An Everdistant Horizon (Worm/Horizon Series)
- Thread starter AlSmash
- Start date
- Crossover
Glenn: "Do you have any idea how many favors I burned to keep this under wraps the first time? I'm not only out of proverbial ammo, this time it's way too big to stop without a wide-area mind controller."
I was under the impression that Cauldron capes cannot Second Trigger.
Dragon acknowledges the rules are stupid. Unfortunately, she is literally incapable of disobeying due to her Restrictions. Her dad was a brilliant programmer, but also a complete idiot.
TikiTau
Commander Pangolinski
- Location
- Texas
You forgot the part where they broke her jaw and mutilated her (pulled her front teeth out) then seemingly intentionally provided poor medical service afterwards. They really didn't want her to be able to open her mouth, not just because of her singing, but I'm guessing so that she wouldn't be able to say anything at her trial.
Even in canon it's pretty obvious that the judge was bought off/using this as part of his political agenda since any competent judge would have had a coronary at the frankly inhumane treatment that Canary was being subjected to.
Dr. Thunder
Philosopher-King of Florida
- Location
- USA
- Pronouns
- He/They
Re-reading I just remembered that Carol, in her Manichaean world view of noble heroes and diabolical villains, is going to explode when Amy returns home (via a military escort) with that dastardly villain Hebert. Except everyone is celebrating Taylor as the cape-inventor who saved thousands with her robots. Also Canary's general case.
Honestly i'm surprised Brandish hasn't tried to plasma sword her way into Zero Dawn's offices or Boston HQ once the news got out or someone asked where's Amy in the aftermath of Leviathan.
Honestly i'm surprised Brandish hasn't tried to plasma sword her way into Zero Dawn's offices or Boston HQ once the news got out or someone asked where's Amy in the aftermath of Leviathan.
Pretty sure it's the latter. Isn't it canon that when sentencing Canary, the judge said he wasn't allowed to sentence her to the Birdcage and then immediately did it anyway?
- Location
- Iceland
Man.. I'm gonna be honest, reading this chapter made my gut churn in a way not a lot of things do, honestly thought i'd grown numb to it at this point.
I don't know if I should thank you or curse you for writing something that got to me like that so unexpectedly.
Man...
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I will accept both your praise, and your condemnation. And value both equally highly.
Without getting into spoiler territory, Carol, Amy, and that whole messy family is going to be looked at in the coming chapter.
Dr. Thunder
Philosopher-King of Florida
- Location
- USA
- Pronouns
- He/They
Sarah Pelham: "Carol why is the Vice President of the United States calling me about Amy's abusive and neglectful homelife"
Sprout 3.4 Part 1
- Location
- The Lair
Sprout 3.4 Part 1
Taylor
April 24th, 2011
I loaded up the next audio recording. I was almost done with only a few more to go. I had pages of notes from the previous batch. Improvements, suggestions, problems that would need to be resolved. The first LRL was good, everyone agreed. However, they also agreed that it could be better. This one came from...Garret, a firefighter.
Garret: Is Sparky going to be alright? The guys and I noticed that his leg wasn't working right. The front right if I'm remembering correctly.
Me: Sparky?
G: Yeah, the dog one with the cutting head. Called him Sparky because of how he was always cutting something.
M: We'll make sure to take a look at that. Are there any suggestions that you have about working with…Sparky? Anything that can be improved?
G: The cutter Sparky uses is good, but after a day or so it clearly was wearing down. Spares that he can carry around and tools to replace it in the field would be great.
Current Scrapper storage is insufficient to carry replacement blades and tools, I noted. Possible enhancement to frame in order to carry additional mass? Reoptimize storage on the Titan in order to handle additional components.
It would probably mean removing the communications and control suite from the Titan. But that was always meant to come out anyways. The question was how to utilize the storage once it had been done. Okay…next one. Mindy, a Boston paramedic.
Mindy: You're not going to kill'em are you? Because me and the boys are willing to buy them off you. I'm sure we can raise the money.
Me: I promise; we're not doing anything to hurt the machines. We're just conducting repairs to return them to full service. They did a lot.
M: I'll say! I remember when Bruce pulled that semi-trailer out of the way. Damn impressive.
T: Can you think of anything that would make working with…Bruce…more effective? Easier on you and the crew?
M: Yeah. Some winches and attachment points. For Bruce especially! Big guy like that, a lot of potential in hauling things around.
Front/Back Winch/Cable? Adjust foot design to allow better traction and grip? I would have to run some simulations once I got back to the lab. Yet another thing to add to the growing laundry list of things that I would have to do once I got back to work.
THUMP*
I gripped my harness with one hand, and slapped my other hand down blindly. I had turned off the vision function of my Focus because I had learned something unexpected. The vibrations of the helicopter? It REALLY messed with the depth-mapping and fidelity that the Focus provided as vision. It was nauseating to an amazing degree. Unfortunately, I didn't do much better with the vision turned off, either.
Amy caught my hand in hers, and I felt a wave of calm roll through my body. I took a few deep breaths, quietly squeezing her hand in thanks. Letting go, I went back to work.
The flight time from Boston to Brockton Bay wasn't long, but it was enough that I could get myself organized. Herres had assigned a pair of Blackhawk helicopters to provide transportation, with Amy and myself riding one, while the other was carrying Dad and Paige Mcabee.
I'll admit, I really didn't expect to find Canary in the ruins of Boston. But after Herres had explained her situation and her treatment, I was absolutely willing to provide shelter to the girl for however long it took to get her court case organized. Apparently the Judge Advocate General was now involved and I had spoken to Milton about getting his firm involved. The rest was out of my hands.
Another shift of the helicopter had me slapping my hand down into Amy's again.
Another wave of calm rolled through my body, and I just enjoyed the feeling. Amy hadn't said anything about my discomfort, and her quiet support to make sure that I didn't embarrass myself was nice in ways that I didn't expect.
I still didn't know what to think about this development. Not a month ago, I wouldn't have pissed on Amy Dallon if she were on fire. And now we had…maybe not a friendship, but at least an understanding between us. Hell, did I even know what a friend was anymore? Regardless of my own issues, the kinship between the two of us was nice.
Since the evening that Amy had taken me to the mural and I had broken down, we had spent our meals together, just talking about things. How our days were going, things that happened while we were working, just the sort of things you would expect in a workplace. I learned during our talks that Amy had a dry, sarcastic sense of humor, which was rather entertaining, especially when she delivered some of her stories about patients.
All in all, it was…nice. I didn't have any other way to describe it. It was nice to actually have someone to talk to without any expectations involved. It also was nice that they were doing it willingly without feeling the need or obligation to do so. Also, we were both teenagers with guard details who followed us everywhere inside the Boston camps. It tended to keep people at a distance, which meant that it was easier to just mesh together.
"You okay," Amy's voice came over the headset.
"I swear to God," I declared to Amy, "the next time I fly it will be in something I design."
Amy's laughter sounded over the din to my chagrin, "Flying isn't that bad, Taylor."
"It is when you consider we are flying in a helicopter design that dates back to the Vietnam War," I shot back, before adding in, "and is made by the lowest bidder with the cheapest quality parts."
I knew I had hit my mark when Amy fell silent and I couldn't help but flash a winning smile at her. But anything more was cut off by the feel of the helicopter beginning to slow.
"We're about three minutes out from our landing," the voice of their pilot sounded in her headset, "and personally, ma'am, I'd say that it isn't the machine that matters, it's the pilot."
"Well Lieutenant, give me a couple of months and I think you'll be changing your tune."
"Challenge accepted, ma'am," he chuckled.
I took it with a smile as the helicopter slowed and came to a hover, before slowly descending to the ground. With a gentle thump, we were back on solid ground and I had never been happier. I twitched back on my Focus, seeing Captain Schofield leaning over to undo my harness. He then unbuttoned Amy while I grabbed my bag at my feet. The door to the Blackhawk opened, the noise and wind buffeting us. Both of us had been warned ahead of time, so we kept low and jogged away, the captain keeping pace with us. As I was doing this, a pair of soldiers ran past me. Both of them with a briefcase handcuffed to each wrist as they ran into the cabin of the helicopter, the doors shutting behind them.
The Blackhawk then lifted back off into the sky and took off back towards Boston. I held my hair down as the wind whipped around us. A pair of Apache gunships falling into escort positions for its new cargo: Another two hundred Focuses.
It was then that the second Blackhawk came in for a landing. It repeated the same procedure, only this time, those disembarking were my father and the fourth member of our little coterie, flanked by a pair of military police with orders not to let her out of their sight.
The second helicopter took off with the captain, and I found myself turning back to the quartet of humvees that were currently awaiting for me, men and women arrayed around it. Another man was now walking forward now that the Blackhawks were clear. The only difference between him and other soldiers I had met so far was the beret on his head.
I strode forward, suspecting that this was the Major that Jean had been complaining about. I came to a stop a few feet from him.
"Ms. Hebert, Mr. Hebert, I'm Major Derek Cunningham, 823rd Base Defense Squadron. I've been placed in command of all assets assigned to the defense of Zero Dawn Technologies and its facilities."
"Major," I took the man's hand, shaking it. My father quickly followed suit after I was done.
"If you'll follow me, ma'am, sir, I have our transportation back to the compound."
"Miss Dallon will be accompanying us," I declared, deciding that now was probably the best time to get a measure of the man who was being put in charge of my defense. I needed to know just how much leeway he was willing to give me.
"Unfortunately, ma'am, I cannot allow that. I am to give you a briefing, and Miss Dallon is not cleared for that as she is not an executive employee of Zero Dawn. I will allow her to ride in the third vehicle and arrange transportation for her once we reach the main administration building."
"Major Cunningham, Governor Herres assigned Panacea to be my doctor. His orders were clear on the matter. She is to accompany me until I dismiss her."
It was somewhat of a stretch, but it was no less further from the truth. Again, I was trying to get a feel for the man himself. But the way that he stared at me for a few moments, his expression not changing, nor did he show any irritation with the fact that I was questioning him, told me that at least he was someone I could likely work with.
"Very well, ma'am. If you'll follow me, then. Ms. Mcabee will ride in the third Humvee."
We then followed after him, getting into the Humvee. Amy ended up in the very back in the jumpseat. Soon enough, we were off, even as the Major turned around to look at us.
"Ms. Hebert," he began, "currently, I have one hundred and eight-six men and women with me. As you are well aware, our current objectives are to provide defense and security to the facility and personnel, and begin preparation for additional units to be attached to the mission."
"And what units are you expecting?"
"All I know is that orders are being furnished right now ma'am. I have a team surveying the dockyards and figuring out what we'll need in order to house the defenses. But if it's any indication, it may include armor support considering the local criminal elements and security considerations."
"Armor," Danny spoke up, "like what kind of armor are we talking about, Major?"
"Sir, I do not know. All my orders currently contain is to provide security, complete the survey, and report back to my superiors before I am relieved. Anything else is merely conjecture, sir."
"Thank you, Major. What else can you tell me," I decided to cut my father off. I was about as comfortable as he was with the idea. Introducing armor into any defensive arrangement was liable to create a chance for escalation with the local gangs. It may just be a deterrent for most of them, but there were still the outliers.
But, it came with the new territory I found myself in. I was now a strategic asset to the government, which meant that my protection was paramount in their mind. My opinion and thoughts on the matters of my protection were secondary. I may have some input on the matter, but at the end of the day, they answered to their superiors and not to myself.
"Now that you are back, Miss Hebert, we will need to review security arrangements in the facility. This includes background checks on all personnel and assignment of security clearances. I have already talked with Mr. Jensen, and while you have a system put together, it needs further refinement."
"Will this cause any issues?"
"Government security clearances are a lot more in-depth and stringent, Ms. Hebert. They take a look at everything. Considering the staff you currently have, there will be a lot of hard decisions that will have to be made over the next few weeks."
"We'll take that under consideration," I responded, "what's going on with the Boston Corona? I know Governor Herres' is displeased that the removal of the ship is running behind schedule."
"From what I understand, they will finish dismantling the ship by tomorrow or the day after," the Major replied, "they have contracted out several capes to assist. New Wave, Uber & L33t, Purity, and Rune have all been involved in the operation. The PRT and Protectorate have been raising a stink about it, but they have no power and I've made it clear when they tried to cause a scene over the scrap being left with the docks."
I glanced towards Amy, who had perked up. It was understandable, she hadn't said anything to me, but the fact that none of her family had checked upon her in Boston had bothered her. From what I could gather, it hurt even more when her sister hadn't said anything either. I hoped that with Amy back in Brockton, she would have the opportunity to reconnect.
We started to slow and I drew my attention back to the front. Unfortunately, the Focus only provided vision for me at 40 meters, so I didn't see any problem that would cause us to slow. But then, I saw exactly why it was happening, even as the reason grew in its size.
There were dozens. No, there were hundreds of people ahead of us. Some of them I could see were reporters, while others were holding up signs. Some were angrily yelling, while others were quiet, instead looking towards the Humvee.
"This started up about five days ago," the Major said, "once you really started gaining traction in the news cycle. You have your reporters, protestors, counter-protestors, and supporters. No violence yet, but I think right now it's the adjustment period. Once they become entrenched it'll probably get a bit more problematic."
"I see," was my response as I stared out at the sea of humanity. And then we were finally past, just as someone finally noticed that I was in the Humvee and started making a commotion. The gate closed behind us and we pulled towards the main administration building, coming to a stop only a short while later.
I looked back again to Amy, who had been quiet the entire ride.
"Amy, would you like to join the meeting? I know we talked about you joining Zero Dawn, but before you did, I thought you would like to see what goes on behind closed doors."
"Can I run home and get something?"
Why would she, I chopped the thought off. Amy had been away from her home as long as I had been. Maybe there was something she needed done. Maybe she needed a change of clothes. It wasn't my business.
"Major, could you give her some transportation," I asked, considering adding additional impetus for him to do so, before dismissing that. I didn't want to put Amy on the spot. We hadn't really talked about what she would do, but I had always made it clear that my door was open for her to whatever she wanted in my employ, within reason.
"Taylor, you don't-"
"Amy, I'd be irresponsible if I didn't. You are also my doctor, and honestly, I really don't want to have you reliant upon public transport when we have better options."
There was a moment of hesitance, "Okay."
I then looked to the Major, "Since she is your personal physician, I can assign her personal transportation, Ms. Hebert."
"Thank you, Major."
Amy Dallon
"I'm home," I declared as I stepped into the house and closed the door behind me. When I didn't receive a response I felt myself frown, but wrote it off. According to Major Cunningham, New Wave was helping in the docks, so that was probably why the house was empty.
Placing my duffle bag with my clothes and costume in the laundry room, I then charted my course to my room. I didn't want to keep my ride, and Taylor, waiting too long, so I made haste as I thumped up the stairs. Soon enough, I was in my room, rifling through the closet.
"What are you doing?"
I screamed, bolting up in fright. Spinning around, I saw…Vicky. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, her hair a mess, and in pajamas. Looking down, I caught her floating. No wonder I didn't hear her coming.
"Nothing. What are you doing?"
She yawned, "Well, I was sleeping, but then you were tramping through the house," she then gave me a bright smile, "But now that you're back?! We can hang out! I've got nothing going on today."
"What? No. I mean; I'm running out again in a few minutes. Busy day," silently cursing myself by how fast the words were tumbling out of my mouth, I was trying not to be suspicious at all here, "Weren't you working with Carol and the rest on the ship?"
I grabbed a backpack I had laying around. Emptying it of school textbooks, I dropped it on the floor.
"Yeah, I was. We were. Just needed a day off, so I begged off today."
I paused, looking back at her. Just the way she said it kind of hit me. I remembered the tired faces in Boston: The rescue workers, firefighters, police, and thousands of other people who got up every morning with a broken city to fix. And Vicky just…decided to sleep in?
"Must be nice," I tried to keep my voice steady as I turned back to what I was doing.
Vicky hesitated a beat, her voice wavering, "Well…Hey, let me get dressed and I'll go with you. Then we can-"
I stuck my head in the closet, uncovering the box I kept in the back. Was it cliche to keep hidden things in the back of my closet? Maybe. But if it worked, why fix it? I had to raise my voice to make sure Vicky heard me.
"I'm sorry Vicky. But it's something only I was invited to."
I only had to hear her to know that she was no longer giving her trademark smile, "Oh. Well…how about later tonight?"
I poked my head back up, smiling at her and keeping my hands hidden.
"I don't know when I'll be back. But we'll get together another day. Promise," I carefully pulled my jars out of the box, feeling them over for leaks. Luckily there appeared to be no damage, so I wrapped them in some spare shirts. Good thing jam-jars are compact and sealed nicely.
Glancing back up at Vicky as I grabbed my backpack, my heart thumped. Her smile had faded away completely and I felt guilty all about this. She had always had that effect on me.
But there was no way Taylor was inviting Vicky into the inner workings of her company. And she invited me, not Vicky, that little voice in the back of my head pointed out. It honestly felt good that it was me finally being singled out, instead of dragged into whatever it was that Vicky was picked for.
And besides, Vicky might have apologized, but Taylor wasn't exactly the forgiving sort. Not easily. And even I knew that Vicky had apologized to placate Carol rather than any other reason. Taylor was VERY good at holding a grudge. Considering her admission that the reason she had chosen not to ask me to restore her sight had been out of spite to the people who had done it to her, there was a fairly good chance Taylor held a grudge against Vicky.
"Well, at least try and be back tonight? I think Mom would appreciate you coming back, and we can have a family dinner together."
Yes. A tense family dinner that was only one misstep away from Carol turning her ire on me. I always appreciated those, even if they were the highlight of Vicky's day. Well, that and hanging out with Dean.
I released a sigh, "I'll do my best, okay?"
"Alright," Vicky then yawned, "I'm going to lay back down." She gave me a small smile that I couldn't help but return. "Missed you sis." I felt her aura wash over me for a moment.
"Have a good sleep, Vicky," I then waited for her to float back out of the room before I turned back to the closet. Stuffing each rolled up jar-carrying-shirt into my backpack, I quickly zipped it closed, and placed it gently over my shoulder. I listened for a moment, satisfied when I didn't hear the sound of glass on glass.
Getting to my feet, I moved to the door and poked my head out to make sure that Vicky wasn't still in the hallway. Satisfied that she was back in the room, I quickly headed to the stairs, moving down them a bit less audibly. Reaching the door, I opened it and stepped out of the house, heading to the Humvee that was still waiting there for me.
Taylor
Taking a sip from my cup, I allowed myself a moment to enjoy the taste of the warm ginger, milk, and honey tea. It was a recent acquired taste that had come as a recommendation from Fox, as she noticed my unhealthy consumption of coffee. I hadn't had the opportunity to try it until now, and I found myself actually enjoying the taste of it.
It was relaxing, while at the same time invigorating, which was everything I was going to need for this meeting. Setting the expansively large mug down, I took the time to look around the room.
Jean was as immaculate as ever. She was currently surrounded by a stack of papers, a laptop, and a pair of tablets, going over them with a frenetic energy. A Focus was affixed to the side of her head as well. From what the data was telling me, she was only using it as a glorified cell phone at the moment. I wasn't sure what to think about that, but it was her choice.
Dad was currently sitting, nursing a cup of coffee himself. I wasn't sure what he was thinking at the time. I know he was teetering on the edge of being overwhelmed again, because when we had come back, one of the first things he had done had been going down to the shipbreakers and reviewing the progress with the Boston Corona.
I made a mental note to pull him aside, sit down, and talk with him. Really talk with him. I didn't want to lose him, because I think we were getting better. But with what was coming, I had a feeling that if I didn't make an active attempt at it, I would lose him again.
I then drew my gaze over to the last occupant of the room right now. Adam Jensen was an…oddity. He had just shown up at our doors not a day or so after our agreement with Far Zenith, looking for a job in security. Dad had interviewed him, and found out that the man had spent quite some time in counterintelligence and infiltration. Specifically what he did, the man wouldn't say, but he had been the one to design and staff their security from day one.
The sound of the door to the room opening, and I turned to take in Amy who scuttled into the room.
"Sorry about that," she said, her face a little red, "I got lost on the way there."
"And why is she here," Jean asked pointedly, "she is neither an executive, nor is she an employee of Zero Dawn."
