Huh I thought it was because Wildbow confirmed we were in a unreliable narrator in Taylor because of the scene where her choices make you actually balk at what she's done then go back to her side
Brockton's Celestial Forge (Worm/Jumpchain)
- Thread starter LordRoustabout
- Start date
Problem is Ward proved Taylor right. Ward makes Taylor look like a sane, reasonable person.
Ah yeah maybe Wildbow should have made successors for his fic or had a cowriter their to world build the setting
Wildbow has tons of wog posts were he trolls readers ranging from giving the mathematicians answer of yes whenever someone words something like does this work like this or like that or is this the case yes or no to him outright giving someone 4 possible scenarios to something that happened and outright saying the one that's canon is the one you like the least.
Additionally, despite all his own plagiarising he wanted to get worm published early on so when he found out a fan had taken the concept of endbringers but not used any of his and actually credited him for their own original work he launched a full harassment campaign until they caved and took it down.
Furthermore as if that wasn't enough a ton of things in Ward if not the whole of it were written out of spite such as Amy going off the rails because people liked her and didn't pick up on his "obvious" showings of things like her raping Vicky or Jessica Yamada failing as a therapist because of how fics liked to go she's amazing throw Amy/Eidolon/GU/Bonesaw etc at her and have her fix them.
In other words, the biggest unreliable narrator is Wildblow himself.
Shadow Archon
Protoss Preserver
- Location
- Louisiana
Wait, what?
Please expand on that. That's a serious accusation. I heard you mention he plagiarized from Milestone. As in Milestone comics?
You know guys if Lung somehow survived that FTL ramming he would probably be so damage his healing would take ages to do and he probably be in absolute pain from it
His healing is really fast when he's that ramped up. If he survived through some miracle he would probably be fully healing in 30 seconds at most. An awful 30 seconds, sure, but it wouldn't be that long.
Wildbow took a ton of characters and things from multiple comic settings including Milestone (mainly the Dakotaverse people will probably know of from being the origin of Static Shock), Aberrant, the Trinity TTRPG and the Black Cat manga. This ranges from stuff such as triggers being Aberrant's Nova Eruptions to a ton of characters since the norm is he took a character, removed general comic book/anime human stuff, split their powers into 2 or 3 and their personality into another and matched them up to others. Whole groups such as the Empire and the Nine are taken from groups within specific comics such as Jack Slash and other nine members from Black Cat with Cauldron deserving special mention since he was particularly lazy with Doctor Mother's.
Except, even if he had survived, most of his body would have been on a solar escape trajectory and possibly going at a significant fraction of c too. Which means he would have very shortly left earths orbit, crossed Lunar orbit, and been forcibly disconnected from his shard/agent/power/snark by the range limit. Dying alone in the vacuum of space headed outwards on an interstellar trip, or exploding with the force of several thousand city buster nukes – tough choice.
Yeah even if he survived the initial hit he wasn't surviving the consequences of said hit.
Shadow Archon
Protoss Preserver
- Location
- Louisiana
Looking through Black Cat and Abberant, I can see some similarities with some powers and mechanics, but I don't see it as outright plagiarism. The fact you're saying he put powers and people in a blender furthers that point, as that's far more work differentiating things than what you get with some other comic-book characters. Marvel and DC copied each other all the time, but outside of Scion being a Superman-expy much in the vein like the Plutonian or Omni-Man, I'm not really seeing anything that's super egregious from Worm.
The closest example you have is Nova Eruptions, but they have no similarities beyond it being a growth in the brain and strong emotions causing someone to gain super powers. That's practically a trope when it comes to settings with psionic powers anyways.
nicoo
Malfunctioning neurochemistry, please be kind.
- Location
- Europe
- Pronouns
- They/She/Meow
Thanks for the new chapter!
IDK, it seems fair to assume someone calling themselves Ape Iron would be a furry 😹 (joking, of course)
Holding my breath for tonight!
I wanna read painstakingly detailed descriptions about other worlds, and impossible things used by impossible people!
Will Crystal be an aerial acrobat?
Will Tetra be able to shine solo?
Will Garment's link to the Celestial forge be blown open?
I must know!
I wanna read painstakingly detailed descriptions about other worlds, and impossible things used by impossible people!
Will Crystal be an aerial acrobat?
