Surely, Armsmaster, the loyal and strident example of the Protectorate would never do something so Defiant?
An Everdistant Horizon (Worm/Horizon Series)
- Thread starter AlSmash
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Surely, Armsmaster, the loyal and strident example of the Protectorate would never do something so Defiant?
He can be loyal, but if he sees that the organization to which he has dedicated his life and work begins to do amoral things, in addition to being disappointed in what Legend did; It is an option for him to resign, the only price would be whether or not he could continue talking to Dragon, since he would no longer be able to show or consult her about his work, as they are corporate secrets (assuming Colin ended up working for ZDT)
Easter
Laziest lazier
- Location
- Bed
Wait, how is she able to stop him from talking to Dragon? I'm fairly sure that being able to communicate with someone would be a basic human right in this circumstance.
I guess she could restrict it on building connected devices but I assume Armmaster could just buy a phone himself just to talk to her, since its not like Piggot would be able to confiscate private property without a pretty dang good reason.
I guess she could restrict it on building connected devices but I assume Armmaster could just buy a phone himself just to talk to her, since its not like Piggot would be able to confiscate private property without a pretty dang good reason.
If I explain myself better, I say that, before, Colin could consult Dragon on technological aspects, because it was related to his projects in the PRT, of which Dragon works together with it; but if he were to be part of, let's say, a private company, he would no longer be able to consult her as before, since they would be private/secret projects - at least that's how I see it, that and me hoping/wishing it will avoid the involuntary leak of information that is Dragon, courtesy of the DS -; of his relationship with Dragon as friends that would remain intact
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Germination 2.2
- Location
- The Lair
Germination 2.2
Taylor
Sipping from my lukewarm coffee, I couldn't help but watch the trainwreck that was the argument taking place between my father and Jean. I despised the taste of the bitter black brew but it was providing me one of the few sources of energy that I was in desperate need of. Both to remain aware of the argument, but also to function in general.
The last week of hard work and preparation was finally bearing its fruits. While training was still underway, in three days, we would be ready to start the production line.
It was this reason alone that had drawn me out of my lab for this sit down. While I was technically listed as the CEO, in actuality, I was more the head of research and development. The only reason I was here was because it was from my head that we could even field the various pieces of technology. If anyone had solutions for what we were intending, it would be me.
Alas, the damn argument was over the focus of production. While all models of the Focus shared a large amount of parts, there were still core differences that had to be taken into account. We couldn't mix the different models on the same assembly line, and we didn't have enough assembly lines to field all models. And at this juncture, it would be wise to do so without contracts and demands.
The irony in all of this, however, was my father was arguing in favor of Hathor, the communications model, while Jean was arguing we needed to go with Ptah, a multipurpose model. How my father would argue against the model that would benefit workers like him, I would never know, but it was certainly something to behold.
Quietly taking another sip, I let them keep at it as I eagerly allowed the coffee to claw back the vestiges of my own exhaustion. The last few days had been nothing more than meetings, reviews, and training. Luckily, the training had been the least exhausting aspect of it all, as many of the people I was helping train knew me too well, and they knew to listen.
But the meetings? I wish I could do without them. I despised them. I could be working on finetuning my plans, but instead, I got to play referee to Jean and my father arguing like they were jilted lovers, which, fucking ew mind, thankfully they were not. I don't think I'd know what to do with that can of worms.
It was tedious, and if I wasn't actually getting some use out of them, I would probably have brought my foot down sooner. Why I was using their argument to work on my own plans honestly escaped me. I knew it was a good idea, only that I didn't know why it was a good idea.
Nonetheless, both of them raised good points on the viability of both plans. The only problem was this world didn't reward viability. It couldn't, not in the face of everything else. Finishing off the coffee, I placed the mug down on the table and reached out to find the charging case for my new Focus. Flipping it open, I retrieved the large triangular 'plate' that was easily three times the size of the Ptah and affixed it to right in front of my ear on the right side of my head. With a light tap, I allowed it to power up.
Unlike my first Focus, Sekhmet, as it was documented, was meant to be an entirely custom model meant only for me. It combined all of the aspects of all existing production models into a singular platform to provide me with the absolute best in terms of performance and utility for my work.
Unofficially, I named it something else, something more appropriate and private: Ash Nazg. Since, at the end of the day, it was the Focus equivalent of Tolkien's One Ring. It could do everything the others could and would forever only be mine.
My vision returned as it were, flooding and provided me with a much more detailed view than ever before. Whereas the Focus Zero could only provide me with what were essentially shaped blobs in blue-violet-magenta, the definition and detail was magnitudes superior. While still not a suitable replacement for normal eyes, I could now make out things like facial expressions, and sharp movements were no longer a blur. The range was also measured in the tens of meters instead of uncomfortably close.
But most importantly to it all, was the augmented reality overlay now in my vision. It was honestly the core game changer for everything she could do. No longer did I have to sit at a computer, but now I had the luxury of being able to move around and reference data, and be able to show it on a tablet to those in the field or shop.
"Enough," I said quietly, but firmly. I might as well have shot a gun in the room, as they both stopped and looked at me, "You both have good points, and in a perfect situation, we could probably do a mix of what you're suggesting."
I reached up so the Focus could detect it, and lightly tapped the icon for a folder that I had been working on for over a week now. I then slid the icon to the open 'port' and accessed the holographic projector that had been set up in the room. In a few moments, it then uploaded and displayed what I was seeing.
It was a report that I had compiled, specifically upon the next Endbringer slated to attack: Leviathan.
"Taylor," my father asked, and while I could not see it, I knew he was paling at the imagery of the devastation and data that I had put together for this, "What is this? Why are you-"
"I'd also like to know," Jean's voice was cooler, but I could tell she was not exactly happy with this deviation. I couldn't blame her, I was diverting time I could have put towards readying our initial push on this, at least in her opinion, "Just what is the point of this?"
"In thirty-six days, the window of attack for Leviathan is slated to open up," I started, knowing that I had to sell this to both of them, especially Jean, "It is known from past behavior patterns, that about forty-five days before he strikes, he always settles into a position roughly four to eight hours from the intended target. Considering his clocked speed runs around two hundred knots and his known location in the Laurentian Abyss, that places him within striking distance from Quebec City all the way down to Brunswick, Georgia."
I provided a map that showed the red of everywhere it could hit, which, honestly, was quite massive when you thought of the sheer landmass that was vulnerable. It also didn't take into account that Leviathan has been shown to have the capability to move inland, in the case of Lake Ijsellmeer in the Netherlands in 2005. It had completely destroyed the food supply by contaminating the lowlands with salt water in that tragedy. Luckily, there weren't as many viable targets for that strategy, and those that existed were outside of its preferred striking range.
"As much as I hate to say it, but this provides us with a marketing opportunity that cannot be ignored," I finally said, "Even with Mister Gabriel's help in cutting through the bureaucratic red tape necessary to field a new cellular device and requisite network connection, the fact of the matter is, if we want to really get out there, we need to have a major splash that cannot be ignored by anyone. Providing resources to an Endbringer fight, both before and after, is such an opportunity."
"Taylor, that's a rather dangerous mindset to have," my father spoke up after a moment, "I can see what you're getting at, and I do agree. However, the optics of it, I'm not sure if it's the right thing to do. Plus there is the logistics aspect of it. We won't even have the permits to assemble a cellular network to support the Focus network for another month. I know you want to hit the ground running, but we have to start local for this to work. Taking advantage of an Endbringer attack to sell a product is, honestly, bad optics."
His piece said, I turned my head to Jean, whose expression had not changed.
"I do not believe that would be the proper path forward. Yes, you are right that it's an opportunity, but it's an opportunity with far too many risks for what will likely be far too little gain. How many units were you thinking of having produced for this endeavor?"
"About two thousand Ptahs and a thousand Hathors."
While my father sharply inhaled at the figures, Jean's expression hardened as her eyes narrowed. It was evident that she had a problem with what I was suggesting. I knew that meeting those figures would be difficult in the time that we had. We would have to be running our production line non-stop for the entire month without interruption in order to meet that quota. It would be a prohibitively expensive prospect with the material and labor costs, but also the likely bottlenecks we would have to overcome, but it was doable. I had already run the numbers to know this.
Instead, to my own surprise, she shook her head.
"I will give you credit, you don't do anything by half, Taylor. I get why you want to do this, I honestly do. But we have to think about the company first. Right now, we're bleeding money and have no income. Which is fine for a venture capital startup, but it means we're already taking big risks. The last thing we need to be doing right now is stacking even more risks before our first round of sales. What you are planning is putting all our eggs into one basket in a make or break situation and anticipating that if you showcase this technology we'll be able to fast-track sales, but that's not how tech adoption works. Endbringer fights are messy, vicious things, and are not the sort of thing you want to introduce an entirely new system into, even if it's revolutionary, without proper training for all involved. If you rush it out like that, you'll end up killing more people than you would be helping. And we'll be the one paying the price."
I opened my mouth to rebut, but she held up a hand, stalling me.
"Let me finish, Taylor. Please. Your ideas and technology will change the world, don't let yourself think I don't recognize it, but it is also going to make you powerful enemies. They will take one look at what you are trying to do and they will recognize the clear and present danger that you present to their interests."
She paused for a moment, using the time to sip from her water.
"They won't hesitate to destroy you if given the opportunity, Taylor," she continued after placing the glass back on the table, "And setting our remaining cash reserves on fire to literally give away what the world will consider experimental equipment will not shortcut the adoption curb. It will just provide our enemies with the opportunity to strangle Zero Dawn in the cradle. I know you want to do this, but you have to remember it's no longer just you, Taylor. It's Zero Dawn Technologies. We are responsible for nearly four hundred people who are reliant upon you ensuring that they continue to have a good job with good pay and by extension their families. We have to make decisions grounded in what is best for the company. It's no longer a sprint anymore, you have the door open and the money to reach your dream, but you have to understand it has become a marathon and everything has to be weighed and measured to ensure you can go the distance. We cannot afford to spend our future on a hail mary or providing our enemies with the opportunity to lay a shadow on our products with such a blatant and dubious public relations scheme will only make their job easier."
I sat back in the chair, staring at the woman across from me. I certainly hadn't expected such a vociferous response, even if it was Jean. I had expected at least some pushback, it would be wrong not to, but this? This was far beyond what even I predicted.
I wanted to lash out at her, to throw her facts and figures in her face, but a quiet part of me held back the rest. I knew the numbers, front and back. It would cost nearly six million dollars to produce the units and supporting equipment. That didn't take into account the second half of what I had originally planned, which would probably run close to another two to three million. I knew that it would be successful, but I didn't have the evidence to support the notion.
But how would it be successful, the quiet part of me asked, and I found my frown deeping as I mentally reviewed my plans. Only this time, I added Jean's critique to it.
She was right. I was gambling, not because I wanted to, but because I hadto. The issue with everything was that I was trying to take what was essentially technology at least six decades in advance of what existed, and shoehorn it into a communications and logistics system that was held together by shoestrings. I had to force a rapid adoption if I had any chance of succeeding. Without the networks and logistics to support what she intended, then it would take far too long for me to get to where we needed.
But that was the point of this entire scenario. With this, I could create interest in the technology and show the promise and superiority to what existed, then make clear the needs to achieve this.
I paused in my thoughts, glancing over at my father who was quietly watching me. It seemed like he was in tacit agreement with what Jean had said. It was telling how much he was against it by allowing Jean's brutal takedown of my idea without an ounce of protest.
So if this was the wrong path to take, what was the right path? All of my machines needed an intact and powerful network in order to work efficiently. The current 3G networks would be like using phone modems for my technology, it could theoretically do it, but it would be the stuff of nightmares for any sensible engineer. Without the networks, they could run, as long as a nodal hub network existed, but then that created its own fucking problems.
But what was the solution here? We couldn't afford to wait too long to strike, the longer we waited the weaker we became. Jean was right, we were bleeding out, the only difference was the speed in which we exsanguinated.
I looked back to Jean, considering further. If she was so vocal in her opposition, it was highly likely she had her own ideas. The question I had to ask was how would her ideas expand our influence and power?
"What is your idea?" I finally asked.
It was minute, but it did not go without notice how Jean ever-so-slightly relaxed.
"Focus on increasing production capacity on advanced materials. With comparatively minimal machinery and advertising we can sell those to anyone and everyone. That will give us a solid reputation without stepping on too many toes. Well, excluding the biofuel which will cause an absolute storm in the oil and gas industry no matter what we do. More importantly, it will allow us to quickly produce a positive cashflow and solve our most pressing problems. Add to that the increased material demands for rebuilding after an Endbringer attack and we should be able to recoup a significant amount of our expenditures. Furthermore, by doing this, we will be able to expedite getting around the cash and parts bottlenecks for your own initiatives."
Honestly, I was somewhat disappointed by the idea. I mean, I knew what she was intending, and it was a decent plan. It just felt too conservative in my estimation. Sure, the materials we would be able to sell soon would quickly fill our coffers, but it honestly ran against both what I wanted and even the company name. It felt like we were grabbing for the lowest rung and just accepting it as our best.
Taking a deep breath, I then thought about what I could do. She was right, but I felt she was also wrong. She was looking solely at the business aspect, while I was looking at the futures aspect. We could sit here and peddle materials til our faces were blue, but it would not change the world. It may improve it, but that wasn't what I wanted.
I considered exactly what I could do, and the second part to my suggestion. Without the Focus network it could work, but I would have to attack it from a different angle. I'd have to scale it down, but I would also have to be present for most of the time in order to do it, because I would be wading into unknown waters.
But was it doable?
"I have a counteroffer," I finally spoke again, even as I reached up, the augmented reality feeding directly into my brain as I tapped an invisible menu. It opened up another set of folders, and then I fed them into the projector, the data for Leviathan fading away..
"We go with your plan on material productions. You're right, we do need the capital in order to survive, but just being able to produce advanced materials will not provide us the ability to flourish. Merely it would allow us to batten down the hatches and survive until we are ready to make a splash. That could take years, Jean, and I'm not sure that with the way things are going we can afford to take that time."
"What are you talking about, Taylor? You've already agreed that the Focus won't work," her father interjected, his confusion evident in his expression. However, I wasn't focusing my attention upon him, I knew with the right pressure I could get him to capitulate to my way. His expression suddenly changed as he began to put together what I was suggesting, "Wait…"
No, what mattered right now was Jean and her reaction.
"You're really going to do it," she half-asked, half-stated exasperatedly, "I thought you wanted to wait on this."
I shook my head, "You're right, Jean. I was looking at it from the wrong perspective. I wanted to make the splash to put the system together quickly, but that won't work if we don't have a necessary reason for the network to exist. We can siphon off some of the material production and a few of the molds and printers and it will not have a dramatic impact upon your idea."
"Taylor–," my father tried to say.
I ignored him as I reached with my hand to the AR display and 'slid' the file with my hand to the right, authorizing a command to send the file to the projectors and display it for all of us to see.
I had decided to keep their names, at least in my head. I knew that it was likely to change, as the public would likely wish to change their names or give them different descriptions. I knew that I wanted to, to move away from that disturbingly tribalistic manner in which they were named. But for internal reasons, I had given them this name, I would let public relations figure out what to do going forward.
ZDLM-001A Red Eye
ZDLM-002A Charger
ZDLM-003A Burrower
ZDLM-004A Scrapper
ZDLM-005T/CC Titan
The only name that I had deigned to change had been the Titan. Previously, my power had identified it as the Behemoth, but I was keen to avoid creating that kind of stir. Nothing good could come from naming a machine after one of the Endbringers.
Each letter had a meaning in the designation. In the case of ZDLM, it meant Zero Dawn Land Machine, with the number providing the chassis model number designation. The final part, the latter, in this case, denoted its designed role: A for Acquisition, T for Transport, and CC for Communications/Command.
The Titan, in this case, was a far different machine than the Behemoth chassis I had based it upon. It had been an exercise in alternative thinking and solutions that I had toyed with over a week ago. I had set it aside because it had rankled at my own feelings on the matter, it felt like I was admitting that I was going to fail setting up a network before I had even a chance.
At its core, the idea was to create a mobile command and control machine that could serve as a standalone node in regions where I may not have the ability to provide network coverage for machines.
A stripped-down Behemoth chassis that discarded its gravity manipulation technology, because frankly I did not see that tech being producible for at least another year or two (and even then I wanted to keep that extremely close to my chest) and other defensive systems could fulfill that role. The space saved could then be repurposed to mount the most advanced communications suite in the world and the transportation container could house the servers necessary to fulfill a command role.
It wasn't a perfect setup, it wouldn't have any of the defensive technologies a Tallneck had, and it was, quite honestly, a seat of the pants modification that just invited something to go wrong and, as a result, would require constant monitoring at first. It would also be the most difficult of the machines listed to put together in a month, but it could be done. Honestly, a small part of me had preened at the fact that I had designed the modification, as it was something quite different from simply being provided the information, even if the greater part of me had despised the admission that putting out the Focus first could be a failure.
Now it seemed that the exercise could pay off.
"Taylor, what is this?"
I glanced at my father, and I took the time to take in my fathers expression. While I could not see it, I knew he was likely pale at what was being displayed. I hadn't truly shared with him just how far my knowledge and skill went, but on the other hand, he had never truly asked the right questions.
Or maybe it was because I was afraid I knew exactly what his response would be if he truly knew, I thought sadly. My father was a decent, but flawed man, and despite his best efforts, and god I knew he was trying, he was a man in over his head. You took him beyond his comfort zone and he floundered. But what I was seeing was more than that.
What I was seeing was fear. I'd honestly never seen him so fearful in my life.
"It's the future," I finally said, unable to keep the sadness from my tone as I realized what I was seeing. I could never discard my father, I don't think I could live with myself if I did that. In spite of everything, he had been there for me when I desperately needed it, he had made sacrifices for me to get to this point. He could have drowned himself in his self-loathing and depression at the cruel world, but he didn't.
But I was legitimately afraid that I may not be the one making that choice. There was only so much that could be pushed before something had to give. And I was terribly afraid I was reaching that.
"Go on, Taylor," Jean spoke, cutting off whatever my father was going to say, and I took a deep breath and released it, trying to regain control of my nerves that left me feeling only a gnawing pit of despair in my gut...
Was this what Elizabet in my dreams felt when she had declared that the human race would be extinct in less than two years because of one colossal fuck up? No, I was trivializing something far worse than a guilty conscience and fear of something outside of my control, I thought with more than a hint of bitterness.
Still felt like absolute shit.
"What you are looking at is what I call a Light Rescue Lance, or LRL," I started, trying to keep the bile threatening to rise in my gorge as I kept my father in my vision, but to the side, various emotions warring on his face, "It is designed to go into disaster areas and provide search and rescue services at a higher efficiency and lesser asset distribution so more focus can be shifted elsewhere. It would consist of four Red Eyes, two Burrowers, a Scrapper, and a Charger. Each machine is designed to fulfill a role, Red Eyes with their sensor suites can detect people needing rescue, Burrowers to either dig out or reach victims, Scrapper to help in removing large debris, and the Charger serves as refueler for the other machines. The Titan will serve as a command and communications hub, since my original design template assumed that the necessary Focus network to link the machines into would already exist. By my estimation, with the materials we currently have, we can produce all nine of these machines in thirty-two days, with a cost running about one-point-two-six million dollars altogether."