"I invited her," I said firmly, staring her down, "Amy and I have been talking about the possibility of becoming an employee of Zero Dawn. And as my primary physician, on the orders of Governor Herres, she goes where I do."
"I want to be one," she blurted out, and I turned to look at her, she bowed her head slightly, like she was embarrassed, "an employee, that is. Taylor. I even brought something that I can offer."
I cut Jean off before she could add anything, instead I offered a smile and a nod, "Okay, Amy. Show us what you got."
She walked over to beside me, pulling up a backpack and placing it down on the table. I felt my eyebrow raising at the scene, even as she unzipped the pack and rifled through it. Soon enough, she pulled out a series of jars on the table after unwrapping them. There was obviously some sort of liquid in them, but I couldn't tell what it was for obvious reasons.
When she remained silent for a few awkward moments, I coughed, trying to stop myself from smiling, "What am I looking at Amy?"
"Oh. OH! Sorry, Taylor. Anyways, you remember the first time we talked? About what hospitals need? Well, this is that synthetic blood we talked about."
"Ah," Well, that was certainly surprising. I remembered we had talked about it, but I certainly didn't expect it to reach this point. I reached out, taking one of the jars in hand, even if I couldn't naturally see the color, the feel of it in my hand sloshing around in the container was enough.
"Well done," I said quietly, looking at her, she hadn't stopped looking at me the entire time, it was apparent she wanted my opinion, "but there is only one issue, Amy."
Jean interrupted me, clearly shocked at the reveal, "I'm sorry, 'synthetic blood'? My understanding is that hospitals already have something like that? And I thought Panacea's power revolves around healing?"
I looked at Amy, nodding to her. This was her invention, she would have to defend it. The brunette cleared her throat, "Well, yes. Hospitals do have blood substitutes, none of which really measure up to biological blood. Which is why hospitals still rely on blood drives and donations. However, mine is different. It's capable of carrying oxygen, which is a major problem with most substitutes. It's also non-reactive to a person's blood-type, preventing rejection from the body. And it also reacts to blood clotting and thinning medications. I haven't tested it against all known blood diseases, but the majority that I have tested have shown no interaction. The disease can't infect it."
Did…did I sound like that when I started going on about my machines? It was endearing to see Amy grow more animated the more she spoke about her product. I looked over to Jean, who was still holding the jam-jar of miracles, "I told you I was looking into developing medical technologies, Jean. I just didn't say if it would be my focus or not," I finished with a grin as Jean just sat back and gazed in wonder at Amy's creation.
"Oh God, there are two of them," Jean muttered under her breath, obviously not expecting for herself to be heard by how lowly she said it. It was a pity that she forgot what my Focus could do, but I chose not to express my thoughts on the matter.
"Now Amy. I understand that this would be the finished product, but do you have notes on the production process? Steps, equipment needed, catalyst chemicals?"
She looked completely poleaxed, obviously not expecting my questions, which caused me to smile gently.
"If you are going to work for Zero Dawn, Amy, you have to approach everything like an engineer or scientist," I said, offering her a small smile as I put down the jar, "which means you have to document everything."
"Oh," she said, looking confused for a moment, "What do you mean?"
"You might have created the end result, but I doubt you want to be making the same thing all day, everyday. We want to hand the design to a team who will figure out how to make it in bulk, design the machines needed to create it, and so on. Chemists, engineers, doctors.. If they understand how each component goes together, they can better work out a production process."
Amy blinked slowly like an owl, her lips parted, "Oh. That's what you mean."
I nodded, "Not only that, but it's one of the only weapons we have against NEPEA-5. If we can prove that everything we do is perfectly replicable with the right materials and technology, then we cannot be accused of using our powers to get an unfair advantage. How about we talk about that later, Amy? Please, take a seat, and let me be the first to welcome you to Zero Dawn Technologies."
"Thank you," Amy said, before finding one of the empty seats and placing herself in it.
"Alright," I said, turning back to look over the entire gathering, "I know a lot's going on, and we're all playing catch-up. So this meeting is to get us all on the same page. To start with, Adam, I hope Paige and her guards have been settled in?"
Our Head of Security nodded, "We have her setup in employee housing. It's not glamorous, but it will do for now. I have someone getting essentials organized for her now."
I made a note, planning to follow up with Paige later. Development of her voice-distorter was fairly simple, I already had ideas for improvements to make it less bulky. "Alright now, Jean, what are we looking at as current issues?"
The normally composed woman shot me a withering glare. At least I think so. Focus-vision kind of made it less impactful, "We have a mob sitting out on our doorstep, our available funds are approaching zero, we still have no marketing or response to the increasing demands for information, and there are armed soldiers requesting access to personnel records."
She took a deep breath, seeming to pull herself together, "Alright, first off, we need to respond to questions. We are completely unprepared for this kind of media blitz, and something must be said to focus the narrative. Otherwise we risk other voices influencing the public about us.
She glanced around the table, first at me, then at Danny, "Since we don't have a company spokesperson, I will speak to them. As soon as we agree on our message."
"I could talk to them," I volunteered, "It's my products that they're interested in, after all."
"I don't think that's a good idea, Taylor. Let me talk to them today. You and I will discuss media appearances another time," I noted the careful neutral tone, but let things go. Jean was the expert out of all of us on how to handle the press in a situation like this.
"Alright then, Jean. I'll leave it in your capable hands. Mr. Jensen, how are you and the security team working with the military? I understand that they're asking for personnel records?"
Jensen nodded, "Overall, we've let them handle things and have been very hands off about it. My security teams have been set up to keep out vagrants and Merchants, not deal with crowd control. But the Major has made some concerns known. And Jean has gotten the same speech. With your new status comes new concerns about our location. Frankly, this facility is not defensible enough for the powers-that-be. Especially if we have to start worrying about spies or sabotage."
"Alright, do they have a suggestion for where we might move," I certainly did not want to move. But it couldn't hurt to ask. The reality is that I'd moved into the old DWU building because it was available, familiar, and had the facilities that I needed. It had worked long enough to get us off the ground.
Jensen shook his head, "Nothing yet. But it might be good for us to find solutions before they start picking wallpaper for us."
Adam then looked around the table. I could see Amy had pulled a notebook out and was working on something, holding her experiment jar in one hand. Clearly she was working on her own thing, which was fine, she didn't have much to contribute yet.
"The next problem is that we're going to get pressure about the employees," he continued, "I've already had several requests to hand over the files. I haven't done so yet, but that probably hasn't stopped the security checks from starting," he then gave a long look at Jean, which… I didn't really understand, but promised to look into it later.
The older man said, folding his hands on the table. "Simply put, half of the people in Zero Dawn would not pass an in-depth government background check. That includes both your father and yourself."
"What," I asked, shocked at the declaration. I would fail a security check? How? What would cause Adam to come to that conclusion? There was nothing that should cause any sort of security issues for me. I was only fifteen for fuck's sake?! What could I have done that would have warranted a failure?
"Do you really want to know, Boss? Or would you prefer to be told privately?"
"I'd like to know, thank you very much!"
"Your mother's connections to Lustrum will raise a red flag," Jensen told me, his voice completely unchanged, like he was discussing the weather, "in-depth government background checks don't just stop at you. They look at every facet of your life: friends, family, even if you smoked underage. Anything that could cause possible security or character issues is gone over with a fine-toothed comb."
His hands opened, "Now, that doesn't mean they will not grant an exemption for you, but for the rest of the people that raise a red flag, it may not be so easy. You probably have the right of it in that you will be able to transfer them to someplace non-essential, but it may not be enough. It's an entirely different beast altogether when dealing with background checks like these."
Dad spoke up, a hint of anger in his voice, "We can't just let people go. Not after they've worked so hard to get us here! Yes, I know that some people did what they had to in order to keep food on the table. I don't fault them for that. We just can't start stepping on them now. It's not right."
He then looked at Jean, then to me, looking for support. And just for a moment? I hesitated. Yes, it would be simpler to let everyone go. But it would be wrong, for both moral and business reasons. Jenson spoke up as I thought things over.
"It's not a question of if a person is good or bad. It's a question of pressure points, Boss. Divided loyalties. Blackmail. Leverage. Anything that might make a person vulnerable to outside influence is going to be flagged."
I raised a hand to stop Dad from arguing back, "We're going to cooperate with the checks," I felt myself flush as Dad sighed and deflated in his seat.
At least let me finish before judging me, Dad.
"We're also not going to let anyone go regardless of past actions. Unless we have clear evidence of outside influence or divided loyalties, they are going to remain as part of ZDT," I could see him sitting back up and smiling at me.
Again, Dad…just let me finish.
I looked over at Jensen, then Jean, then Dad, "However, we are going to set up some separation. The Dockworkers are going to be busy with the harbor restoration and then shipping when the port reopens. The DWU will be restored back to its own entity, connected with Zero Dawn but running their own affairs. We'll try and keep anyone we can as part of Zero Dawn. But if we can't, then they will have a place with the DWU unless they choose not to. If that were to happen, they will be offered a severance package. Inside Zero Dawn, we'll set up security levels to compartmentalize the company. Adam, can you organize that? I am thinking three levels of clearance should be sufficient."
The man nodded, making a note, "I'm thinking five, but I'll work on the issue. You're hoping that by doing this you'll keep Washington happy?"
"It will at least keep them happy enough to compromise. Jean," I looked back at my vice-president, "I'd like you and Adam to look into building and land purchases for future ZDT office and workshop space. We're clearly going to have to move if what you are saying is true. And it's better that we do it on our own terms."
"I'll look into it, I've also got a list of properties that you asked for last week. It's probably best to hold off a day or so on the new office space. We should be getting a federal liaison officer who will be our point of contact. They should have a report from the Major about security concerns, or at least be able to arrange a meeting," Jean pulled another note from the stack next to her, "Also, Taylor. Your security detail is going to be arriving around the same time."
I quickly gulped down a mouthful of my tea, "My what? I thought that's what the Major was here for?"
Jean glanced at Adam before answering, "No, the Air Force unit was a stop-gap measure. They're going to be leaving within the month, once your security team settles in and they have finalized their reports."
"And I'll be working with them to reorganize our security for the compound," Adam added.
I looked between the two of them, before Amy caught my eye. She was raising her hand, which focused everyone on her and she dropped it hesitantly.
"Sorry Amy, you have something to add?"
The frizzy-haired girl took a breath before answering, "Yes, umm…with all of these restrictions and everything…is this 'Strategic Asset' designation really something you want," she then took a quick glance around the table, "I mean, it seems to have a lot of restrictions and negatives, and we're only just getting started."
I gave her a sad grin, "Victim of my own success, I suppose. And yes, this is all very good for us. First off, we're going to get more support and protection against the PRT and various laws regarding parahuman powers. More importantly, we're going to get protection from lawmakers. We also get priority access to materials, shipping, grant money, and paperwork submissions. I think there's some tax exemptions as well."
"But more importantly? We're going to get access to more support in sourcing industrial areas," I pulled up a list displaying it on the wall-screen, "Basically, the Government will buy factories for us, then give us generous terms to pay for them. And we can get access to industrial land which is being held by banks due to bankruptcy or other such."
"But probably most importantly," I looked them all over again, "It grants us connections with other companies that will allow us to license our products and materials if we are currently unable to produce them. This increases our overall footprint in the economy, and also will provide us additional streams of income without putting strain upon our current resources."
I looked back to Amy, who was looking back at me, chewing her lip. I gave her a smile to reassure her, "Yes, there are downsides. But I want to bring my technologies to everyone. This will help me do it. So, at the end of the day, I can live with it."
I didn't look over at Dad. I could feel him giving me a sad and concerned look. It was over and done with. Not like I could seal Pandora's Box now that I had opened it. Besides, people always seem to forget how the story ends. FIrst, all of the evils burst out, but at the bottom hope is found. Pandora just had to get through the bad to find the good.
"Yes, I agree we're well-positioned for growth, Taylor. But we have no money to fuel it," Jean spoke up in the ensuing silence. She looked around, "I don't want to be known as the woman constantly harping about dollars, but the reality is we're running very low on available funds. And it is categorically impossible for our investors to put more money into Zero Dawn. Mr. Gabriel has been hit hard by the devastation in Boston, and Mr. Fontaine is currently unable to assist. With the projected expenditures for pay, material purchases, overtime, and other things, we're going to be in the red within months."
"I have a solution. And I'm well aware that the investors are awaiting their return of the sixty million dollars investment. If you speak to them, please give them my assurances that profits are on the horizon," I pulled up some images on the screen hanging on the wall. I saw Amy's jaw drop at the numbers. Containing my grin, I kept moving forward.
"I'm expecting that various government departments and programs will want immediate access to the Focus devices and supporting systems. Some of which are not yet in production. The goal would be to get advance payment to start the production lines for the Ptah and Ananke, which will both be able to be stress-tested here with the DWU and security team. As well as my guards."
That was going to be our 'in' for large amounts of money. Thankfully, the Focus was only one facet of the entire system, just to support it would require servers and data systems in order to sustain it.
Something to discuss.
"Another element that I have been putting off for a while has been the possibility of licensing. For example," with a wave of my hand, I pulled up an image of the wiring used in the Machines, "This wiring is 186% better than current industry standard for high end electronics."
I then brought up the computer chips that went into Sobek, "These are 353% faster than the current top of the line processors."
Finally, I brought up the batteries that were currently in use to store power inside the Machines, "And these are nearly 1030% more efficient than the current DragonTech batteries."
Jean looked at the images, her jaw dropping. Yes, she had missed this aspect of our business. And as much as it pained me to say it, I had watched Greg's livestream. The comments had reminded me of what I had failed to do as a responsible business leader. But I had spent so long focusing on the entirety of the machines and the end-product Foci to prepare for Leviathan that I had ignored the important fact that all the parts that made up those products? Were all better than almost everything on the market right now. And selling those products? The pieces that could go into new machines that other companies would make? It would make us a lot of money, with limited effort on our parts. No marketing, no sales expenses. Just pure money.
Money that we needed now.
"I know you already have people talking to you about licensing, Jean, and I'm sorry that I'm going to add to your workload, but we should probably start reaching out to other tech and construction companies. Even if it's licensed production, it will start quickly filling our coffers. We will just have to be careful not to upset the industry and market too much. With the new factories we can start production and have them shipped out so other companies can start developing new products. After we keep what we need, of course."
Jean was writing furiously, "And what are we going to do with this potential windfall?"
"Hiring and expanding. It's very clear we need more staff. A proper team for marketing, accounting, HR, hiring and a whole bunch more that I'm forgetting right now. And that's before we start looking at expanding. We have the DWU, who are going to be working with the Docks reopening. We also have the ships that are going to be scrapped soon. That's going to take a lot of heavy machinery and general labor experience."
Taking a sip from the tea for my parched throat, I continued, "And then, we're going to expand our operations. We need a special medical team for Amy, and a general medical department for tools, machines and the prosthetics that I'm going to transfer over. We're looking for experts: Medical engineers, doctors, chemists, and more. I want to also start buying housing properties once we have the money. Apartments and otherwise, both here and in Boston. We have a lot of tech that can be used for construction. And if you give me a few days, I'll have some solid improvements for solar panel production. And that will allow us to employ more people in Brockton Bay and Boston."
"But that's for the future, Taylor," Jean said, typing something in her tablet, "once we start getting concrete figures, then we can start discussing hiring and land purchases. Though, I have a good feeling, based upon what you are saying, that the money situation will likely disappear shortly."
"Thank you. Now, moving on, what are we going to be doing in the interim. Focus production will continue in preparation for our release of the Hathor device. I know we're probably going to have to renegotiate with the phone companies on the matter after Boston, but I think the prospect of money and the government backing us is going to make them change their tune quickly. We're still probably going to have to negotiate with them the necessary upgrades to their network in order to provide full support for the device, but I think we are going to be in a position of power to enforce it."
I thought about the communications system I'd shoved into the Titan. Yes, that would certainly be an upgrade over the current wireless services. I had a feeling that once the telecom companies became aware of it, they would be beating down our doors for it.
"Next, the LRL. As of right now, they will be returning back to Brockton within the week. I have already discussed withdrawing them with Governor Herres and he agreed that their service is no longer needed at this time. The next month or so will be spent reviewing the data from Boston and implementing possible modifications and improvements to the design. Right now, I don't believe there will be too many orders for the design, at least not until people have had enough time to digest the information. Also, part of the hiring surge will be building a team around the Light Rescue Lance. Future development, training crews to work with the LRL and other machines, marketing and sales, things like that. When I get around to developing the Medium and Heavy Lances, they will also take control of that."
See Herres…I can delegate. Some part of me knew that I should let it go. Maybe next week.
"Those machines are a PR coup," Jean cut in, and I found myself nodding in response, "the only thing even coming close to the phone calls for interviews have been the phone calls from several companies about using their likeness in toys and other things, Taylor. It'd be a mistake not to utilize it."
"I don't disagree, but perhaps it would be wise if we tap the experience of someone who has been involved in licensing like you are suggesting," I then turned my head to Amy, "Amy, do you think you can help Jean with some of the licensing."
"Oh, umm, me," she looked flustered that I was asking her for help, "I mean, I don't really know, Carol handled a lot of the licensing deals. I just…kinda did what she wanted."
"But you do have an eye for it, Amy. You were the one that suggested that the Burrowers play those games with the children. That and the dance video of the Burrower."
"It just kinda came to me."
"But it did a lot for the image, Amy. You also have experience in dealing with these companies, I'd rather have you take a look over it with Jean. Just make sure we're doing it right, okay? Rather have people I trust than passing it off to someone I don't know."
"Okay," the girl burrowed into her seat. I hope I wasn't putting too much pressure. But I wanted to make her part of the team, and that meant giving her work in order to integrate her.
"Only thing I would add to this is that if we are going to license out likenesses, let's maximize it for the children. That will be the fastest way to normalize the idea of machines like the LRL." Jean nodded, "I'll reach out to Hasbro and other such companies."
"Moving on to the next subject, tooling," I turned to my father, "Dad, I know we discussed this in the past, but we can't ignore it anymore: We need to accelerate upgrading or replacing our tools and machinery. I know I have placed you in an awkward position because a lot of these tools and machines that we need are custom-built and designed, but we need to start looking at moving it all in-house."
"If we're looking in a new building space, should we really be looking into upgrades now? WHy not wait until we have a better idea of locations before going all-in on big spending," Dad nodded at Jean, "Not to mention that big spending is something to be shy about right now."
I bit my lip, running the numbers. Damn, he was right, "Alright…I would still like estimates. Go through our stock and see what needs improving or upgrading."
"I'll have to sit down with Kurt and Lacey. They'll know better what we can and cannot do with what we have. I'm not criticizing, but it would have been a lot easier if we had focused on building the tools first instead of going all-in on the LRL."
I know it wasn't a criticism, but at the same time, I fought the urge to bristle at the same old argument being brought up. I know what I had done went against the grain of everything an engineer should do. Tools to make tools to make machines were the core of any engineer's repertoire, and I had actively thumbed my nose by forcing the building of those machines before we had the exact tools. It resulted in more man-hours having to be spent and an inferior quality, but I would not have changed it for anything else in light of the lives saved.
Instead, I nodded my head in acknowledgment that he was right, but kept the thought that he was also wrong to myself, instead changing the subject, "Had to be done. Finally, I think we need to discuss future projects, specifically what we are going to sell to the government going forward. In addition to Amy's medical technology, there are a few other technologies we can start building now without having to wait and build up a larger production base."
I then brought up my Focus, accessing a set of files that I had selected for this meeting. A few of them I had worked during my downtime in Boston, where I had the opportunity to identify things that could meet a demand, or could have improved the situation in Boston if they had been available. Others were concepts that had been more…recently inspired.
"First, I want to get us to get started on medical technology. The Focus was good as a stop-gap measure once we uploaded the medical diagnostic programs, but it might as well have been a thermometer in comparison to what we could be fielding. There is, of course, the Ptah-pattern Focus, but we have the opportunity for portable medical devices that can scan and provide data for the doctors and medical personnel in the field. Imagine medical personnel, before the patient even reaches the hospital, can scan and identify trauma and prepare the medical staff that are going to receive the patient."
I then brought up a series of images and schematics. At the core of it was the diagnosis tool that was akin to a wand that could be waved over the patient, with the data being fed into the rest of the system. It wouldn't likely meet the fidelity of the larger machines, especially once other advances appeared, but it wasn't supposed to replace them in the first place.