Will Tetra be able to shine solo?
Will Garment's link to the Celestial forge be blown open?
I must know!
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___
Nullius in verba
- Location
- a Pale Blue Dot
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
I just want to know if we get to Dr. Campbell's therapy session yet for some divine existential crises. And the ordinary romantic ones, I suppose.
109 Points of Contact - Addendum Lily
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
109 Points of Contact
I stepped out of the portal back into one of the massively expanded areas of Garment's studio. The building was almost certainly the most heavily warded place on the planet, so even though it lacked the absolute protection possible from Simple Scientific Solution based privacy measures, it was secure enough to act as an intermediary point and spillover for work that couldn't be handled inside the Workshop's privacy curtain.
The Matrix was inordinately pleased with themself and had been since completing their collaborative work with the Boston PRT. The introduction of Simple Scientific principles into the design of the G.E.C.K. had required assistance from my duplicates, but manufacture had been handled entirely by the Matrix.
Unlike a lot of my powers, the elements of Simple Scientific Solution weren't some mysterious force that could only be brought into existence by my direct intervention. They were actual scientific principles that could be introduced into any piece of technology, as long as it was devoted to addressing household needs. The designs could be distributed and even mass produced, though that still didn't bring me any closer to understanding how they worked.
Frankly, I was just lucky to be able to understand what the technology was doing to accomplish its usually mundane objectives. That 'what' was consistently disproportional complicated operations that worked through the very fabric of reality, all to the purpose of addressing mundane irritations. And composed of parts that could often be sourced from a local electronics store.
Frankly, it made me feel like a caveman who had somehow figured out a way to beat rocks into cutting edge microprocessors. You'd think that would have gotten less bad as my skill and understanding improved, but that just expanded what I could accomplish with Simple Scientific Solution and further increased the complexity of the underlying mechanics.
Still, the integration of that technology had ensured better operation of the issued G.E.C.K. as well as a guarantee that it would be impossible to reverse engineer and could not be used for anything other than household purposes. Renovations and landscaping, taken care of through a wide range nuclear terraformer.
Which should at least make things a little less unpleasant for the people stuck in that camp.
"I'm sure the people there will be alright." Tetra said as she was suddenly beside me. Or visibly beside me, since she was effectively present through all her connections and just selectively expressed it. "They really like the new rooms and having privacy."
"I'm sure they do." I said, and the Matrix stood a little taller. "After what they've gone through, they deserve all the rest and relaxation they can get."
Though hopefully not for much longer. Focus had definitely shifted from tracking Bakuda's signal to fully addressing the Nine, but it shouldn't take more than a few days to drive that home. Frankly, I would have preferred to deal with Bakuda before the Nine, but I doubt Jack Slash has ever been particularly accommodating of other people's schedules and I certainly wasn't interested in delaying them any more than their own divergences already had.
"It is good that the hostages have substantially improved accommodations and facilities. Their previous conditions were intolerable and inexcusable in the face of the resources available to those responsible for their care." The Matrix said as the Forge missed a connection to the Magitech constellation, finally having cleared the stall from my power.
"No argument from me." I said. "The Brockton Bay PRT will have a lot to answer for." In the face of the scale of their fuckups, it was doubtful that borderline negligent treatment of Bakuda's hostages would even register.
Well, not unless they decided to make a public case about it. Then again, there were probably people lining up to sue the PRT.
"I also enjoyed working with the Boston PRT to address the issue and facilitate their engagement with the resolution of supply and logistical matters." They continued.
I nodded. That had been interesting. Not exactly expected, but it made sense, and was actually particularly important.
It is hard to recover spirit energy in a vacuum. Not everyone thrives from social engagement, but there is generally some level of connection involved in actions that nourish the soul. I mean, I don't exactly spend my time at the Gym socializing and sharing gossip, but even working alongside other people is enough to help me recover. It's meaningful in a way that isolated work isn't.
The Matrix is a unique entity, even among the rest of the team. A nanotech gestalt hivemind composed of the combined processing power of their individual nanites working together to build greater complexity and linked through arcane forces and divine entanglements. Even with the spiritual complexity of their creation, I never expected them to be able to use spirit energy. And once they were able to, it was reasonable to assume that they wouldn't recover it in the same manner as I did.