The silence was deafening from both Jean and my father. I knew it was certainly not what they were expecting, nor do I think they expected the price for it to be so low. But Jean had done me a favor by bulk-purchasing most of the materials I would need to pull this off, with the various printers and molds, it was just a matter of changing what they had to do on the floor. As a result, the cost could be minimized to largely the cost of material that already is in stock, alongside the man-hours to complete the work.
What I wasn't expecting, however, was the way my dad's head snapped towards Jean in sudden dawning realization.
"You knew about this," he hissed angrily at her as he shot to his feet, hands curled into fists. I started to rise myself, as I knew that we were one step away from him truly losing himself to his anger.
"I thought you did," Jean responded, her expression perplexed as she looked between my father and myself. I knew she was putting together the truth of the matter, but if she said anything it could only incense him further.
"No," I spoke, cutting off the angry rebuttal about to leap from my father's lips, "I didn't. Please, Dad, sit down."
Jean looked between the two of us, as I was stared down by my father. I wish I knew what was going on in his head. I had a good inkling, because what I had done was a betrayal at least from his perspective.
"Maybe I should–."
"No, Jean. Please stay," I cut her off, keeping my stare straight on my father. I could only hope that he would sit down. Because I knew that if he stormed out right now, all of the progress we made between the two of us would be gone, likely never to be restored.
Maybe it was something on my expression, or maybe it was something else, but slowly, almost like a glacier moving, he lowered himself back into his seat. I released a breath I hadn't even realized I had been holding.
"I'm sorry, Dad," I began, trying to find the right words to express to him even an iota of the sincere guilt that I felt for all of this, I had been so occupied on whether or not I could achieve my objectives, that I never stopped to ask myself if I should. It was my own hubris that led to this.
"I know I should have told you this before," I continued, even as I struggled to find just exactly what to say, and when I couldn't find it, I sighed. There was no point in trying put it lightly, I had already kept the truth away from him for too long.
"Fuck it," I breathed, "the reason I haven't told you any of this is because I don't know how to explain it, Dad. I mean, how can I even start? Hey Dad, you know my Focus, yeah, that's not even the tip of the iceberg. The better question to ask me is what I can't create," I pointed towards my head, "When I told you I could change the world, it was not hyperbole, hell, if anything, I was underselling it all. I am a walking, talking, point of multiple technological singularities. You want to restore the Earth? Give me twenty years and I will turn the entirety of the Earth into a garden world that would make the Garden of Eden look like a backyard vanity project, and I wouldn't even be breaking a sweat. Reach the stars? You give me a decade and I can field ships that can reach Sirius in less than thirty years after their launch. What about nearly limitless power? That's a fucking Tuesday. You want functional imm-," I violently cut myself off, recognizing at what I had almost let slip.
Taking a deep breath I tried once again to collect myself, but frankly I felt only more frayed than I was before. Instead, I slowly lowered myself back in my chair, keeping Jean in my sidegaze even as I cast a considerable focus upon my father. I wondered if she had caught my little slip and just what she would think about it.
Honestly, my feelings were mixed on the idea of functional immortality. On one hand, it would quite possible allow humanity to flourish far beyond its current status, but on the other hand, the moralistic and sociological implications were the stuff of nightmares. It most certainly did not help that the origin of that knowledge stemmed from narcissistic sociopaths who had damned humanity in their greed.
Releasing the aforementioned breath, all of my energy seemed to escape me as I slumped in my chair. All I felt was the raw emotion beckoning to escape, as all of my private frustrations and personal reflections seemed to have finally found an exit vector. Unfortunately, it just had to be now.
"The reason I could never tell you," I continued finally after he had also slumped in his chair, cradling his head in his hands, "Is because I don't know where to start. I want to change the world, I know I have to change the world, but I have to also ensure that what I do will end in a net positive for humanity," I couldn't help but laugh bitterly, "The funny thing is that futurists really never tell you how exactly that a technological point of singularity is akin to playing God while dancing on a knife's edge. The only difference is I am fully aware of what fucking up looks like if something goes wrong, and I'm also burdened with the knowledge of what our society will look like if we don't start taking significant action within the next eight years."
I honestly wished I knew exactly what to say to reach out to him. I hated that we had to reach ahead in this manner. I wanted the Father that had been there with me since the day I lost my sight in what seemed a lifetime ago: An awkward, broken man who found the courage and energy to still try his best for his daughter.
Instead, the silence that greeted me only felt more oppressive, as slowly my father straightened himself back in his chair. Instead he said nothing for what seemed like an eternity.
"And what does that look like," Jean's soft voice took me away from my vigil upon my father as I turned towards her, her expression closed off. Maybe I had made a mistake in not clearing the room for the two of us, but it seemed like it was far too late for that. Or maybe it was right to air everything here and now, and let everything fall where they may.
"Twenty-three years. That's probably the most generous estimate I can give before the collective damage done to infrastructure, supply, and communications result in a complete collapse of modern society. After that, I give maybe another decade before the final collapse of the surviving feudalistically-inclined city-states. And then, depending on the operational tempo of the Endbringers and the resultant violence as resources become increasingly more scarce and fighting becomes even more fierce between roving bands, I give maybe another eight years before the human species will become functionally extinct."
The resultant silence was about what I expected. After all, just what would you expect if you a fifteen-year-old blind girl 'genius' declared that the human race would become functionally extinct before she was able to collect Social Security. I was not sure if I was going to be believed, but frankly, I had no idea exactly how I was supposed to connect with my father and explain to him why I needed to do this. If the LRL concept could gain traction, then I could fast-track other initiatives, like larger machines and even the Focus. "One of the most critical aspects of society was the ability to communicate and transport materials, and if I could prop up those two long enough, then the statistical probability of canceling the apocalypse increases."
Still, I felt like a doomsayer by even sharing this. I hadn't wanted to, but I wasn't going to hide the fact and what drove me in this case. Maybe it would change minds, maybe it wouldn't, but unless the information was out there, it was akin to handicapping the truth.
"I think we should all take a break," Jean finally spoke, being the first to collect herself. I couldn't bear to look at my father, not out of any spite, but because I honestly did not want to see his reaction. I feared that it may just break what tenuous link we still had if I did.
"I..think that would be wise," the respondent croak of my father's voice was enough for me to know that what I had said had hit home. But what was disconcerting was as I finally looked to him he wore the most blank expression I had ever seen. He had always been easy to read, but right now, I couldn't tell what he was thinking or even feeling, "We'll reconvene this afternoon, say around four?"
Both of them looked at me, and I merely offered a nod, "I agree."
Danny
How did I miss it, he thought to himself as he took a long pull from a chilled bottle of beer, allowing the sensation of the lager working its way to his digestive tract taking an edge off of already turbulent thoughts. The added scenery of the water of the Bay served as a balm for what were already wrought emotions he had thought he had buried.
He already knew the answer to the question, as much as he hated to admit it. He had chosen to ignore his growing suspicions because he didn't want to know the answer. No, that was an unfair summation, it wasn't that he didn't want to know, it's that he didn't know how he could handle it.
Taylor had always been an intelligent child, something that she had thankfully taken from her mother, but what had happened to her this year had only honed that edge into something more profound that he had become fearful of.
His daughter was just like Annette…No, that was wrong, he took a small sip from the bottle. He was being unfair to the both of them by making the comparison. And maybe that was why he was fearful, not just of his daughter, but for his daughter.
Setting the bottle down beside him, he let his legs hang over the edge of the dock, the quiet of the waves, the sound of the gulls providing the only necessary accompaniment to his maudlin thoughts.
Annette had understood her limitations. She had known when and where to draw the line, it was those instincts that saved her from the blowback against Lustrum. It was those instincts that had made her realize that she was ill-fitted to be an activist. She had been intelligent, yes, but she lacked the charisma and emotional detachment needed to be a good leader. So instead, she turned to what she could do best, instead of trying a direct route, she had fulfilled her want to change the system by cultivating students who could carry the torch that she could not.
He wasn't sure that his daughter even understood the concept of limitations. Even when suffering a setback she railed against it, seeking a new way to overcome the mountain. If she had to escalate, then so be it. All that mattered to her was the need to succeed.
Sighing, he picked up the bottle again, choosing to polish off the remainder of the dark liquid that was becoming warmer.
No, he knew that Taylor had been hiding something. He had helped raise her after all, but he also knew that pushing her would alienate and put at risk their relationship. They had been making strides, especially with things how they were, but you couldn't magically heal four years of neglect quickly. So, he had put his head in the sand, somehow convincing himself that whatever Taylor was hiding, she would eventually share with him, and they would both laugh at how trivial it really was.
The problem was that it certainly wasn't a fucking trivial secret.
'God, how could I have missed it so badly," he thought to himself, his hand tightening around the neck of the bottle as that familiar Hebert anger reared its ugly head.
He wasn't even sure where to begin in this morass. Taylor's rant about what she knew and could do was one thing with it's own bag of issues, but probably more terrifying was the fact that his daughter, at fifteen years old, had calculated the end of the human fucking race. He didn't know whether to laugh at the insanity of it, or sob at the knowledge that his daughter had knowingly spent time delving into such a depressing subject in order to augment an argument.
It was so quintessentially Annette it fucking hurt, he thought as a laugh burbled from his mouth.
He had been stupid, both in ignoring it, but also letting it build to this point. He couldn't excuse his actions or behaviors, and he certainly could not forget how vulnerable his daughter had looked when he had chosen to make his disagreement clear. How she was afraid of what he was going to say. It hurt.
But what was his disagreement? Hell, he didn't even fucking know, for fuck's sake. Yes, he was goddamn afraid, not of her, but fucking for her. How the fuck could he not express that to her? Hell, he couldn't even blame Jean in all of this, she hadn't realized that he hadn't known. How fucking humiliating was that? That the father and vice president was as much in the fucking dark as a goddamn intern at the wild ideas bouncing around in both his boss and his daughter's head.
Taylor was going to do what she felt was right. It didn't matter if it went against conventional thinking or against the grain of some other fucking thing, she'd do it and to hell with anyone else. The fact that she had been willing to even listen to others for their opinion was a miracle in and of itself, Annette could never have fucking done that if it was one of her darling subjects.
Just where could he stand in all of this, for that matter? How could he even fucking convey how he was afraid for her? She had made it abundantly clear that these machines she had revealed were only the beginning. Just how far did that fucking go? And just how long could she continue this before eventually she ran into resistance?
He sighed as it finally clicked into place.
Lustrum. That's why he was so up in arms. It was Lustrum all fucking over again.
He hadn't been part of it, for obvious reasons, but Annette had never shied away from telling him what had gone on during her time with them. At least until Taylor was born, after that, they had both agreed to not discuss it around her. It wasn't a matter of shame as even he had understood why Lustrum had taken a stance, but it had been something they just believed should be left in the past as it would create inconvenient questions.
But at the core of it, Lustrum had pushed too far, too fast, and when they failed to get the recognition and momentum that she wanted to affect change, they became violent. It was a tale as old as time for any activist group that could not achieve relevance. The only difference between them had been Lustrum herself, The Protectorate and PRT had decided to make an example of her and threw her in the Birdcage, because she had ceased being an irritant to powers-that-be, and had become a problem.
This was the same path Taylor was going down. Jean was right, right now, Zero Dawn, and by extension, Taylor, were unknowns. Sure, they got a few articles written about how a Tinker was receiving a rather large investment, but other than that, she was not even a footnote to those who wielded power.
But if she did this, it most certainly would create an interest. In the end, it inevitably wouldn't matter how much good she was doing, those zealous in the retention of their power and wealth would recognize that Taylor was a problem, and they would render upon her what they had previously done to Lustrum.
It didn't matter if the machines she produced saved hundreds, or even thousands, of people. It didn't matter if her machines were innocuous and cute. It didn't matter if what she could offer to the world could turn back all of the setbacks to society. All it would take was one incident, one misstep, and they would have their cause célèbre to eliminate the problem and return back to their cherished status quo. The less said about those who would attempt to worm their way into her graces in order to 'guide' her the better.
"Fuck," he breathed. He knew exactly how that would go, unlike Annette, who would relent if she felt it was not worth it, Taylor couldn't, and quite honestly, if she had the choice, she wouldn't either. She was a woman on a mission, she knew exactly what would result if she did not succeed.
It was going to be a war, and frankly, that was honestly the most terrifying aspect of all of this. He wasn't sure exactly how it would go down, but he knew that his daughter would not yield as long as she had willingness to fight.
Which led all the way back to what she was hiding from him. He couldn't help her if he didn't know, but he wasn't sure if she would be at all willing to even talk to him after what had happened.
No, there was a way. But it was an option just as unpalatable as doing nothing. No, he was being unfair, it was unpalatable, but it did not compare to the idea of losing his fucking daughter over a goddamn disagreement.
He had no choice, did he? If he did this, he would be providing the fuse to start all of this, regardless of whether he wanted to or not. The only way he could even attempt to restore something between them was to support her, even if it would put her into the very danger he feared would consume her.
Could he do it? That he wasn't sure of. No, that was a damnable lie, he just didn't want to fucking admit it and be responsible for it. Maybe he could try and talk some sense into his daughter, but there was a better chance of hell freezing over and the Cubs winning the World Series than being able to change his daughter's course.
Before that, it'd probably be prudent to at least talk to Jane before the meeting. Maybe she had an idea of what could be done. He also didn't think that she would serve as an obstacle either, he had seen the interest lurking in her gaze. But, it wouldn't hurt to even try.
He was ripped from his thoughts by his phone going off, causing him to reach into his pocket and retrieve it. He had the device, but he had no choice but to have it because of his position and role. Frowning over Kurt's name on the caller ID, he flipped it open.
"Yeah?"
"Danny, you need to get back here. The PRT, Protectorate, Police, and fucking CPS just all walked in."
Taylor
Sipping from my lukewarm coffee, I couldn't help but watch the trainwreck that was the argument taking place between my father and Jean. I despised the taste of the bitter black brew but it was providing me one of the few sources of energy that I was in desperate need of. Both to remain aware of the argument, but also to function in general.
The last week of hard work and preparation was finally bearing its fruits. While training was still underway, in three days, we would be ready to start the production line.
It was this reason alone that had drawn me out of my lab for this sit down. While I was technically listed as the CEO, in actuality, I was more the head of research and development. The only reason I was here was because it was from my head that we could even field the various pieces of technology. If anyone had solutions for what we were intending, it would be me.
Alas, the damn argument was over the focus of production. While all models of the Focus shared a large amount of parts, there were still core differences that had to be taken into account. We couldn't mix the different models on the same assembly line, and we didn't have enough assembly lines to field all models. And at this juncture, it would be wise to do so without contracts and demands.
The irony in all of this, however, was my father was arguing in favor of Hathor, the communications model, while Jean was arguing we needed to go with Ptah, a multipurpose model. How my father would argue against the model that would benefit workers like him, I would never know, but it was certainly something to behold.
Quietly taking another sip, I let them keep at it as I eagerly allowed the coffee to claw back the vestiges of my own exhaustion. The last few days had been nothing more than meetings, reviews, and training. Luckily, the training had been the least exhausting aspect of it all, as many of the people I was helping train knew me too well, and they knew to listen.
But the meetings? I wish I could do without them. I despised them. I could be working on finetuning my plans, but instead, I got to play referee to Jean and my father arguing like they were jilted lovers, which, fucking ew mind, thankfully they were not. I don't think I'd know what to do with that can of worms.
It was tedious, and if I wasn't actually getting some use out of them, I would probably have brought my foot down sooner. Why I was using their argument to work on my own plans honestly escaped me. I knew it was a good idea, only that I didn't know why it was a good idea.
Nonetheless, both of them raised good points on the viability of both plans. The only problem was this world didn't reward viability. It couldn't, not in the face of everything else. Finishing off the coffee, I placed the mug down on the table and reached out to find the charging case for my new Focus. Flipping it open, I retrieved the large triangular 'plate' that was easily three times the size of the Ptah and affixed it to right in front of my ear on the right side of my head. With a light tap, I allowed it to power up.
Unlike my first Focus, Sekhmet, as it was documented, was meant to be an entirely custom model meant only for me. It combined all of the aspects of all existing production models into a singular platform to provide me with the absolute best in terms of performance and utility for my work.
Unofficially, I named it something else, something more appropriate and private: Ash Nazg. Since, at the end of the day, it was the Focus equivalent of Tolkien's One Ring. It could do everything the others could and would forever only be mine.
My vision returned as it were, flooding and provided me with a much more detailed view than ever before. Whereas the Focus Zero could only provide me with what were essentially shaped blobs in blue-violet-magenta, the definition and detail was magnitudes superior. While still not a suitable replacement for normal eyes, I could now make out things like facial expressions, and sharp movements were no longer a blur. The range was also measured in the tens of meters instead of uncomfortably close.
But most importantly to it all, was the augmented reality overlay now in my vision. It was honestly the core game changer for everything she could do. No longer did I have to sit at a computer, but now I had the luxury of being able to move around and reference data, and be able to show it on a tablet to those in the field or shop.
"Enough," I said quietly, but firmly. I might as well have shot a gun in the room, as they both stopped and looked at me, "You both have good points, and in a perfect situation, we could probably do a mix of what you're suggesting."
I reached up so the Focus could detect it, and lightly tapped the icon for a folder that I had been working on for over a week now. I then slid the icon to the open 'port' and accessed the holographic projector that had been set up in the room. In a few moments, it then uploaded and displayed what I was seeing.
It was a report that I had compiled, specifically upon the next Endbringer slated to attack: Leviathan.
"Taylor," my father asked, and while I could not see it, I knew he was paling at the imagery of the devastation and data that I had put together for this, "What is this? Why are you-"
"I'd also like to know," Jean's voice was cooler, but I could tell she was not exactly happy with this deviation. I couldn't blame her, I was diverting time I could have put towards readying our initial push on this, at least in her opinion, "Just what is the point of this?"
"In thirty-six days, the window of attack for Leviathan is slated to open up," I started, knowing that I had to sell this to both of them, especially Jean, "It is known from past behavior patterns, that about forty-five days before he strikes, he always settles into a position roughly four to eight hours from the intended target. Considering his clocked speed runs around two hundred knots and his known location in the Laurentian Abyss, that places him within striking distance from Quebec City all the way down to Brunswick, Georgia."
I provided a map that showed the red of everywhere it could hit, which, honestly, was quite massive when you thought of the sheer landmass that was vulnerable. It also didn't take into account that Leviathan has been shown to have the capability to move inland, in the case of Lake Ijsellmeer in the Netherlands in 2005. It had completely destroyed the food supply by contaminating the lowlands with salt water in that tragedy. Luckily, there weren't as many viable targets for that strategy, and those that existed were outside of its preferred striking range.
"As much as I hate to say it, but this provides us with a marketing opportunity that cannot be ignored," I finally said, "Even with Mister Gabriel's help in cutting through the bureaucratic red tape necessary to field a new cellular device and requisite network connection, the fact of the matter is, if we want to really get out there, we need to have a major splash that cannot be ignored by anyone. Providing resources to an Endbringer fight, both before and after, is such an opportunity."
"Taylor, that's a rather dangerous mindset to have," my father spoke up after a moment, "I can see what you're getting at, and I do agree. However, the optics of it, I'm not sure if it's the right thing to do. Plus there is the logistics aspect of it. We won't even have the permits to assemble a cellular network to support the Focus network for another month. I know you want to hit the ground running, but we have to start local for this to work. Taking advantage of an Endbringer attack to sell a product is, honestly, bad optics."