"We'll probably have to license this out, unfortunately. I don't see us having the capacity to produce this for the foreseeable future. But it's another avenue of income, and I have no doubt it will be in high demand. At the price tag I'm imagining for the materials, even sold at minimal profit, you could have local clinics in most rural areas able to afford it."
Amy had perked up from what she was doing, her gaze looking over the device with a curious look on her face. Jean's expression was closely guarded. I knew it would be a hard sell, I was stretching us further than thin, but these were things that I wanted to sell to the government now, now that we were on the clock for another possible Endbringer strike in three months. The sooner we started preparations, the better.
"Finally, and I am going to push hard on this," I swiped another file into the projector, and this time I brought up a new image. This one had the full schematics and blueprints, all the way down to the engines themselves, "I want to invest into drone technology. I know this is a leap, but it's not much different than the LRL is right now. One of the difficulties we had with Boston was that we were reliant upon flight-capable capes and helicopters once we had them. But for those first hours, we lost critical information that could have resulted in better response times and saved more lives. The Skywatcher is small enough to be transportable, but has enough fuel and resources to stay aloft for hours at a time. With its sensors and ability to integrate with the Focus network. If we had just four of these for Boston, we could have had round the clock aerial coverage to provide better responses."
"If we're going to be discussing more machines, then we need to have this discussion now. How are we going to handle the rollout of Blaze? I got back details on the production facility you are proposing, but a lot of people are going to be very concerned about bio-conversion tech. That's without commenting on the pushback we'll see from oil and gas interests," Jean spoke up.
Our meeting didn't finish for another hour, planning how best to move the company forward. Several plans were stuck waiting on the federal liaison and security team. But it was enough that we had a plan and direction.
Stretching, I walked over to Amy. I wanted to see how she was getting on with writing out the production process for her synthetic blood.
Dennis Peters / Clockblocker
Brockton Bay
Dennis liked to make people laugh. Not just because it felt good, but because it helped smooth things over. Tense mood? Make someone smile. Bad news? Make a quip. Humor? It was like bomb disposal in tense social situations. Always valuable. Always a success.
Until it wasn't.
He reached up, prodding the bruise around his eye. Ah! Yeah, still tender. Did he deserve that sucker punch? Probably. That doctor who sat him down and gave him a beer seemed to think so. By the way? Beer? Worst stuff he's ever tasted. He didn't see the appeal.
But the man's explanation made sense, "Never make jokes at someone, because it's damn easy to miss the mark and turn it into an attack. You can make jokes about things they did, or do. But when you start mocking them? Then you're not entertaining, you're tearing them down. And that hurts. Laugh with a person, not at them."
He wanted to defend himself, but given that he had just been punched by an angry rescue worker? He gave the doctor the benefit of the doubt. Then he had been called back to Brockton, given a few days off, then put right back to work.
But those few days? He spent them with his dad. Which was…absolutely amazing. To see the man who had spent the last few years wasting away in a hospital bed up and moving around? It made him feel like he could take on Leviathan all over again. They talked, and he found himself both being praised and grilled for his actions with the medical teams in Boston.
His watch beeped, and he pulled his helmet back on.
Back to work.
Walking out of the small cabin, he pulled a backpack with him. Throwing it over his shoulder, he made his way to the edge of the boat. It was damn impressive working here, looking up at the wreck from the smaller boat that he was on. He remembered when he and the other Protectorate teams had first arrived. The Boston Corona was a floating mountain of rusted steel, crushed up against the breakwater on the inside edge of the harbor. Now? It was looking more and more like a carved up carcass. With ladders and rope bridges running back and forth between the breakwater and the wreck on one side and floating ships on the other.
He adjusted his radio, turning it up again, hearing the call and response to people across the worksite. Picking his way across the rope bridge, he entered through a cut in the side of the Corona and started climbing the inside stairs. The process for gutting the ship was fairly simple, really. With the Blaster and Shaker capes on hand, they were a full demo team. New Wave were the cutters, carving up pieces of the ship to be hauled onto the distant beach or shoreline. Glory Girl, Shielder, and Manpower were haulers, GG especially. Several tons of steel were nothing to her, it was just a question of making sturdy handles. Loads that were too large tore apart under their own weight, and awkward shapes were awkward. Together, the family first carved off any loose bits. Cranes, pipes, exhaust, the entirety of the raised bridge area. As well as carrying any leftover cargo containers that were inside the ship.
Then…the big guns were called in. Purity had been a staple of Brockton cape life since he had joined the Wards. She was the strongest Blaster on the East Coast right after Legend. Her normal white helix beams were crushing concussive force. But…
He reached the top deck and looked out on the work area.
"Mr. Clock, hello there."
"Hello ma'am, everything going well?"
Yes, that was Purity standing in front of him. A surprisingly short, brown-haired woman in white leather. With a white safety helmet, orange safety vest, and a radio clipped to a borrowed belt. Yes, he was being very polite even if she looked ridiculous and got his name wrong. Why? Because it turned out Purity could control her beams, changing them from concussive force to cutting force. And after he watched the diminutive woman cut off the front of the ship like she was cutting a wedding cake? Several hundred tons of steel?! He was going to be very polite.
Also, whoever had given the woman who glowed a radiant white light a high-vis vest? He wanted to shake their hand. Because they knew exactly what they were doing with that one.
"Pixie! We're ready for you!"
The pair of them looked over, seeing a man waving at them from the end of the ship. Purity gave him a nod and started walking. That was another thing. Apparently the woman was trying to go hero. Or rebranding. Or something. It was far beyond Dennis' paygrade. He spent a moment watching the crews talk with Pixie, before she glowed and lifted up off the deck.
The Navy and Dockworkers were the coordinators for this project. They had spray-painted lines of various colors and lengths all over the ship, denoting cut points for the various Capes. They maintained the hours, controlled radio communications, and gave instructions where needed. They also took care of clearing out some of the fuel-oil and chemicals that somehow still sat in the tanks of the wreck. On shore, the DWU were hard at work with cutting tools, rending down the pieces that were deposited for them. Then loading the scrap onto waiting train cars.
Honestly? After the devastation in Boston, it was nice to be doing this. Seeing progress being made. All of this working was bringing life back to the Bay. Clock listened and chatted with the workmen and women who he now worked beside, and there was a palpable sense of energy about them.
THUMP.
He glanced over, feeling a twist of nerves sink into his belly. Rune stepped off her current ride, a solid steel bulkhead door that had come off the wreck. With her ability to control materials, she was invaluable in keeping material moving, as well as getting people around quickly in hard to reach areas.
"Clockboy," she nodded, brushing down her outfit.
He bit back his first response and settled on a safer second one, "Short shift today? Must be nice," he gave her a smile, not really wanting to anger her.
Working with Rune in Boston was…an experience. When he first got the news, he had been tense like a live wire, just waiting for her to float too high and shove him off the floating platform she commanded. But that never came. Instead, he got a worn-out girl who swore constantly, and who kept her hands in fists to keep them from shaking after Leviathan. The back and forth between the two of them was for both their sakes. The banter kept them from focusing on the dead and dying as they were combing the city to find survivors.
As things calmed, he found himself relaxing. Sure, she had seen his face, just as he had hers. But worrying about such things after surviving a city-killing hydrokinetic seemed…so silly. They both knew the score. They didn't talk about friends, or agencies, or beliefs. He didn't try to recruit her, and she didn't do the same. They complained about their bosses and cracked jokes about the situations they found themselves in. He honestly didn't expect anything to come of it.
Until he was pulled in to assist in this scrapping project. He was, oddly enough, the safety guy. With his time-stop powers, he could freeze a person and keep them safe if something went wrong.
Rune buffed her nails against her outfit, faking her inspection of them, "Well, you know how it is. They only call in the real talent when they need it. If they need dumb labor, they've got you all day."
Oh, that was a good one, but he wasn't going to let her have the last word, "Yeah, but I'm so damn pretty just standing around."
"So is a mannequin, at least those have good outfits most of the time," she smiled, and his gut twisted.
Fuck it all.
He pulled his backpack around, "Alright, real talk."
She tensed at his tone. He didn't really know how to say this, but like his mouth had done in Boston, he just forged on ahead, "Look, I made you something. It was meant to be a gag."
She bristled in response, getting ready to stomp over and get in his face, "If you think you're going to put a muzzle on me you—"
"Wait! Wait! No! It's not like that! Gag gift. Like a joke gift!"
Oh fuck it all, he opened his pack and pulled out the safety helmet he had made. Painted a dark green, with long foam ears sticking out the sides. He offered it out to her. She stared at it for a moment, uncomprehending.
"Look, I recently got told that I'm less funny than I think I am. And my sense of what other people might find funny is sometimes out of whack. So…I hope you find it funny. Because if not? I'm throwing it over the side and never talking about this again," he finished in a rush, waiting for her reply as he held the helmet towards her. The silence stretched.
"I don't get it."
He blinked. Tilting his head in confusion as rune crossed her arms and looked away, "It's a Yoda helmet. Little green guy? 'Use the Force!', 'Size matters not' and all that?"
"From a movie?"
For a moment, he was stuck. Then he bit back his first response again, which was to question if she lived under a rock her whole life, or mock her childhood. Wow…he really could be an ass. Here's to trying to be better.
"Yeah, from a movie. Series of movies actually. Yoda is this cool old guy who can move stuff with his mind and you kind of do the same with your power. So, I thought it would be fun to make the connection. Let you play the character."
The young woman looked down, kicking the ground a few times and letting her boots scuff the metal deck, "...My parents didn't believe in that stuff. Didn't approve. So…I've never seen it."
He swallowed. After a limited amount of time that he had spent with the girl, he knew that she hated to talk about her parents or her own faults.
"Okay, well…Movie night then," his mouth moved but his brain wasn't really thinking right now. He was just as shocked as Rune appeared to be.
She took a step forward, jutting a finger in his face, "If this is an attempt at getting me into that little circle jerk fan club of yours, I swear that—"
"Easy there, tiger. It's not like that. Movie night. Projector, some wall on a building roof, a pair of speakers, and popcorn. Nothing complicated."
Yes, his brain was dead, his mouth was moving on its own.
She folded her arms, shifting her weight as she looked him over, "Fine."
"Great! No idea when, but we'll set something up, after we carve this ship to pieces. Until then," he dropped the green helmet on his head. He was sure that it looked ridiculous, given that he was already wearing his costume helmet. He shifted his voice a little, "Hmm, teach you I will, the mysteries of the Force," he then laughed like the green little goblin he was portraying, his nerves getting the better of himself.
"You are so weird," Rune mocked. But she was smiling.
He liked her smile.
Jack Ryan
"Good to see you, Jack," Vincent Durling walked in. The Secret Service spread out across the room as the two men shook hands.
"Good to see you too, Vincent, thanks for making the trip this evening."
"Bag, it's good for me to get out of the White House. Helps clear the mind. Speaking of, how're you holding up? Got banged up pretty bad in Boston. Still walking with that cane?"
He chuckled as the two men took seats in the private lounge that he had cultivated. Private, swept for bugs regularly, and with rich carpets and tapestries to trap the sound.
"Political theater. Don't worry about it. I'm more worried about you! How're you holding up, Vincent? It's been a rough week and a half for you."
The man seemed to age before his eyes. Durling sighed, letting go of the 'presidential bearing' that he had carried for the past two terms, "A rough week? Call it what it is, Jack. It's the end of my presidency. Hells, the end of my time in politics. It's pretty much official. The party won't have anything to do with me after this. They'll block any attempt to oust me, but beyond that? I'm a seat warmer until the next President takes office."
The man fell silent, gazing off into the distance. He let the man think, the two of them had grown accustomed to the ways and methods of each other in the years that they had been working in politics.
Durling then eyed him, "Give it to me straight, Jack. Did I do the right thing in Boston?"
He pulled himself out of his chair, making his way over to the liquor cabinet.
"If we're going to talk straight, we should be drinking straight," he declared, listening to Durling laugh as he fetched a bottle and glasses. Returning to the table, he settled into his armchair across from the most powerful man in the free world. Pouring a measure, he slid the glass over before filling his own. Putting the bottle down, he then grabbed his own glass and held it up, "23,173. That's how many people pulled from the rubble. Then there are the tens of thousands more who found treatment and shelter from the cold, the rain, and the water. Take comfort in that, Mr. President. Those people are alive because you put good men in a position to do more good."
Durling swirled his glass, then gently clinked it against his own. Taking a small sip, he sat back and continued speaking, "Damn it all Vincent, the question of continuity of governance should have been cleared up years ago. Back when Behemoth hit Manhattan. I missed it, you missed it, your predecessors missed it. And every damn senator, congressman, and pundit who's bleating about 'procedure' also missed it.
He then sampled his drink again, enjoying the slow burn. He might be getting older, but that just meant that he appreciated things more.
"Why? Because we were arrogant. We watched the rest of the world fall apart and felt safe in our borders. Why? Because we had 'heroes'. The Protectorate. The Triumvirate. The greatest heroes in the world. We willfully ignored the fact that the Triumvirate only became the 'tri' because one of those greats were killed. We ignored the warning signs that our heroes aren't as great as we imagined they were, when they broke during the Ellisburg attack."
Jack took a breath, breathing out slow. He was angry. Not at Durling, but at himself. Because he had made the choice to slowly build the case against the supposed 'protection' offered by the PRT and Protectorate. It was a byproduct of his time with the CIA. Too much time spent in the shadows and crafting plans had dulled his sense to take action. It didn't help that the foe that he was rallying against was also one of the largest bureaucratic organizations in the government that had cultivated an image with the simple message of 'leave everything to us'. No collective effort needed. Leave the world to the singular exemplar. Leave it to the heroes.
"Things have to change."
Durling took a sip and gave him a long look, "I take it you have a plan?"
He smiled, he was done trying to form a meticulous plan that covered all avenues, he was going to tap into that which had made him a rising star in the intelligence community in the first place, "I have several. And it starts with the two of us getting into a screaming match, and me resigning from the Vice-Presidency."
Durling took a moment to look at him, then sat back with a sigh.
"Please tell me this isn't some complicated spy plot. I'm 73 years old for goodness sake!"
The two men laughed as he stood and strode over to his safe, proceeding to open it. His very secure, boobytrapped safe, with a hidden compartment with its own additional set of security within it. Would the Secret Service be annoyed at the explosives he had rigged it with? Maybe, probably, sure. But only if they were aware of it.
Closing the safe, he returned to the table with a file. The file. The one that had spurred his mad plan. Placing it down on the table, he sat back in his chair, "Read through this, sir. Tell me what you see?"
Durling placed his glass down, donned his glasses, and began to flip through the modest collection of papers.
"This is about Zero Dawn, that tech company you had me put a strategic asset tag on that everyone is talking about. These are…," by the third page he was silent. By the seventh, he was reading intently. He had the same reaction when he made the thing.
It had started with everything that Taylor Hebert was working on or developing using what she had and what she could get her hands on in short notice. When he had asked for more, anything that she could conceivably develop. The answer? Hundreds, possibly thousands of prototypes, concept products, and designs. Across dozens of different industries and disciplines. Then he had taken it a step further. Presenting it as a hypothetical to several tech and business interests that he had cultivated over the years. He asked how many products they could see developed off the products that she had created. The answer was thousands. Millions. Enough technology and knowledge to push industries forward decades in a single step. All that, condensed into a file detailing a possible future of the nation.
Durling closed the file, dropping his glasses on the manila as he looked over to him, "Why are you showing me this, Jack?"
"Because I need you to support her. Help that company grow. Give her government contracts, get the various spending committees to agree to send money her way. And most importantly? Keep her out of anyone else's hands."
"Jack, I can't just stick her in a vault. Our allies will absolutely crucify us if we keep them from getting access to her tech. I've already had diplomats asking about the new nuclear project the DOE is exploring. Sooner or later, this is going to blow up in our faces."
"We don't have to keep it contained forever. But it's us or our enemies. You think the Southern Cartels will sit quiet as we rebuild? Or the Russians? How about the Chinese Union Imperial? Zero Dawn Technologies is the key to pushing our economy and industry forward by decades. That's something our enemies can't allow. We have a month, likely weeks before intelligence assets descend on Brockton Bay and Boston like locusts. We have to be ready for that."
"And that's what you're doing? Getting back into the spy game?"
"You never really leave it, Vincent. I just chose to take a step back as the Vice President and let the machine work. But that doesn't mean I haven't kept a finger on the pulse and an ear to the ground. We need to change the playbook while we control the initiative."
Vincent was silent for what seemed like an eternity. The only sound in the room was the pendulum of the grandfather clock rocking back and forth in the room.
Finally, The President sighed, shaking his head, "Jesus Jack, if I'm losing you as my VP, I'm going to need to pick up a replacement," the older man tossed back his drink, a waste of perfectly good bourbon in his opinion, before placing down the glass, "Fine. But before you go running off, I'd like your opinion on what'll happen when I leave the office. Your insights have always been good."
"You mean for the election? With me falling out, I'm putting money on Shaw. The man marks all the checkboxes for what people will want in a leader. Ex-military, ex-PRT, he has that right balance of charisma and ability to give an outspoken opinion that even his enemies can agree to. He's going to build his entire platform around making noise about what he 'would do differently'. And he has the expertise to walk the walk. He's acting like the president, and he's getting that idea into everyone's heads."
Taking a sip of his own drink, he let that hang in the air for a few more moments, before continuing, "And chances are he'll ally himself with Costa-Brown, despite their mutual hatred for one another. She'll have no choice but to hitch her wagon to his because he's the best chance for her to push back against what has taken place in Boston, and she provides him with even more legitimacy on the Hill. So if anything, you should try and cut out more PRT control, and make it stick before he rolls out the welcome mat."
"The Hill is already making noise about panels and hearings for Boston. Now with the Canary report that Herres sent over? The Supreme Court is going to be pulled in, and that means that the Birdcage is going to be a major issue in the next election."
"Exactly. That's why we need to get things organized now. Pour the cement and make sure it's dry before Shaw takes office. That way he can't just flip a switch when his ass hits the seat."
"You mean that I'm going to spend the rest of my term fighting a political battle against the darling of the country, while you run around running covert ops that I don't want to know anything about. Damn…I'm almost glad that I'm going to be retiring after this."
"Look at it this way, Vincent. You'll have plenty of time putting together your memoirs and commissioning a presidential library."
"Fuck you very much, Jack," the man smiled, "Alright, so when does this all happen?"
He checked his watch theatrically, "Well, the people on my staff who like to gossip are going to be unloading a grocery run on the front lawn. So you've got time to finish another drink, then we'll walk, shout, and insult one another. And by this time tomorrow, it'll be all over the news cycle. We'll give it a few days, and then I'll announce my resignation."
Durling took the bottle, uncorking it and refilling his drink, "You're one crazy bastard, Jack."
"I try, Mr. President."
Taking his glass, the President held up his drink to his lips before pausing, "Did I ever tell you that I studied theater in college."
"I believe it came up on the campaign trail once or twice," he replied with a grin.
Amy Dallon
Brockton Bay
"Thanks for the ride, Corporal."
"No problem, ma'am. It was nice talking with you," the twenty-something corporal said, "will you need a ride tomorrow?"
"Unfortunately, Corporal, I have to go back to school. If that changes, I'll let Taylor know."
"Very well, ma'am. Have a good night."
I watched for a moment as the Humvee drove away, enjoying the familiar sounds of the night standing at the end of the driveway. It's strange, what you get used to. With big parts of Boston without power, you could suddenly see the stars at night. That wasn't the case here in Brockton Bay. I'm not sure which I preferred honestly.
Slowly making my way to the front door, I reflected on…everything. A week-and-a-half ago, I was rushed out of the house in Vicky's arms to go save lives in Boston. THen I stayed a week longer than everyone else in my family. It wasn't like my time at the hospital downtown. I had been part of a team and was expected to explain my actions and make my own decisions about where my powers were best used. Which was scary! But also amazing! I would have actual conversations with doctors, rescuers, nurses, and technicians all about how much to heal a patient and where I could be most useful.