Not exactly the same, but there were definitely shades of that 'work alongside' aspect that I enjoyed from the gym. The Matrix wasn't particularly interested in social aspects of interactions, but being able to assist with the kind of creation, improvement, and refinement that they were so passionate about, not just performing the work themselves but being able to facilitate and cultivate engagement from other people, that was what allowed them to recover their own spiritual reserves.
It was kind of funny. First I had a gray goo swarm that wouldn't self-replicate because of quality concerns, and then I had a manufacturing A.I. that was invested in engaging other people in the construction process. The nuance of allowing people to address their own problems and accounting for individual tastes and preferences wasn't the kind of thing you usually saw when this kind of A.I. was depicted in fiction.
Regardless, the consequence of the trip and the Matrix's engagement with it was complete restoration of the spiritual energy they had expended in assisting me with the construction of the medical nanites.
And also releasing every hostage from Bakuda's control that didn't explicitly refuse tinker-based treatment. I was confident that Armstrong would be able to address the final surgeries himself, which must have been much less daunting than the hundreds of people he was preparing to treat.
Hundreds of people who were still isolated, cut off from friends and family and often any news of what had actually happened. When they had been forced into ABB service, then thrown into combat, then transported to the camp, there wasn't much time to be updated on events, or to address any specific concerns.
That had been a big part of why people had wanted to meet with me personally. I had a feeling that a lot more of them would have liked the chance, but they also wanted those bombs out of their head. Honestly, I couldn't blame them for taking the faster option.
Of the people I had met, some had just wanted to thank me, which ranged from polite to devastating, like in the case of Mrs. Won. Some had been angry, mostly just venting about an impossible situation at the only person connected to those events who was willing to listen to them. A few had questions about the effect of Hallowed Earth, and I had done as much as I could to discourage that kind of thing. But mostly they were worried about things back in the city.
In short, things had been a mess with the ABB, but without it nobody knew what was going to happen. Just the fact that Lung had managed to create a pan-Asian gang was insane and probably only possible for someone with his power and reputation. The ABB had effectively forced extremely disparate communities to work together. No one was sure what was going to happen in the aftermath of the gang's collapse.
And those were just the long-term concerns. There were much more immediate fears concerning the Empire, the Merchants, and various shades of misinformation on the other gangs that were now active in the city. On a number of occasions it had fallen to me to explain that the Teeth hadn't taken over ABB territory, that Blasto wasn't setting up operations in the city, and that they weren't looking at an invasion from the Elite.
My personal assurances for the safety of civilians during the recovery process had gone a long way, and that was something I was holding to adamantly. It didn't eliminate concern for friends and family members, but it helped.
"Survey checked on the people that you were asked about." Tetra said. It was an odd quirk. Mental Fortress made me immune to mind reading or other mental effects, but the state of my body could reveal emotional responses, which Tetra was immediately aware of. She also had full context for what I had gone through, meaning she could usually make an educated guess about what was bothering me.
"How bad is it?" I asked even as I pulled up the report myself.
"Mostly okay, but not all." Tetra said sadly.
I nodded. It would probably be better to get confirmation, but there was no good way to report fatalities. I had done everything I could to minimize damage, but I was badly underprepared for the Ungodly Hour and nearly paid the ultimate price for it.
"That's unfortunate, but I'm sure it's better to know for certain." I said.
Only a handful of losses, but even that was a tragedy. At least I would be able to get news of the status of survivors. Including a few that had been misfiled when lost in the shelter system and were still assumed missing.
Several rounds of upgrades had expanded Survey's scrying abilities to allow her to extend her focus beyond the Slaughterhouse Nine. Mostly her focus was on the other gangs in the city and occasional check-ins on major threats and criminal organizations, but she was able to spare some time to confirm the status of those I had been asked about. I contacted her to extend my thanks for the matter.
"I was pleased to be able to help." She replied from the scrying chamber with its collection of absolute masterworks of divination. The least of which made the scrying flame I had given to Director Armstrong look like a children's toy. "My capacity will greatly expand once matters with the Slaughterhouse Nine are concluded."
Unfortunately, a commitment to ensure that the Nine didn't hurt anyone on their way to Brockton Bay required fairly close observation to ensure that there was no chance that anything would be overlooked. Between Survey, Fleet, and the Matrix there was pretty much no chance of running into any actual people, but Survey's attention was a limited resource, at least when it came to directing divine scrying items, and that was heavily invested in monitoring the Nine.