His piece said, I turned my head to Jean, whose expression had not changed.
"I do not believe that would be the proper path forward. Yes, you are right that it's an opportunity, but it's an opportunity with far too many risks for what will likely be far too little gain. How many units were you thinking of having produced for this endeavor?"
"About two thousand Ptahs and a thousand Hathors."
While my father sharply inhaled at the figures, Jean's expression hardened as her eyes narrowed. It was evident that she had a problem with what I was suggesting. I knew that meeting those figures would be difficult in the time that we had. We would have to be running our production line non-stop for the entire month without interruption in order to meet that quota. It would be a prohibitively expensive prospect with the material and labor costs, but also the likely bottlenecks we would have to overcome, but it was doable. I had already run the numbers to know this.
Instead, to my own surprise, she shook her head.
"I will give you credit, you don't do anything by half, Taylor. I get why you want to do this, I honestly do. But we have to think about the company first. Right now, we're bleeding money and have no income. Which is fine for a venture capital startup, but it means we're already taking big risks. The last thing we need to be doing right now is stacking even more risks before our first round of sales. What you are planning is putting all our eggs into one basket in a make or break situation and anticipating that if you showcase this technology we'll be able to fast-track sales, but that's not how tech adoption works. Endbringer fights are messy, vicious things, and are not the sort of thing you want to introduce an entirely new system into, even if it's revolutionary, without proper training for all involved. If you rush it out like that, you'll end up killing more people than you would be helping. And we'll be the one paying the price."
I opened my mouth to rebut, but she held up a hand, stalling me.
"Let me finish, Taylor. Please. Your ideas and technology will change the world, don't let yourself think I don't recognize it, but it is also going to make you powerful enemies. They will take one look at what you are trying to do and they will recognize the clear and present danger that you present to their interests."
She paused for a moment, using the time to sip from her water.
"They won't hesitate to destroy you if given the opportunity, Taylor," she continued after placing the glass back on the table, "And setting our remaining cash reserves on fire to literally give away what the world will consider experimental equipment will not shortcut the adoption curb. It will just provide our enemies with the opportunity to strangle Zero Dawn in the cradle. I know you want to do this, but you have to remember it's no longer just you, Taylor. It's Zero Dawn Technologies. We are responsible for nearly four hundred people who are reliant upon you ensuring that they continue to have a good job with good pay and by extension their families. We have to make decisions grounded in what is best for the company. It's no longer a sprint anymore, you have the door open and the money to reach your dream, but you have to understand it has become a marathon and everything has to be weighed and measured to ensure you can go the distance. We cannot afford to spend our future on a hail mary or providing our enemies with the opportunity to lay a shadow on our products with such a blatant and dubious public relations scheme will only make their job easier."
I sat back in the chair, staring at the woman across from me. I certainly hadn't expected such a vociferous response, even if it was Jean. I had expected at least some pushback, it would be wrong not to, but this? This was far beyond what even I predicted.
I wanted to lash out at her, to throw her facts and figures in her face, but a quiet part of me held back the rest. I knew the numbers, front and back. It would cost nearly six million dollars to produce the units and supporting equipment. That didn't take into account the second half of what I had originally planned, which would probably run close to another two to three million. I knew that it would be successful, but I didn't have the evidence to support the notion.
But how would it be successful, the quiet part of me asked, and I found my frown deeping as I mentally reviewed my plans. Only this time, I added Jean's critique to it.
She was right. I was gambling, not because I wanted to, but because I hadto. The issue with everything was that I was trying to take what was essentially technology at least six decades in advance of what existed, and shoehorn it into a communications and logistics system that was held together by shoestrings. I had to force a rapid adoption if I had any chance of succeeding. Without the networks and logistics to support what she intended, then it would take far too long for me to get to where we needed.
But that was the point of this entire scenario. With this, I could create interest in the technology and show the promise and superiority to what existed, then make clear the needs to achieve this.
I paused in my thoughts, glancing over at my father who was quietly watching me. It seemed like he was in tacit agreement with what Jean had said. It was telling how much he was against it by allowing Jean's brutal takedown of my idea without an ounce of protest.
So if this was the wrong path to take, what was the right path? All of my machines needed an intact and powerful network in order to work efficiently. The current 3G networks would be like using phone modems for my technology, it could theoretically do it, but it would be the stuff of nightmares for any sensible engineer. Without the networks, they could run, as long as a nodal hub network existed, but then that created its own fucking problems.
But what was the solution here? We couldn't afford to wait too long to strike, the longer we waited the weaker we became. Jean was right, we were bleeding out, the only difference was the speed in which we exsanguinated.
I looked back to Jean, considering further. If she was so vocal in her opposition, it was highly likely she had her own ideas. The question I had to ask was how would her ideas expand our influence and power?
"What is your idea?" I finally asked.
It was minute, but it did not go without notice how Jean ever-so-slightly relaxed.
"Focus on increasing production capacity on advanced materials. With comparatively minimal machinery and advertising we can sell those to anyone and everyone. That will give us a solid reputation without stepping on too many toes. Well, excluding the biofuel which will cause an absolute storm in the oil and gas industry no matter what we do. More importantly, it will allow us to quickly produce a positive cashflow and solve our most pressing problems. Add to that the increased material demands for rebuilding after an Endbringer attack and we should be able to recoup a significant amount of our expenditures. Furthermore, by doing this, we will be able to expedite getting around the cash and parts bottlenecks for your own initiatives."
Honestly, I was somewhat disappointed by the idea. I mean, I knew what she was intending, and it was a decent plan. It just felt too conservative in my estimation. Sure, the materials we would be able to sell soon would quickly fill our coffers, but it honestly ran against both what I wanted and even the company name. It felt like we were grabbing for the lowest rung and just accepting it as our best.
Taking a deep breath, I then thought about what I could do. She was right, but I felt she was also wrong. She was looking solely at the business aspect, while I was looking at the futures aspect. We could sit here and peddle materials til our faces were blue, but it would not change the world. It may improve it, but that wasn't what I wanted.
I considered exactly what I could do, and the second part to my suggestion. Without the Focus network it could work, but I would have to attack it from a different angle. I'd have to scale it down, but I would also have to be present for most of the time in order to do it, because I would be wading into unknown waters.
But was it doable?
"I have a counteroffer," I finally spoke again, even as I reached up, the augmented reality feeding directly into my brain as I tapped an invisible menu. It opened up another set of folders, and then I fed them into the projector, the data for Leviathan fading away..
"We go with your plan on material productions. You're right, we do need the capital in order to survive, but just being able to produce advanced materials will not provide us the ability to flourish. Merely it would allow us to batten down the hatches and survive until we are ready to make a splash. That could take years, Jean, and I'm not sure that with the way things are going we can afford to take that time."
"What are you talking about, Taylor? You've already agreed that the Focus won't work," her father interjected, his confusion evident in his expression. However, I wasn't focusing my attention upon him, I knew with the right pressure I could get him to capitulate to my way. His expression suddenly changed as he began to put together what I was suggesting, "Wait…"
No, what mattered right now was Jean and her reaction.
"You're really going to do it," she half-asked, half-stated exasperatedly, "I thought you wanted to wait on this."
I shook my head, "You're right, Jean. I was looking at it from the wrong perspective. I wanted to make the splash to put the system together quickly, but that won't work if we don't have a necessary reason for the network to exist. We can siphon off some of the material production and a few of the molds and printers and it will not have a dramatic impact upon your idea."
"Taylor–," my father tried to say.
I ignored him as I reached with my hand to the AR display and 'slid' the file with my hand to the right, authorizing a command to send the file to the projectors and display it for all of us to see.
I had decided to keep their names, at least in my head. I knew that it was likely to change, as the public would likely wish to change their names or give them different descriptions. I knew that I wanted to, to move away from that disturbingly tribalistic manner in which they were named. But for internal reasons, I had given them this name, I would let public relations figure out what to do going forward.
ZDLM-001A Red Eye
ZDLM-002A Charger
ZDLM-003A Burrower
ZDLM-004A Scrapper
ZDLM-005T/CC Titan
The only name that I had deigned to change had been the Titan. Previously, my power had identified it as the Behemoth, but I was keen to avoid creating that kind of stir. Nothing good could come from naming a machine after one of the Endbringers.
Each letter had a meaning in the designation. In the case of ZDLM, it meant Zero Dawn Land Machine, with the number providing the chassis model number designation. The final part, the latter, in this case, denoted its designed role: A for Acquisition, T for Transport, and CC for Communications/Command.
The Titan, in this case, was a far different machine than the Behemoth chassis I had based it upon. It had been an exercise in alternative thinking and solutions that I had toyed with over a week ago. I had set it aside because it had rankled at my own feelings on the matter, it felt like I was admitting that I was going to fail setting up a network before I had even a chance.
At its core, the idea was to create a mobile command and control machine that could serve as a standalone node in regions where I may not have the ability to provide network coverage for machines.
A stripped-down Behemoth chassis that discarded its gravity manipulation technology, because frankly I did not see that tech being producible for at least another year or two (and even then I wanted to keep that extremely close to my chest) and other defensive systems could fulfill that role. The space saved could then be repurposed to mount the most advanced communications suite in the world and the transportation container could house the servers necessary to fulfill a command role.
It wasn't a perfect setup, it wouldn't have any of the defensive technologies a Tallneck had, and it was, quite honestly, a seat of the pants modification that just invited something to go wrong and, as a result, would require constant monitoring at first. It would also be the most difficult of the machines listed to put together in a month, but it could be done. Honestly, a small part of me had preened at the fact that I had designed the modification, as it was something quite different from simply being provided the information, even if the greater part of me had despised the admission that putting out the Focus first could be a failure.
Now it seemed that the exercise could pay off.
"Taylor, what is this?"
I glanced at my father, and I took the time to take in my fathers expression. While I could not see it, I knew he was likely pale at what was being displayed. I hadn't truly shared with him just how far my knowledge and skill went, but on the other hand, he had never truly asked the right questions.
Or maybe it was because I was afraid I knew exactly what his response would be if he truly knew, I thought sadly. My father was a decent, but flawed man, and despite his best efforts, and god I knew he was trying, he was a man in over his head. You took him beyond his comfort zone and he floundered. But what I was seeing was more than that.
What I was seeing was fear. I'd honestly never seen him so fearful in my life.
"It's the future," I finally said, unable to keep the sadness from my tone as I realized what I was seeing. I could never discard my father, I don't think I could live with myself if I did that. In spite of everything, he had been there for me when I desperately needed it, he had made sacrifices for me to get to this point. He could have drowned himself in his self-loathing and depression at the cruel world, but he didn't.
But I was legitimately afraid that I may not be the one making that choice. There was only so much that could be pushed before something had to give. And I was terribly afraid I was reaching that.
"Go on, Taylor," Jean spoke, cutting off whatever my father was going to say, and I took a deep breath and released it, trying to regain control of my nerves that left me feeling only a gnawing pit of despair in my gut...
Was this what Elizabet in my dreams felt when she had declared that the human race would be extinct in less than two years because of one colossal fuck up? No, I was trivializing something far worse than a guilty conscience and fear of something outside of my control, I thought with more than a hint of bitterness.
Still felt like absolute shit.
"What you are looking at is what I call a Light Rescue Lance, or LRL," I started, trying to keep the bile threatening to rise in my gorge as I kept my father in my vision, but to the side, various emotions warring on his face, "It is designed to go into disaster areas and provide search and rescue services at a higher efficiency and lesser asset distribution so more focus can be shifted elsewhere. It would consist of four Red Eyes, two Burrowers, a Scrapper, and a Charger. Each machine is designed to fulfill a role, Red Eyes with their sensor suites can detect people needing rescue, Burrowers to either dig out or reach victims, Scrapper to help in removing large debris, and the Charger serves as refueler for the other machines. The Titan will serve as a command and communications hub, since my original design template assumed that the necessary Focus network to link the machines into would already exist. By my estimation, with the materials we currently have, we can produce all nine of these machines in thirty-two days, with a cost running about one-point-two-six million dollars altogether."
The silence was deafening from both Jean and my father. I knew it was certainly not what they were expecting, nor do I think they expected the price for it to be so low. But Jean had done me a favor by bulk-purchasing most of the materials I would need to pull this off, with the various printers and molds, it was just a matter of changing what they had to do on the floor. As a result, the cost could be minimized to largely the cost of material that already is in stock, alongside the man-hours to complete the work.
What I wasn't expecting, however, was the way my dad's head snapped towards Jean in sudden dawning realization.
"You knew about this," he hissed angrily at her as he shot to his feet, hands curled into fists. I started to rise myself, as I knew that we were one step away from him truly losing himself to his anger.
"I thought you did," Jean responded, her expression perplexed as she looked between my father and myself. I knew she was putting together the truth of the matter, but if she said anything it could only incense him further.
"No," I spoke, cutting off the angry rebuttal about to leap from my father's lips, "I didn't. Please, Dad, sit down."
Jean looked between the two of us, as I was stared down by my father. I wish I knew what was going on in his head. I had a good inkling, because what I had done was a betrayal at least from his perspective.
"Maybe I should–."
"No, Jean. Please stay," I cut her off, keeping my stare straight on my father. I could only hope that he would sit down. Because I knew that if he stormed out right now, all of the progress we made between the two of us would be gone, likely never to be restored.
Maybe it was something on my expression, or maybe it was something else, but slowly, almost like a glacier moving, he lowered himself back into his seat. I released a breath I hadn't even realized I had been holding.
"I'm sorry, Dad," I began, trying to find the right words to express to him even an iota of the sincere guilt that I felt for all of this, I had been so occupied on whether or not I could achieve my objectives, that I never stopped to ask myself if I should. It was my own hubris that led to this.
"I know I should have told you this before," I continued, even as I struggled to find just exactly what to say, and when I couldn't find it, I sighed. There was no point in trying put it lightly, I had already kept the truth away from him for too long.
"Fuck it," I breathed, "the reason I haven't told you any of this is because I don't know how to explain it, Dad. I mean, how can I even start? Hey Dad, you know my Focus, yeah, that's not even the tip of the iceberg. The better question to ask me is what I can't create," I pointed towards my head, "When I told you I could change the world, it was not hyperbole, hell, if anything, I was underselling it all. I am a walking, talking, point of multiple technological singularities. You want to restore the Earth? Give me twenty years and I will turn the entirety of the Earth into a garden world that would make the Garden of Eden look like a backyard vanity project, and I wouldn't even be breaking a sweat. Reach the stars? You give me a decade and I can field ships that can reach Sirius in less than thirty years after their launch. What about nearly limitless power? That's a fucking Tuesday. You want functional imm-," I violently cut myself off, recognizing at what I had almost let slip.
Taking a deep breath I tried once again to collect myself, but frankly I felt only more frayed than I was before. Instead, I slowly lowered myself back in my chair, keeping Jean in my sidegaze even as I cast a considerable focus upon my father. I wondered if she had caught my little slip and just what she would think about it.
Honestly, my feelings were mixed on the idea of functional immortality. On one hand, it would quite possible allow humanity to flourish far beyond its current status, but on the other hand, the moralistic and sociological implications were the stuff of nightmares. It most certainly did not help that the origin of that knowledge stemmed from narcissistic sociopaths who had damned humanity in their greed.
Releasing the aforementioned breath, all of my energy seemed to escape me as I slumped in my chair. All I felt was the raw emotion beckoning to escape, as all of my private frustrations and personal reflections seemed to have finally found an exit vector. Unfortunately, it just had to be now.
"The reason I could never tell you," I continued finally after he had also slumped in his chair, cradling his head in his hands, "Is because I don't know where to start. I want to change the world, I know I have to change the world, but I have to also ensure that what I do will end in a net positive for humanity," I couldn't help but laugh bitterly, "The funny thing is that futurists really never tell you how exactly that a technological point of singularity is akin to playing God while dancing on a knife's edge. The only difference is I am fully aware of what fucking up looks like if something goes wrong, and I'm also burdened with the knowledge of what our society will look like if we don't start taking significant action within the next eight years."
I honestly wished I knew exactly what to say to reach out to him. I hated that we had to reach ahead in this manner. I wanted the Father that had been there with me since the day I lost my sight in what seemed a lifetime ago: An awkward, broken man who found the courage and energy to still try his best for his daughter.
Instead, the silence that greeted me only felt more oppressive, as slowly my father straightened himself back in his chair. Instead he said nothing for what seemed like an eternity.
"And what does that look like," Jean's soft voice took me away from my vigil upon my father as I turned towards her, her expression closed off. Maybe I had made a mistake in not clearing the room for the two of us, but it seemed like it was far too late for that. Or maybe it was right to air everything here and now, and let everything fall where they may.
"Twenty-three years. That's probably the most generous estimate I can give before the collective damage done to infrastructure, supply, and communications result in a complete collapse of modern society. After that, I give maybe another decade before the final collapse of the surviving feudalistically-inclined city-states. And then, depending on the operational tempo of the Endbringers and the resultant violence as resources become increasingly more scarce and fighting becomes even more fierce between roving bands, I give maybe another eight years before the human species will become functionally extinct."
The resultant silence was about what I expected. After all, just what would you expect if you a fifteen-year-old blind girl 'genius' declared that the human race would become functionally extinct before she was able to collect Social Security. I was not sure if I was going to be believed, but frankly, I had no idea exactly how I was supposed to connect with my father and explain to him why I needed to do this. If the LRL concept could gain traction, then I could fast-track other initiatives, like larger machines and even the Focus. "One of the most critical aspects of society was the ability to communicate and transport materials, and if I could prop up those two long enough, then the statistical probability of canceling the apocalypse increases."
Still, I felt like a doomsayer by even sharing this. I hadn't wanted to, but I wasn't going to hide the fact and what drove me in this case. Maybe it would change minds, maybe it wouldn't, but unless the information was out there, it was akin to handicapping the truth.
"I think we should all take a break," Jean finally spoke, being the first to collect herself. I couldn't bear to look at my father, not out of any spite, but because I honestly did not want to see his reaction. I feared that it may just break what tenuous link we still had if I did.
"I..think that would be wise," the respondent croak of my father's voice was enough for me to know that what I had said had hit home. But what was disconcerting was as I finally looked to him he wore the most blank expression I had ever seen. He had always been easy to read, but right now, I couldn't tell what he was thinking or even feeling, "We'll reconvene this afternoon, say around four?"
Both of them looked at me, and I merely offered a nod, "I agree."
AEH
Danny
How did I miss it, he thought to himself as he took a long pull from a chilled bottle of beer, allowing the sensation of the lager working its way to his digestive tract taking an edge off of already turbulent thoughts. The added scenery of the water of the Bay served as a balm for what were already wrought emotions he had thought he had buried.
He already knew the answer to the question, as much as he hated to admit it. He had chosen to ignore his growing suspicions because he didn't want to know the answer. No, that was an unfair summation, it wasn't that he didn't want to know, it's that he didn't know how he could handle it.
Taylor had always been an intelligent child, something that she had thankfully taken from her mother, but what had happened to her this year had only honed that edge into something more profound that he had become fearful of.
His daughter was just like Annette…No, that was wrong, he took a small sip from the bottle. He was being unfair to the both of them by making the comparison. And maybe that was why he was fearful, not just of his daughter, but for his daughter.