Yes, I missed home. I missed my room, my stuff, and my sister. But being away? It made coming back feel different. Tomorrow I was supposed to go back to high school. Sit in class and learn about ancient history or some other shit. I didn't hate school, it was fine. I hung out around Vicky and her friends, and just…got through it. But now I understood Taylor's complaints about her father pushing her back to finish school. We had talked about it a few times, during our lunch and dinner meet-ups. She wanted to be building stuff. Important stuff! Sitting in that meeting today? Hearing everything that Taylor wanted to do with her company and her designs? It was…amazing.
I wanted to be part of that. I wanted to change the world. And working with Taylor? I legitimately could. But instead, I would spend tomorrow being stared at in the hallways and having teachers drone at me all day.
I had always had these impulses, these stray thoughts that appeared sometimes when I was healing. It started years ago, when I kept seeing the same thing over and over again. This little thought that told me to change a person's bone structure so their bones were less fragile and prone to breaking. Or seeing another person with a failing immune systems, imagining how to tweak their systems to better fight off infection or sickness. I had been terrified of those impulses, fearing that I would one day lose control of my powers and be branded like Nilbog or Bonesaw.
But no one in that meeting at Zero Dawn raised a word of protest. Taylor didn't even answer her Vice President's questions about my abilities. She just…asked me more about my work. We talked about all the details: Shelf life, interaction with different drugs, temperature and handling instructions, and most importantly, we talked about what it would take to have this made without me. And that's without getting into Taylor's statement about getting me 'a team'. Apparently, Taylor wanted to make a medical division to make stuff with her tech. I would be part of that, but a special unit. Independent and able to work on my own projects. The team would be there to help work backwards from the finished products that my powers let me create.
I was genuinely excited. There was no timeline at the moment. Hiring people took time, especially in the medical field. But I already had ideas for future creations and even an improvement for my synth-blood. All my samples were left at Zero Dawn's headquarters, which was much safer than hiding them in the back of my closet.
Unlocking the front door, I made my way into the house, stumbling a little as there were more shoes than normal.
"I'm home," I called out. I wanted to see how Vicky was doing. I know I wasn't supposed to share everything, but I could at least tell her a little about joining the company. Taylor was having her VP draft up a work agreement, something 'reasonable' in her words. I…wasn't sure how to take that, given that she seemed to think that sixty million dollars was starting cash for her company. I was a little giddy to find out though.
"Amy? In here sweetie."
Huh, that was Aunt Sarah. They must have come over after the ship-breaking. I made my way into the living room and my smile dropped as I looked around the room.
There was Aunt Sarah with a small frown on her face. Crystal on the couch looked bored scrolling through her phone. Eric was here too. Vicky sat wedged in the corner of the couch, her legs pulled up to her chin. Mark sat in his armchair. Uncle Neil was in the other armchair. And in the middle of the room? Carol stood waiting for me.
"Amy. We need to talk about where you were today," she declared.
My stomach sank and I looked to Vicky with wide eyes. She looked at me for a moment, then dropped her head, biting her lip.
Vicky…what have you done?
A new press release from Interim Governor Herres has sparked controversy today. The Governor announced that Paige Mcabee, the singer known as 'Bad Canary', has been taken into military custody. was found guilty of sexual assault with a parahuman power, and sentenced to the Baumann Parahuman Containment Center. It's unknown why or how was found free in the streets of Boston. Currently, the PRT has declined to comment, but the Governor made it clear that he had no intention of turning over Canary to the PRT. Hinting even that her criminal case was being investigated by the Judge Advocate General's office. - CNN, April 20th, 2011
Taylor
April 24th, 2011
I loaded up the next audio recording. I was almost done with only a few more to go. I had pages of notes from the previous batch. Improvements, suggestions, problems that would need to be resolved. The first LRL was good, everyone agreed. However, they also agreed that it could be better. This one came from...Garret, a firefighter.
Garret: Is Sparky going to be alright? The guys and I noticed that his leg wasn't working right. The front right if I'm remembering correctly.
Me: Sparky?
G: Yeah, the dog one with the cutting head. Called him Sparky because of how he was always cutting something.
M: We'll make sure to take a look at that. Are there any suggestions that you have about working with…Sparky? Anything that can be improved?
G: The cutter Sparky uses is good, but after a day or so it clearly was wearing down. Spares that he can carry around and tools to replace it in the field would be great.
Current Scrapper storage is insufficient to carry replacement blades and tools, I noted. Possible enhancement to frame in order to carry additional mass? Reoptimize storage on the Titan in order to handle additional components.
It would probably mean removing the communications and control suite from the Titan. But that was always meant to come out anyways. The question was how to utilize the storage once it had been done. Okay…next one. Mindy, a Boston paramedic.
Mindy: You're not going to kill'em are you? Because me and the boys are willing to buy them off you. I'm sure we can raise the money.
Me: I promise; we're not doing anything to hurt the machines. We're just conducting repairs to return them to full service. They did a lot.
M: I'll say! I remember when Bruce pulled that semi-trailer out of the way. Damn impressive.
T: Can you think of anything that would make working with…Bruce…more effective? Easier on you and the crew?
M: Yeah. Some winches and attachment points. For Bruce especially! Big guy like that, a lot of potential in hauling things around.
Front/Back Winch/Cable? Adjust foot design to allow better traction and grip? I would have to run some simulations once I got back to the lab. Yet another thing to add to the growing laundry list of things that I would have to do once I got back to work.
THUMP*
I gripped my harness with one hand, and slapped my other hand down blindly. I had turned off the vision function of my Focus because I had learned something unexpected. The vibrations of the helicopter? It REALLY messed with the depth-mapping and fidelity that the Focus provided as vision. It was nauseating to an amazing degree. Unfortunately, I didn't do much better with the vision turned off, either.
Amy caught my hand in hers, and I felt a wave of calm roll through my body. I took a few deep breaths, quietly squeezing her hand in thanks. Letting go, I went back to work.
The flight time from Boston to Brockton Bay wasn't long, but it was enough that I could get myself organized. Herres had assigned a pair of Blackhawk helicopters to provide transportation, with Amy and myself riding one, while the other was carrying Dad and Paige Mcabee.
I'll admit, I really didn't expect to find Canary in the ruins of Boston. But after Herres had explained her situation and her treatment, I was absolutely willing to provide shelter to the girl for however long it took to get her court case organized. Apparently the Judge Advocate General was now involved and I had spoken to Milton about getting his firm involved. The rest was out of my hands.
Another shift of the helicopter had me slapping my hand down into Amy's again.
Another wave of calm rolled through my body, and I just enjoyed the feeling. Amy hadn't said anything about my discomfort, and her quiet support to make sure that I didn't embarrass myself was nice in ways that I didn't expect.
I still didn't know what to think about this development. Not a month ago, I wouldn't have pissed on Amy Dallon if she were on fire. And now we had…maybe not a friendship, but at least an understanding between us. Hell, did I even know what a friend was anymore? Regardless of my own issues, the kinship between the two of us was nice.
Since the evening that Amy had taken me to the mural and I had broken down, we had spent our meals together, just talking about things. How our days were going, things that happened while we were working, just the sort of things you would expect in a workplace. I learned during our talks that Amy had a dry, sarcastic sense of humor, which was rather entertaining, especially when she delivered some of her stories about patients.
All in all, it was…nice. I didn't have any other way to describe it. It was nice to actually have someone to talk to without any expectations involved. It also was nice that they were doing it willingly without feeling the need or obligation to do so. Also, we were both teenagers with guard details who followed us everywhere inside the Boston camps. It tended to keep people at a distance, which meant that it was easier to just mesh together.
"You okay," Amy's voice came over the headset.
"I swear to God," I declared to Amy, "the next time I fly it will be in something I design."
Amy's laughter sounded over the din to my chagrin, "Flying isn't that bad, Taylor."
"It is when you consider we are flying in a helicopter design that dates back to the Vietnam War," I shot back, before adding in, "and is made by the lowest bidder with the cheapest quality parts."
I knew I had hit my mark when Amy fell silent and I couldn't help but flash a winning smile at her. But anything more was cut off by the feel of the helicopter beginning to slow.
"We're about three minutes out from our landing," the voice of their pilot sounded in her headset, "and personally, ma'am, I'd say that it isn't the machine that matters, it's the pilot."
"Well Lieutenant, give me a couple of months and I think you'll be changing your tune."
"Challenge accepted, ma'am," he chuckled.
I took it with a smile as the helicopter slowed and came to a hover, before slowly descending to the ground. With a gentle thump, we were back on solid ground and I had never been happier. I twitched back on my Focus, seeing Captain Schofield leaning over to undo my harness. He then unbuttoned Amy while I grabbed my bag at my feet. The door to the Blackhawk opened, the noise and wind buffeting us. Both of us had been warned ahead of time, so we kept low and jogged away, the captain keeping pace with us. As I was doing this, a pair of soldiers ran past me. Both of them with a briefcase handcuffed to each wrist as they ran into the cabin of the helicopter, the doors shutting behind them.
The Blackhawk then lifted back off into the sky and took off back towards Boston. I held my hair down as the wind whipped around us. A pair of Apache gunships falling into escort positions for its new cargo: Another two hundred Focuses.
It was then that the second Blackhawk came in for a landing. It repeated the same procedure, only this time, those disembarking were my father and the fourth member of our little coterie, flanked by a pair of military police with orders not to let her out of their sight.
The second helicopter took off with the captain, and I found myself turning back to the quartet of humvees that were currently awaiting for me, men and women arrayed around it. Another man was now walking forward now that the Blackhawks were clear. The only difference between him and other soldiers I had met so far was the beret on his head.
I strode forward, suspecting that this was the Major that Jean had been complaining about. I came to a stop a few feet from him.
"Ms. Hebert, Mr. Hebert, I'm Major Derek Cunningham, 823rd Base Defense Squadron. I've been placed in command of all assets assigned to the defense of Zero Dawn Technologies and its facilities."
"Major," I took the man's hand, shaking it. My father quickly followed suit after I was done.
"If you'll follow me, ma'am, sir, I have our transportation back to the compound."
"Miss Dallon will be accompanying us," I declared, deciding that now was probably the best time to get a measure of the man who was being put in charge of my defense. I needed to know just how much leeway he was willing to give me.
"Unfortunately, ma'am, I cannot allow that. I am to give you a briefing, and Miss Dallon is not cleared for that as she is not an executive employee of Zero Dawn. I will allow her to ride in the third vehicle and arrange transportation for her once we reach the main administration building."
"Major Cunningham, Governor Herres assigned Panacea to be my doctor. His orders were clear on the matter. She is to accompany me until I dismiss her."
It was somewhat of a stretch, but it was no less further from the truth. Again, I was trying to get a feel for the man himself. But the way that he stared at me for a few moments, his expression not changing, nor did he show any irritation with the fact that I was questioning him, told me that at least he was someone I could likely work with.
"Very well, ma'am. If you'll follow me, then. Ms. Mcabee will ride in the third Humvee."
We then followed after him, getting into the Humvee. Amy ended up in the very back in the jumpseat. Soon enough, we were off, even as the Major turned around to look at us.
"Ms. Hebert," he began, "currently, I have one hundred and eight-six men and women with me. As you are well aware, our current objectives are to provide defense and security to the facility and personnel, and begin preparation for additional units to be attached to the mission."
"And what units are you expecting?"
"All I know is that orders are being furnished right now ma'am. I have a team surveying the dockyards and figuring out what we'll need in order to house the defenses. But if it's any indication, it may include armor support considering the local criminal elements and security considerations."
"Armor," Danny spoke up, "like what kind of armor are we talking about, Major?"
"Sir, I do not know. All my orders currently contain is to provide security, complete the survey, and report back to my superiors before I am relieved. Anything else is merely conjecture, sir."
"Thank you, Major. What else can you tell me," I decided to cut my father off. I was about as comfortable as he was with the idea. Introducing armor into any defensive arrangement was liable to create a chance for escalation with the local gangs. It may just be a deterrent for most of them, but there were still the outliers.
But, it came with the new territory I found myself in. I was now a strategic asset to the government, which meant that my protection was paramount in their mind. My opinion and thoughts on the matters of my protection were secondary. I may have some input on the matter, but at the end of the day, they answered to their superiors and not to myself.
"Now that you are back, Miss Hebert, we will need to review security arrangements in the facility. This includes background checks on all personnel and assignment of security clearances. I have already talked with Mr. Jensen, and while you have a system put together, it needs further refinement."
"Will this cause any issues?"
"Government security clearances are a lot more in-depth and stringent, Ms. Hebert. They take a look at everything. Considering the staff you currently have, there will be a lot of hard decisions that will have to be made over the next few weeks."
"We'll take that under consideration," I responded, "what's going on with the Boston Corona? I know Governor Herres' is displeased that the removal of the ship is running behind schedule."
"From what I understand, they will finish dismantling the ship by tomorrow or the day after," the Major replied, "they have contracted out several capes to assist. New Wave, Uber & L33t, Purity, and Rune have all been involved in the operation. The PRT and Protectorate have been raising a stink about it, but they have no power and I've made it clear when they tried to cause a scene over the scrap being left with the docks."
I glanced towards Amy, who had perked up. It was understandable, she hadn't said anything to me, but the fact that none of her family had checked upon her in Boston had bothered her. From what I could gather, it hurt even more when her sister hadn't said anything either. I hoped that with Amy back in Brockton, she would have the opportunity to reconnect.
We started to slow and I drew my attention back to the front. Unfortunately, the Focus only provided vision for me at 40 meters, so I didn't see any problem that would cause us to slow. But then, I saw exactly why it was happening, even as the reason grew in its size.
There were dozens. No, there were hundreds of people ahead of us. Some of them I could see were reporters, while others were holding up signs. Some were angrily yelling, while others were quiet, instead looking towards the Humvee.
"This started up about five days ago," the Major said, "once you really started gaining traction in the news cycle. You have your reporters, protestors, counter-protestors, and supporters. No violence yet, but I think right now it's the adjustment period. Once they become entrenched it'll probably get a bit more problematic."
"I see," was my response as I stared out at the sea of humanity. And then we were finally past, just as someone finally noticed that I was in the Humvee and started making a commotion. The gate closed behind us and we pulled towards the main administration building, coming to a stop only a short while later.
I looked back again to Amy, who had been quiet the entire ride.
"Amy, would you like to join the meeting? I know we talked about you joining Zero Dawn, but before you did, I thought you would like to see what goes on behind closed doors."
"Can I run home and get something?"
Why would she, I chopped the thought off. Amy had been away from her home as long as I had been. Maybe there was something she needed done. Maybe she needed a change of clothes. It wasn't my business.
"Major, could you give her some transportation," I asked, considering adding additional impetus for him to do so, before dismissing that. I didn't want to put Amy on the spot. We hadn't really talked about what she would do, but I had always made it clear that my door was open for her to whatever she wanted in my employ, within reason.
"Taylor, you don't-"
"Amy, I'd be irresponsible if I didn't. You are also my doctor, and honestly, I really don't want to have you reliant upon public transport when we have better options."
There was a moment of hesitance, "Okay."
I then looked to the Major, "Since she is your personal physician, I can assign her personal transportation, Ms. Hebert."
"Thank you, Major."
AEH
"In response to an increase in gang activity on the southern border, we are going to be transferring High-Light, Rebound, and Scarlet Scarf to our southern offices. They will partner with Eidolon in keeping the Cartel capes from smuggling themselves and their gangs across the border. We have a number of other transfers taking place, some of which we will be announcing in the coming days. Yes, we are planning on rebuilding the Boston PRT and Protectorate, but that will wait until proper civilian control is returned to elected officials" - PRT Spokeswoman Emilia Thurman
AEH
Amy Dallon
"I'm home," I declared as I stepped into the house and closed the door behind me. When I didn't receive a response I felt myself frown, but wrote it off. According to Major Cunningham, New Wave was helping in the docks, so that was probably why the house was empty.
Placing my duffle bag with my clothes and costume in the laundry room, I then charted my course to my room. I didn't want to keep my ride, and Taylor, waiting too long, so I made haste as I thumped up the stairs. Soon enough, I was in my room, rifling through the closet.
"What are you doing?"
I screamed, bolting up in fright. Spinning around, I saw…Vicky. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, her hair a mess, and in pajamas. Looking down, I caught her floating. No wonder I didn't hear her coming.
"Nothing. What are you doing?"
She yawned, "Well, I was sleeping, but then you were tramping through the house," she then gave me a bright smile, "But now that you're back?! We can hang out! I've got nothing going on today."
"What? No. I mean; I'm running out again in a few minutes. Busy day," silently cursing myself by how fast the words were tumbling out of my mouth, I was trying not to be suspicious at all here, "Weren't you working with Carol and the rest on the ship?"
I grabbed a backpack I had laying around. Emptying it of school textbooks, I dropped it on the floor.
"Yeah, I was. We were. Just needed a day off, so I begged off today."
I paused, looking back at her. Just the way she said it kind of hit me. I remembered the tired faces in Boston: The rescue workers, firefighters, police, and thousands of other people who got up every morning with a broken city to fix. And Vicky just…decided to sleep in?
"Must be nice," I tried to keep my voice steady as I turned back to what I was doing.
Vicky hesitated a beat, her voice wavering, "Well…Hey, let me get dressed and I'll go with you. Then we can-"
I stuck my head in the closet, uncovering the box I kept in the back. Was it cliche to keep hidden things in the back of my closet? Maybe. But if it worked, why fix it? I had to raise my voice to make sure Vicky heard me.
"I'm sorry Vicky. But it's something only I was invited to."
I only had to hear her to know that she was no longer giving her trademark smile, "Oh. Well…how about later tonight?"
I poked my head back up, smiling at her and keeping my hands hidden.
"I don't know when I'll be back. But we'll get together another day. Promise," I carefully pulled my jars out of the box, feeling them over for leaks. Luckily there appeared to be no damage, so I wrapped them in some spare shirts. Good thing jam-jars are compact and sealed nicely.
Glancing back up at Vicky as I grabbed my backpack, my heart thumped. Her smile had faded away completely and I felt guilty all about this. She had always had that effect on me.
But there was no way Taylor was inviting Vicky into the inner workings of her company. And she invited me, not Vicky, that little voice in the back of my head pointed out. It honestly felt good that it was me finally being singled out, instead of dragged into whatever it was that Vicky was picked for.
And besides, Vicky might have apologized, but Taylor wasn't exactly the forgiving sort. Not easily. And even I knew that Vicky had apologized to placate Carol rather than any other reason. Taylor was VERY good at holding a grudge. Considering her admission that the reason she had chosen not to ask me to restore her sight had been out of spite to the people who had done it to her, there was a fairly good chance Taylor held a grudge against Vicky.
"Well, at least try and be back tonight? I think Mom would appreciate you coming back, and we can have a family dinner together."
Yes. A tense family dinner that was only one misstep away from Carol turning her ire on me. I always appreciated those, even if they were the highlight of Vicky's day. Well, that and hanging out with Dean.
I released a sigh, "I'll do my best, okay?"
"Alright," Vicky then yawned, "I'm going to lay back down." She gave me a small smile that I couldn't help but return. "Missed you sis." I felt her aura wash over me for a moment.
"Have a good sleep, Vicky," I then waited for her to float back out of the room before I turned back to the closet. Stuffing each rolled up jar-carrying-shirt into my backpack, I quickly zipped it closed, and placed it gently over my shoulder. I listened for a moment, satisfied when I didn't hear the sound of glass on glass.
Getting to my feet, I moved to the door and poked my head out to make sure that Vicky wasn't still in the hallway. Satisfied that she was back in the room, I quickly headed to the stairs, moving down them a bit less audibly. Reaching the door, I opened it and stepped out of the house, heading to the Humvee that was still waiting there for me.
AEH
Profiles of Courage. Vista, a passionate young hero who selflessly stepped forward and was instrumental in keeping the people of Boston safe when Leviathan brought ruin to the great city. Tonight, we'll examine the actions and future of one of the great up-and-coming Heroes of our nation.
AEH
Taylor
Taking a sip from my cup, I allowed myself a moment to enjoy the taste of the warm ginger, milk, and honey tea. It was a recent acquired taste that had come as a recommendation from Fox, as she noticed my unhealthy consumption of coffee. I hadn't had the opportunity to try it until now, and I found myself actually enjoying the taste of it.
It was relaxing, while at the same time invigorating, which was everything I was going to need for this meeting. Setting the expansively large mug down, I took the time to look around the room.