It was possible that would be expanded through use of the Glove of the East's upgrade cycle, but given the unexpected effect that had on the Matrix we were holding off on any experimental procedures until the Nine were dealt with.
"How are things looking on that front?" I asked through the link.
"The Nine are in transit, but not directing themselves towards the city. While their current location could reach Brockton Bay by early evening, based on traffic predictions, they are instead taking steps they believe will ensure compliance from local authorities when they reach the city and preparing what they believe to be countermeasures." She explained with clear derision in her voice.
As I reviewed their activities I had to say that I was right there with her. Having the Nine under constant surveillance stripped away a lot of the mystique and grandeur associated with the group. Honestly, it was kind of embarrassing how basic their tactics are once you took Jack's thinker power out of the equation. Without being able to pull a perfect counter out of nowhere, something prepared weeks ahead to address a problem they couldn't possibly have seen coming, all they had was fairly basic tactics that were intended to force peoples' hands by holding the city hostage.
I mean, on a surface level it was a dangerous threat and might have worked, you know, if I didn't have significantly more biological knowledge than Bonesaw. And that was before the effect of my latest power was taken into account.
As for the Nine's buildup and strategizing, that was also fairly straightforward. The Nine historically took precautionary measures before moving into a new area. There was a limit to what they could do before they reached the city proper, but that didn't stop them from attending to any and all concerns prior to their arrival.
It was kind of insane to see. Jack Slash was operating under no sense of urgency whatsoever. There was a rapidly developing conflict between multiple gangs and various national powers unfolding in Brockton Bay and he was content to take his sweet time getting to the city. Hell, based on how his thinker power worked, he probably was waiting for things to devolve into violence and chaos before making his official appearance.
An inside look at the methodologies of the Slaughterhouse Nine wasn't illuminating, it was just frustrating. Frustrating and insulting to everyone who had suffered and died at the hands of these idiots over the years. And frustrating towards the system that had built up such a dependence on parahumans that someone like Jack could undermine it completely with a single power.
At least the extended observation was providing more information on the mechanics of Jack's passenger. Observation of how he received information, the reactions he had to various events that developed in the city, and the continued shielding of Aisha as a control example all provided valuable information, even if it meant we were probably not going to see their actual arrival until the next morning.
"Thank you for maintaining your observations." I said to Survey. "Let me know if they come up with any clever ideas we'll need to deal with."
"Based on interpersonal dynamics and prior behavior, I believe that is highly unlikely." She said, turning her attention back to a scrying mirror showing Jack studying a map while Shatterbird and Cherish argued about how long they'd had to drive the truck. "But I will remain vigilant."
I nodded and turned my attention back to the Matrix and Tetra.
"It is likely that the disruption associated with the defeat of the Slaughterhouse Nine will have an adverse impact on the stability of the communities affected by the ABB's actions and subsequent absence." The Matrix said.
"The Truce should apply while we deal with them, and afterwards too, but that's just for capes. They don't always follow it, and it won't apply to anyone else." Tetra added.
I nodded. They had both helped with the healing process and received their own insight into the situation. The Matrix with nanobots that had full technology of my healing nanites rolled into them and Tetra able to emulate the technology through subatomic scale fibers. Through that they both had a first hand view of the situation and knew how bad it could get.
"It's not something we can address directly." I said regretfully. "Responding to a gang breaking the terms we laid down in one thing, but throwing support behind a specific area or community is going to make it seem like we're claiming territory." It would also go against predictive models, and I would prefer to maintain that illusion of security for major organizations for as long as possible.
"It would be advantageous if we could act indirectly, through a third party." The Matrix said.
I nodded, but it wasn't that easy. This wasn't the kind of thing I could call in some of the debt from the Undersiders for, and it was outside their skill set anyway. It wasn't like there was anyone with a prior association that I could ask to…
You know, I should really see how Chen was doing. Preferably before any chaos associated with dealing with the Slaughterhouse Nine was unleashed on the city.