Setting the bottle down beside him, he let his legs hang over the edge of the dock, the quiet of the waves, the sound of the gulls providing the only necessary accompaniment to his maudlin thoughts.
Annette had understood her limitations. She had known when and where to draw the line, it was those instincts that saved her from the blowback against Lustrum. It was those instincts that had made her realize that she was ill-fitted to be an activist. She had been intelligent, yes, but she lacked the charisma and emotional detachment needed to be a good leader. So instead, she turned to what she could do best, instead of trying a direct route, she had fulfilled her want to change the system by cultivating students who could carry the torch that she could not.
He wasn't sure that his daughter even understood the concept of limitations. Even when suffering a setback she railed against it, seeking a new way to overcome the mountain. If she had to escalate, then so be it. All that mattered to her was the need to succeed.
Sighing, he picked up the bottle again, choosing to polish off the remainder of the dark liquid that was becoming warmer.
No, he knew that Taylor had been hiding something. He had helped raise her after all, but he also knew that pushing her would alienate and put at risk their relationship. They had been making strides, especially with things how they were, but you couldn't magically heal four years of neglect quickly. So, he had put his head in the sand, somehow convincing himself that whatever Taylor was hiding, she would eventually share with him, and they would both laugh at how trivial it really was.
The problem was that it certainly wasn't a fucking trivial secret.
'God, how could I have missed it so badly," he thought to himself, his hand tightening around the neck of the bottle as that familiar Hebert anger reared its ugly head.
He wasn't even sure where to begin in this morass. Taylor's rant about what she knew and could do was one thing with it's own bag of issues, but probably more terrifying was the fact that his daughter, at fifteen years old, had calculated the end of the human fucking race. He didn't know whether to laugh at the insanity of it, or sob at the knowledge that his daughter had knowingly spent time delving into such a depressing subject in order to augment an argument.
It was so quintessentially Annette it fucking hurt, he thought as a laugh burbled from his mouth.
He had been stupid, both in ignoring it, but also letting it build to this point. He couldn't excuse his actions or behaviors, and he certainly could not forget how vulnerable his daughter had looked when he had chosen to make his disagreement clear. How she was afraid of what he was going to say. It hurt.
But what was his disagreement? Hell, he didn't even fucking know, for fuck's sake. Yes, he was goddamn afraid, not of her, but fucking for her. How the fuck could he not express that to her? Hell, he couldn't even blame Jean in all of this, she hadn't realized that he hadn't known. How fucking humiliating was that? That the father and vice president was as much in the fucking dark as a goddamn intern at the wild ideas bouncing around in both his boss and his daughter's head.
Taylor was going to do what she felt was right. It didn't matter if it went against conventional thinking or against the grain of some other fucking thing, she'd do it and to hell with anyone else. The fact that she had been willing to even listen to others for their opinion was a miracle in and of itself, Annette could never have fucking done that if it was one of her darling subjects.
Just where could he stand in all of this, for that matter? How could he even fucking convey how he was afraid for her? She had made it abundantly clear that these machines she had revealed were only the beginning. Just how far did that fucking go? And just how long could she continue this before eventually she ran into resistance?
He sighed as it finally clicked into place.
Lustrum. That's why he was so up in arms. It was Lustrum all fucking over again.
He hadn't been part of it, for obvious reasons, but Annette had never shied away from telling him what had gone on during her time with them. At least until Taylor was born, after that, they had both agreed to not discuss it around her. It wasn't a matter of shame as even he had understood why Lustrum had taken a stance, but it had been something they just believed should be left in the past as it would create inconvenient questions.
But at the core of it, Lustrum had pushed too far, too fast, and when they failed to get the recognition and momentum that she wanted to affect change, they became violent. It was a tale as old as time for any activist group that could not achieve relevance. The only difference between them had been Lustrum herself, The Protectorate and PRT had decided to make an example of her and threw her in the Birdcage, because she had ceased being an irritant to powers-that-be, and had become a problem.
This was the same path Taylor was going down. Jean was right, right now, Zero Dawn, and by extension, Taylor, were unknowns. Sure, they got a few articles written about how a Tinker was receiving a rather large investment, but other than that, she was not even a footnote to those who wielded power.
But if she did this, it most certainly would create an interest. In the end, it inevitably wouldn't matter how much good she was doing, those zealous in the retention of their power and wealth would recognize that Taylor was a problem, and they would render upon her what they had previously done to Lustrum.
It didn't matter if the machines she produced saved hundreds, or even thousands, of people. It didn't matter if her machines were innocuous and cute. It didn't matter if what she could offer to the world could turn back all of the setbacks to society. All it would take was one incident, one misstep, and they would have their cause célèbre to eliminate the problem and return back to their cherished status quo. The less said about those who would attempt to worm their way into her graces in order to 'guide' her the better.
"Fuck," he breathed. He knew exactly how that would go, unlike Annette, who would relent if she felt it was not worth it, Taylor couldn't, and quite honestly, if she had the choice, she wouldn't either. She was a woman on a mission, she knew exactly what would result if she did not succeed.
It was going to be a war, and frankly, that was honestly the most terrifying aspect of all of this. He wasn't sure exactly how it would go down, but he knew that his daughter would not yield as long as she had willingness to fight.
Which led all the way back to what she was hiding from him. He couldn't help her if he didn't know, but he wasn't sure if she would be at all willing to even talk to him after what had happened.
No, there was a way. But it was an option just as unpalatable as doing nothing. No, he was being unfair, it was unpalatable, but it did not compare to the idea of losing his fucking daughter over a goddamn disagreement.
He had no choice, did he? If he did this, he would be providing the fuse to start all of this, regardless of whether he wanted to or not. The only way he could even attempt to restore something between them was to support her, even if it would put her into the very danger he feared would consume her.
Could he do it? That he wasn't sure of. No, that was a damnable lie, he just didn't want to fucking admit it and be responsible for it. Maybe he could try and talk some sense into his daughter, but there was a better chance of hell freezing over and the Cubs winning the World Series than being able to change his daughter's course.
Before that, it'd probably be prudent to at least talk to Jane before the meeting. Maybe she had an idea of what could be done. He also didn't think that she would serve as an obstacle either, he had seen the interest lurking in her gaze. But, it wouldn't hurt to even try.
He was ripped from his thoughts by his phone going off, causing him to reach into his pocket and retrieve it. He had the device, but he had no choice but to have it because of his position and role. Frowning over Kurt's name on the caller ID, he flipped it open.
"Yeah?"
"Danny, you need to get back here. The PRT, Protectorate, Police, and fucking CPS just all walked in."
MultipleChoice
(Verified Unverified)
As much as this sucks in the now, if Taylor can get through Piggot's overreach she'll have the ammo to deny the PRT any authority or access.
- Location
- Finland
Ugh what a cliff to be left on.
- Location
- Finland
Also I wonder if Piggots visit to the Mayors office is enough of a probable cause for a Civil Conspiracy of Tortious Interference lawsuit to reach the discovery phase. Or in plain if Accord and Uppercrust can sue the ENE for trying to interfere in a completely legal business venture and legally dig out the Mayors unscrupulous use of the Dockworkers as well as Piggots bigotry into the sunlight.
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- Location
- United States
I'd be more scared if the IRS got involved!
good thing they dont have a reason to get involved
uppercrust accord and taylor are all smart enough to make sure they properly file and pay their taxes
As if what happened with her father wasn't enough, it is precisely at that fucking moment that Piggot decides to make her attempt to stop Taylor.
In addition to clarifying in part, if I understood correctly, part of the origin of Taylor's abilities, who for some reason seems to have the memories and knowledge of Elizabeth Sobeck, which allows her to have an overwhelming notion of how in danger humanity is ( having the perspective of what happened in Elizabeth's world, plus the circumstances of her own world, to reach that conclusion)
The detail is how much control Taylor has, before being overwhelmed and consumed by Elizabeth (think of this, like what happens in the fics when Shirou receives Archer's arm with the risk of being assimilated and becoming another Emiya; in this case with Elizabeth pushing harder to speed up everything and avoid seeing another world be destroyed, the detail there is the cost for the young girl, because despite this and the enormous weight on her shoulders because of that knowledge, she is still a teenager , almost still a little girl)
Well, the need for what they need to do led her to not tell everything to her father (but yes to Jean/Citrine), which was what bothered him and created that friction; but Danny is right in the conclusion he reached, Taylor needs to have limits for her goal, even if he has to reveal to her that Annette was part of the Lustrum movement, so that she understands what he means, plus, unlike Elizabeth , Taylor has her father and she is not alone in that
Well, he is going to give his all for his daughter, and precisely the act of the PRT will serve to make Taylor see his point, since the waves that she began to make created enemies, in the form of the Mayor (upset by the loss of his cheap labor workers and the money she has at her disposal, of which they would see nothing - that or the attitude of the mayor and others, like Piggot, is it courtesy of Ziz?)
And although that seems problematic, Contessa's non-intervention I suppose means that they will be able to overcome that obstacle, the first of many, the detail will be to see how they do it
Good luck and keep it up
In addition to clarifying in part, if I understood correctly, part of the origin of Taylor's abilities, who for some reason seems to have the memories and knowledge of Elizabeth Sobeck, which allows her to have an overwhelming notion of how in danger humanity is ( having the perspective of what happened in Elizabeth's world, plus the circumstances of her own world, to reach that conclusion)
The detail is how much control Taylor has, before being overwhelmed and consumed by Elizabeth (think of this, like what happens in the fics when Shirou receives Archer's arm with the risk of being assimilated and becoming another Emiya; in this case with Elizabeth pushing harder to speed up everything and avoid seeing another world be destroyed, the detail there is the cost for the young girl, because despite this and the enormous weight on her shoulders because of that knowledge, she is still a teenager , almost still a little girl)
Well, the need for what they need to do led her to not tell everything to her father (but yes to Jean/Citrine), which was what bothered him and created that friction; but Danny is right in the conclusion he reached, Taylor needs to have limits for her goal, even if he has to reveal to her that Annette was part of the Lustrum movement, so that she understands what he means, plus, unlike Elizabeth , Taylor has her father and she is not alone in that
Well, he is going to give his all for his daughter, and precisely the act of the PRT will serve to make Taylor see his point, since the waves that she began to make created enemies, in the form of the Mayor (upset by the loss of his cheap labor workers and the money she has at her disposal, of which they would see nothing - that or the attitude of the mayor and others, like Piggot, is it courtesy of Ziz?)
And although that seems problematic, Contessa's non-intervention I suppose means that they will be able to overcome that obstacle, the first of many, the detail will be to see how they do it
Good luck and keep it up
Spectrum
Tell me a secret~
- Location
- Behind you~
Pfft, the IRS is already toothless here. They'd be even more toothless in a setting with supers and limited support of their own.
I'm wondering what the PRT thinks its exact casus belli is here, but this raid could be exactly what Taylor needs to realize the knife edge she's riding as she rocks the boat. She's barely gotten started on developing Foci and the PRT is already trying to destroy her. Imagine if she'd already started building the robots.
Do not take the IRS so lightly. Even The Joker isn't crazy enough to mess with the IRS.
View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G56VgsLfKY4
Spectrum
Tell me a secret~
- Location
- Behind you~
That's an old joke that unfortunately isn't true any more, ever since they lost directly against the Scientologists. (And these days they can never get funded, but we're wandering into politics.)
- Location
- Oregon, USA
Kind of surprised she's jumping to the Charger for a refueler. Unless you're sticking solely to Forbidden West stuff, anyway, and want the unit to be a mount. The Strider is simpler with largely the same build (though no obvious gathering parts, so might not be viable), and the Broadhead is also similar but has double the Blaze capacity of the Strider or Charger. Of course, the Strider and Broadhead don't appear in Forbidden West for some reason.
Also the Grazer, while having a different build and not being easily rideable, has 4 Blaze cannisters so likely better in a refueling role while still being very similar in size.
Also the Grazer, while having a different build and not being easily rideable, has 4 Blaze cannisters so likely better in a refueling role while still being very similar in size.
Hexcalibur
Not So Ordinary Sword
- Location
- Somewhere
- Pronouns
- It
Hey! The Cubs could still win. Someday. Somehow. Maybe.
Seriously though. Too bad that there's no third party to investigate probable tinkertech. The PRT/Protectorate investigating when they want toenslave recruit said tinker is a conflict of interest.
Seriously though. Too bad that there's no third party to investigate probable tinkertech. The PRT/Protectorate investigating when they want to
Would Toybox count? Granted, they're a black market operation, but given they supply Heroes as well as Villains, besides Dragon they could be something of an authority when it comes to Tinker Tech.
Plus, it would be rather appealing to see a whole group of Tinkers oohing and ahhing over everything Taylor has, is and will create, especially Cranial, with their specialty in Neurology/BCI tech. The advanced science behind the Focuses would definitely help fill in a LOT of blank spots for them when it comes to their tech, and I imagine their aid would be appreciated in giving Taylor the means develop it further, enabling telepathy, Full Immersion VR and Neural Implanting "I Know Kung-Fu" Matrix style.
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Germination 2.3
- Location
- The Lair
Germination 2.3
Taylor
Earlier
Settling in an office chair far too luxurious for my tastes, I removed my Focus from its place in the side of my head and onto its charging cradle.
Enveloped in the darkness from whence I had become a welcome escape as of late. I wasn't brooding, I wasn't that shallow, but being bereft of vision provided a meditative focus that gave me a clarity that previously escaped me. It was honestly hilarious that in my disfiguration I would find a sense of enlightenment that I may never have discovered otherwise.
Surrounded by darkness and enveloped in the soft hum of the various computers, servers, and machines in my workspace was like a balm on my soul at this moment as I propped my chin on the knuckles of my hand.
The meeting had certainly not gone how I had expected or even wanted. I wouldn't say that it went catastrophically bad. It just was…bad. I had made mistakes in my hubris, both in thinking I could run roughshod with my idea, but I forgot the basic tenet of any business mindset: Ideas are good, but are they serviceable? It had been an amateurish mistake on my part, I should have thought harder on it instead of being fixated on the promise of the Focus line.
But what I wasn't going to do was dwell upon my father's disapproval. As far as I was concerned, it was a matter that had to be done. Was I an asshole for not neglecting to inform him? Yes. There was no way around it. But I had done it out of a sense of caution, nothing more, nothing less. Well, that and plausible deniability for him.
Jean was right, though. I couldn't dispute that. It was too soon, and the demand was not there to pay for the necessary network infrastructure in order for the idea to propagate. Again, amateurish, I had dismissed the forest for the trees.
But like a shark, I had to keep swimming or this idea would drown. I couldn't have the Focus, it was too soon to be truly viable, but what I could do was push up the timetable for the first generation of Machines. I knew it would be pushing the envelope, because I would have to make compromises on the materials within the designs. But it was actionable, and it would provide us with a flagship product that no one else could offer.
Yet, like the Focus before it, it created its own problem, only, ironically enough, the inverse of the problem to begin with. Unlike the Focus, energy demands to produce the materials to assemble the Machines would be significantly higher than an assembly line for the Focus.
There was a solution to the energy situation, but it invited its own set of problems.
I have been working on solving those problems. However, it took more than a dozen scientific and engineering papers published under a pseudonym to fix an issue that has been wrought by three decades of neglect. The advent of Tinker's had stunted the growth of energy and engineering sectors, too many companies and agencies taking the Tinker's technology as the cheaper alternative to dumping vast sums of monies into studies and grants that may never amount to anything. This was no more evident than in the nuclear energy.
But probably the final nail in that coffin had been Behemoth itself. Several times, the Endbringer had gone out of its way to attack nuclear reactor facilities, leaving the resultant land irradiated wastelands. It was both the Tinker aspect, and Behemoth, that the nuclear energy sector was living on life support.
I had several solutions for it, all different and based upon scale of supply, but it took time to establish the foundation to introduce it. And I had to do it carefully, as even I understood that there would be interests who had invested heavily into alternative energy sources that would not be keen to the revival of the nuclear industry. But nuclear was the only solution that had long-term sustainability for the future I envisioned.
But the most important feature was that they had to be safe. I wouldn't say they would be Behemoth-proof, but the Endbringer would be hard-pressed to repeat to recreate its usual party favor. And that was what mattered, even if I ignored the superior energy production and lower material costs.
I briefly considered the jump straight to cold fusion, maybe even antimatter. But as tempting as it was, I knew that it would be too far at this juncture. The world wasn't ready for that large of an upheaval, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to trust it to them either, especially with antimatter. It wouldn't take much to weaponize the material, and the last thing the world needed was another tool to kill one another.
No, if I was going to release a nuclear power source, it'd have to be a Thorium breeder reactor. That way it was safe, molten salt was nearly impossible to detonate and self sealed the radioactive material if you broke it open manually, but it could also sustain itself a lot better than currently existing reactors. Additionally, the United States also had a ready supply of Thorium necessary for the process, compared to the more rare Uranium.
All in all, it was a good idea, the only problem returned back to if it could be pulled off. I know I had the papers out there, but it wasn't enough to rekindle an interest in nuclear energy. The only methods I could possibly pursue was to either push out more papers with minimal gain. Or I actually produce a blueprint and start fishing with it.
That meant involving the Department of Energy, I thought with a grimace. I could probably leverage Jean to help with that aspect. But I had a feeling I knew how she was going to react to this idea. I knew I probably had her on board with the LRL, but a nuclear reactor design? I mean, it would make Zero Dawn money if it was embraced, but it would be the type of uphill battle that would cause migraines for her.
I sighed, reaching out for my Focus. It did me no good to dwell upon it, either I did it or not. And well, the world couldn't improve if I was doing nothing.
My vision flooded with the data provided by my Focus. It had ceased being jarring to switch between seeing nothing and seeing everything, but it was still a heady experience even now to see again. Reaching up with my hand, I 'tapped' an executable in my augmented reality to open the music player that linked to my workshop. That finished, I then selected a playlist that I knew that if Dad were to hear, he'd give me an earful at my 'poor' tastes and hit play.
As Metallica from Earth Aleph started blasting through the speakers I took a deep breath before selecting a folder named "Hatshepsut" and opening its contents.
Alright. Let's get to work.
That should be it, I thought to myself as I finished verbally dictating a final few notes to the blueprint for the Thorium breeder reactor. One of the advantages of the Focus and Sobek was that it allowed me to both use voice commands and dictation, making the effort of drawing up blueprints infinitely easier than using something as stiff and unforgiving as any run-of-the-mill CAD. What would have taken weeks now could be counted in days with my setup.
The voice command system was still rudimentary, as I was still working on Sobek, but it was something that I honestly could not do without. It made things easier, and I didn't have to wear my arms out constantly manipulating the augmented reality for it to work.
The only issue I had was that I had to adjust the overall design to match the currently existing material sciences. It wasn't a difficult endeavor, just time consuming, as I had to change up several other points in order to ensure that it worked well. I could introduce the actual materials for the design, but the issue then ran into the fact that additional questions would be asked of the design. It was better to adjust to what existed, and what could easily be tweaked than trying to add additional earthshaking developments.
But, it was done, for the most part. All that would need to be done was to submit a query to the Department of Energy and see if there was a response. I wasn't dumb enough to transmit the actual blueprint, that would just invite for someone to actually steal it. But if there was no response, well there were other ways to skin a cat.