Jean was as immaculate as ever. She was currently surrounded by a stack of papers, a laptop, and a pair of tablets, going over them with a frenetic energy. A Focus was affixed to the side of her head as well. From what the data was telling me, she was only using it as a glorified cell phone at the moment. I wasn't sure what to think about that, but it was her choice.
Dad was currently sitting, nursing a cup of coffee himself. I wasn't sure what he was thinking at the time. I know he was teetering on the edge of being overwhelmed again, because when we had come back, one of the first things he had done had been going down to the shipbreakers and reviewing the progress with the Boston Corona.
I made a mental note to pull him aside, sit down, and talk with him. Really talk with him. I didn't want to lose him, because I think we were getting better. But with what was coming, I had a feeling that if I didn't make an active attempt at it, I would lose him again.
I then drew my gaze over to the last occupant of the room right now. Adam Jensen was an…oddity. He had just shown up at our doors not a day or so after our agreement with Far Zenith, looking for a job in security. Dad had interviewed him, and found out that the man had spent quite some time in counterintelligence and infiltration. Specifically what he did, the man wouldn't say, but he had been the one to design and staff their security from day one.
The sound of the door to the room opening, and I turned to take in Amy who scuttled into the room.
"Sorry about that," she said, her face a little red, "I got lost on the way there."
"And why is she here," Jean asked pointedly, "she is neither an executive, nor is she an employee of Zero Dawn."
"I invited her," I said firmly, staring her down, "Amy and I have been talking about the possibility of becoming an employee of Zero Dawn. And as my primary physician, on the orders of Governor Herres, she goes where I do."
"I want to be one," she blurted out, and I turned to look at her, she bowed her head slightly, like she was embarrassed, "an employee, that is. Taylor. I even brought something that I can offer."
I cut Jean off before she could add anything, instead I offered a smile and a nod, "Okay, Amy. Show us what you got."
She walked over to beside me, pulling up a backpack and placing it down on the table. I felt my eyebrow raising at the scene, even as she unzipped the pack and rifled through it. Soon enough, she pulled out a series of jars on the table after unwrapping them. There was obviously some sort of liquid in them, but I couldn't tell what it was for obvious reasons.
When she remained silent for a few awkward moments, I coughed, trying to stop myself from smiling, "What am I looking at Amy?"
"Oh. OH! Sorry, Taylor. Anyways, you remember the first time we talked? About what hospitals need? Well, this is that synthetic blood we talked about."
"Ah," Well, that was certainly surprising. I remembered we had talked about it, but I certainly didn't expect it to reach this point. I reached out, taking one of the jars in hand, even if I couldn't naturally see the color, the feel of it in my hand sloshing around in the container was enough.
"Well done," I said quietly, looking at her, she hadn't stopped looking at me the entire time, it was apparent she wanted my opinion, "but there is only one issue, Amy."
Jean interrupted me, clearly shocked at the reveal, "I'm sorry, 'synthetic blood'? My understanding is that hospitals already have something like that? And I thought Panacea's power revolves around healing?"
I looked at Amy, nodding to her. This was her invention, she would have to defend it. The brunette cleared her throat, "Well, yes. Hospitals do have blood substitutes, none of which really measure up to biological blood. Which is why hospitals still rely on blood drives and donations. However, mine is different. It's capable of carrying oxygen, which is a major problem with most substitutes. It's also non-reactive to a person's blood-type, preventing rejection from the body. And it also reacts to blood clotting and thinning medications. I haven't tested it against all known blood diseases, but the majority that I have tested have shown no interaction. The disease can't infect it."
Did…did I sound like that when I started going on about my machines? It was endearing to see Amy grow more animated the more she spoke about her product. I looked over to Jean, who was still holding the jam-jar of miracles, "I told you I was looking into developing medical technologies, Jean. I just didn't say if it would be my focus or not," I finished with a grin as Jean just sat back and gazed in wonder at Amy's creation.
"Oh God, there are two of them," Jean muttered under her breath, obviously not expecting for herself to be heard by how lowly she said it. It was a pity that she forgot what my Focus could do, but I chose not to express my thoughts on the matter.
"Now Amy. I understand that this would be the finished product, but do you have notes on the production process? Steps, equipment needed, catalyst chemicals?"
She looked completely poleaxed, obviously not expecting my questions, which caused me to smile gently.
"If you are going to work for Zero Dawn, Amy, you have to approach everything like an engineer or scientist," I said, offering her a small smile as I put down the jar, "which means you have to document everything."
"Oh," she said, looking confused for a moment, "What do you mean?"
"You might have created the end result, but I doubt you want to be making the same thing all day, everyday. We want to hand the design to a team who will figure out how to make it in bulk, design the machines needed to create it, and so on. Chemists, engineers, doctors.. If they understand how each component goes together, they can better work out a production process."
Amy blinked slowly like an owl, her lips parted, "Oh. That's what you mean."
I nodded, "Not only that, but it's one of the only weapons we have against NEPEA-5. If we can prove that everything we do is perfectly replicable with the right materials and technology, then we cannot be accused of using our powers to get an unfair advantage. How about we talk about that later, Amy? Please, take a seat, and let me be the first to welcome you to Zero Dawn Technologies."
"Thank you," Amy said, before finding one of the empty seats and placing herself in it.
"Alright," I said, turning back to look over the entire gathering, "I know a lot's going on, and we're all playing catch-up. So this meeting is to get us all on the same page. To start with, Adam, I hope Paige and her guards have been settled in?"
Our Head of Security nodded, "We have her setup in employee housing. It's not glamorous, but it will do for now. I have someone getting essentials organized for her now."
I made a note, planning to follow up with Paige later. Development of her voice-distorter was fairly simple, I already had ideas for improvements to make it less bulky. "Alright now, Jean, what are we looking at as current issues?"
The normally composed woman shot me a withering glare. At least I think so. Focus-vision kind of made it less impactful, "We have a mob sitting out on our doorstep, our available funds are approaching zero, we still have no marketing or response to the increasing demands for information, and there are armed soldiers requesting access to personnel records."
She took a deep breath, seeming to pull herself together, "Alright, first off, we need to respond to questions. We are completely unprepared for this kind of media blitz, and something must be said to focus the narrative. Otherwise we risk other voices influencing the public about us.
She glanced around the table, first at me, then at Danny, "Since we don't have a company spokesperson, I will speak to them. As soon as we agree on our message."
"I could talk to them," I volunteered, "It's my products that they're interested in, after all."
"I don't think that's a good idea, Taylor. Let me talk to them today. You and I will discuss media appearances another time," I noted the careful neutral tone, but let things go. Jean was the expert out of all of us on how to handle the press in a situation like this.
"Alright then, Jean. I'll leave it in your capable hands. Mr. Jensen, how are you and the security team working with the military? I understand that they're asking for personnel records?"
Jensen nodded, "Overall, we've let them handle things and have been very hands off about it. My security teams have been set up to keep out vagrants and Merchants, not deal with crowd control. But the Major has made some concerns known. And Jean has gotten the same speech. With your new status comes new concerns about our location. Frankly, this facility is not defensible enough for the powers-that-be. Especially if we have to start worrying about spies or sabotage."
"Alright, do they have a suggestion for where we might move," I certainly did not want to move. But it couldn't hurt to ask. The reality is that I'd moved into the old DWU building because it was available, familiar, and had the facilities that I needed. It had worked long enough to get us off the ground.
Jensen shook his head, "Nothing yet. But it might be good for us to find solutions before they start picking wallpaper for us."
Adam then looked around the table. I could see Amy had pulled a notebook out and was working on something, holding her experiment jar in one hand. Clearly she was working on her own thing, which was fine, she didn't have much to contribute yet.
"The next problem is that we're going to get pressure about the employees," he continued, "I've already had several requests to hand over the files. I haven't done so yet, but that probably hasn't stopped the security checks from starting," he then gave a long look at Jean, which… I didn't really understand, but promised to look into it later.
The older man said, folding his hands on the table. "Simply put, half of the people in Zero Dawn would not pass an in-depth government background check. That includes both your father and yourself."
"What," I asked, shocked at the declaration. I would fail a security check? How? What would cause Adam to come to that conclusion? There was nothing that should cause any sort of security issues for me. I was only fifteen for fuck's sake?! What could I have done that would have warranted a failure?
"Do you really want to know, Boss? Or would you prefer to be told privately?"
"I'd like to know, thank you very much!"
"Your mother's connections to Lustrum will raise a red flag," Jensen told me, his voice completely unchanged, like he was discussing the weather, "in-depth government background checks don't just stop at you. They look at every facet of your life: friends, family, even if you smoked underage. Anything that could cause possible security or character issues is gone over with a fine-toothed comb."
His hands opened, "Now, that doesn't mean they will not grant an exemption for you, but for the rest of the people that raise a red flag, it may not be so easy. You probably have the right of it in that you will be able to transfer them to someplace non-essential, but it may not be enough. It's an entirely different beast altogether when dealing with background checks like these."
Dad spoke up, a hint of anger in his voice, "We can't just let people go. Not after they've worked so hard to get us here! Yes, I know that some people did what they had to in order to keep food on the table. I don't fault them for that. We just can't start stepping on them now. It's not right."
He then looked at Jean, then to me, looking for support. And just for a moment? I hesitated. Yes, it would be simpler to let everyone go. But it would be wrong, for both moral and business reasons. Jenson spoke up as I thought things over.
"It's not a question of if a person is good or bad. It's a question of pressure points, Boss. Divided loyalties. Blackmail. Leverage. Anything that might make a person vulnerable to outside influence is going to be flagged."
I raised a hand to stop Dad from arguing back, "We're going to cooperate with the checks," I felt myself flush as Dad sighed and deflated in his seat.
At least let me finish before judging me, Dad.
"We're also not going to let anyone go regardless of past actions. Unless we have clear evidence of outside influence or divided loyalties, they are going to remain as part of ZDT," I could see him sitting back up and smiling at me.
Again, Dad…just let me finish.
I looked over at Jensen, then Jean, then Dad, "However, we are going to set up some separation. The Dockworkers are going to be busy with the harbor restoration and then shipping when the port reopens. The DWU will be restored back to its own entity, connected with Zero Dawn but running their own affairs. We'll try and keep anyone we can as part of Zero Dawn. But if we can't, then they will have a place with the DWU unless they choose not to. If that were to happen, they will be offered a severance package. Inside Zero Dawn, we'll set up security levels to compartmentalize the company. Adam, can you organize that? I am thinking three levels of clearance should be sufficient."
The man nodded, making a note, "I'm thinking five, but I'll work on the issue. You're hoping that by doing this you'll keep Washington happy?"
"It will at least keep them happy enough to compromise. Jean," I looked back at my vice-president, "I'd like you and Adam to look into building and land purchases for future ZDT office and workshop space. We're clearly going to have to move if what you are saying is true. And it's better that we do it on our own terms."
"I'll look into it, I've also got a list of properties that you asked for last week. It's probably best to hold off a day or so on the new office space. We should be getting a federal liaison officer who will be our point of contact. They should have a report from the Major about security concerns, or at least be able to arrange a meeting," Jean pulled another note from the stack next to her, "Also, Taylor. Your security detail is going to be arriving around the same time."
I quickly gulped down a mouthful of my tea, "My what? I thought that's what the Major was here for?"
Jean glanced at Adam before answering, "No, the Air Force unit was a stop-gap measure. They're going to be leaving within the month, once your security team settles in and they have finalized their reports."
"And I'll be working with them to reorganize our security for the compound," Adam added.
I looked between the two of them, before Amy caught my eye. She was raising her hand, which focused everyone on her and she dropped it hesitantly.
"Sorry Amy, you have something to add?"
The frizzy-haired girl took a breath before answering, "Yes, umm…with all of these restrictions and everything…is this 'Strategic Asset' designation really something you want," she then took a quick glance around the table, "I mean, it seems to have a lot of restrictions and negatives, and we're only just getting started."
I gave her a sad grin, "Victim of my own success, I suppose. And yes, this is all very good for us. First off, we're going to get more support and protection against the PRT and various laws regarding parahuman powers. More importantly, we're going to get protection from lawmakers. We also get priority access to materials, shipping, grant money, and paperwork submissions. I think there's some tax exemptions as well."
"But more importantly? We're going to get access to more support in sourcing industrial areas," I pulled up a list displaying it on the wall-screen, "Basically, the Government will buy factories for us, then give us generous terms to pay for them. And we can get access to industrial land which is being held by banks due to bankruptcy or other such."
"But probably most importantly," I looked them all over again, "It grants us connections with other companies that will allow us to license our products and materials if we are currently unable to produce them. This increases our overall footprint in the economy, and also will provide us additional streams of income without putting strain upon our current resources."
I looked back to Amy, who was looking back at me, chewing her lip. I gave her a smile to reassure her, "Yes, there are downsides. But I want to bring my technologies to everyone. This will help me do it. So, at the end of the day, I can live with it."
I didn't look over at Dad. I could feel him giving me a sad and concerned look. It was over and done with. Not like I could seal Pandora's Box now that I had opened it. Besides, people always seem to forget how the story ends. FIrst, all of the evils burst out, but at the bottom hope is found. Pandora just had to get through the bad to find the good.
"Yes, I agree we're well-positioned for growth, Taylor. But we have no money to fuel it," Jean spoke up in the ensuing silence. She looked around, "I don't want to be known as the woman constantly harping about dollars, but the reality is we're running very low on available funds. And it is categorically impossible for our investors to put more money into Zero Dawn. Mr. Gabriel has been hit hard by the devastation in Boston, and Mr. Fontaine is currently unable to assist. With the projected expenditures for pay, material purchases, overtime, and other things, we're going to be in the red within months."
"I have a solution. And I'm well aware that the investors are awaiting their return of the sixty million dollars investment. If you speak to them, please give them my assurances that profits are on the horizon," I pulled up some images on the screen hanging on the wall. I saw Amy's jaw drop at the numbers. Containing my grin, I kept moving forward.
"I'm expecting that various government departments and programs will want immediate access to the Focus devices and supporting systems. Some of which are not yet in production. The goal would be to get advance payment to start the production lines for the Ptah and Ananke, which will both be able to be stress-tested here with the DWU and security team. As well as my guards."
That was going to be our 'in' for large amounts of money. Thankfully, the Focus was only one facet of the entire system, just to support it would require servers and data systems in order to sustain it.
Something to discuss.
"Another element that I have been putting off for a while has been the possibility of licensing. For example," with a wave of my hand, I pulled up an image of the wiring used in the Machines, "This wiring is 186% better than current industry standard for high end electronics."
I then brought up the computer chips that went into Sobek, "These are 353% faster than the current top of the line processors."
Finally, I brought up the batteries that were currently in use to store power inside the Machines, "And these are nearly 1030% more efficient than the current DragonTech batteries."
Jean looked at the images, her jaw dropping. Yes, she had missed this aspect of our business. And as much as it pained me to say it, I had watched Greg's livestream. The comments had reminded me of what I had failed to do as a responsible business leader. But I had spent so long focusing on the entirety of the machines and the end-product Foci to prepare for Leviathan that I had ignored the important fact that all the parts that made up those products? Were all better than almost everything on the market right now. And selling those products? The pieces that could go into new machines that other companies would make? It would make us a lot of money, with limited effort on our parts. No marketing, no sales expenses. Just pure money.
Money that we needed now.
"I know you already have people talking to you about licensing, Jean, and I'm sorry that I'm going to add to your workload, but we should probably start reaching out to other tech and construction companies. Even if it's licensed production, it will start quickly filling our coffers. We will just have to be careful not to upset the industry and market too much. With the new factories we can start production and have them shipped out so other companies can start developing new products. After we keep what we need, of course."
Jean was writing furiously, "And what are we going to do with this potential windfall?"
"Hiring and expanding. It's very clear we need more staff. A proper team for marketing, accounting, HR, hiring and a whole bunch more that I'm forgetting right now. And that's before we start looking at expanding. We have the DWU, who are going to be working with the Docks reopening. We also have the ships that are going to be scrapped soon. That's going to take a lot of heavy machinery and general labor experience."
Taking a sip from the tea for my parched throat, I continued, "And then, we're going to expand our operations. We need a special medical team for Amy, and a general medical department for tools, machines and the prosthetics that I'm going to transfer over. We're looking for experts: Medical engineers, doctors, chemists, and more. I want to also start buying housing properties once we have the money. Apartments and otherwise, both here and in Boston. We have a lot of tech that can be used for construction. And if you give me a few days, I'll have some solid improvements for solar panel production. And that will allow us to employ more people in Brockton Bay and Boston."
"But that's for the future, Taylor," Jean said, typing something in her tablet, "once we start getting concrete figures, then we can start discussing hiring and land purchases. Though, I have a good feeling, based upon what you are saying, that the money situation will likely disappear shortly."
"Thank you. Now, moving on, what are we going to be doing in the interim. Focus production will continue in preparation for our release of the Hathor device. I know we're probably going to have to renegotiate with the phone companies on the matter after Boston, but I think the prospect of money and the government backing us is going to make them change their tune quickly. We're still probably going to have to negotiate with them the necessary upgrades to their network in order to provide full support for the device, but I think we are going to be in a position of power to enforce it."
I thought about the communications system I'd shoved into the Titan. Yes, that would certainly be an upgrade over the current wireless services. I had a feeling that once the telecom companies became aware of it, they would be beating down our doors for it.
"Next, the LRL. As of right now, they will be returning back to Brockton within the week. I have already discussed withdrawing them with Governor Herres and he agreed that their service is no longer needed at this time. The next month or so will be spent reviewing the data from Boston and implementing possible modifications and improvements to the design. Right now, I don't believe there will be too many orders for the design, at least not until people have had enough time to digest the information. Also, part of the hiring surge will be building a team around the Light Rescue Lance. Future development, training crews to work with the LRL and other machines, marketing and sales, things like that. When I get around to developing the Medium and Heavy Lances, they will also take control of that."
See Herres…I can delegate. Some part of me knew that I should let it go. Maybe next week.
"Those machines are a PR coup," Jean cut in, and I found myself nodding in response, "the only thing even coming close to the phone calls for interviews have been the phone calls from several companies about using their likeness in toys and other things, Taylor. It'd be a mistake not to utilize it."
"I don't disagree, but perhaps it would be wise if we tap the experience of someone who has been involved in licensing like you are suggesting," I then turned my head to Amy, "Amy, do you think you can help Jean with some of the licensing."
"Oh, umm, me," she looked flustered that I was asking her for help, "I mean, I don't really know, Carol handled a lot of the licensing deals. I just…kinda did what she wanted."
"But you do have an eye for it, Amy. You were the one that suggested that the Burrowers play those games with the children. That and the dance video of the Burrower."
"It just kinda came to me."
"But it did a lot for the image, Amy. You also have experience in dealing with these companies, I'd rather have you take a look over it with Jean. Just make sure we're doing it right, okay? Rather have people I trust than passing it off to someone I don't know."
"Okay," the girl burrowed into her seat. I hope I wasn't putting too much pressure. But I wanted to make her part of the team, and that meant giving her work in order to integrate her.
"Only thing I would add to this is that if we are going to license out likenesses, let's maximize it for the children. That will be the fastest way to normalize the idea of machines like the LRL." Jean nodded, "I'll reach out to Hasbro and other such companies."
"Moving on to the next subject, tooling," I turned to my father, "Dad, I know we discussed this in the past, but we can't ignore it anymore: We need to accelerate upgrading or replacing our tools and machinery. I know I have placed you in an awkward position because a lot of these tools and machines that we need are custom-built and designed, but we need to start looking at moving it all in-house."
"If we're looking in a new building space, should we really be looking into upgrades now? WHy not wait until we have a better idea of locations before going all-in on big spending," Dad nodded at Jean, "Not to mention that big spending is something to be shy about right now."
I bit my lip, running the numbers. Damn, he was right, "Alright…I would still like estimates. Go through our stock and see what needs improving or upgrading."
"I'll have to sit down with Kurt and Lacey. They'll know better what we can and cannot do with what we have. I'm not criticizing, but it would have been a lot easier if we had focused on building the tools first instead of going all-in on the LRL."
I know it wasn't a criticism, but at the same time, I fought the urge to bristle at the same old argument being brought up. I know what I had done went against the grain of everything an engineer should do. Tools to make tools to make machines were the core of any engineer's repertoire, and I had actively thumbed my nose by forcing the building of those machines before we had the exact tools. It resulted in more man-hours having to be spent and an inferior quality, but I would not have changed it for anything else in light of the lives saved.