I shook my head and turned back to the workshop door. I was holding off entering until some of the projects being completed at ten times speed wrapped up. The fact that my presence slowed things so much created an incentive to minimize the amount of time I spent within the boundaries of the Workshop. Mostly just updates from my duplicates and refreshing of the potion.
I could still mentally connect with them through the open Workshop door, even if the privacy measures did make it more of a phone call than a complete mind link. Still it was enough to recognize the effects of them running beyond their stable duration, though I had already picked up on that from the other association.
I felt a chill that had nothing to do with temperature and the lights in the room flickered without any actual impact on the lighting system. Tetra immediately perked up while the Matrix bore the display with reasonably good humor.
I was just grateful she had been more subtle when I was treating Bakuda's hostages.
"There she is!" Tetra exclaimed, pointing to a form of a young girl that briefly flickered into existence.
Alma seemed to be naturally predisposed towards horror movie tropes when it came to her manifestations, though considering the rather dark roots of that kind of power it was equally likely she was just drawing from base fear impulses to direct her abilities and they happened to line up with horror cliches.
Of course, the darkness, flames, and jump scares were somewhat mitigated by the fact that she was usually wearing a poofy pink princess dress rather than a dirty red smock. And if she wasn't wearing the pink princess dress it was because it was being worn by the teddy bear she was carrying with her.
The fact that Tetra had turned the unstable manifestations of the scary psychic ghost girl into a game of hide and seek also rather clashed with the intended mood.
The flicker of manifestation was apparently all Alma could manage, even with it building for the entire time I was dealing with the hostages. She was still fairly limited in what she could interact with in a world devoid of psychic phenomenon, so usually defaulted to focus on me.
I could deal with her presence. It was usually too weak to notice and I doubt she followed most of what was happening, but a lot of Alma's form of psionics was based on emotions. Usually rather unpleasant emotions at that. And having to deal with the human impact of Bakuda's actions definitely brought out those emotions in me.
I'm pretty sure Alma didn't understand the context of what had happened with Bakuda, but she did recognize the surgically implanted bombs, and she did not like that. Any abusive medical practices were very much a hot button issue for Alma, and from the flashes of memory I'd been able to pick up, she had a good reason for that kind of conviction.
Really, I could only imagine how she'd react if she ran into Bonesaw.
There was definite anger from Alma towards Bakuda, or at least towards what Bakuda did to those people. And an intention to help resolve it, even if she couldn't quite follow the exact details of the situation.
Alma was still a very remote presence in the world and was clearly adjusting to a universe that was mostly devoid of psionic landmarks. It wasn't like she could just track down Bakuda's hiding place for us, no matter her intentions, but it was certainly keeping her engaged.
Which was probably good. At least better than her spiraling down into isolation and despair until she somehow amassed enough power to make her presence known. Given her perception of the world, it was fairly likely that if she handled things on her own a lot of people would get hurt. Alma wasn't exactly restrained when it came to her powers. I wanted to help her, but a part of that was making sure she didn't end up causing some kind of psionic disaster by accident. Or by intention.
The world flickered as Tetra vanished from my side to appear next to where Alma had first manifested, with the girl in question shifting to a position in the corner of my eye. Tetra was suddenly there as well, with Alma relocating to a dark corner that was only dark because of her powers making it so. That continued for longer than was probably appropriate when it came to supernatural hauntings and ended with Alma vanishing for a final time, taking the signs of her presence with her.
"Have a fun game of tag?" I asked Tetra.
"It's not really tag, but I had fun." She said with a wide smile. "I don't think Alma knows what I am. She's worried about the kind of connection I already have with her. It would probably be better if we could talk, but I don't think she's ready for that."
"It is unlikely that Alma anticipated a scenario in which she would need to address unknown elements of an interaction. Impressions suggest she is accustomed to being regarded as the most significant outlier in any given scenario." The Matrix suggested.
I nodded. Unfortunately, 'Psychic ghost girl from another universe' didn't even crack the top five when it came to the weirdness of my team. Alma was clearly being thrown off balance by the dynamics involved and was not used to that kind of thing.
Well, Alma might be an intrusive presence, but at least it felt like we were making progress. The other psychic ghost girl was another story. An alert that the Workshop was ready for our arrival allowed me to check in on that matter.