"Mark file as Hatshepsut One. Copy blueprint and create new file. Title Hatshepsut Two," I murmured, watching as Sobek did as I commanded. If I was going to do the 'dumbed down' version, I could at least retain the 'complete' version as well. Reinstating the advanced materials led to a few minor changes in how it processed fuel, stripped out the steam loop in favor of thermoelectric and radioelectric power generation and shrunk the entire system till it could fit in a shipping container.
A small blinking in the right of my vision caused me to frown. Someone was trying to hack into my lab. Reaching out with my left hand, I 'touched' the warning icon, and 'pulled' the warning, watching as it came to the forefront, showing the rather amateurish attempt to hardhack the security code, and the security camera that provided me a look at who was doing it.
"Protectorate, huh," I murmured with a frown. Honestly, I had expected this sooner or later. Call it a gut feeling, but I was a nail that needed hammering in this game of capes and villains. The fact that it was the Protectorate instead of one of the gangs was rather concerning.
Still, it was something that Jean and I had discussed in the past. She had been worried about the Protectorate making a move over any of the local villain groups. And while I did understand where she was coming from, I felt that after my interview with Armsmaster, it would be the gangs that did something stupid.
Nonetheless, we had discussed what to do in that event. By the looks of how they were not fully kitted up for action, this wasn't a raid. No, it was likely they were here to check out just what I was working on. Nothing too concerning, but it was rather short-sighted. There were too many legal landmines that they were hazarding into by doing this.
But hey, it wasn't my job to ensure that they didn't commit to stupid.
I watched as my father walked up to them, looking suitably pissed. My heart lurched slightly at the sight, both in shame of what had taken place in the meeting, but also comfort that he still seemed to be there for me. With a slight flick of my eyes I accessed the microphone, authorizing it to feed it straight through the Focus and into my brain instead of through the speakers.
Listening to them threaten him changed my irritation to fury. It took all of my effort not to just block off my father's security override to my lab as a giant fuck you to Triumph. But as gratifying as seeing the asshole be inconvenienced further, I knew it would only get my father in trouble, or it may make the Protectorate and PRT do something even more stupid, like breach my lab.
Taking a deep cleansing breath, I slowly released it, cooling my furor. No Taylor, don't do anything stupid or illegal. Skirt the line, fine, but don't cross it. That'd only provide them with the ammunition to make my life a living hell.
Yeah, I was going to make them miserable. They wanted to play fuck-fuck games, they could win fuck-fuck prizes, as one of my father's union guys once said.
With a smirk, I reached up to my AR display and adjusted the music volume loud enough to make my ears ring.
Kid Win
It was with a sense of purpose that Christopher Siopis strode through Zero Dawn Technology's concourse, all the while he worked to keep his nervousness from Triumph and the team of technicians that they were escorting from being evident.
This was finally his chance to prove himself. Director Piggot was depending upon him to do this job and he couldn't afford to fuck this up.
He still couldn't believe that the Director was putting so much faith in him. When she had called him into her office yesterday, he'd thought he was in trouble for something. Especially after Armsmaster's very vocal opposition to his Alternator Cannon. He'd been afraid that Piggot was only going to pile on, ignoring that he had finally had a breakthrough.
Instead, she had spent over an hour with him just talking. He had been taken aback that the Director, probably the hardest woman he had ever met, was actually asking him how he was doing in school, if the medication that was being provided for him was helping. It had honestly been touching that she had shown concern for his circumstances.
It had only been after that time that she had changed subjects and had asked him about his future, shocking him even further. He had admitted that he was more focused upon finishing up his Alternator Cannon (which Piggot had actually been interested in!), but if he had the choice, he wanted to remain with the Protectorate when he graduated from the Wards.
It was then that things took a turn, even as the Director had said that the way he was developing, he would not only have a prime pick of a position within the Protectorate, but that he could even have Armsmaster's position if he continued his growth. It had honestly surprised him, but Piggot had actually explained that Tinkers were always in high demand and were valued within the Protectorate, because the technology they could develop could be an overall gamechanger. Something like his Alternator Cannon, if constructed and deployed correctly, could make a difference in an Endbringer fight.
He had been shocked, and he had said so, telling the Director that Armsmaster had told him that the design was a waste of time. The resultant reaction from her had also been somewhat of a shock. Not only had she been irritated by what he told her, but then she had admitted to him that it was likely that Armsmaster was going to be demoted.
Suffice to say, the idea that Armsmaster being demoted had left him stunned for a good minute. The idea that the man who had been a fixture in Brockton Bay for as long as he could remember and he looked up to, despite the recent trouble, was something that was hard to grasp. It was only after he had been able to gather himself that he asked her why.
In hindsight, he wished he hadn't. Piggot had admitted that they had reason to believe that he was compromised. They had found during an investigation that he had likely withheld information regarding a Tinker that he had been tasked to review. When he was asked to clarify upon these oversights, he had dismissed their concerns, insisting that his analysis was correct and the Protectorate was overreacting.
It had been sobering, especially when he had confirmed his own suspicions that the Tinker in question was the very one whose tech Armsmaster had been analyzing when he had walked in. When he had admitted that to the Director, she had thanked him, as that would help further evidence at possible impropriety from the Protectorate commander.
When he had asked the Director for the name of the Tinker, she had easily provided it to him. Taylor Hebert. He didn't know her, but he did find it strange that she didn't seem to have a cape name. When he voiced those thoughts, the Director had agreed upon the strangeness of it, but noted that it was likely a ploy to muddle the legal waters in order to provide legitimacy to her actions.
He could still remember his anger at it. Those actions, in his opinion, were not the sort of thing you would expect from a hero. But even worse was his mentor, the hypocrisy of the man, barely giving him the time of day and when he did, he dismissed him, but working with a non-hero was fine? It was his fault he was under investigation as much as the blame also fell upon Hebert. If what she was doing could entice Armsmaster, why wasn't she trying to work for the Protectorate? It was obvious that she was likely a villain.
What can I do?, he asked her, because he wanted to. Maybe he couldn't do anything, but he didn't want to sit there and do nothing. Not when this Tinker was doing all of this to a place he considered a home away from home.
Piggot had honestly seemed taken aback at his question, at least that was his feeling. It actually felt good that he could do something to surprise the normally dour and caustic Director.
It was then she told him that there was a planned inspection of the Zero Dawn facilities. Considering Armsmaster's malfeasance stemmed from his actions with Taylor Hebert, they were down a Tinker who could provide legitimacy to any inspection on what was going on at Zero Dawn. She hadn't even been able to finish what she was saying before he volunteered, once again surprising the older woman.
This had been his chance after all. Armsmaster was on his way out, and this was an opportunity he'd be an idiot not to take. Plus, he could get a look at whatever Hebert was making, and if it was a problem, well, he could impress the Director with his report. And to show Armsmaster he was wrong about him would only be icing on the cake.
Now he was not so sure, but he wasn't going to screw up, as he moved through the building, a team of technicians and PRT Officers with him. They already knew exactly where Hebert's workshop was, thanks to a few tips. While he would have preferred Miss Militia with him, it just wasn't to be as she was tasked with supporting the team that would be going to the administrative offices of the company. It was viewed that her diplomatic skills would be better needed there.
Triumph was not a bad alternative. He had worked with Rory in the past, and he knew that he was a solid help in the event that Hebert caused issues. From what they knew about the Tinker, she didn't have much of anything built outside of her visual systems, so Rory was a perfect counter to the teen.
Still, it couldn't help his nerves at the looks that they were getting from the various workers that had spotted them marching through. There was a tension in the air as they stared at them out, a sense that if something went wrong that they would find themselves on the receiving end of the workers ire. They had only been stopped once, and had firmly told the middle-aged woman that she was interfering with an inspection, she had relented, but not without a few caustic words.
It was almost like walking into an Empire rally, he thought with a hint of nervousness.
But they reached their destination, Triumph coming to a stop at the door with no door handle. Immediately, he recognized what it was, judging by the flat pad with a card swipe on the side. The doors themselves looked brand-new, and one of the technicians had murmured that it was likely Tinkertech judging by the sheen and the design.
"Jenkins," Triumph looked back to them, and the tech stepped forward as summoned, reaching into his backpack and retrieving a device before attaching it to the security panel. He then fiddled with it a bit, the paneling lighting up on the device, and then fiddled with a bit more, his expression becoming focused as his frown deepened. He then adjusted something on it, only to get no reward for the actions. The door refused to open in spite of a Tinkertech device designed to slice security-locked doors.
"What is it," Triumph asked, his own expression becoming a frown.
"I don't know," Jenkins almost whined, messing with the device further, "It should be working, but the device keeps coming back with an error. Which shouldn't be possible. This design has been used in several different branches without a failure."
"Make note of that," Triumph ordered, looking to the door, then back to what they had. He then looked back past them and his mouth firmed back from a frown into a thin line, causing himself to follow the Protectorate member's gaze to a man who was storming towards them.
It was a tall thin man with glasses, his receding hair only serving to highlight the reddening of his face, both from exertion but also barely restrained fury. His attire suggested upper management, but the style was less formal and more designed to be able to comfortably work in, like the man couldn't decide on one design and worked towards a compromise between management and floor work.
"What the fuck do you think you are doing," the man demanded, coming to a stop before them.
"This is an inspection, Mister Hebert," Triumph declared, even as his body shifted, looking ready to start a fight with the other man.
"Last time I checked the Protectorate and PRT neither had the license or authority to perform any inspection of a company or facility. Do you have a warrant?"
"You're incorrect, Mister Hebert. Doctor Wily v Protectorate establishes that it is within the Protectorate's power to inspect and audit any Tinkertech facility without warrant in the pursuit of public safety. As Zero Dawn Technology CEO and Head of Research and Development is a known Tinker, this places the responsibility upon us to ensure that there is no public threat. Hence, this inspection."
"Rather large group for an inspection," was the other man's wry statement, "I also find it strange that not only are you here, but I also have the BBPD and Child Protective Services rooting round my administration building."
"It's merely a coincidence," Triumph's terse response, though the tone in which he took it caused him to think that maybe the Protectorate member was stretching the truth, but he kept his mouth shut, it'd be something he'd ask later, "Now, I am here with Kid Win and my colleagues to inspect Miss Hebert's facilities and devices. You can either provide us with access to these facilities, or I can have you charged with obstruction by interfering with an official government inspection. It is your choice."
For a moment, he thought the older man would resist, and there was a small part of him that hoped for it. He may not know all of the laws and rules, but he knew that if Mister Hebert resisted, then it opened up so many more options on what could and could not be done. It had been beaten into his head by Miss Militia this morning that they were 'inspecting' and not raiding, but there was a dark part of him that hoped it would turn into a raid.
Unfortunately, it seemed that opportunity would not be provided here, as Mister Hebert grabbed his ID badge that was clipped to his shirt, "You'll have to remove your device," the older man growled.
"Give me the ID badge," Triumph demanded, holding out his hand.
"Sure," was the snarked comeback, "Even with the badge you still can't get in. Access to this room requires an ID badge and biometric authentication. But you go on ahead," he held the card out, "have at it. I need some entertainment."
Triumph stared at Hebert for a moment, before glancing at Jenkins who was still fiddling with the door, to no avail. All the while, he had to wonder just what was so important that they would go to such great lengths to protect a room. Just what was it that they were hiding.
"Jenkins, any luck," Triumph asked.
"No. Whatever security they are using, I can't crack it."
A moment of silence passed, before Triumph seemed to contemplate, before he then nodded towards Hebert.
"Fine, you can open it."
"Thank you," with that, Hebert strode past them, coming to the door and inserting his card into the panel, before placing his right hand flat on it. There was a soft chime, before the heavy door opened inwards, and they were bombarded with extremely loud music.
Pushing Hebert aside, Triumph stormed into the room, and he followed, eyes already drinking in as he tried to put a name to the music. It was rock, but older than what he was familiar with. What he did know was that it was grating on his nerves even as he took in the room they entered.
Jealousy surged through him as he looked around the room. All around him was the type of workplace he could barely dream of. There wasn't anywhere in the Northeast that he was aware of that could manage to compare to. Even New York would struggle to compare.
And in the middle of it all, surrounded by dozens of holograms, was Taylor Hebert. Her back was currently to them, but her arms were moving as she was conducting the music, but the holograms that ran up the side of the wall changed with every single motion. At the center of it was some sort of vessel, and he felt himself drawn into it as he tried to figure out what it was.
"Miss Hebert," Triumph's voice rang out, but it was no use as it was still drowned out by the music. Realizing that, the member of the Protectorate stormed forward and placed his hand on the girl's shoulder, almost yanking her around to look at him.
It was now that he got a good look at her and suffice to say she cut a different figure than what he expected. She was awkwardly thin, even for a teenager, her hair cut into a pixy style, which clashed with the school photo that they had that showed long hair. But the most striking thing was her face and eyes, the way skin seemed to be discolored in some places and lightly melted in others. It was the eyes, however, that were the most striking, pale brownish orbs that seemed to track them regardless of the fact that he knew they were blind. On the right side of her head was a glowing circle haloed over a triangle attached right in front of her ear.
She stared at them a moment, before she raised her hand to chest level, causing both Triumph and himself to stiffen, before slowly slashing it outwards, and the music stopped.
"Gentlemen," she greeted, her eyes roving between the two of them, "How may I help you?"
To be fair, if he expected anything, it wasn't this sort of bald fearlessness. There was not a single sign of fear, or even trepidation in her expression. Instead, she almost looked amused that they were here. It was rather strange in his opinion, but he kept his mouth closed and instead found his attention being drawn back to whatever was being displayed behind her.
"This is an inspection, Miss Hebert," Triumph declared, "you are to provide us access to your technology and computers in order to ascertain that they are not a threat to the general public. If you will hand over the device you are currently wearing, we can begin."
"Okay," she drawled out, her freaky gaze coming to a rest on him, "I guess I'll start off by asking just how you are going to determine just what is and is not a threat to the general public? I don't see Armsmaster, so, I take it you're going to have Kid Win here do it? May I inquire about his qualifications?"
"No, you may not. All that is required is that you provide Kid Win and these technicians behind me with access to all your technology and relevant materials. If access requires a password, you are legally obligated to provide it. Any attempts to interfere with this inspection will be treated as obstruction, and you will be charged accordingly."
"And I'm gonna have to stop you riiiight there, Triumph. First, I am assuming that you are using the ruling from Doctor Wily v Protectorate, correct? No, you don't need to answer that, you told my father that. So, let's start there. While the Wily v Protectorate ruling unequivocally states that the Protectorate and PRT do have the right to inspect any suspected or known Tinker and their facilities legally as a matter of fulfilling the protection of the general public, it does not provide any legal authority for an inspection of a publicly trademarked and recognized company that just so happens to employ a Tinker."
"It was noted by Judge Marsh that to do so, would run into conflict with the protections set aside within NEPEA-5 for companies that may use Tinkers. He stated, and I quote, that it would 'create an opportunity in which competitive interests may and would use the government to do its work by revealing company secrets and disrupt operations of competitors,' ' end quote. Now, I will happily provide you the opportunity to look, but you can't touch, or inspect for that matter, without a warrant. Which, since it's apparent someone either skipped or ignored their legal homework when they put this 'inspection' together, would negate those aforementioned NEPEA-5 protections."
Kid slowly turned his head to Taylor, whose own gaze was now firmly locked onto Triumph, a challenge ready in her expression. He had to wonder just what the hell type of training or preparation this girl had. The fact that she was quoting a ruling that he wasn't even aware of until Miss Militia and Triumph had briefed him this morning on was the sort of thing he would have never expected.
"Furthermore," she continued, obviously delighting in what she was doing, "I find it rather gauche that you would demand that I hand over the medical device that grants me vision. One might assume that you may be attempting to take advantage of my disability for nefarious purposes. But that wouldn't be your intention, would it be Triumph?"
"No. However, I must insist, Miss Hebert. From previous reports, it appears you have changed the device that you use, therefore it must be inspected."
There was a sound from the other side of the door, likely Hebert's father, but instead, she just smiled, reached up to her ear, and tapped it. The light faded away from it, and she removed it from her head and held it out.
"You got me," she admitted, "the villanous tinker has been thwarted by the brave and noble Protectorate."
He reached out to take it from her hand, but she pulled back slightly, "I would like to inform you that if you damage this in any way, I will bill you personally for the repair and replacement. So I would recommend that it doesn't suffer any unfortunate accidents, unless you want to pay the low, low price of a brand-new car to replace it."
"Bullshit," the word escaped his lips before he could stop himself, "There's no way that a device like that would cost that much. It looks like a toy."
She turned her head towards him, her hairless brow rising in challenge, as she scoffed, "What I am holding in my hand is the most powerful non-tinkertech smart computer in the world, Kid Win. It took me over half a month of blueprinting and development, then another week in which I personally hand-crafted and assembled every single component for it, from the processors, to the wiring, to the sensors. If anything, I'm probably underselling the price point by a factor of five. And as far as I am concerned, it will remain the only one of its kind."
He could feel himself blush at the chastisement he had just received from the other teen. He had never been dressed down like that in his life, and he wasn't sure what he should feel, instead, he deferred to Triumph as once again his attention was drawn back to the blueprint on the screen. Something was gnawing at the back of his mind, screaming at him that he should be paying attention to it.
At the same time, he kept an ear to the ongoing conversation between Triumph and Hebert.
"So I suggest," she finally said handing him the device, obviously satisfied in making her point, "that you be careful with not only this device, but my workplace. Everything is being recorded, and I will be forwarding this entire conversation and inspection to my legal team. It'd be a shame if they find a reasonable issue with anything you are doing."
With her piece said, she turned and headed off, her gait a slight hobble, as if she were not completely sure where she was going, but it ended up at a desk in the corner, probably the only thing that was recognizable in the room, and reached up to open a cabinet.
Triumph seemed to dismiss her as he started giving out orders to the technicians. Mister Hebert had strode past them and headed towards his daughter as she started messing with a box and opening it. She then retrieved the original device she had shown at the PRT HQ, and placed it on her head. He thought to say something to Triumph, but instead his attention fell back to the design before him.
Then it clicked. Suddenly, he realized what he was looking at.
"Is that an energy regulator," he asked aloud, turning to look back at Hebert.
Her head snapped away from her father and locked onto him. Triumph had also turned to look at him as well, his expression neutral.
Taylor's father placed his hand on her shoulder, almost like he wanted her to say nothing. However, she shook it off and strode towards him.
"It is."
He found his gaze drawn back to the design, his thoughts revolving around what he could do with it, only becoming more excited. One of the issues he has always had with the alternator cannon was that the design had to use brute force in order to create enough energy to fire. But with this…with this…
"Kid Win," Triumph's voice ripped him from his thoughts, and he bowed his head in slight embarrassment at ogling the design. Hebert on the other hand looked like the cat that ate the proverbial canary with her smile.
Triumph, however, didn't seem to be having it, as he looked back to Hebert.
"And what is this energy regulator for, Kid Win?"
Judging by the design, and energy thresholds displayed on it, it could only be-
"It's for a Thorium reactor," Taylor interrupted, and every head in the room turned to her in incredulity, "Hey, I figured while I was giving vision back to the world, why not solve the energy crisis while I was at it."
This caused Triumph to freeze, before he turned towards Hebert, looking ready for a fight, and the father started to move towards the daughter, "You are making a nuclear reactor?!"