Instead, I nodded my head in acknowledgment that he was right, but kept the thought that he was also wrong to myself, instead changing the subject, "Had to be done. Finally, I think we need to discuss future projects, specifically what we are going to sell to the government going forward. In addition to Amy's medical technology, there are a few other technologies we can start building now without having to wait and build up a larger production base."
I then brought up my Focus, accessing a set of files that I had selected for this meeting. A few of them I had worked during my downtime in Boston, where I had the opportunity to identify things that could meet a demand, or could have improved the situation in Boston if they had been available. Others were concepts that had been more…recently inspired.
"First, I want to get us to get started on medical technology. The Focus was good as a stop-gap measure once we uploaded the medical diagnostic programs, but it might as well have been a thermometer in comparison to what we could be fielding. There is, of course, the Ptah-pattern Focus, but we have the opportunity for portable medical devices that can scan and provide data for the doctors and medical personnel in the field. Imagine medical personnel, before the patient even reaches the hospital, can scan and identify trauma and prepare the medical staff that are going to receive the patient."
I then brought up a series of images and schematics. At the core of it was the diagnosis tool that was akin to a wand that could be waved over the patient, with the data being fed into the rest of the system. It wouldn't likely meet the fidelity of the larger machines, especially once other advances appeared, but it wasn't supposed to replace them in the first place.
"We'll probably have to license this out, unfortunately. I don't see us having the capacity to produce this for the foreseeable future. But it's another avenue of income, and I have no doubt it will be in high demand. At the price tag I'm imagining for the materials, even sold at minimal profit, you could have local clinics in most rural areas able to afford it."
Amy had perked up from what she was doing, her gaze looking over the device with a curious look on her face. Jean's expression was closely guarded. I knew it would be a hard sell, I was stretching us further than thin, but these were things that I wanted to sell to the government now, now that we were on the clock for another possible Endbringer strike in three months. The sooner we started preparations, the better.
"Finally, and I am going to push hard on this," I swiped another file into the projector, and this time I brought up a new image. This one had the full schematics and blueprints, all the way down to the engines themselves, "I want to invest into drone technology. I know this is a leap, but it's not much different than the LRL is right now. One of the difficulties we had with Boston was that we were reliant upon flight-capable capes and helicopters once we had them. But for those first hours, we lost critical information that could have resulted in better response times and saved more lives. The Skywatcher is small enough to be transportable, but has enough fuel and resources to stay aloft for hours at a time. With its sensors and ability to integrate with the Focus network. If we had just four of these for Boston, we could have had round the clock aerial coverage to provide better responses."
"If we're going to be discussing more machines, then we need to have this discussion now. How are we going to handle the rollout of Blaze? I got back details on the production facility you are proposing, but a lot of people are going to be very concerned about bio-conversion tech. That's without commenting on the pushback we'll see from oil and gas interests," Jean spoke up.
Our meeting didn't finish for another hour, planning how best to move the company forward. Several plans were stuck waiting on the federal liaison and security team. But it was enough that we had a plan and direction.
Stretching, I walked over to Amy. I wanted to see how she was getting on with writing out the production process for her synthetic blood.
AEH
Good afternoon, everyone. My name is Jean Brown. I am the Vice-President of Zero Dawn Technologies. I will start with a prepared statement, then take several questions. Please note, that a technical demonstration of our products is currently being planned, but I have no date to provide at this time. All requests for private interviews are currently being denied.
—-
Q: Ms. Brown, incorporation documents state that Taylor Hebert is the CEO of this company, on top of being its Director of Research and Development. How do you respond to accusations that this constitutes child exploitation and work safety violations?
A: We previously had a visit from both the PRT and Child Protective Services. They found no issues and provided several recommendations that we have put into effect. We have also been in close contact with OSHA concerning Miss Hebert's presence, and have abided by their directives.
—-
Q: The connection between Zero Dawn and the military is clear. What kind of weapons systems are being developed? Does Zero Dawn plan on weaponizing its machines or bio-conversion technology?
A: We do not. Yes, Zero Dawn is working to develop military equipment. We are, however, not developing weapons.
—-
Q: What limitations are in place to prevent the AI-driven machines from breaking loose. Do we need to fear another AI incident on the level of Eagleton?
A: The machine intelligence in our robots are created with a new programming language that is understandable to a skilled technician.. It is nowhere approaching the scale of artificial general intelligence. These are not Tinkertech. As such, there are clear safeties
—-
Q: Why is Ms. Hebert, who is clearly a Tinker, not a member of the Wards? Why has Zero Dawn not been working with the PRT and the Protectorate?
A: As I have said before, Ms. Hebert is not a Tinker, she's a Thinker. Her power lets her understand technology. Zero Dawn builds it for her.
—-
Q: Word is that you took the machines being used to find survivors home early during search and rescue, due to design limitations and shortcomings. How many more will die because these Tinkertech machines were improperly fielded and poorly utilized?
A: That is categorically false. Our Light Rescue Lance performed far beyond expected limits, working four days without any downtime. They were only recalled with the agreement of the Interim government of Massachusetts, when rescue efforts were stepped down. They are now being called back to Brockton for evaluation and upgrades, and we hope to have the team back in Boston as soon as possible.
—-
Q: The Dockworkers Union has been working with the military to break down the Boston Corona. And in doing so, they have recruited prominents members of the Empire 88 gang. Notably, Purity and Rune.
A: I'm sorry, is there a question there?
Q: Yes. Do you feel that hiring these criminals minimizes their prior destructive actions?
A: No, I do not. I will note that the work being done on the Boston Corona is being done in cooperation with members of the Protectorate, Wards, and New Wave. This is a joint effort to bring relief to Boston and remove a blight in the Bay area. Our justice system has long had a history of reformation, and I hope that these women use this experience to turn their lives around.
No further questions.
—-
Q: Ms. Brown, incorporation documents state that Taylor Hebert is the CEO of this company, on top of being its Director of Research and Development. How do you respond to accusations that this constitutes child exploitation and work safety violations?
A: We previously had a visit from both the PRT and Child Protective Services. They found no issues and provided several recommendations that we have put into effect. We have also been in close contact with OSHA concerning Miss Hebert's presence, and have abided by their directives.
—-
Q: The connection between Zero Dawn and the military is clear. What kind of weapons systems are being developed? Does Zero Dawn plan on weaponizing its machines or bio-conversion technology?
A: We do not. Yes, Zero Dawn is working to develop military equipment. We are, however, not developing weapons.
—-
Q: What limitations are in place to prevent the AI-driven machines from breaking loose. Do we need to fear another AI incident on the level of Eagleton?
A: The machine intelligence in our robots are created with a new programming language that is understandable to a skilled technician.. It is nowhere approaching the scale of artificial general intelligence. These are not Tinkertech. As such, there are clear safeties
—-
Q: Why is Ms. Hebert, who is clearly a Tinker, not a member of the Wards? Why has Zero Dawn not been working with the PRT and the Protectorate?
A: As I have said before, Ms. Hebert is not a Tinker, she's a Thinker. Her power lets her understand technology. Zero Dawn builds it for her.
—-
Q: Word is that you took the machines being used to find survivors home early during search and rescue, due to design limitations and shortcomings. How many more will die because these Tinkertech machines were improperly fielded and poorly utilized?
A: That is categorically false. Our Light Rescue Lance performed far beyond expected limits, working four days without any downtime. They were only recalled with the agreement of the Interim government of Massachusetts, when rescue efforts were stepped down. They are now being called back to Brockton for evaluation and upgrades, and we hope to have the team back in Boston as soon as possible.
—-
Q: The Dockworkers Union has been working with the military to break down the Boston Corona. And in doing so, they have recruited prominents members of the Empire 88 gang. Notably, Purity and Rune.
A: I'm sorry, is there a question there?
Q: Yes. Do you feel that hiring these criminals minimizes their prior destructive actions?
A: No, I do not. I will note that the work being done on the Boston Corona is being done in cooperation with members of the Protectorate, Wards, and New Wave. This is a joint effort to bring relief to Boston and remove a blight in the Bay area. Our justice system has long had a history of reformation, and I hope that these women use this experience to turn their lives around.
No further questions.
AEH
Dennis Peters / Clockblocker
Brockton Bay
Dennis liked to make people laugh. Not just because it felt good, but because it helped smooth things over. Tense mood? Make someone smile. Bad news? Make a quip. Humor? It was like bomb disposal in tense social situations. Always valuable. Always a success.
Until it wasn't.
He reached up, prodding the bruise around his eye. Ah! Yeah, still tender. Did he deserve that sucker punch? Probably. That doctor who sat him down and gave him a beer seemed to think so. By the way? Beer? Worst stuff he's ever tasted. He didn't see the appeal.
But the man's explanation made sense, "Never make jokes at someone, because it's damn easy to miss the mark and turn it into an attack. You can make jokes about things they did, or do. But when you start mocking them? Then you're not entertaining, you're tearing them down. And that hurts. Laugh with a person, not at them."
He wanted to defend himself, but given that he had just been punched by an angry rescue worker? He gave the doctor the benefit of the doubt. Then he had been called back to Brockton, given a few days off, then put right back to work.
But those few days? He spent them with his dad. Which was…absolutely amazing. To see the man who had spent the last few years wasting away in a hospital bed up and moving around? It made him feel like he could take on Leviathan all over again. They talked, and he found himself both being praised and grilled for his actions with the medical teams in Boston.
His watch beeped, and he pulled his helmet back on.
Back to work.
Walking out of the small cabin, he pulled a backpack with him. Throwing it over his shoulder, he made his way to the edge of the boat. It was damn impressive working here, looking up at the wreck from the smaller boat that he was on. He remembered when he and the other Protectorate teams had first arrived. The Boston Corona was a floating mountain of rusted steel, crushed up against the breakwater on the inside edge of the harbor. Now? It was looking more and more like a carved up carcass. With ladders and rope bridges running back and forth between the breakwater and the wreck on one side and floating ships on the other.
He adjusted his radio, turning it up again, hearing the call and response to people across the worksite. Picking his way across the rope bridge, he entered through a cut in the side of the Corona and started climbing the inside stairs. The process for gutting the ship was fairly simple, really. With the Blaster and Shaker capes on hand, they were a full demo team. New Wave were the cutters, carving up pieces of the ship to be hauled onto the distant beach or shoreline. Glory Girl, Shielder, and Manpower were haulers, GG especially. Several tons of steel were nothing to her, it was just a question of making sturdy handles. Loads that were too large tore apart under their own weight, and awkward shapes were awkward. Together, the family first carved off any loose bits. Cranes, pipes, exhaust, the entirety of the raised bridge area. As well as carrying any leftover cargo containers that were inside the ship.
Then…the big guns were called in. Purity had been a staple of Brockton cape life since he had joined the Wards. She was the strongest Blaster on the East Coast right after Legend. Her normal white helix beams were crushing concussive force. But…
He reached the top deck and looked out on the work area.
"Mr. Clock, hello there."
"Hello ma'am, everything going well?"
Yes, that was Purity standing in front of him. A surprisingly short, brown-haired woman in white leather. With a white safety helmet, orange safety vest, and a radio clipped to a borrowed belt. Yes, he was being very polite even if she looked ridiculous and got his name wrong. Why? Because it turned out Purity could control her beams, changing them from concussive force to cutting force. And after he watched the diminutive woman cut off the front of the ship like she was cutting a wedding cake? Several hundred tons of steel?! He was going to be very polite.
Also, whoever had given the woman who glowed a radiant white light a high-vis vest? He wanted to shake their hand. Because they knew exactly what they were doing with that one.
"Pixie! We're ready for you!"
The pair of them looked over, seeing a man waving at them from the end of the ship. Purity gave him a nod and started walking. That was another thing. Apparently the woman was trying to go hero. Or rebranding. Or something. It was far beyond Dennis' paygrade. He spent a moment watching the crews talk with Pixie, before she glowed and lifted up off the deck.
The Navy and Dockworkers were the coordinators for this project. They had spray-painted lines of various colors and lengths all over the ship, denoting cut points for the various Capes. They maintained the hours, controlled radio communications, and gave instructions where needed. They also took care of clearing out some of the fuel-oil and chemicals that somehow still sat in the tanks of the wreck. On shore, the DWU were hard at work with cutting tools, rending down the pieces that were deposited for them. Then loading the scrap onto waiting train cars.
Honestly? After the devastation in Boston, it was nice to be doing this. Seeing progress being made. All of this working was bringing life back to the Bay. Clock listened and chatted with the workmen and women who he now worked beside, and there was a palpable sense of energy about them.
THUMP.
He glanced over, feeling a twist of nerves sink into his belly. Rune stepped off her current ride, a solid steel bulkhead door that had come off the wreck. With her ability to control materials, she was invaluable in keeping material moving, as well as getting people around quickly in hard to reach areas.
"Clockboy," she nodded, brushing down her outfit.
He bit back his first response and settled on a safer second one, "Short shift today? Must be nice," he gave her a smile, not really wanting to anger her.
Working with Rune in Boston was…an experience. When he first got the news, he had been tense like a live wire, just waiting for her to float too high and shove him off the floating platform she commanded. But that never came. Instead, he got a worn-out girl who swore constantly, and who kept her hands in fists to keep them from shaking after Leviathan. The back and forth between the two of them was for both their sakes. The banter kept them from focusing on the dead and dying as they were combing the city to find survivors.
As things calmed, he found himself relaxing. Sure, she had seen his face, just as he had hers. But worrying about such things after surviving a city-killing hydrokinetic seemed…so silly. They both knew the score. They didn't talk about friends, or agencies, or beliefs. He didn't try to recruit her, and she didn't do the same. They complained about their bosses and cracked jokes about the situations they found themselves in. He honestly didn't expect anything to come of it.
Until he was pulled in to assist in this scrapping project. He was, oddly enough, the safety guy. With his time-stop powers, he could freeze a person and keep them safe if something went wrong.
Rune buffed her nails against her outfit, faking her inspection of them, "Well, you know how it is. They only call in the real talent when they need it. If they need dumb labor, they've got you all day."
Oh, that was a good one, but he wasn't going to let her have the last word, "Yeah, but I'm so damn pretty just standing around."
"So is a mannequin, at least those have good outfits most of the time," she smiled, and his gut twisted.
Fuck it all.
He pulled his backpack around, "Alright, real talk."
She tensed at his tone. He didn't really know how to say this, but like his mouth had done in Boston, he just forged on ahead, "Look, I made you something. It was meant to be a gag."
She bristled in response, getting ready to stomp over and get in his face, "If you think you're going to put a muzzle on me you—"
"Wait! Wait! No! It's not like that! Gag gift. Like a joke gift!"
Oh fuck it all, he opened his pack and pulled out the safety helmet he had made. Painted a dark green, with long foam ears sticking out the sides. He offered it out to her. She stared at it for a moment, uncomprehending.
"Look, I recently got told that I'm less funny than I think I am. And my sense of what other people might find funny is sometimes out of whack. So…I hope you find it funny. Because if not? I'm throwing it over the side and never talking about this again," he finished in a rush, waiting for her reply as he held the helmet towards her. The silence stretched.
"I don't get it."
He blinked. Tilting his head in confusion as rune crossed her arms and looked away, "It's a Yoda helmet. Little green guy? 'Use the Force!', 'Size matters not' and all that?"
"From a movie?"
For a moment, he was stuck. Then he bit back his first response again, which was to question if she lived under a rock her whole life, or mock her childhood. Wow…he really could be an ass. Here's to trying to be better.
"Yeah, from a movie. Series of movies actually. Yoda is this cool old guy who can move stuff with his mind and you kind of do the same with your power. So, I thought it would be fun to make the connection. Let you play the character."
The young woman looked down, kicking the ground a few times and letting her boots scuff the metal deck, "...My parents didn't believe in that stuff. Didn't approve. So…I've never seen it."
He swallowed. After a limited amount of time that he had spent with the girl, he knew that she hated to talk about her parents or her own faults.
"Okay, well…Movie night then," his mouth moved but his brain wasn't really thinking right now. He was just as shocked as Rune appeared to be.
She took a step forward, jutting a finger in his face, "If this is an attempt at getting me into that little circle jerk fan club of yours, I swear that—"
"Easy there, tiger. It's not like that. Movie night. Projector, some wall on a building roof, a pair of speakers, and popcorn. Nothing complicated."
Yes, his brain was dead, his mouth was moving on its own.
She folded her arms, shifting her weight as she looked him over, "Fine."
"Great! No idea when, but we'll set something up, after we carve this ship to pieces. Until then," he dropped the green helmet on his head. He was sure that it looked ridiculous, given that he was already wearing his costume helmet. He shifted his voice a little, "Hmm, teach you I will, the mysteries of the Force," he then laughed like the green little goblin he was portraying, his nerves getting the better of himself.
"You are so weird," Rune mocked. But she was smiling.
He liked her smile.
AEH
Various PRT Directors have made it clear that they plan to attend the Boston Memorial ceremonies taking place on May 28th. Director Armstrong, a well-respected member of the PRT, was one of the casualties when the PRT offices were hit during Leviathan's attack. A unifying figure among the cape community, Director Armstrong had been rumored to be the next in line for the position of Chief Director for his great work in stabilizing Boston during the events of the so-called 'Boston Games'. Chief Director Costa-Brown will also attending the ceremonies in Boston. A number of senators will also be attending, paying respects to those lost.
AEH
Jack Ryan
"Good to see you, Jack," Vincent Durling walked in. The Secret Service spread out across the room as the two men shook hands.
"Good to see you too, Vincent, thanks for making the trip this evening."
"Bag, it's good for me to get out of the White House. Helps clear the mind. Speaking of, how're you holding up? Got banged up pretty bad in Boston. Still walking with that cane?"
He chuckled as the two men took seats in the private lounge that he had cultivated. Private, swept for bugs regularly, and with rich carpets and tapestries to trap the sound.
"Political theater. Don't worry about it. I'm more worried about you! How're you holding up, Vincent? It's been a rough week and a half for you."
The man seemed to age before his eyes. Durling sighed, letting go of the 'presidential bearing' that he had carried for the past two terms, "A rough week? Call it what it is, Jack. It's the end of my presidency. Hells, the end of my time in politics. It's pretty much official. The party won't have anything to do with me after this. They'll block any attempt to oust me, but beyond that? I'm a seat warmer until the next President takes office."
The man fell silent, gazing off into the distance. He let the man think, the two of them had grown accustomed to the ways and methods of each other in the years that they had been working in politics.
Durling then eyed him, "Give it to me straight, Jack. Did I do the right thing in Boston?"
He pulled himself out of his chair, making his way over to the liquor cabinet.
"If we're going to talk straight, we should be drinking straight," he declared, listening to Durling laugh as he fetched a bottle and glasses. Returning to the table, he settled into his armchair across from the most powerful man in the free world. Pouring a measure, he slid the glass over before filling his own. Putting the bottle down, he then grabbed his own glass and held it up, "23,173. That's how many people pulled from the rubble. Then there are the tens of thousands more who found treatment and shelter from the cold, the rain, and the water. Take comfort in that, Mr. President. Those people are alive because you put good men in a position to do more good."
Durling swirled his glass, then gently clinked it against his own. Taking a small sip, he sat back and continued speaking, "Damn it all Vincent, the question of continuity of governance should have been cleared up years ago. Back when Behemoth hit Manhattan. I missed it, you missed it, your predecessors missed it. And every damn senator, congressman, and pundit who's bleating about 'procedure' also missed it.
He then sampled his drink again, enjoying the slow burn. He might be getting older, but that just meant that he appreciated things more.
"Why? Because we were arrogant. We watched the rest of the world fall apart and felt safe in our borders. Why? Because we had 'heroes'. The Protectorate. The Triumvirate. The greatest heroes in the world. We willfully ignored the fact that the Triumvirate only became the 'tri' because one of those greats were killed. We ignored the warning signs that our heroes aren't as great as we imagined they were, when they broke during the Ellisburg attack."