The Omni-spheres allowed direct connection to my duplicate's experiences through our Whispered ability and the Tau Wave. It also allowed a level of awareness of the presence that was trapped within the Tau Wave, and unlike Alma, that person wasn't able to arbitrarily manifest her presence at a moment's notice.
It was fairly difficult to discern even basic information about what was happening. The Tau Wave existed outside of time, a factor that facilitated both the granted scientific knowledge and technical abilities associated with my Whispered power. It meant that there wasn't the same perception of time passing, which either meant that there was no rush to address the situation, or it was already beyond the point where expedience would make any difference. After all, infinity minus one was still infinity.
At the very least, that presence seemed less distressed than Alma. Not exactly happy about their situation, but not a font of murderous rage that was only being restrained through the distractions my presence was able to provide.
It was also a situation that I unfortunately couldn't accelerate. Spiritron emulation of Whispered powers didn't include that external presence. In order to deal with this situation I needed to put in actual time, time passing at the same rate as the outside world. And that time wasn't something I had an abundance of.
I at least tried to convey my apologies for the situation as I was linking with my duplicates, but I'm not sure if they were received. If anything, there was a kind of tired resignation, as if they hadn't expected anything to begin with so weren't disappointed by my actions. That actually stung more than any level of anger or frustration could have.
The link provided me with a full update on all of my duplicate's accelerated actions within the workshop. Unsurprisingly, a significant amount of that was based around the most recent power I had acquired. It was connected to a world I had only seen shadows of before through the items that came with my Scraper power, though now I had the full context of what that collection of equipment represented.
Certified Tech was the kind of major power that dropped an entire lifetime of experiences into my brain. Unfortunately, they were experiences of living in the aftermath of a nuclear apocalypse as warring factions fought over the remnants of the United States and the technological treasures that had survived the nuclear war.
That had been my specialty. As was typical for my powers, I didn't get a full lifetime of experience, merely what was deemed necessary for whatever the power in question was trying to convey. In this case it was complete knowledge of pre-war science and the experience of being one of the brightest minds of the 23rd Century.
Also potentially the sanest, given what I could recall of the other 'bright minds' of that universe.
Thankfully, I wasn't fully immersed in the horror of needing to survive in a brutal post-nuclear wasteland, but the knowledge provided by my power included more than enough context to realize just how terrible things were in that world. Raiders, cannibals, mutants, rogue machines, and factions springing up from the old world and the new, all brutally fighting for control, or even just for their own survival.
It was a mess. The cultural insight I gained from Touched by the Protoculture let me understand exactly how much of a mess it was. I could see all the pieces that had built up leading to the collapse and the horrible way things had come together in the aftermath.
Because war never changes. That common thread of humanity extended through all the insanity and horror. Even in extraordinary circumstances, even with improbably advanced technology widely distributed, even with society completely upturned around them, people were still people, for good and ill. The same drives that caused conflict throughout history happily continued into the insanity of the wasteland, with people struggling to rise above or sinking to new lows, exactly as they always had.
The cultural side of things wasn't exactly the point, but you could see how it influenced the technology of that world. That technology was improbably advanced for the time period and resources that were available to the society that created it, even if it wasn't that noteworthy by my own standards. At least not beyond a few standouts.
No, the impressive thing about the technology of that world was the robustness, durability, and ease of production. Advanced technology had been widely distributed before the war, to the point where the shattered and broken remnants that had endured through the apocalypse were more than you saw in some advanced societies I had personal experience with through my power.
And, of course, because this was MY power, all that insanity that I had personally experienced, all the insight into culture and threads of humanity, was entirely drawn from a video game series. Survey had managed to track it down and like with a lot of my powers it wasn't a perfect match, but was close enough that the association was unmistakable.
I didn't pick up on the reference, but I didn't really follow gaming from Aleph. The Wasteland series went back to the late eighties, and the first installment was apparently fairly close to what we got on Earth Bet. Of course on Bet rights issues caused the developers to have to develop a new game that was sufficiently legally distinct from Wasteland and was mostly focused on cape factions fighting each in a ruined version of Earth. Over the course of the series RPG elements were stripped out and the story was simplified until you ended up with the current run of cosmetics focused multiplayer team shooters.
Understandably, I hadn't associated that with my own memories of that world, but on Aleph the series had continued under the original developers, taking a form that was not an exact one-to-one of what I remembered, but close enough for there to be no doubt about the connection.
