly. Just want to let you know it's gonna be OK. Your dad's going to pick you up in a couple of minutes. You're a good kid; you're going to be all right. Can you wait at the corner a few minutes while he's coming?”

“Oh, I see his car now, thanks. This was the coolest camp ever! I can't wait to come again next year.” He hopped out of the bus with both legs as the distance from the last step to the ground was three feet. Oliver was a step behind him, his phone to his ear.

“That's not fair! You never let me do anything fun. OK! I'm coming home. NO! I wasn't running! I just wanted to go to camp too. It sounded fun.”

He 'hung up the phone' and put it in his pocket. “How does she always know? I can't go two blocks without her knowing.” He fiddled a bit with the soother, letting the bus driver see it. It was one of those fancy ones, with the tracking and the chips.

“Where do you think you're going?” the driver said, closing the door.

“I go home, now mind your business bus slave!” He pointed at her with the pacifier.

“You don't go anywhere.” She coughed a couple of times and pointed back to the seats.

“Really? You're going to help me escape! That's fantastic! Here pencil in my name really quick on your list I can take that kid's place. It's Oliver. Oscar, Lima”

The boy was a freeloader. Well, that is different. “You're not going anywhere little man, not without paying.” She opened the door and grabbed him. He was thrown out into the grass, tossed with such vigor he slid a half a foot when he landed.

The door slammed on this adventure early. Everyone knows the camp stories are best saved for the sequel.