Jack took a breath, breathing out slow. He was angry. Not at Durling, but at himself. Because he had made the choice to slowly build the case against the supposed 'protection' offered by the PRT and Protectorate. It was a byproduct of his time with the CIA. Too much time spent in the shadows and crafting plans had dulled his sense to take action. It didn't help that the foe that he was rallying against was also one of the largest bureaucratic organizations in the government that had cultivated an image with the simple message of 'leave everything to us'. No collective effort needed. Leave the world to the singular exemplar. Leave it to the heroes.
"Things have to change."
Durling took a sip and gave him a long look, "I take it you have a plan?"
He smiled, he was done trying to form a meticulous plan that covered all avenues, he was going to tap into that which had made him a rising star in the intelligence community in the first place, "I have several. And it starts with the two of us getting into a screaming match, and me resigning from the Vice-Presidency."
Durling took a moment to look at him, then sat back with a sigh.
"Please tell me this isn't some complicated spy plot. I'm 73 years old for goodness sake!"
The two men laughed as he stood and strode over to his safe, proceeding to open it. His very secure, boobytrapped safe, with a hidden compartment with its own additional set of security within it. Would the Secret Service be annoyed at the explosives he had rigged it with? Maybe, probably, sure. But only if they were aware of it.
Closing the safe, he returned to the table with a file. The file. The one that had spurred his mad plan. Placing it down on the table, he sat back in his chair, "Read through this, sir. Tell me what you see?"
Durling placed his glass down, donned his glasses, and began to flip through the modest collection of papers.
"This is about Zero Dawn, that tech company you had me put a strategic asset tag on that everyone is talking about. These are…," by the third page he was silent. By the seventh, he was reading intently. He had the same reaction when he made the thing.
It had started with everything that Taylor Hebert was working on or developing using what she had and what she could get her hands on in short notice. When he had asked for more, anything that she could conceivably develop. The answer? Hundreds, possibly thousands of prototypes, concept products, and designs. Across dozens of different industries and disciplines. Then he had taken it a step further. Presenting it as a hypothetical to several tech and business interests that he had cultivated over the years. He asked how many products they could see developed off the products that she had created. The answer was thousands. Millions. Enough technology and knowledge to push industries forward decades in a single step. All that, condensed into a file detailing a possible future of the nation.
Durling closed the file, dropping his glasses on the manila as he looked over to him, "Why are you showing me this, Jack?"
"Because I need you to support her. Help that company grow. Give her government contracts, get the various spending committees to agree to send money her way. And most importantly? Keep her out of anyone else's hands."
"Jack, I can't just stick her in a vault. Our allies will absolutely crucify us if we keep them from getting access to her tech. I've already had diplomats asking about the new nuclear project the DOE is exploring. Sooner or later, this is going to blow up in our faces."
"We don't have to keep it contained forever. But it's us or our enemies. You think the Southern Cartels will sit quiet as we rebuild? Or the Russians? How about the Chinese Union Imperial? Zero Dawn Technologies is the key to pushing our economy and industry forward by decades. That's something our enemies can't allow. We have a month, likely weeks before intelligence assets descend on Brockton Bay and Boston like locusts. We have to be ready for that."
"And that's what you're doing? Getting back into the spy game?"
"You never really leave it, Vincent. I just chose to take a step back as the Vice President and let the machine work. But that doesn't mean I haven't kept a finger on the pulse and an ear to the ground. We need to change the playbook while we control the initiative."
Vincent was silent for what seemed like an eternity. The only sound in the room was the pendulum of the grandfather clock rocking back and forth in the room.
Finally, The President sighed, shaking his head, "Jesus Jack, if I'm losing you as my VP, I'm going to need to pick up a replacement," the older man tossed back his drink, a waste of perfectly good bourbon in his opinion, before placing down the glass, "Fine. But before you go running off, I'd like your opinion on what'll happen when I leave the office. Your insights have always been good."
"You mean for the election? With me falling out, I'm putting money on Shaw. The man marks all the checkboxes for what people will want in a leader. Ex-military, ex-PRT, he has that right balance of charisma and ability to give an outspoken opinion that even his enemies can agree to. He's going to build his entire platform around making noise about what he 'would do differently'. And he has the expertise to walk the walk. He's acting like the president, and he's getting that idea into everyone's heads."
Taking a sip of his own drink, he let that hang in the air for a few more moments, before continuing, "And chances are he'll ally himself with Costa-Brown, despite their mutual hatred for one another. She'll have no choice but to hitch her wagon to his because he's the best chance for her to push back against what has taken place in Boston, and she provides him with even more legitimacy on the Hill. So if anything, you should try and cut out more PRT control, and make it stick before he rolls out the welcome mat."
"The Hill is already making noise about panels and hearings for Boston. Now with the Canary report that Herres sent over? The Supreme Court is going to be pulled in, and that means that the Birdcage is going to be a major issue in the next election."
"Exactly. That's why we need to get things organized now. Pour the cement and make sure it's dry before Shaw takes office. That way he can't just flip a switch when his ass hits the seat."
"You mean that I'm going to spend the rest of my term fighting a political battle against the darling of the country, while you run around running covert ops that I don't want to know anything about. Damn…I'm almost glad that I'm going to be retiring after this."
"Look at it this way, Vincent. You'll have plenty of time putting together your memoirs and commissioning a presidential library."
"Fuck you very much, Jack," the man smiled, "Alright, so when does this all happen?"
He checked his watch theatrically, "Well, the people on my staff who like to gossip are going to be unloading a grocery run on the front lawn. So you've got time to finish another drink, then we'll walk, shout, and insult one another. And by this time tomorrow, it'll be all over the news cycle. We'll give it a few days, and then I'll announce my resignation."
Durling took the bottle, uncorking it and refilling his drink, "You're one crazy bastard, Jack."
"I try, Mr. President."
Taking his glass, the President held up his drink to his lips before pausing, "Did I ever tell you that I studied theater in college."
"I believe it came up on the campaign trail once or twice," he replied with a grin.
AEH
New Details are beginning to emerge in the Bad Canary case. According to sources at the Department of Justice, the Judge Advocate General has issued a writ of certiorari to the Supreme Court for Paige Mcabee, better known as Bad Canary. In the document acquired by NBC News, Colonel Mathew Johnson accused Judge Peter Regan and District Attorney Deaton Finlay of a 'willful and malicious campaign to deny Ms. Mcabee her 4th, 5th, 6th, and 14th Amendment rights'. The document goes further in highlighting several instances of cruel and unusual punishment during her detention, along with a 'concerted effort' to deny Bad Canary an opportunity to defend herself.
The Supreme Court has issued no statement other than they had received the writ. When contacted by NBC News, Judge Regan's office declined to comment. District Attorney Finlay was unfortunately killed in the attack by Leviathan on April 12th. - NBC Nightly News
The Supreme Court has issued no statement other than they had received the writ. When contacted by NBC News, Judge Regan's office declined to comment. District Attorney Finlay was unfortunately killed in the attack by Leviathan on April 12th. - NBC Nightly News
AEH
Amy Dallon
Brockton Bay
"Thanks for the ride, Corporal."
"No problem, ma'am. It was nice talking with you," the twenty-something corporal said, "will you need a ride tomorrow?"
"Unfortunately, Corporal, I have to go back to school. If that changes, I'll let Taylor know."
"Very well, ma'am. Have a good night."
I watched for a moment as the Humvee drove away, enjoying the familiar sounds of the night standing at the end of the driveway. It's strange, what you get used to. With big parts of Boston without power, you could suddenly see the stars at night. That wasn't the case here in Brockton Bay. I'm not sure which I preferred honestly.
Slowly making my way to the front door, I reflected on…everything. A week-and-a-half ago, I was rushed out of the house in Vicky's arms to go save lives in Boston. THen I stayed a week longer than everyone else in my family. It wasn't like my time at the hospital downtown. I had been part of a team and was expected to explain my actions and make my own decisions about where my powers were best used. Which was scary! But also amazing! I would have actual conversations with doctors, rescuers, nurses, and technicians all about how much to heal a patient and where I could be most useful.
Yes, I missed home. I missed my room, my stuff, and my sister. But being away? It made coming back feel different. Tomorrow I was supposed to go back to high school. Sit in class and learn about ancient history or some other shit. I didn't hate school, it was fine. I hung out around Vicky and her friends, and just…got through it. But now I understood Taylor's complaints about her father pushing her back to finish school. We had talked about it a few times, during our lunch and dinner meet-ups. She wanted to be building stuff. Important stuff! Sitting in that meeting today? Hearing everything that Taylor wanted to do with her company and her designs? It was…amazing.
I wanted to be part of that. I wanted to change the world. And working with Taylor? I legitimately could. But instead, I would spend tomorrow being stared at in the hallways and having teachers drone at me all day.
I had always had these impulses, these stray thoughts that appeared sometimes when I was healing. It started years ago, when I kept seeing the same thing over and over again. This little thought that told me to change a person's bone structure so their bones were less fragile and prone to breaking. Or seeing another person with a failing immune systems, imagining how to tweak their systems to better fight off infection or sickness. I had been terrified of those impulses, fearing that I would one day lose control of my powers and be branded like Nilbog or Bonesaw.
But no one in that meeting at Zero Dawn raised a word of protest. Taylor didn't even answer her Vice President's questions about my abilities. She just…asked me more about my work. We talked about all the details: Shelf life, interaction with different drugs, temperature and handling instructions, and most importantly, we talked about what it would take to have this made without me. And that's without getting into Taylor's statement about getting me 'a team'. Apparently, Taylor wanted to make a medical division to make stuff with her tech. I would be part of that, but a special unit. Independent and able to work on my own projects. The team would be there to help work backwards from the finished products that my powers let me create.
I was genuinely excited. There was no timeline at the moment. Hiring people took time, especially in the medical field. But I already had ideas for future creations and even an improvement for my synth-blood. All my samples were left at Zero Dawn's headquarters, which was much safer than hiding them in the back of my closet.
Unlocking the front door, I made my way into the house, stumbling a little as there were more shoes than normal.
"I'm home," I called out. I wanted to see how Vicky was doing. I know I wasn't supposed to share everything, but I could at least tell her a little about joining the company. Taylor was having her VP draft up a work agreement, something 'reasonable' in her words. I…wasn't sure how to take that, given that she seemed to think that sixty million dollars was starting cash for her company. I was a little giddy to find out though.
"Amy? In here sweetie."
Huh, that was Aunt Sarah. They must have come over after the ship-breaking. I made my way into the living room and my smile dropped as I looked around the room.
There was Aunt Sarah with a small frown on her face. Crystal on the couch looked bored scrolling through her phone. Eric was here too. Vicky sat wedged in the corner of the couch, her legs pulled up to her chin. Mark sat in his armchair. Uncle Neil was in the other armchair. And in the middle of the room? Carol stood waiting for me.
"Amy. We need to talk about where you were today," she declared.
My stomach sank and I looked to Vicky with wide eyes. She looked at me for a moment, then dropped her head, biting her lip.
Vicky…what have you done?
Classic entitled sister moment, can't wait for a nuclear Carol to blow Amy's good thing
Dr. Thunder
Philosopher-King of Florida
- Location
- USA
- Pronouns
- He/They
"And in today's news, US military had to intervene when Zero Dawn's latest employee, Amy 'Panacea' Dallon', was assaulted by her adoptive mother Carol 'Brandish' Dallon in their house. Neither side have issued statements as to what led to the destruction of the Dallon household, nor why reports from Zero Dawn's HQ indicate the presence of 'loud mechanical growling sounds, like some sort of mechanical dinosaur'."
jwolfe_beta
Semi Genre-Savvy Overlord
- Location
- Canada
So the Scrapper is Sparky and the Behemoth/Titan is now Bruce. Amy already named the Charger Bambi, wonder what the Burrowers will be called.
- Location
- USA
I love the human ability to packbond with literally almost anything, from super sophisticated robots to a rock with googly eyes glued on. It's never not funny.
YuffieK
(Verified Ninja Princess)
[Fragile One]: "Yay, Conflict! Mom, Dad, that weird bit I got from Nana and Grandpa will be so happy with me! I'm gathering [Data]! I'm HALPING!"
A good pilot does his best to make up for deficiencies in the machine... a good machine doesn't need a good pilot
Why
Then
- Location
- United States
Ambushing people with surprise family meetings never ends well.
- Location
- The States
Ooh. Don't agree with that at all. It's true of consumer equipment maybe but military aircraft very often make sacrifices in ease of use for higher performance and reliability based on what the needs of the military. Also sacrifices for cost savings.
Fighter aircraft for example are inherently unstable aerodynamically to improve maneuverability, and a ton of work and training goes in to making that safe(ish) to operate.
Similar logic applies to race cars. Formula 1 vehicles sacrifice almost everything for performance and if you aren't a skilled driver you'll just crash.
The bottom line is that your logic applies to things like mass market cars, but not to more specialized equipment. Those have different sets of requirements that have to be balanced.
Cutiepie
Professional Mom
- Location
- Ask my kids, they can find me wherever I hide
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I guess it really depends on who/what determines what's a "good" machine, huh? My bil (who is a mechanic in the army) quite regularly calls their "specialized equipment" pieces of s*** because of the "sacrifices for cost savings" and would never consider them "good machines". Personally, I'm partial to the opinion of the person who actually has to use it. But YMMV.
If you sacrifice for cost savings you didn't get a good machine good machines are expensive for a reason it's sad that a lot of places don't make good machines anymore
- Location
- USA
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Did you mean Bah, or does Jack Ryan have a nickname?
Good really needs to be narrowed down to a good something and I think can get confused with talking more above specialization vs general purpose. F1 cars are amazing feats of engineering, but are absurdly fragile. The engines can't even be started from cold but have to have preheated oil run through them, and lets not talk about the specialization of the tires. I wouldn't really call that a "good" car, not even a good race car depending on the track and prevailing weather conditions, but you could call it a good F1 car.
That bit about fighters being unstable actually supports the statement of a good machine not needing a good pilot. The fly-by-wire systems that control these aircraft are designed / implemented because tradition controls don't translate well to what the pilot wants the plane to do and the fly-by-wire interprets the input and then makes the adjustments to keep flying in the intended direction. The reason test pilots are so few and dangerous are these controls aren't yet implemented and make flying impossible outside of a particular skillset. And I definitely would not call the test plane vs the production plane the better plane. Being specialized does not preclude the ability to be easy just makes it take more time/effort to design.
Yeah, also as a veteran and at one point lead vehicle trainer, I will tell you that you want machines that can be operated easily with minimal training. Training costs money. Not only that, but not everyone can be trained on all things, meaning that machine cannot be used by all personnel which restricts availability which limits your ability to do the job. This is an actual problem we would have constantly and would always have to design shifts around availability of trained personnel. Easiest example of a generic machine not being good is the American school bus, good machine for transporting lots of people from one place to another, right? Well if I add "in the streets of Tokyo", no. The buses barely fit in the lanes, have a turning radius that cannot make the turns necessary and poor visibility. The driver needs to be an excellent driver with exceptional depth perception and awareness. This is an actual problem we had on base in Japan, of 50 people only me and 7 others could pass to drive those buses on the street of Japan, no matter the training, when construction changed how we got passengers to the plane. For months this restricted the few of us who were able to drive the buses to those shifts that moved large amounts of passengers and sometimes would have to be called in on our days off when enough came in off schedule.
Responses to 3.4.1
- Location
- The Lair
This is a Crosspost with SB, I'll try and answer you guys later tonight. Gotta run some errands, got 5-8 inches of snow predicted to start fallling in 6 hours, so need to make sure we're ready.
Okay, I've been kinda quiet the last few days. In between being tired, dealing with some drama, and family health issues. So I'm going to do my best to try and assuage some people's concerns, and there will be some spoilers as to what is going on behind the curtains. So if I miss something, please, dont hesitate but to call it out and I'll do my best to answer it. I try to answer questions on my Discord as well when they crop up.
Anyways:
Re: Jack Ryan
As many of you have pointed out, what Jack Ryan is planning seems rather foolhardy. The man is an analyst and not really a spy. But some of you also have to remember the man has also been the Director of the CIA twice. That means he knows how to run operations and organize assets. Now, you can blame part of this on my insistence on once we start approaching 15K words, I like to split the chapter because it's just too much to have you guys power through and digest. So that's partially on me, so in lieu of that, I'm going to lay out what the plan is.
Jack's plan is to basically retire from the limelight and slip into the shadows. The issue is that there is a lot of trouble coming, both internally and externally for Zero Dawn. You have trash like the S9, Fallen, and Heartbreaker to name a few that would be looking at Taylor's operation with attention. But then you have the Russians, the Chinese, and other enemy nations that will see the fact that there is a company that is churning out technology and realize that they either need to coopt it or destroy it, simply because its a threat to their security. Then you have America's 'allies' in this case, they are going to want a piece of the pie, and considering the enemies, the United States is rather leery of doing it.
A great real world example is the F-22 Raptor, historically there is also the F-20 Tigershark as a reverse of that, which got fucked out of sales when the US relaxed F-16 export restrictions of the Carter Administration during the Reagan Administation. The US actually has an export ban for the aircraft because the technology on it is so bleeding edge, that the worry is that if its allies are given it, then it will eventually end up in the hands of the enemies a lot easier. It's a matter of technology control. I believe there are a few other items that are also on the ban list, but for the life of me I cannot remember.
Anyways, the original plan is that he's going to be running off the book ops in order to protect Taylor. Because the issue is, what he's about to do, is patently illegal on almost every single level. He's basically funding and operating a unit that is running COIN (Counter Insurgency, CT, and CI operations in the United States, Canada, and Mexico, without any federal oversight or remit. Not only that, but it would be using tinkertech and other weapon systems that should not be in the hands of normal civilians.
Now that comes with its own risks and shit. But it would also work against the fact that he is doing shit that should be under the purview of the PRT, which is what he wants to avoid. Because the PRT is under no inclination to even assist in any facet or even care for Taylor. Hell, they ignore all of these threats and it frustrates the living shit out of him. So this is his op to do what needs to do.
However, things are going to change this in upcoming chapters that are going to change the direction he is going to take. And frankly, its probably for the best. The man is thinking too much like a CIA Director than should be comfortable.
Re: Military
So, for those of you who are worried about this being a Michael Bay-esque military hoo-rah type story. I will be happy to inform you that as far as the story is concerned. The military is going to start taking a step back soon. The reason why the military is at such a front and center point is because, even hobbled, it is probbaly going to be one of the most interested in what Taylor is capable of, alongside the government. THey are a vehicle for Taylor to make money hand over fist, but also to act as a balance against the PRT, which has been eating up funding for decades now. They do not like the PRT, they feel like they should be responsible for the defense of the United States, alongside the several law enforcement arms. There will be more about this coming up soon, but the military is going to start taking a step into the back, as we shift from Taylor sprouting, to actual growth for Taylor, as she gains her legs and builds the company and her technology base.
Re: Vicky
So, Vicky's actions are kind of understandable. Amy has spent a week and a half in Boston. Vicky left Boston 4 days after Leviathan, once Crystal was cleared, and other capes started leaving per the endbringer truce. Amy was requested by Herres to stay behind, and she accepted. Carol wasn't exactly the happiest with it, but it's not like she could argue with Herres considering the situation. So Carol is already not happy with Amy, and there probably has been hardly any communication between Amy and them.
But Amy has come back, and Vicky is looking forward to spending time with her. I mean, this is her sister after all, they do everything together. But Amy comes back, is acting suspicious digging in her closet, and blows her off. That's immediately suspicious for Vicky, who is used to Amy tagging along on everything with her. The fact that Amy came here in Humvee, and then left in said Humvee only adds to Vicky's suspicion. So, being the concerned sister that is worried that Amy has gotten involved in something, she follows after her sister, and watches as the humvee goes into Zero Dawn. Now, that is of course, going to set off a lot of alarm bells in her head, so of course she runs to Carol, because she is worried about her sister.
Unfortunately, Carol is a blind spot to her, not recognizing that Carol is half the reason that Amy is doing the thing that she is doing. And that is what is leading to this confrontation. It's Vicky trying to look out for her sister in her own way, and sometimes, doing what you think is right, happens to be the very worst thing possible.