Of course, having media that was slightly off from a version of a world I remembered was basically par for the course for me. Even worlds that seemed to be basically unchanged didn't account for my presence in them. However the multidimensional aspects of my powers worked, they were clearly not pulling from specific fictional worlds so much as general versions of them.
The fact that the technology and insights of this power came from a video game series didn't change their impact or significance. It wasn't that it was advanced technology, at least by our standards, it was that it was robust and easy to produce with no exotic materials or advanced techniques. While that wasn't exactly an obstacle for our team, having a more advanced base level of technology to work from and develop allowed improvements to my entire technology base.
And then there was the tech that actually did stand out. Technology that wasn't precisely matched by anything else available to me, or at least not without considerable effort and complexity. Advanced biotech and genetic engineering, nano technologies, teleporters and replicators, complex holographic applications, new types of A.I. and computing systems, psionic induction, and enhancement, and of course an ungodly amount of nuclear technology.
And some tech that was clearly alien. Given how quickly that society had advanced, that kind of influence wasn't surprising, but it was a little unexpected given my own memories of that world.
From the memories shared by my duplicates, the team was already engaged with various aspects of the technology and information I had received.
Garment was, of course, focused on what information regarding fashion and culture my duplicates had been able to provide. There was an interesting case of runaway nationalism creating cultural stagnation that extended from the 1950s to the start of the Great War more than a hundred years later. While that meant a lack of innovation and stifled creativity, you also had the refinement of a specific aesthetic as the designs of a single decade became ubiquitous across the country. Garment was fascinated by the idea, though saw it as something between a horror story and a cautionary tale.
Post-war fashion was… limited, and least from what I could remember. Salvaged materials and utilitarian clothing, with identifiable aesthetics being limited to factions with the resources who could afford them. Or raider gangs, who all seemed to decide to follow the same spikey design decisions for some unknown reason. Garment's interest in THAT particular aesthetic wasn't something I found particularly encouraging.
Survey was assisting Garment's cultural analysis, mostly as a side effect of her documentation of every scrap of data my duplicates had been able to provide from the memories associated with the power. Specific details were contrasted with confirmed and theorized lore from the game series, with an additional assessment of possible references to the Earth Bet games.
The Matrix was quite focused on the nanotech options available, as well as replication and manufacturing technology. Given what was possible with even a standard G.E.C.K., that was a fertile field of study and one they had already made good use of.
Tybalt wanted drugs. Specifically, Tybalt was intensely interested in the range of combat enhancement drugs that had been disturbingly common in that society. Stuff that made Pervitin look like Tums was freely available and even encouraged. It helped that the biotech industry was advanced enough to address most of the problems associated with their own products, but it was still a rather shocking element to deal with.
That is, to deal with theoretically. Dealing with it practically was another matter and Tybalt had to once again be talked down from seeing how much Jet it was possible to take before you started to warp the fabric of space time around you. Given his ability to ignore negative effects of combat stims and his inherently divine nature, that wasn't an unreasonable concern.
Fleet wasn't particularly focused on the technology or history, but was working with the benefit of another aspect of the power. In addition to granting me knowledge of pre-war technologies, the power greatly enhanced my ability to reverse-engineer existing technology to learn how it works. While I had other powers that could accomplish similar things, none of them were on this level.
With Certified Tech, as long as I could learn the basics of a science, even a truly alien science, it would allow me to master it. The mechanics of passenger space were advanced, horribly advanced, and undeniably alien, but that didn't matter when it came to Certified Tech. In fact, it was exactly what the power seemed to have been built for.
It was already providing new insights into the operation of passenger space and the mechanics of parahuman abilities, insights that Fleet was quick to take advantage of. In terms of the serious challenge related to addressing the impact of Jack's passenger, it had taken a task that was borderline impossible without the use of the most extreme options available to me and turned it into something that was merely a serious challenge.
Not that those extreme options were off the table. Certified Tech was able to handle 'truly alien science', and there were few things more truly alien than the contents of the Prismatic Laboratory. I'm not saying that option was in any way ready or something I was at all comfortable with, but it was a good deal more of an option than it had been before my latest power.
