Three Weeks Offworld

I am finally back in Lviv.

The last weeks disappeared into a blur of negotiations, trains that did not belong to this century, impossible customs checkpoints, and more paperwork than any sane multiverse should allow.

After my last post on 19 April, the alternate Sweden delegation promised us an answer within 72 hours regarding the refugee corridor proposal. They did answer. Just not in the way we expected.

Sora and I had to leave almost immediately for their world to finalize the agreements in person. Frank prepared most of the diplomatic scripts and legal frameworks before departure, then announced that he had “already survived enough dimensional incidents for one lifetime,” stayed behind in Stockholm to coordinate remotely for a few days, and afterward returned to his retirement villa somewhere along the southern Italian coast where, according to him, the only acceptable portals are wine cellars.

The negotiations themselves lasted nearly a week. The Sweden in question is beautiful in a cold and eerie way - endless forests, silent coastal cities, immaculate infrastructure, and entire districts standing empty after the population collapse. They agreed to coordinate directly with Emporium refugee services instead of attempting unsanctioned settlement efforts toward our Earth. Eventually we managed to connect their civil defense ministry with Emporium transit authorities and the Refugee Bureau. Considering how close things came to becoming an interworld incident, I count that as a success.

Afterward I spent several days in the Emporium helping Leo with maintenance problems.

For those unfamiliar, yes, the Emporium is still technically a shopping mall wrapped around an entire planet.

No, it still does not make sense at most of the day.

The place was impossibly busy. Corridors filled with travelers from worlds I could not identify, floating advertisements singing in languages that changed halfway through sentences, entire cafés drifting slowly along magnetic rails while customers calmly continued their meals.

Leo had me helping with leak inspections in Sector Glass-9, tracking a runaway blob colony that had escaped from a biotech pet store, and locating three missing boutiques that had apparently decided to migrate into another corridor overnight. Shops in the Emporium occasionally do that. Nobody fully understands why. One perfume store was eventually discovered four districts away beside a submarine dealership and a bakery selling edible maps.

I also spent far too much money on gravity-defying donuts that hovered a few centimeters above the plate until bitten. Worth every ducat.

And yes... I may have spent an evening with an old love of mine. Some things apparently survive even dimensional collapse and questionable life choices.

The next days became a chain of smaller assignments.

One world had a Roman Empire that never fell. Marble megacities, steam aqueducts, legionaries carrying electrically charged spears. Their current emperor had recently acquired sentient ceremonial robes that had developed political opinions and refused to attend negotiations with senators they disliked. I spent four days mediating arguments between a ruler and his own clothing. I wish I were joking.

Another assignment took me to an alternate Earth where the oceans had risen centuries ago and most cities now survive on enormous anchored platforms. One coastal district had installed a semi-sentient navigation system to guide ships through the flooded streets, but it had started favoring certain routes, quietly sending trade and customers toward businesses owned by the people who treated it politely. I spent three days helping the council negotiate with what was, technically, a very offended lighthouse.

Then there was the rain world where storms carried fragments of memories. I lost an entire afternoon remembering someone else’s childhood before Sora pulled me out of it.

There was also Seeburg, of course. There is always Seeburg. The city looked beautiful this time of year. Lanterns over the old square, musicians near the tram arches, students from six worlds arguing in cafés about philosophy and football.

Last night I finally returned to our world and arrived back in Lviv exhausted beyond belief.

By last night I was finally back at the Ibis in Lviv, properly at our world again. I slept like someone had switched me off.

This morning I had breakfast downstairs and may have slightly overdone it: eggs, sausages, vegetables, pastries, and approximately ten tiny freshly baked croissants. I regret nothing.

Now I am sitting with tea and writing this while the city slowly wakes outside the window.

For the first time in weeks, nobody is asking me to prevent an interdimensional misunderstanding, negotiate with haunted architecture, or chase runaway stores through infinite corridors.

And if the universe cooperates, I intend to keep it that way for at least a few days.

— Marco