"Don't be absurd. That would be illegal. I'm finishing the blueprints for a nuclear reactor design. I'm not stupid enough to even think about pissing in the Department of Energy's cheerios by building the damn thing myself. That's just begging for a real governmental organization that actually does its job right to break down my doors."
Thomas Calvert
Honestly, he didn't want to be here, even if his own curiosity got the better of him. But when Deputy Director Renick had requested his knowledge in financial forensics, he couldn't exactly say no without arousing suspicion. The fact that Contessa hadn't intervened only gave him a hint that what he was doing would be allowed.
So now here he was, in the offices of Zero Dawn Technologies, looking through the company financials for anything that could catch his eye. As it was an inspection, they didn't have access to the tools necessary to conduct a deep audit in the time they were allotted.
What he could see suggested nothing too out of the ordinary. Quite a few material and technical purchases, which was somewhat strange, considering the company was supposed to be technology focused, yet were buying several metals and alloys in bulk. It made him wonder just what they were developing and why would it require Contessa's intervention?
What he did know was that Piggot was rattled something fierce with how fast and loose she was playing the rules. He had known Emily over the years, and more often than not, she didn't do things half-cocked, but something about the Heberts had her grasping at straws. An inspection like this, unless the Heberts and their staff were incompetent, would not provide any of the likely legal opportunities that she sought. If anything, this seemed more like an attempt to rattle Zero Dawn.
But there was something going on, something he was not fully aware of, and he wasn't sure if he could use his power to ascertain it. The fact that he was treading as close as he was to a position that Contessa had warned him about. The last thing he wanted was to garner the cape boogeyman's ire, her abilities easily were superior to his.
It was strange, however, that at the same time that the Protectorate and PRT were inspecting Zero Dawn's facility, Child Protective Services were making their presence known. He glanced over to where the two of them were going through another computer, likely reviewing time logs. There would be only one reason they would be doing this, but honestly, the timing was just the sort of thing that would make you think it was something more than coincidence.
Meanwhile, Miss Militia was getting glared down by the CFO of Zero Dawn, who had already given the Kurdish woman a verbal lashing. It had honestly been somewhat amusing to see the other woman becoming flustered as Brown began citing several different rules and laws that the Protectorate was in violation of. But Miss Militia had been adamant, and Jean Brown had retreated and was now on the phone with what were likely lawyers. He found himself looking forward to the inevitable storm that was about to come battering down on Piggot's little fiefdom. He had been hearing rumors as of late that there was trouble within the PRT and Protectorate of Brockton Bay, and a large amount of that stemmed from Piggot herself.
But it was the CPS agents that were probably the more concerning addition to this all. Piggot wouldn't dirty her hands by bringing an outside agency. This suggested another party was involved in all of this, as CPS was usually rather slow in taking immediate action. Unless they had eyes on the Heberts for months, which was unlikely. No, someone had to make a phone call, and considering the timing, he wouldn't be stunned if the phone call originated from somewhere in the local government. There was no way that it was anyone within the former DWA, he knew how loyal they were to Danny Hebert, and it would be a cold day in hell before they turned on the man's daughter.
There was no doubt in his mind that there would likely be something for the CPS to latch onto. It didn't take an idiot to recognize that Taylor Hebert was the heart and soul of this company. Even if he couldn't see what she was creating, there was just too much evidence in the receipts to ignore that it was something. But she was fifteen years old, and disabled by legal definition, this was the sort of shit the CPS would bring tar and feathers for if they sniffed even an iota of wrongdoing.
And judging by the way the man and woman were conversing with one another, with the woman pointing at the screen to the older man who was likely her superior, there was a good chance that they found something and he had a good idea what it was.
It seemed that he would need to brush upon his knowledge of NEPEA-5 and parahuman law. While Zero Dawn was a newcomer to the scene, he rather doubted that Zenith would be so stupid as to invest into a situation where the CPS could get involved unless they had a legal angle of attack to defeat whatever challenge that was leveled.
He would have to have Tattletale look into this as well. As much as he despised the blonde Thinker, she was better at raw analysis than he was, thanks to her power. And with so many unknowns, and not enough knowledge where to start, using his own power just wouldn't work in an adequate time frame.
That didn't mean he wouldn't double-check her work, though. The last thing he needed was for her to try and slip her leash.
He was drawn from his thoughts as Miss Militia stiffened before reaching into her pocket and pulling out her phone. Placing it up to her ear, he took the time to attempt to read her lips, as she was out of range for him to hear.
The most that he could get was 'Triumph' and a shocked 'what' before she hung up the phone. Her gaze snapped to him, "Calvert, continue your investigation. I have to rendezvous with Triumph, there has been a development."
Without getting acknowledgement, she spun and headed out the door, even as the blonde CFO suddenly took off after her.
Just what the hell was all of that, he wondered, before looking over to the CPS agents, noting that they were still in deep conversation. He considered splitting the timeline and finding out what they knew, but it wasn't worth it, honestly. Odds are he would likely find out sooner rather than later, as the CPS over the years when it came to capes tended to have too many leaks that magically always seemed to end up in the hands of the Youth Guard.
Jean Brown
She must have done something wrong this morning, maybe got up on the wrong side of the bed, or maybe passed a black cat. Something. Because today was turning into a day of all days. Between Taylor's focus upon technology over sales, and Danny's ignorance of just what Taylor had in her wheelhouse, she didn't know which Hebert she wanted to strangle more at the moment.
Taylor's actions were understandable, this was a teenager who didn't have the knowledge of how the business world worked, but Danny, that was a major problem with possible long-term implications. Especially if it threatened Taylor.
But of course, that just couldn't be the only shit hitting the fan. Now the PRT, Protectorate, and even the CPS were all jockeying to throw in their hat for making this day an absolute shitfest. She had been in her office talking to Accord about the meeting, trying to figure out just how to salvage the situation while keeping the impetus when security had alerted her to the cavalcade of government interference.
She had quickly let Accord know what was going down, requesting that he get into contact with a legal team for what she knew was likely coming. PRT/Protectorate inspections were rare, but there was enough precedence to know just how they went. However, it was suspicious that this was all taking place when the company had not even been active for two months and hadn't produced a product yet.
The cynical part of her could easily see that this was more than just an average inspection. Especially when security had alerted her that there were three capes with the contingent of officers, two of which had already broken off and were on their way to Taylor's workshop. Inspections made by the PRT largely never involved capes, it was viewed as an unnecessary escalation. But the fact that they were present, but were not raiding the company suggested an ulterior motive at play.
It could be one of three plays, or a mixture of all three: First, they were hoping for a gotcha moment, and with the capes there for if they found something. Second, they were hoping that someone would do something proverbially stupid, giving them justification to use force and escalate to a raid. And third, it was a veiled attempt at intimidation, using the presence of the capes as a cudgel to use against them.
But the presence of Child Protective Services, at the same time as the inspection was taking place? No, something rotten was going on here. CPS was glacially slow in how they operated, they didn't make sudden moves unless someone tipped them off. Broken homes were as numerous as drug dens in Brockton Bay after all. And even then, their reaction was usually slow, unless there was another factor at play.
Luckily, it was something that she had discussed with Taylor in the past. Danny she knew would likely be able to handle the situation well enough considering his experiences. But Taylor was the weak link, especially with her powers. They had spent the better part of a day discussing contingencies, but also ways to deal with the situation. She profoundly hoped that it would play out the way she hoped it did.
When she had finally arrived, they had already entered the administration section of the company, the CPS people already waving their badges and telling everyone to not interfere in their investigation. Since it was a lost cause, she decided to be a little petty and let the office workers go on a paid break, leaving the CPS to figure out what to do.
Dealing with Miss Militia, however, was an exercise in futility. Even with the legal arguments and points she made to the Kurdish hero, the woman had merely dismissed them as not relevant to the situation. It took an extraordinary effort not to tweak the gravity around the woman and turn her into a meat puddle in a fit of pique. Instead, she forcibly amused herself with the observation that rumors were true about the woman, she was so far on the Protectorate's dick that it was a surprise that the woman hadn't whelped a litter of future heroes already.
As much as she wanted to tell that to the bitch's face, it probably wouldn't end well for any involved. So instead, she busied herself with her phone, making several notes and firing off a few emails, intent on ensuring everything was ready for when they retaliated against this travesty. She also made a note to see if Accord could look into the origins of the CPS' action. They would probably be the most difficult of issues to deal with, considering Taylor's age, education, and work ethic. There was no doubt in her mind that if anything was successful of this so far, it would be the CPS citing labor law and health concerns for Taylor.
It was in the middle of firing off an email to Accord that he called her back to inform her that the legal team would be boarding a helicopter in twenty-five minutes and be on their way to Brockton Bay. Obviously he was on the same wavelength as her if he was making such an expenditure. He then demanded a report that required her to step further away from Miss Militia, much to the other woman's relief judging by the slight slump of her shoulders.
It had only been a short conversation, Accord was moving additional pieces into place in the event that it became worse. He would personally look into what caused the CPS to suddenly take an interest in Taylor. But he agreed with her read of the situation, someone was playing hardball, and he wanted to know who it was.
She had been in the middle of assuring that they would be ready for the arrival of the lawyers when Miss Militia's phone started going off. She refocused her attention towards Miss Militia after telling him what was happening and she was glad that she did. The way her eyes widened and she paled before hanging up her phone and barking towards some guy named Calvert, she knew that something had happened with Taylor.
"I'll call you back," she told him, letting him acknowledge it before hanging up. Her boss was a stickler towards courtesies and while he would forgive her if she hung up, she would rather not have to deal with his irritation at the faux pas.
Sliding her phone into the inside pocket of her jacket, she sauntered after the Protectorate hero, wondering exactly what had the woman reacting in such a way. No, that was a stupid thought, it was obvious that it had to do with Taylor. But the fact that she wasn't hearing explosions or anything like that, and Miss Militia wasn't in a sprint, she was safe in the knowledge that it may be something that could be discussed without incident.
Maybe it would be better in the future that she made Taylor inventory everything she was working on. At least for her own sanity's sake. Knowing what the teenager was developing would at least provide her warning and maybe a roadmap to work with. The machines had not been a surprise, she knew about them from the sales pitch Taylor had made. It was just that Taylor was already looking at producing them that had been the surprise.
Frankly, she liked the Light Rescue Lance concept Taylor had ad-libbed. Sure, she had the files and details prepared, but it hadn't been something that the teenager had planned to reveal originally. But then again, she may be underestimating that. Nonetheless, it provided a flagship product, and it created interest. It also was something that had no peers or competitors. Dragon was limited to her Dragoncraft, and they were exorbitantly expensive and unable to be mass-produced due to their Tinker design. This provided them an industry that would create demand, if the LRL concept took off, then Taylor could start revealing other machines that could fill roles within society.
It was a bit more brute force than she, and likely Accord, would have approved of, but she didn't see a flaw in the overall plan, even if she wanted to.
The first thing she noted as they approached Taylor's workshop was that the door was open. Not necessarily a good sign considering Taylor's expenditures to ensure information control. Miss Militia simply stormed in, and she slipped into the room, finding Taylor at one side of the room as the Protectorate cape moved to talk with Triumph and Kid Win.
All the while her gaze was on the blueprint displayed on the wall.
It wasn't a machine, she thought with a growing sense of trepidation as she reached Taylor who was standing with her father. Why couldn't it be a machine, she lamented, even as she tried to figure out what she was looking at, before giving up and looking to her CEO. The teenager was wearing her old Focus, which meant that it was likely being held by the Protectorate. The placid expression on her face only increased her increasing apprehension. It was too confident for someone who was in the process of having her business inspected.
"What have you done," she had to ask, finally turning to Hebert whose small smile was positively not helping her stress levels.
"I didn't do anything," the teen offered a shrug, "I was minding my business finishing the blueprints for a nuclear reactor when they stormed into my lab and took exception to the design."
She couldn't help herself, and frankly, it was that or sobbing aloud, so she placed her face in her palms and fought the urge to scream.
Taylor
Earlier
Settling in an office chair far too luxurious for my tastes, I removed my Focus from its place in the side of my head and onto its charging cradle.
Enveloped in the darkness from whence I had become a welcome escape as of late. I wasn't brooding, I wasn't that shallow, but being bereft of vision provided a meditative focus that gave me a clarity that previously escaped me. It was honestly hilarious that in my disfiguration I would find a sense of enlightenment that I may never have discovered otherwise.
Surrounded by darkness and enveloped in the soft hum of the various computers, servers, and machines in my workspace was like a balm on my soul at this moment as I propped my chin on the knuckles of my hand.
The meeting had certainly not gone how I had expected or even wanted. I wouldn't say that it went catastrophically bad. It just was…bad. I had made mistakes in my hubris, both in thinking I could run roughshod with my idea, but I forgot the basic tenet of any business mindset: Ideas are good, but are they serviceable? It had been an amateurish mistake on my part, I should have thought harder on it instead of being fixated on the promise of the Focus line.
But what I wasn't going to do was dwell upon my father's disapproval. As far as I was concerned, it was a matter that had to be done. Was I an asshole for not neglecting to inform him? Yes. There was no way around it. But I had done it out of a sense of caution, nothing more, nothing less. Well, that and plausible deniability for him.
Jean was right, though. I couldn't dispute that. It was too soon, and the demand was not there to pay for the necessary network infrastructure in order for the idea to propagate. Again, amateurish, I had dismissed the forest for the trees.
But like a shark, I had to keep swimming or this idea would drown. I couldn't have the Focus, it was too soon to be truly viable, but what I could do was push up the timetable for the first generation of Machines. I knew it would be pushing the envelope, because I would have to make compromises on the materials within the designs. But it was actionable, and it would provide us with a flagship product that no one else could offer.
Yet, like the Focus before it, it created its own problem, only, ironically enough, the inverse of the problem to begin with. Unlike the Focus, energy demands to produce the materials to assemble the Machines would be significantly higher than an assembly line for the Focus.
There was a solution to the energy situation, but it invited its own set of problems.
I have been working on solving those problems. However, it took more than a dozen scientific and engineering papers published under a pseudonym to fix an issue that has been wrought by three decades of neglect. The advent of Tinker's had stunted the growth of energy and engineering sectors, too many companies and agencies taking the Tinker's technology as the cheaper alternative to dumping vast sums of monies into studies and grants that may never amount to anything. This was no more evident than in the nuclear energy.
But probably the final nail in that coffin had been Behemoth itself. Several times, the Endbringer had gone out of its way to attack nuclear reactor facilities, leaving the resultant land irradiated wastelands. It was both the Tinker aspect, and Behemoth, that the nuclear energy sector was living on life support.
I had several solutions for it, all different and based upon scale of supply, but it took time to establish the foundation to introduce it. And I had to do it carefully, as even I understood that there would be interests who had invested heavily into alternative energy sources that would not be keen to the revival of the nuclear industry. But nuclear was the only solution that had long-term sustainability for the future I envisioned.
But the most important feature was that they had to be safe. I wouldn't say they would be Behemoth-proof, but the Endbringer would be hard-pressed to repeat to recreate its usual party favor. And that was what mattered, even if I ignored the superior energy production and lower material costs.
I briefly considered the jump straight to cold fusion, maybe even antimatter. But as tempting as it was, I knew that it would be too far at this juncture. The world wasn't ready for that large of an upheaval, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to trust it to them either, especially with antimatter. It wouldn't take much to weaponize the material, and the last thing the world needed was another tool to kill one another.
No, if I was going to release a nuclear power source, it'd have to be a Thorium breeder reactor. That way it was safe, molten salt was nearly impossible to detonate and self sealed the radioactive material if you broke it open manually, but it could also sustain itself a lot better than currently existing reactors. Additionally, the United States also had a ready supply of Thorium necessary for the process, compared to the more rare Uranium.
All in all, it was a good idea, the only problem returned back to if it could be pulled off. I know I had the papers out there, but it wasn't enough to rekindle an interest in nuclear energy. The only methods I could possibly pursue was to either push out more papers with minimal gain. Or I actually produce a blueprint and start fishing with it.
That meant involving the Department of Energy, I thought with a grimace. I could probably leverage Jean to help with that aspect. But I had a feeling I knew how she was going to react to this idea. I knew I probably had her on board with the LRL, but a nuclear reactor design? I mean, it would make Zero Dawn money if it was embraced, but it would be the type of uphill battle that would cause migraines for her.
I sighed, reaching out for my Focus. It did me no good to dwell upon it, either I did it or not. And well, the world couldn't improve if I was doing nothing.
My vision flooded with the data provided by my Focus. It had ceased being jarring to switch between seeing nothing and seeing everything, but it was still a heady experience even now to see again. Reaching up with my hand, I 'tapped' an executable in my augmented reality to open the music player that linked to my workshop. That finished, I then selected a playlist that I knew that if Dad were to hear, he'd give me an earful at my 'poor' tastes and hit play.
As Metallica from Earth Aleph started blasting through the speakers I took a deep breath before selecting a folder named "Hatshepsut" and opening its contents.
Alright. Let's get to work.
AEH
That should be it, I thought to myself as I finished verbally dictating a final few notes to the blueprint for the Thorium breeder reactor. One of the advantages of the Focus and Sobek was that it allowed me to both use voice commands and dictation, making the effort of drawing up blueprints infinitely easier than using something as stiff and unforgiving as any run-of-the-mill CAD. What would have taken weeks now could be counted in days with my setup.
The voice command system was still rudimentary, as I was still working on Sobek, but it was something that I honestly could not do without. It made things easier, and I didn't have to wear my arms out constantly manipulating the augmented reality for it to work.
The only issue I had was that I had to adjust the overall design to match the currently existing material sciences. It wasn't a difficult endeavor, just time consuming, as I had to change up several other points in order to ensure that it worked well. I could introduce the actual materials for the design, but the issue then ran into the fact that additional questions would be asked of the design. It was better to adjust to what existed, and what could easily be tweaked than trying to add additional earthshaking developments.
But, it was done, for the most part. All that would need to be done was to submit a query to the Department of Energy and see if there was a response. I wasn't dumb enough to transmit the actual blueprint, that would just invite for someone to actually steal it. But if there was no response, well there were other ways to skin a cat.
"Mark file as Hatshepsut One. Copy blueprint and create new file. Title Hatshepsut Two," I murmured, watching as Sobek did as I commanded. If I was going to do the 'dumbed down' version, I could at least retain the 'complete' version as well. Reinstating the advanced materials led to a few minor changes in how it processed fuel, stripped out the steam loop in favor of thermoelectric and radioelectric power generation and shrunk the entire system till it could fit in a shipping container.
A small blinking in the right of my vision caused me to frown. Someone was trying to hack into my lab. Reaching out with my left hand, I 'touched' the warning icon, and 'pulled' the warning, watching as it came to the forefront, showing the rather amateurish attempt to hardhack the security code, and the security camera that provided me a look at who was doing it.
"Protectorate, huh," I murmured with a frown. Honestly, I had expected this sooner or later. Call it a gut feeling, but I was a nail that needed hammering in this game of capes and villains. The fact that it was the Protectorate instead of one of the gangs was rather concerning.
Still, it was something that Jean and I had discussed in the past. She had been worried about the Protectorate making a move over any of the local villain groups. And while I did understand where she was coming from, I felt that after my interview with Armsmaster, it would be the gangs that did something stupid.