Re: Money
Some of you have pointed out that Taylor's insistence on the 60 million dollars being paid back as quicky as possible as being unrealistic. Honestly, you are right, it is unrealistic from our perspective. However, we need to look at the rationale between Taylor's insistence on why she is keen on paying them back. At the end of the day, it is because of two different things: First, she really played on the daggers edge by gambling on the LRL, if it had failed, Zero Dawn would have been teetering on bankruptcy. That's the kinda shit that investors DO NOT like, and in previous chapters, its mentioned offhand by Taylor, but Accord and UC were not really happy with it, but gave their blessings. Second, Taylor, being a lower-middle-class daughter, hates the concept of being in debt. Being in debt means you are at the mercy of someone else, and she doesn't want it.
So her goal right now, on top of fomenting a technology revolution of a scale not seen since the industrial revolution, is to get the fuck out of debt as fast a damn possible. She doesnt want to be at the mercy of Gabriel and Fontaine who can dictate what she can and cannot do. So this massive injection, and the possibility for massive profits quickly, means she can pay them off and that is what she is saying to Jean to tell them. They are going to get their money, and Taylor is planning to have them get that money as quickly as possible, even if it comes at cost of her own soon to be growing personal wealth.
RE: Adam Jensen
He certainly did not ask for this. But if you were expecting him to get what he didn't ask for, I regret to inform you that you may be found wanting. However, we just so happen to have another wonderfully bearded gentlemen who could use an arm up on his situation. And hey, they may have somewhat matching facial hair and can exchange grooming tips!
RE: Taylor...Savior, Conqueror, Hero, Villain...Spanner in the Works?
So, you know the saying "truth is in the mind's eye"? That kind of fits here with Taylor. Depending on who you ask, Taylor could be all of these things. The fact of the matter is, Taylor is all of those, and none of those. To Taylor, she is merely trying to do her damndest for the human race. Hell, just look at her own reaction to the Boston Mural. She doesn't view herself as a hero, and is stunned that people view her as that.
But depending on who it is, they have an opinion of her. Just like people have an opinion of you, either through knowing of you, hearing of your, or so on. It's all a matter of perspective. Taylor honestly just is Taylor. That's why she doesn't care about the entire masks, capes, heroes and villains. She's an industialist and engineer. She's basically playing like a Tony Stark, and this shit is beneath her. It annoys her that she has to even play to it because there are these assholes who look through the singular lense of if you have a power you should be prancing around in latex and exchanging punches with a fucking murderblender for justice, or you don't and you are therefore a bad guy.
It annoys her. But at the end of the day, Taylor is causing issues because she refuses to play the game and be pigeon-holed as something that she views herself as not. So naturally, it's going to bring a fuckton of focus and flak on her because she refuses to fit neatly into people's perceptions.
Carol, as a person, views through the lens too many people in Earth Bet have. That you are either on the side of angels or devils. There is no in between. These are a people who have been fed propoganda for the last 30 years that the only good capes are those who are aligned with the law, and later the PRT/Protectorate. Any who aren't are either villains, or peopel who could become villains because they refuse to be a hero. Carol's myopic views are only enhanced by her trauma and trigger events that exacerbate that viewpoint.
I don't blame Carol for what she is, she is the product of her traumas and a well oiled machine meant to propogate those beliefs. She's a useful asset though in the convention of story writing though.
It's also why Alexandria despises Taylor. Because she is the antithesis of the system that she has been building alongside Cauldron for the last 30 years. The fact that Taylor refuses to take part in the lie, and refuses to put her energies towards what Alexandira views as the only pathway to defeating scion, immediately places Taylor in the realm of foes. That is where her antagonism stems from, because Taylor doesn't toe the line, and doesn't partake in the kool-aid.
RE: Numbers
So some of you have raised a point on the numbers in regards to wiring, processors, and batteries. So, here is my rationale behind all of that, frankly put, let's look at the world-wide economic conditions. A lot of the explosion of technological growth in our world stemmed from the ending of the Cold War and the further integration of the worldwide economy to allow the exchange of ideas and technologies. There was also worldwide shipping and other facets that allowed the world GDP to grow at extreme rates between the 90s and today. There is also the debt-derived inflational growth, but let's not talk about that.
However, Earth Bet didn't enjoy that opportunity because of the Endbringers. Between the devastations of major economic centers, the loss of several critical infrastructural and resource points, the collapse of the worldwide shipping industry, the world has been retarded in its growth compared to our world. I looked at it through that lens, to where the very economic system that was highly reliant upon ensuring that any major war would collapse the entirety of the world economy, as put together beginning in the 60s, have instead become the very poison that is now slowly killing it. You are seeing the receding of the world into individualistic nationalistic and isolationist entities intent on trying to survive. Africa is a hellscape warzone, the Middle East is probably a warzone, Southeast Asia is probably in bad shape, China has become imperialist, Japan is at best a second-world nation, Russia is gutted, Europe is in bad shape with the rise of nationalist entities. All of these have combined to make a situation in which the economic and technological growth has slowed significantly in comparison to our own.
When I started modelling the United States, I looked at it through those lens, and I came to the conclusion, that compared to our world in 2011, the US is probably at a GNP/GDP somewhere between 50 and 80 percent of what we would be. In some sectors, its even worse. This results in less money able to be thrown around in the economy, less technological growth, and less of just about everything. So as a result, when I modeled a lot of the tech, outside of some tinkertech derived and inspired things (think like how scifi like Star trek have inspired tech and engineering growth in our world), technology is ranging anywhere between five and fifteen years behind where we would be in 2011. As a result, when I started looking at those numbers, I started to build from there, while also factoring in that Taylor is not even close to what is necessary for 2050-2066 infrastructure and tech base. At best, she's probably tolling around between 2020-2035. And even then, the machines she has built for the LRL are crude in comparison to what you see in Horizon, because she is using inferior tools, materials, and other things, but has been able to eke out just enough to make them viable enough to meet some semblance of what you see in the game.
As a result, when I talk about 186% in comparison to wiring. It's in comparison to something in say 2005/2008, hell I'm, probably understating the numbers of what they should be. Or processors, where in 2005/2008 it was between 2.8-3.2GHz. What Taylor is rolling out is 3.5 times that ability. I mean, in 2025 we are at 5.2-5.7 GHz, and Taylor is running nearly double that because she has a better grasp on how to improve the speed because she has access to shortcuts to jump the current material limitations.
The Batteries are just the same. Even Dragon, which likely runs on some type of fuel cell and battery system, is probaly good, but it is probably not the most efficient. One of the things we have noted in HZD is how horrendously powerful and efficient power cells are in the world. Factoring all of that in, I made he argument that we are looking at battery numbers that are probably 10 times more EFFICIENT not powerful, but efficient in terms of their energy. They have knowledge and lessons that have not even been applied in our world, which is how she is outperforming Dragon's systems.
It's not unrealistic, but it's to show that Taylor is at minimum 20 years ahead of current Bet tech bases, and thats basically while she is pulling the equivalency of Tony Stark building Iron Monger in a fucking cave with a box of scraps.
Another example would be like, and I shared this a few minutes ago within my Discord, is that if Taylor was stuck in 1945 and was given the specs and details for the B-2 Stealth Bomber.
B-2
And was told to build that, with 1945 tech in 2 years. It'd be completely impossible to do, because the tech base simply is not there. But instead, Taylor is like, okay, I can't build that, but what I can do is build TOWARDS that. And in this case, it would probably look something like the this
XB-49
That's basically what Taylor was doing with the LRL. She was doing her damnedest to fit the line, and a lot of the hard work was being done through her brute forcing the processors, servos, and wiring, but also sharing some of the load with the control system on the Titan. Like I said, she basically Tony Stark'd the fuck out of it.
Okay, I've been kinda quiet the last few days. In between being tired, dealing with some drama, and family health issues. So I'm going to do my best to try and assuage some people's concerns, and there will be some spoilers as to what is going on behind the curtains. So if I miss something, please, dont hesitate but to call it out and I'll do my best to answer it. I try to answer questions on my Discord as well when they crop up.
Anyways:
Re: Jack Ryan
As many of you have pointed out, what Jack Ryan is planning seems rather foolhardy. The man is an analyst and not really a spy. But some of you also have to remember the man has also been the Director of the CIA twice. That means he knows how to run operations and organize assets. Now, you can blame part of this on my insistence on once we start approaching 15K words, I like to split the chapter because it's just too much to have you guys power through and digest. So that's partially on me, so in lieu of that, I'm going to lay out what the plan is.
Jack's plan is to basically retire from the limelight and slip into the shadows. The issue is that there is a lot of trouble coming, both internally and externally for Zero Dawn. You have trash like the S9, Fallen, and Heartbreaker to name a few that would be looking at Taylor's operation with attention. But then you have the Russians, the Chinese, and other enemy nations that will see the fact that there is a company that is churning out technology and realize that they either need to coopt it or destroy it, simply because its a threat to their security. Then you have America's 'allies' in this case, they are going to want a piece of the pie, and considering the enemies, the United States is rather leery of doing it.
A great real world example is the F-22 Raptor, historically there is also the F-20 Tigershark as a reverse of that, which got fucked out of sales when the US relaxed F-16 export restrictions of the Carter Administration during the Reagan Administation. The US actually has an export ban for the aircraft because the technology on it is so bleeding edge, that the worry is that if its allies are given it, then it will eventually end up in the hands of the enemies a lot easier. It's a matter of technology control. I believe there are a few other items that are also on the ban list, but for the life of me I cannot remember.
Anyways, the original plan is that he's going to be running off the book ops in order to protect Taylor. Because the issue is, what he's about to do, is patently illegal on almost every single level. He's basically funding and operating a unit that is running COIN (Counter Insurgency, CT, and CI operations in the United States, Canada, and Mexico, without any federal oversight or remit. Not only that, but it would be using tinkertech and other weapon systems that should not be in the hands of normal civilians.
Now that comes with its own risks and shit. But it would also work against the fact that he is doing shit that should be under the purview of the PRT, which is what he wants to avoid. Because the PRT is under no inclination to even assist in any facet or even care for Taylor. Hell, they ignore all of these threats and it frustrates the living shit out of him. So this is his op to do what needs to do.
However, things are going to change this in upcoming chapters that are going to change the direction he is going to take. And frankly, its probably for the best. The man is thinking too much like a CIA Director than should be comfortable.
Re: Military
So, for those of you who are worried about this being a Michael Bay-esque military hoo-rah type story. I will be happy to inform you that as far as the story is concerned. The military is going to start taking a step back soon. The reason why the military is at such a front and center point is because, even hobbled, it is probbaly going to be one of the most interested in what Taylor is capable of, alongside the government. THey are a vehicle for Taylor to make money hand over fist, but also to act as a balance against the PRT, which has been eating up funding for decades now. They do not like the PRT, they feel like they should be responsible for the defense of the United States, alongside the several law enforcement arms. There will be more about this coming up soon, but the military is going to start taking a step into the back, as we shift from Taylor sprouting, to actual growth for Taylor, as she gains her legs and builds the company and her technology base.
Re: Vicky
So, Vicky's actions are kind of understandable. Amy has spent a week and a half in Boston. Vicky left Boston 4 days after Leviathan, once Crystal was cleared, and other capes started leaving per the endbringer truce. Amy was requested by Herres to stay behind, and she accepted. Carol wasn't exactly the happiest with it, but it's not like she could argue with Herres considering the situation. So Carol is already not happy with Amy, and there probably has been hardly any communication between Amy and them.
But Amy has come back, and Vicky is looking forward to spending time with her. I mean, this is her sister after all, they do everything together. But Amy comes back, is acting suspicious digging in her closet, and blows her off. That's immediately suspicious for Vicky, who is used to Amy tagging along on everything with her. The fact that Amy came here in Humvee, and then left in said Humvee only adds to Vicky's suspicion. So, being the concerned sister that is worried that Amy has gotten involved in something, she follows after her sister, and watches as the humvee goes into Zero Dawn. Now, that is of course, going to set off a lot of alarm bells in her head, so of course she runs to Carol, because she is worried about her sister.
Unfortunately, Carol is a blind spot to her, not recognizing that Carol is half the reason that Amy is doing the thing that she is doing. And that is what is leading to this confrontation. It's Vicky trying to look out for her sister in her own way, and sometimes, doing what you think is right, happens to be the very worst thing possible.
Re: Money
Some of you have pointed out that Taylor's insistence on the 60 million dollars being paid back as quicky as possible as being unrealistic. Honestly, you are right, it is unrealistic from our perspective. However, we need to look at the rationale between Taylor's insistence on why she is keen on paying them back. At the end of the day, it is because of two different things: First, she really played on the daggers edge by gambling on the LRL, if it had failed, Zero Dawn would have been teetering on bankruptcy. That's the kinda shit that investors DO NOT like, and in previous chapters, its mentioned offhand by Taylor, but Accord and UC were not really happy with it, but gave their blessings. Second, Taylor, being a lower-middle-class daughter, hates the concept of being in debt. Being in debt means you are at the mercy of someone else, and she doesn't want it.
So her goal right now, on top of fomenting a technology revolution of a scale not seen since the industrial revolution, is to get the fuck out of debt as fast a damn possible. She doesnt want to be at the mercy of Gabriel and Fontaine who can dictate what she can and cannot do. So this massive injection, and the possibility for massive profits quickly, means she can pay them off and that is what she is saying to Jean to tell them. They are going to get their money, and Taylor is planning to have them get that money as quickly as possible, even if it comes at cost of her own soon to be growing personal wealth.
RE: Adam Jensen
He certainly did not ask for this. But if you were expecting him to get what he didn't ask for, I regret to inform you that you may be found wanting. However, we just so happen to have another wonderfully bearded gentlemen who could use an arm up on his situation. And hey, they may have somewhat matching facial hair and can exchange grooming tips!
RE: Taylor...Savior, Conqueror, Hero, Villain...Spanner in the Works?
So, you know the saying "truth is in the mind's eye"? That kind of fits here with Taylor. Depending on who you ask, Taylor could be all of these things. The fact of the matter is, Taylor is all of those, and none of those. To Taylor, she is merely trying to do her damndest for the human race. Hell, just look at her own reaction to the Boston Mural. She doesn't view herself as a hero, and is stunned that people view her as that.
But depending on who it is, they have an opinion of her. Just like people have an opinion of you, either through knowing of you, hearing of your, or so on. It's all a matter of perspective. Taylor honestly just is Taylor. That's why she doesn't care about the entire masks, capes, heroes and villains. She's an industialist and engineer. She's basically playing like a Tony Stark, and this shit is beneath her. It annoys her that she has to even play to it because there are these assholes who look through the singular lense of if you have a power you should be prancing around in latex and exchanging punches with a fucking murderblender for justice, or you don't and you are therefore a bad guy.
It annoys her. But at the end of the day, Taylor is causing issues because she refuses to play the game and be pigeon-holed as something that she views herself as not. So naturally, it's going to bring a fuckton of focus and flak on her because she refuses to fit neatly into people's perceptions.
Carol, as a person, views through the lens too many people in Earth Bet have. That you are either on the side of angels or devils. There is no in between. These are a people who have been fed propoganda for the last 30 years that the only good capes are those who are aligned with the law, and later the PRT/Protectorate. Any who aren't are either villains, or peopel who could become villains because they refuse to be a hero. Carol's myopic views are only enhanced by her trauma and trigger events that exacerbate that viewpoint.
I don't blame Carol for what she is, she is the product of her traumas and a well oiled machine meant to propogate those beliefs. She's a useful asset though in the convention of story writing though.
It's also why Alexandria despises Taylor. Because she is the antithesis of the system that she has been building alongside Cauldron for the last 30 years. The fact that Taylor refuses to take part in the lie, and refuses to put her energies towards what Alexandira views as the only pathway to defeating scion, immediately places Taylor in the realm of foes. That is where her antagonism stems from, because Taylor doesn't toe the line, and doesn't partake in the kool-aid.
RE: Numbers
So some of you have raised a point on the numbers in regards to wiring, processors, and batteries. So, here is my rationale behind all of that, frankly put, let's look at the world-wide economic conditions. A lot of the explosion of technological growth in our world stemmed from the ending of the Cold War and the further integration of the worldwide economy to allow the exchange of ideas and technologies. There was also worldwide shipping and other facets that allowed the world GDP to grow at extreme rates between the 90s and today. There is also the debt-derived inflational growth, but let's not talk about that.
However, Earth Bet didn't enjoy that opportunity because of the Endbringers. Between the devastations of major economic centers, the loss of several critical infrastructural and resource points, the collapse of the worldwide shipping industry, the world has been retarded in its growth compared to our world. I looked at it through that lens, to where the very economic system that was highly reliant upon ensuring that any major war would collapse the entirety of the world economy, as put together beginning in the 60s, have instead become the very poison that is now slowly killing it. You are seeing the receding of the world into individualistic nationalistic and isolationist entities intent on trying to survive. Africa is a hellscape warzone, the Middle East is probably a warzone, Southeast Asia is probably in bad shape, China has become imperialist, Japan is at best a second-world nation, Russia is gutted, Europe is in bad shape with the rise of nationalist entities. All of these have combined to make a situation in which the economic and technological growth has slowed significantly in comparison to our own.
When I started modelling the United States, I looked at it through those lens, and I came to the conclusion, that compared to our world in 2011, the US is probably at a GNP/GDP somewhere between 50 and 80 percent of what we would be. In some sectors, its even worse. This results in less money able to be thrown around in the economy, less technological growth, and less of just about everything. So as a result, when I modeled a lot of the tech, outside of some tinkertech derived and inspired things (think like how scifi like Star trek have inspired tech and engineering growth in our world), technology is ranging anywhere between five and fifteen years behind where we would be in 2011. As a result, when I started looking at those numbers, I started to build from there, while also factoring in that Taylor is not even close to what is necessary for 2050-2066 infrastructure and tech base. At best, she's probably tolling around between 2020-2035. And even then, the machines she has built for the LRL are crude in comparison to what you see in Horizon, because she is using inferior tools, materials, and other things, but has been able to eke out just enough to make them viable enough to meet some semblance of what you see in the game.
As a result, when I talk about 186% in comparison to wiring. It's in comparison to something in say 2005/2008, hell I'm, probably understating the numbers of what they should be. Or processors, where in 2005/2008 it was between 2.8-3.2GHz. What Taylor is rolling out is 3.5 times that ability. I mean, in 2025 we are at 5.2-5.7 GHz, and Taylor is running nearly double that because she has a better grasp on how to improve the speed because she has access to shortcuts to jump the current material limitations.
The Batteries are just the same. Even Dragon, which likely runs on some type of fuel cell and battery system, is probaly good, but it is probably not the most efficient. One of the things we have noted in HZD is how horrendously powerful and efficient power cells are in the world. Factoring all of that in, I made he argument that we are looking at battery numbers that are probably 10 times more EFFICIENT not powerful, but efficient in terms of their energy. They have knowledge and lessons that have not even been applied in our world, which is how she is outperforming Dragon's systems.
It's not unrealistic, but it's to show that Taylor is at minimum 20 years ahead of current Bet tech bases, and thats basically while she is pulling the equivalency of Tony Stark building Iron Monger in a fucking cave with a box of scraps.
Another example would be like, and I shared this a few minutes ago within my Discord, is that if Taylor was stuck in 1945 and was given the specs and details for the B-2 Stealth Bomber.
B-2
And was told to build that, with 1945 tech in 2 years. It'd be completely impossible to do, because the tech base simply is not there. But instead, Taylor is like, okay, I can't build that, but what I can do is build TOWARDS that. And in this case, it would probably look something like the this
XB-49
That's basically what Taylor was doing with the LRL. She was doing her damnedest to fit the line, and a lot of the hard work was being done through her brute forcing the processors, servos, and wiring, but also sharing some of the load with the control system on the Titan. Like I said, she basically Tony Stark'd the fuck out of it.
Dr. Thunder
Philosopher-King of Florida
- Location
- USA
- Pronouns
- He/They
Man the Intelligence scene around Taylor is going to make Cold War-era Berlin look like a bunch of teens failing to sneak into a bar with a cardboard id with all the intersecting and conflicting plots, schemes, intrigue, and people trying to simply get in the front door isn't it?
Meanwhile Taylor's desperately trying to play Factorio or something so she can work out how to build Mechagodzilla, punch Ziz in the face, and then terraform Venus
Not sure it's been mentioned, but the toys from LRL she should give them the names from the reports. Sparky ect. Sells better. The Boston box set, and she can have some of the proceeds go to helping Boston. The better her PR the harder for politicians to move against her. My two cents.