Nonetheless, we had discussed what to do in that event. By the looks of how they were not fully kitted up for action, this wasn't a raid. No, it was likely they were here to check out just what I was working on. Nothing too concerning, but it was rather short-sighted. There were too many legal landmines that they were hazarding into by doing this.
But hey, it wasn't my job to ensure that they didn't commit to stupid.
I watched as my father walked up to them, looking suitably pissed. My heart lurched slightly at the sight, both in shame of what had taken place in the meeting, but also comfort that he still seemed to be there for me. With a slight flick of my eyes I accessed the microphone, authorizing it to feed it straight through the Focus and into my brain instead of through the speakers.
Listening to them threaten him changed my irritation to fury. It took all of my effort not to just block off my father's security override to my lab as a giant fuck you to Triumph. But as gratifying as seeing the asshole be inconvenienced further, I knew it would only get my father in trouble, or it may make the Protectorate and PRT do something even more stupid, like breach my lab.
Taking a deep cleansing breath, I slowly released it, cooling my furor. No Taylor, don't do anything stupid or illegal. Skirt the line, fine, but don't cross it. That'd only provide them with the ammunition to make my life a living hell.
Yeah, I was going to make them miserable. They wanted to play fuck-fuck games, they could win fuck-fuck prizes, as one of my father's union guys once said.
With a smirk, I reached up to my AR display and adjusted the music volume loud enough to make my ears ring.
AEH
Kid Win
It was with a sense of purpose that Christopher Siopis strode through Zero Dawn Technology's concourse, all the while he worked to keep his nervousness from Triumph and the team of technicians that they were escorting from being evident.
This was finally his chance to prove himself. Director Piggot was depending upon him to do this job and he couldn't afford to fuck this up.
He still couldn't believe that the Director was putting so much faith in him. When she had called him into her office yesterday, he'd thought he was in trouble for something. Especially after Armsmaster's very vocal opposition to his Alternator Cannon. He'd been afraid that Piggot was only going to pile on, ignoring that he had finally had a breakthrough.
Instead, she had spent over an hour with him just talking. He had been taken aback that the Director, probably the hardest woman he had ever met, was actually asking him how he was doing in school, if the medication that was being provided for him was helping. It had honestly been touching that she had shown concern for his circumstances.
It had only been after that time that she had changed subjects and had asked him about his future, shocking him even further. He had admitted that he was more focused upon finishing up his Alternator Cannon (which Piggot had actually been interested in!), but if he had the choice, he wanted to remain with the Protectorate when he graduated from the Wards.
It was then that things took a turn, even as the Director had said that the way he was developing, he would not only have a prime pick of a position within the Protectorate, but that he could even have Armsmaster's position if he continued his growth. It had honestly surprised him, but Piggot had actually explained that Tinkers were always in high demand and were valued within the Protectorate, because the technology they could develop could be an overall gamechanger. Something like his Alternator Cannon, if constructed and deployed correctly, could make a difference in an Endbringer fight.
He had been shocked, and he had said so, telling the Director that Armsmaster had told him that the design was a waste of time. The resultant reaction from her had also been somewhat of a shock. Not only had she been irritated by what he told her, but then she had admitted to him that it was likely that Armsmaster was going to be demoted.
Suffice to say, the idea that Armsmaster being demoted had left him stunned for a good minute. The idea that the man who had been a fixture in Brockton Bay for as long as he could remember and he looked up to, despite the recent trouble, was something that was hard to grasp. It was only after he had been able to gather himself that he asked her why.
In hindsight, he wished he hadn't. Piggot had admitted that they had reason to believe that he was compromised. They had found during an investigation that he had likely withheld information regarding a Tinker that he had been tasked to review. When he was asked to clarify upon these oversights, he had dismissed their concerns, insisting that his analysis was correct and the Protectorate was overreacting.
It had been sobering, especially when he had confirmed his own suspicions that the Tinker in question was the very one whose tech Armsmaster had been analyzing when he had walked in. When he had admitted that to the Director, she had thanked him, as that would help further evidence at possible impropriety from the Protectorate commander.
When he had asked the Director for the name of the Tinker, she had easily provided it to him. Taylor Hebert. He didn't know her, but he did find it strange that she didn't seem to have a cape name. When he voiced those thoughts, the Director had agreed upon the strangeness of it, but noted that it was likely a ploy to muddle the legal waters in order to provide legitimacy to her actions.
He could still remember his anger at it. Those actions, in his opinion, were not the sort of thing you would expect from a hero. But even worse was his mentor, the hypocrisy of the man, barely giving him the time of day and when he did, he dismissed him, but working with a non-hero was fine? It was his fault he was under investigation as much as the blame also fell upon Hebert. If what she was doing could entice Armsmaster, why wasn't she trying to work for the Protectorate? It was obvious that she was likely a villain.
What can I do?, he asked her, because he wanted to. Maybe he couldn't do anything, but he didn't want to sit there and do nothing. Not when this Tinker was doing all of this to a place he considered a home away from home.
Piggot had honestly seemed taken aback at his question, at least that was his feeling. It actually felt good that he could do something to surprise the normally dour and caustic Director.
It was then she told him that there was a planned inspection of the Zero Dawn facilities. Considering Armsmaster's malfeasance stemmed from his actions with Taylor Hebert, they were down a Tinker who could provide legitimacy to any inspection on what was going on at Zero Dawn. She hadn't even been able to finish what she was saying before he volunteered, once again surprising the older woman.
This had been his chance after all. Armsmaster was on his way out, and this was an opportunity he'd be an idiot not to take. Plus, he could get a look at whatever Hebert was making, and if it was a problem, well, he could impress the Director with his report. And to show Armsmaster he was wrong about him would only be icing on the cake.
Now he was not so sure, but he wasn't going to screw up, as he moved through the building, a team of technicians and PRT Officers with him. They already knew exactly where Hebert's workshop was, thanks to a few tips. While he would have preferred Miss Militia with him, it just wasn't to be as she was tasked with supporting the team that would be going to the administrative offices of the company. It was viewed that her diplomatic skills would be better needed there.
Triumph was not a bad alternative. He had worked with Rory in the past, and he knew that he was a solid help in the event that Hebert caused issues. From what they knew about the Tinker, she didn't have much of anything built outside of her visual systems, so Rory was a perfect counter to the teen.
Still, it couldn't help his nerves at the looks that they were getting from the various workers that had spotted them marching through. There was a tension in the air as they stared at them out, a sense that if something went wrong that they would find themselves on the receiving end of the workers ire. They had only been stopped once, and had firmly told the middle-aged woman that she was interfering with an inspection, she had relented, but not without a few caustic words.
It was almost like walking into an Empire rally, he thought with a hint of nervousness.
But they reached their destination, Triumph coming to a stop at the door with no door handle. Immediately, he recognized what it was, judging by the flat pad with a card swipe on the side. The doors themselves looked brand-new, and one of the technicians had murmured that it was likely Tinkertech judging by the sheen and the design.
"Jenkins," Triumph looked back to them, and the tech stepped forward as summoned, reaching into his backpack and retrieving a device before attaching it to the security panel. He then fiddled with it a bit, the paneling lighting up on the device, and then fiddled with a bit more, his expression becoming focused as his frown deepened. He then adjusted something on it, only to get no reward for the actions. The door refused to open in spite of a Tinkertech device designed to slice security-locked doors.
"What is it," Triumph asked, his own expression becoming a frown.
"I don't know," Jenkins almost whined, messing with the device further, "It should be working, but the device keeps coming back with an error. Which shouldn't be possible. This design has been used in several different branches without a failure."
"Make note of that," Triumph ordered, looking to the door, then back to what they had. He then looked back past them and his mouth firmed back from a frown into a thin line, causing himself to follow the Protectorate member's gaze to a man who was storming towards them.
It was a tall thin man with glasses, his receding hair only serving to highlight the reddening of his face, both from exertion but also barely restrained fury. His attire suggested upper management, but the style was less formal and more designed to be able to comfortably work in, like the man couldn't decide on one design and worked towards a compromise between management and floor work.
"What the fuck do you think you are doing," the man demanded, coming to a stop before them.
"This is an inspection, Mister Hebert," Triumph declared, even as his body shifted, looking ready to start a fight with the other man.
"Last time I checked the Protectorate and PRT neither had the license or authority to perform any inspection of a company or facility. Do you have a warrant?"
"You're incorrect, Mister Hebert. Doctor Wily v Protectorate establishes that it is within the Protectorate's power to inspect and audit any Tinkertech facility without warrant in the pursuit of public safety. As Zero Dawn Technology CEO and Head of Research and Development is a known Tinker, this places the responsibility upon us to ensure that there is no public threat. Hence, this inspection."
"Rather large group for an inspection," was the other man's wry statement, "I also find it strange that not only are you here, but I also have the BBPD and Child Protective Services rooting round my administration building."
"It's merely a coincidence," Triumph's terse response, though the tone in which he took it caused him to think that maybe the Protectorate member was stretching the truth, but he kept his mouth shut, it'd be something he'd ask later, "Now, I am here with Kid Win and my colleagues to inspect Miss Hebert's facilities and devices. You can either provide us with access to these facilities, or I can have you charged with obstruction by interfering with an official government inspection. It is your choice."
For a moment, he thought the older man would resist, and there was a small part of him that hoped for it. He may not know all of the laws and rules, but he knew that if Mister Hebert resisted, then it opened up so many more options on what could and could not be done. It had been beaten into his head by Miss Militia this morning that they were 'inspecting' and not raiding, but there was a dark part of him that hoped it would turn into a raid.
Unfortunately, it seemed that opportunity would not be provided here, as Mister Hebert grabbed his ID badge that was clipped to his shirt, "You'll have to remove your device," the older man growled.
"Give me the ID badge," Triumph demanded, holding out his hand.
"Sure," was the snarked comeback, "Even with the badge you still can't get in. Access to this room requires an ID badge and biometric authentication. But you go on ahead," he held the card out, "have at it. I need some entertainment."
Triumph stared at Hebert for a moment, before glancing at Jenkins who was still fiddling with the door, to no avail. All the while, he had to wonder just what was so important that they would go to such great lengths to protect a room. Just what was it that they were hiding.
"Jenkins, any luck," Triumph asked.
"No. Whatever security they are using, I can't crack it."
A moment of silence passed, before Triumph seemed to contemplate, before he then nodded towards Hebert.
"Fine, you can open it."
"Thank you," with that, Hebert strode past them, coming to the door and inserting his card into the panel, before placing his right hand flat on it. There was a soft chime, before the heavy door opened inwards, and they were bombarded with extremely loud music.
Pushing Hebert aside, Triumph stormed into the room, and he followed, eyes already drinking in as he tried to put a name to the music. It was rock, but older than what he was familiar with. What he did know was that it was grating on his nerves even as he took in the room they entered.
Jealousy surged through him as he looked around the room. All around him was the type of workplace he could barely dream of. There wasn't anywhere in the Northeast that he was aware of that could manage to compare to. Even New York would struggle to compare.
And in the middle of it all, surrounded by dozens of holograms, was Taylor Hebert. Her back was currently to them, but her arms were moving as she was conducting the music, but the holograms that ran up the side of the wall changed with every single motion. At the center of it was some sort of vessel, and he felt himself drawn into it as he tried to figure out what it was.
"Miss Hebert," Triumph's voice rang out, but it was no use as it was still drowned out by the music. Realizing that, the member of the Protectorate stormed forward and placed his hand on the girl's shoulder, almost yanking her around to look at him.
It was now that he got a good look at her and suffice to say she cut a different figure than what he expected. She was awkwardly thin, even for a teenager, her hair cut into a pixy style, which clashed with the school photo that they had that showed long hair. But the most striking thing was her face and eyes, the way skin seemed to be discolored in some places and lightly melted in others. It was the eyes, however, that were the most striking, pale brownish orbs that seemed to track them regardless of the fact that he knew they were blind. On the right side of her head was a glowing circle haloed over a triangle attached right in front of her ear.
She stared at them a moment, before she raised her hand to chest level, causing both Triumph and himself to stiffen, before slowly slashing it outwards, and the music stopped.
"Gentlemen," she greeted, her eyes roving between the two of them, "How may I help you?"
To be fair, if he expected anything, it wasn't this sort of bald fearlessness. There was not a single sign of fear, or even trepidation in her expression. Instead, she almost looked amused that they were here. It was rather strange in his opinion, but he kept his mouth closed and instead found his attention being drawn back to whatever was being displayed behind her.
"This is an inspection, Miss Hebert," Triumph declared, "you are to provide us access to your technology and computers in order to ascertain that they are not a threat to the general public. If you will hand over the device you are currently wearing, we can begin."
"Okay," she drawled out, her freaky gaze coming to a rest on him, "I guess I'll start off by asking just how you are going to determine just what is and is not a threat to the general public? I don't see Armsmaster, so, I take it you're going to have Kid Win here do it? May I inquire about his qualifications?"
"No, you may not. All that is required is that you provide Kid Win and these technicians behind me with access to all your technology and relevant materials. If access requires a password, you are legally obligated to provide it. Any attempts to interfere with this inspection will be treated as obstruction, and you will be charged accordingly."
"And I'm gonna have to stop you riiiight there, Triumph. First, I am assuming that you are using the ruling from Doctor Wily v Protectorate, correct? No, you don't need to answer that, you told my father that. So, let's start there. While the Wily v Protectorate ruling unequivocally states that the Protectorate and PRT do have the right to inspect any suspected or known Tinker and their facilities legally as a matter of fulfilling the protection of the general public, it does not provide any legal authority for an inspection of a publicly trademarked and recognized company that just so happens to employ a Tinker."
"It was noted by Judge Marsh that to do so, would run into conflict with the protections set aside within NEPEA-5 for companies that may use Tinkers. He stated, and I quote, that it would 'create an opportunity in which competitive interests may and would use the government to do its work by revealing company secrets and disrupt operations of competitors,' ' end quote. Now, I will happily provide you the opportunity to look, but you can't touch, or inspect for that matter, without a warrant. Which, since it's apparent someone either skipped or ignored their legal homework when they put this 'inspection' together, would negate those aforementioned NEPEA-5 protections."
Kid slowly turned his head to Taylor, whose own gaze was now firmly locked onto Triumph, a challenge ready in her expression. He had to wonder just what the hell type of training or preparation this girl had. The fact that she was quoting a ruling that he wasn't even aware of until Miss Militia and Triumph had briefed him this morning on was the sort of thing he would have never expected.
"Furthermore," she continued, obviously delighting in what she was doing, "I find it rather gauche that you would demand that I hand over the medical device that grants me vision. One might assume that you may be attempting to take advantage of my disability for nefarious purposes. But that wouldn't be your intention, would it be Triumph?"
"No. However, I must insist, Miss Hebert. From previous reports, it appears you have changed the device that you use, therefore it must be inspected."
There was a sound from the other side of the door, likely Hebert's father, but instead, she just smiled, reached up to her ear, and tapped it. The light faded away from it, and she removed it from her head and held it out.
"You got me," she admitted, "the villanous tinker has been thwarted by the brave and noble Protectorate."
He reached out to take it from her hand, but she pulled back slightly, "I would like to inform you that if you damage this in any way, I will bill you personally for the repair and replacement. So I would recommend that it doesn't suffer any unfortunate accidents, unless you want to pay the low, low price of a brand-new car to replace it."
"Bullshit," the word escaped his lips before he could stop himself, "There's no way that a device like that would cost that much. It looks like a toy."
She turned her head towards him, her hairless brow rising in challenge, as she scoffed, "What I am holding in my hand is the most powerful non-tinkertech smart computer in the world, Kid Win. It took me over half a month of blueprinting and development, then another week in which I personally hand-crafted and assembled every single component for it, from the processors, to the wiring, to the sensors. If anything, I'm probably underselling the price point by a factor of five. And as far as I am concerned, it will remain the only one of its kind."
He could feel himself blush at the chastisement he had just received from the other teen. He had never been dressed down like that in his life, and he wasn't sure what he should feel, instead, he deferred to Triumph as once again his attention was drawn back to the blueprint on the screen. Something was gnawing at the back of his mind, screaming at him that he should be paying attention to it.
At the same time, he kept an ear to the ongoing conversation between Triumph and Hebert.
"So I suggest," she finally said handing him the device, obviously satisfied in making her point, "that you be careful with not only this device, but my workplace. Everything is being recorded, and I will be forwarding this entire conversation and inspection to my legal team. It'd be a shame if they find a reasonable issue with anything you are doing."
With her piece said, she turned and headed off, her gait a slight hobble, as if she were not completely sure where she was going, but it ended up at a desk in the corner, probably the only thing that was recognizable in the room, and reached up to open a cabinet.
Triumph seemed to dismiss her as he started giving out orders to the technicians. Mister Hebert had strode past them and headed towards his daughter as she started messing with a box and opening it. She then retrieved the original device she had shown at the PRT HQ, and placed it on her head. He thought to say something to Triumph, but instead his attention fell back to the design before him.
Then it clicked. Suddenly, he realized what he was looking at.
"Is that an energy regulator," he asked aloud, turning to look back at Hebert.
Her head snapped away from her father and locked onto him. Triumph had also turned to look at him as well, his expression neutral.
Taylor's father placed his hand on her shoulder, almost like he wanted her to say nothing. However, she shook it off and strode towards him.
"It is."
He found his gaze drawn back to the design, his thoughts revolving around what he could do with it, only becoming more excited. One of the issues he has always had with the alternator cannon was that the design had to use brute force in order to create enough energy to fire. But with this…with this…
"Kid Win," Triumph's voice ripped him from his thoughts, and he bowed his head in slight embarrassment at ogling the design. Hebert on the other hand looked like the cat that ate the proverbial canary with her smile.
Triumph, however, didn't seem to be having it, as he looked back to Hebert.
"And what is this energy regulator for, Kid Win?"
Judging by the design, and energy thresholds displayed on it, it could only be-
"It's for a Thorium reactor," Taylor interrupted, and every head in the room turned to her in incredulity, "Hey, I figured while I was giving vision back to the world, why not solve the energy crisis while I was at it."
This caused Triumph to freeze, before he turned towards Hebert, looking ready for a fight, and the father started to move towards the daughter, "You are making a nuclear reactor?!"
"Don't be absurd. That would be illegal. I'm finishing the blueprints for a nuclear reactor design. I'm not stupid enough to even think about pissing in the Department of Energy's cheerios by building the damn thing myself. That's just begging for a real governmental organization that actually does its job right to break down my doors."
AEH
Thomas Calvert
Honestly, he didn't want to be here, even if his own curiosity got the better of him. But when Deputy Director Renick had requested his knowledge in financial forensics, he couldn't exactly say no without arousing suspicion. The fact that Contessa hadn't intervened only gave him a hint that what he was doing would be allowed.
So now here he was, in the offices of Zero Dawn Technologies, looking through the company financials for anything that could catch his eye. As it was an inspection, they didn't have access to the tools necessary to conduct a deep audit in the time they were allotted.
What he could see suggested nothing too out of the ordinary. Quite a few material and technical purchases, which was somewhat strange, considering the company was supposed to be technology focused, yet were buying several metals and alloys in bulk. It made him wonder just what they were developing and why would it require Contessa's intervention?
What he did know was that Piggot was rattled something fierce with how fast and loose she was playing the rules. He had known Emily over the years, and more often than not, she didn't do things half-cocked, but something about the Heberts had her grasping at straws. An inspection like this, unless the Heberts and their staff were incompetent, would not provide any of the likely legal opportunities that she sought. If anything, this seemed more like an attempt to rattle Zero Dawn.
But there was something going on, something he was not fully aware of, and he wasn't sure if he could use his power to ascertain it. The fact that he was treading as close as he was to a position that Contessa had warned him about. The last thing he wanted was to garner the cape boogeyman's ire, her abilities easily were superior to his.
It was strange, however, that at the same time that the Protectorate and PRT were inspecting Zero Dawn's facility, Child Protective Services were making their presence known. He glanced over to where the two of them were going through another computer, likely reviewing time logs. There would be only one reason they would be doing this, but honestly, the timing was just the sort of thing that would make you think it was something more than coincidence.
Meanwhile, Miss Militia was getting glared down by the CFO of Zero Dawn, who had already given the Kurdish woman a verbal lashing. It had honestly been somewhat amusing to see the other woman becoming flustered as Brown began citing several different rules and laws that the Protectorate was in violation of. But Miss Militia had been adamant, and Jean Brown had retreated and was now on the phone with what were likely lawyers. He found himself looking forward to the inevitable storm that was about to come battering down on Piggot's little fiefdom. He had been hearing rumors as of late that there was trouble within the PRT and Protectorate of Brockton Bay, and a large amount of that stemmed from Piggot herself.
But it was the CPS agents that were probably the more concerning addition to this all. Piggot wouldn't dirty her hands by bringing an outside agency. This suggested another party was involved in all of this, as CPS was usually rather slow in taking immediate action. Unless they had eyes on the Heberts for months, which was unlikely. No, someone had to make a phone call, and considering the timing, he wouldn't be stunned if the phone call originated from somewhere in the local government. There was no way that it was anyone within the former DWA, he knew how loyal they were to Danny Hebert, and it would be a cold day in hell before they turned on the man's daughter.
There was no doubt in his mind that there would likely be something for the CPS to latch onto. It didn't take an idiot to recognize that Taylor Hebert was the heart and soul of this company. Even if he couldn't see what she was creating, there was just too much evidence in the receipts to ignore that it was something. But she was fifteen years old, and disabled by legal definition, this was the sort of shit the CPS would bring tar and feathers for if they sniffed even an iota of wrongdoing.
And judging by the way the man and woman were conversing with one another, with the woman pointing at the screen to the older man who was likely her superior, there was a good chance that they found something and he had a good idea what it was.
It seemed that he would need to brush upon his knowledge of NEPEA-5 and parahuman law. While Zero Dawn was a newcomer to the scene, he rather doubted that Zenith would be so stupid as to invest into a situation where the CPS could get involved unless they had a legal angle of attack to defeat whatever challenge that was leveled.
He would have to have Tattletale look into this as well. As much as he despised the blonde Thinker, she was better at raw analysis than he was, thanks to her power. And with so many unknowns, and not enough knowledge where to start, using his own power just wouldn't work in an adequate time frame.
That didn't mean he wouldn't double-check her work, though. The last thing he needed was for her to try and slip her leash.
He was drawn from his thoughts as Miss Militia stiffened before reaching into her pocket and pulling out her phone. Placing it up to her ear, he took the time to attempt to read her lips, as she was out of range for him to hear.
The most that he could get was 'Triumph' and a shocked 'what' before she hung up the phone. Her gaze snapped to him, "Calvert, continue your investigation. I have to rendezvous with Triumph, there has been a development."
Without getting acknowledgement, she spun and headed out the door, even as the blonde CFO suddenly took off after her.
Just what the hell was all of that, he wondered, before looking over to the CPS agents, noting that they were still in deep conversation. He considered splitting the timeline and finding out what they knew, but it wasn't worth it, honestly. Odds are he would likely find out sooner rather than later, as the CPS over the years when it came to capes tended to have too many leaks that magically always seemed to end up in the hands of the Youth Guard.
AEH
Jean Brown
She must have done something wrong this morning, maybe got up on the wrong side of the bed, or maybe passed a black cat. Something. Because today was turning into a day of all days. Between Taylor's focus upon technology over sales, and Danny's ignorance of just what Taylor had in her wheelhouse, she didn't know which Hebert she wanted to strangle more at the moment.
Taylor's actions were understandable, this was a teenager who didn't have the knowledge of how the business world worked, but Danny, that was a major problem with possible long-term implications. Especially if it threatened Taylor.
But of course, that just couldn't be the only shit hitting the fan. Now the PRT, Protectorate, and even the CPS were all jockeying to throw in their hat for making this day an absolute shitfest. She had been in her office talking to Accord about the meeting, trying to figure out just how to salvage the situation while keeping the impetus when security had alerted her to the cavalcade of government interference.
She had quickly let Accord know what was going down, requesting that he get into contact with a legal team for what she knew was likely coming. PRT/Protectorate inspections were rare, but there was enough precedence to know just how they went. However, it was suspicious that this was all taking place when the company had not even been active for two months and hadn't produced a product yet.
The cynical part of her could easily see that this was more than just an average inspection. Especially when security had alerted her that there were three capes with the contingent of officers, two of which had already broken off and were on their way to Taylor's workshop. Inspections made by the PRT largely never involved capes, it was viewed as an unnecessary escalation. But the fact that they were present, but were not raiding the company suggested an ulterior motive at play.
It could be one of three plays, or a mixture of all three: First, they were hoping for a gotcha moment, and with the capes there for if they found something. Second, they were hoping that someone would do something proverbially stupid, giving them justification to use force and escalate to a raid. And third, it was a veiled attempt at intimidation, using the presence of the capes as a cudgel to use against them.
But the presence of Child Protective Services, at the same time as the inspection was taking place? No, something rotten was going on here. CPS was glacially slow in how they operated, they didn't make sudden moves unless someone tipped them off. Broken homes were as numerous as drug dens in Brockton Bay after all. And even then, their reaction was usually slow, unless there was another factor at play.
Luckily, it was something that she had discussed with Taylor in the past. Danny she knew would likely be able to handle the situation well enough considering his experiences. But Taylor was the weak link, especially with her powers. They had spent the better part of a day discussing contingencies, but also ways to deal with the situation. She profoundly hoped that it would play out the way she hoped it did.
When she had finally arrived, they had already entered the administration section of the company, the CPS people already waving their badges and telling everyone to not interfere in their investigation. Since it was a lost cause, she decided to be a little petty and let the office workers go on a paid break, leaving the CPS to figure out what to do.
Dealing with Miss Militia, however, was an exercise in futility. Even with the legal arguments and points she made to the Kurdish hero, the woman had merely dismissed them as not relevant to the situation. It took an extraordinary effort not to tweak the gravity around the woman and turn her into a meat puddle in a fit of pique. Instead, she forcibly amused herself with the observation that rumors were true about the woman, she was so far on the Protectorate's dick that it was a surprise that the woman hadn't whelped a litter of future heroes already.
As much as she wanted to tell that to the bitch's face, it probably wouldn't end well for any involved. So instead, she busied herself with her phone, making several notes and firing off a few emails, intent on ensuring everything was ready for when they retaliated against this travesty. She also made a note to see if Accord could look into the origins of the CPS' action. They would probably be the most difficult of issues to deal with, considering Taylor's age, education, and work ethic. There was no doubt in her mind that if anything was successful of this so far, it would be the CPS citing labor law and health concerns for Taylor.
It was in the middle of firing off an email to Accord that he called her back to inform her that the legal team would be boarding a helicopter in twenty-five minutes and be on their way to Brockton Bay. Obviously he was on the same wavelength as her if he was making such an expenditure. He then demanded a report that required her to step further away from Miss Militia, much to the other woman's relief judging by the slight slump of her shoulders.
It had only been a short conversation, Accord was moving additional pieces into place in the event that it became worse. He would personally look into what caused the CPS to suddenly take an interest in Taylor. But he agreed with her read of the situation, someone was playing hardball, and he wanted to know who it was.
She had been in the middle of assuring that they would be ready for the arrival of the lawyers when Miss Militia's phone started going off. She refocused her attention towards Miss Militia after telling him what was happening and she was glad that she did. The way her eyes widened and she paled before hanging up her phone and barking towards some guy named Calvert, she knew that something had happened with Taylor.
"I'll call you back," she told him, letting him acknowledge it before hanging up. Her boss was a stickler towards courtesies and while he would forgive her if she hung up, she would rather not have to deal with his irritation at the faux pas.
Sliding her phone into the inside pocket of her jacket, she sauntered after the Protectorate hero, wondering exactly what had the woman reacting in such a way. No, that was a stupid thought, it was obvious that it had to do with Taylor. But the fact that she wasn't hearing explosions or anything like that, and Miss Militia wasn't in a sprint, she was safe in the knowledge that it may be something that could be discussed without incident.
Maybe it would be better in the future that she made Taylor inventory everything she was working on. At least for her own sanity's sake. Knowing what the teenager was developing would at least provide her warning and maybe a roadmap to work with. The machines had not been a surprise, she knew about them from the sales pitch Taylor had made. It was just that Taylor was already looking at producing them that had been the surprise.
Frankly, she liked the Light Rescue Lance concept Taylor had ad-libbed. Sure, she had the files and details prepared, but it hadn't been something that the teenager had planned to reveal originally. But then again, she may be underestimating that. Nonetheless, it provided a flagship product, and it created interest. It also was something that had no peers or competitors. Dragon was limited to her Dragoncraft, and they were exorbitantly expensive and unable to be mass-produced due to their Tinker design. This provided them an industry that would create demand, if the LRL concept took off, then Taylor could start revealing other machines that could fill roles within society.
It was a bit more brute force than she, and likely Accord, would have approved of, but she didn't see a flaw in the overall plan, even if she wanted to.
The first thing she noted as they approached Taylor's workshop was that the door was open. Not necessarily a good sign considering Taylor's expenditures to ensure information control. Miss Militia simply stormed in, and she slipped into the room, finding Taylor at one side of the room as the Protectorate cape moved to talk with Triumph and Kid Win.
All the while her gaze was on the blueprint displayed on the wall.
It wasn't a machine, she thought with a growing sense of trepidation as she reached Taylor who was standing with her father. Why couldn't it be a machine, she lamented, even as she tried to figure out what she was looking at, before giving up and looking to her CEO. The teenager was wearing her old Focus, which meant that it was likely being held by the Protectorate. The placid expression on her face only increased her increasing apprehension. It was too confident for someone who was in the process of having her business inspected.
"What have you done," she had to ask, finally turning to Hebert whose small smile was positively not helping her stress levels.
"I didn't do anything," the teen offered a shrug, "I was minding my business finishing the blueprints for a nuclear reactor when they stormed into my lab and took exception to the design."
She couldn't help herself, and frankly, it was that or sobbing aloud, so she placed her face in her palms and fought the urge to scream.
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- Location
- Queensland, Australia
It's going to be fascinating seeing just what sort of legal and departmental charlie foxtrot emerges from this. Because this is definitely something which steps out of the usual 'Tinker' field in a way that government regulations most likely aren't particularly clear about. And it does so with something that is going to get massive attention from everyone in a way where the Department of Energy can't be denied access to the blueprint Taylor's developed. At which point the 'not actually a Tinker' will come out and oh boy.
Why do I say the PRT can't deny the DoE access to the blueprint? Because first of all it's a nuclear reactor and they are the uncontested non-military experts in that field for the US, so anyone wanting a non-Taylor, non-PRT confirmation of what it is most likely will need them to review the design and confirm things one way or another. Secondly, this is going to trigger the mother of all custody fights over just who 'owns' authority for Taylor's designs and the DoE is not going to accept 'a Parahuman was involved so it's all under the PRT'. They'll accept 'it's a Tinkertech Nuclear Reactor so it's under the authority of the PRT' but they won't accept 'a Parahuman was involved'.
Or put more clearly as it's late and I should be asleep: the resulting mess from this is going to have the US Government legally confirm whether or not Taylor's designs fall under the non-reproducibility, lack of understanding definition of Tinkertech. Or if the definition of Tinkertech gets expanded to include a lot more stuff which is going to have all sorts of experts everywhere screaming as suddenly the things they deal with are 'technically Tinkertech' because no one else understands their stuff, or they couldn't design the thing they made, or no one else can build it. Because they are the expert in the field and there's maybe three dozen people on the entire planet with sufficient understanding to come close to understanding what the thing is, nearly all of those are in other countries and the ones who aren't are going to be in other companies which means having them review the tech breaks company confidentiality and all that.
We 'know' that Taylor's designs come with the able to be written out and understood scientific advances needed to make the stuff, and that all of her designs can either be created by a sufficiently trained and skilled normal human or a computer system developed and constructed by normal humans. So the moment the DoE gets the blueprint and reviews it, they're going to be saying 'if we had the funding and permissions, we could start building this next week'. Which means the current definition of Tinkertech does not apply to Taylor's designs, so all of a sudden the PRT loses the leg they were standing on to attempt to authorise all this and...
Really, if you aren't concerned about the stress everyone involved is going to go through (which is more or less multiple major lawyer firms, Washington DC, most of the US Government, the PRT, Taylor and her company along with all it's ties and... Look, it's a long list) then this is probably the perfect way to 'reform' the current problem that is NEPEA-5 and the PRT. Or at least trigger the process.
Why do I say the PRT can't deny the DoE access to the blueprint? Because first of all it's a nuclear reactor and they are the uncontested non-military experts in that field for the US, so anyone wanting a non-Taylor, non-PRT confirmation of what it is most likely will need them to review the design and confirm things one way or another. Secondly, this is going to trigger the mother of all custody fights over just who 'owns' authority for Taylor's designs and the DoE is not going to accept 'a Parahuman was involved so it's all under the PRT'. They'll accept 'it's a Tinkertech Nuclear Reactor so it's under the authority of the PRT' but they won't accept 'a Parahuman was involved'.
Or put more clearly as it's late and I should be asleep: the resulting mess from this is going to have the US Government legally confirm whether or not Taylor's designs fall under the non-reproducibility, lack of understanding definition of Tinkertech. Or if the definition of Tinkertech gets expanded to include a lot more stuff which is going to have all sorts of experts everywhere screaming as suddenly the things they deal with are 'technically Tinkertech' because no one else understands their stuff, or they couldn't design the thing they made, or no one else can build it. Because they are the expert in the field and there's maybe three dozen people on the entire planet with sufficient understanding to come close to understanding what the thing is, nearly all of those are in other countries and the ones who aren't are going to be in other companies which means having them review the tech breaks company confidentiality and all that.
We 'know' that Taylor's designs come with the able to be written out and understood scientific advances needed to make the stuff, and that all of her designs can either be created by a sufficiently trained and skilled normal human or a computer system developed and constructed by normal humans. So the moment the DoE gets the blueprint and reviews it, they're going to be saying 'if we had the funding and permissions, we could start building this next week'. Which means the current definition of Tinkertech does not apply to Taylor's designs, so all of a sudden the PRT loses the leg they were standing on to attempt to authorise all this and...
Really, if you aren't concerned about the stress everyone involved is going to go through (which is more or less multiple major lawyer firms, Washington DC, most of the US Government, the PRT, Taylor and her company along with all it's ties and... Look, it's a long list) then this is probably the perfect way to 'reform' the current problem that is NEPEA-5 and the PRT. Or at least trigger the process.
TikiTau
Commander Pangolinski
- Location
- Texas
Man.
I sure hope Zenith Technologies gets into medical supply production soon.
Triumph is going to need some SUPER Effective FutureTech Lotion for that burn on why Taylor isn't willing to cross the Department of Energy...
Also, hah.
The Protectorate probably expects to have some time to, mmm, digest the results of the raid and buckle down for counter-lawsuits.
Accord is Not Amused and knows all their games, though, which means they have the length of time it takes that helicopter to fly from Boston to Brockton Bay plus 25 minutes before the legal team starts engaging in Legal Jujitsu at everyone involved...
Also, another one for the Novel Wormfic Bingo Card: Mildly Antagonistic Kid Win. I mean, we've had him on opposite side because Junior Protectorate vs Undersiders, but he is usually fairly sympathetic. Still is here (in that Armsmaster didn't know how to properly explain Protectorate Tinker Politics and thus why his Alternator Cannon is a dead end and then Piggot took advantage of that), but Piggot manipulating him into being Super Angry about how Naughty Taylor is as a Tinker is new.
Also also, the Sus keeps climbing: We've got the Mayor's Son leading a raid on an Organization he hates backed up by the Lawful Stupid Gunbunny of the Protectorate ENE. Like, there's 'i FOLLOW THE LAW' and then there's 'You're literally breaking muliple laws right now-' 'I WAS GIVEN ORDERS THUS THE LAWS DON'T APPLY'.
Also the Third, Son of Also: It's amusing that the ruling they tried to cite -actually has a built-in 'no, you can't use it like you are right now'-. Taylor notes the judge who ruled in Wily vs Protectorate explicitly said that it does NOT apply to a COMPANY that is NEPEA-5 compliant, because otherwise their competitors and others would use it for blatant corporate espionage and sabotage. Which, um, is what Piggot is -trying-.
I imagine Director Calvert will have a lot of work to do cleaning up his new post, really...
Finally, someday, DOCTOR WILY will have his revenge...and invent those damned teleporting blocks. Purely out of spite. That'll show those FOOLS in the Protectorate to think twice before crossing him next time!
I sure hope Zenith Technologies gets into medical supply production soon.
Triumph is going to need some SUPER Effective FutureTech Lotion for that burn on why Taylor isn't willing to cross the Department of Energy...
Also, hah.
The Protectorate probably expects to have some time to, mmm, digest the results of the raid and buckle down for counter-lawsuits.
Accord is Not Amused and knows all their games, though, which means they have the length of time it takes that helicopter to fly from Boston to Brockton Bay plus 25 minutes before the legal team starts engaging in Legal Jujitsu at everyone involved...
Also, another one for the Novel Wormfic Bingo Card: Mildly Antagonistic Kid Win. I mean, we've had him on opposite side because Junior Protectorate vs Undersiders, but he is usually fairly sympathetic. Still is here (in that Armsmaster didn't know how to properly explain Protectorate Tinker Politics and thus why his Alternator Cannon is a dead end and then Piggot took advantage of that), but Piggot manipulating him into being Super Angry about how Naughty Taylor is as a Tinker is new.
Also also, the Sus keeps climbing: We've got the Mayor's Son leading a raid on an Organization he hates backed up by the Lawful Stupid Gunbunny of the Protectorate ENE. Like, there's 'i FOLLOW THE LAW' and then there's 'You're literally breaking muliple laws right now-' 'I WAS GIVEN ORDERS THUS THE LAWS DON'T APPLY'.
Also the Third, Son of Also: It's amusing that the ruling they tried to cite -actually has a built-in 'no, you can't use it like you are right now'-. Taylor notes the judge who ruled in Wily vs Protectorate explicitly said that it does NOT apply to a COMPANY that is NEPEA-5 compliant, because otherwise their competitors and others would use it for blatant corporate espionage and sabotage. Which, um, is what Piggot is -trying-.
I imagine Director Calvert will have a lot of work to do cleaning up his new post, really...
Finally, someday, DOCTOR WILY will have his revenge...and invent those damned teleporting blocks. Purely out of spite. That'll show those FOOLS in the Protectorate to think twice before crossing him next time!
No matter the setting, Taylor Hebert is an individual of uncommon will and great ruthlessness.