Despite the power facilitating incredible breakthroughs in the use of the laboratory's impossible colors, that wasn't what Aisha had latched on to. As soon as the full scope of what was available was released to the rest of the team, there was only one item she was interested in, and there had already been conflicts about how to handle that particular element.
My duplicates were already low on patience due to the time dilation pushing them beyond their expected duration, so they had decided to leave that particular issue to me. I took a breath and apparated directly from the Omni-sphere chamber to the largest of the workshop's chemistry labs.
Aisha was in the soft suit she wore under her armor and focused on monitoring the chemical process she had set up. She didn't look up when she heard me apparate into the room.
"You going to try to talk me out of this as well?" She asked, staying focused on her work.
"I don't think it's the best idea." I admitted. She let out a huff and stayed focused on her work. "Particularly with what we're dealing with here."
"I know what we're dealing with." She assured me. "I was in the Spiritron Computer when the data came in. The Matrix worked out the manufacturing requirements. Survey's run the simulations. I read her report on it." She turned towards me. "The whole thing, not just the summaries and result page."
"I know this is big." I said. She let out another huff. I guess she was the only one focused specifically on how big this particular discovery was. "But we can't just start dosing people en masse."
"Why not?" She asked. "It's a cure for addiction. Total cure, physical and psychological. Why shouldn't we just gas the Merchant's territory with it?"
"Aisha, this isn't a magic cure. It's causing serious alterations to a person's body and mind. It's altering behavior patterns and emotional associations. It is literally mind control in a can." I shook my head. "It can help, it can help a lot, but we don't get to make that choice for people."
"You think there's a choice involved in this? Do you know what addiction does to people? I mean, beyond theoretical stuff?" She asked.
I shook my head again. "No. I've never had to deal with that."
"Well, I have. People choose to quit, then fall right back as soon as they have a bad day or get an opportunity. They promise everything, then go right back to what they were doing." She shook her head. "You end up dealing with a different person. A worse person, who gets worse every time they fuck up until they just stop trying."
This was the most emotional I'd seen her in a long time, but given how close to home this had hit, it was more than understandable.
"I know this is important." She looked up at me. "I know. Trust me. Trust everything I've learned and all the experience I have. I know what this means. And we are going to use it."
"Really?" She sounded skeptical. "Even though it's 'mind control in a can'?"
I shrugged. "You said it yourself. Some people can't beat these things on their own. If you can't make your own willpower and support structures, store bought is fine."
That actually got a short laugh from her and she let out a breath. "Fuck. I kind of ran off on this one."
"Kind of." I agreed. "Were you really going to gas half the city on your own?" I asked.
"No." She said, "And not just because I couldn't figure out the dose balance with mass aerosolization." She turned back to the lab table. "I at least wanted to make enough for my mom. Get it to her using my power if I had to."
I shook my head. "Addictol breaks associations, but it doesn't induce avoidance. You can clear all the mental and physical effects of addiction, but if someone doesn't change their environment or behavior they're probably going to backslide eventually."
"Eventually." Aisha said. "It would be at least a little while without…" She let out a breath. "Fuck."
I smiled. "I'm surprised you needed the lab."
She looked at the worktable and shook her head. "Don't trust myself with chemistry this complicated. Not with my alchemy."
That was fair. Addictol was a monstrously complex compound. Actually a cluster of related drugs to allow blanket removal of every aspect even associated with addiction. It was insanely comprehensive on a level that was difficult to believe. Just accomplishing a single aspect of the drug reliably would be a monstrous undertaking, even for me. Frankly, to pull off something like this I'd probably have needed to cheat with magic or divine aspects.
Instead it could all be done with a single inhaled dose. One treatment to completely purge the negative effects of any addiction. It was a miracle, a technical accomplishment on par with any of the most advanced technologies I had received from that power.
And it had yielded a similar impact. As much as we were working to keep Tybalt away from the combat drugs, those weren't the extent of drug culture from that world. Without needing to worry about withdrawal or addiction a whole host of enhancement drugs had been freely available on the market.
Use would have been commonplace, with products like Mentats probably explaining at least some of the improbable advancements in technology that were accomplished. But common use of addictive drugs meant common use of Addictol. And while the treatment was amazing, that didn't change the fact that you were drastically altering your mind with every dose.
Furthermore, it broke every kind of addiction. That was a consequence of how powerful Addictol was. It covered narcotics, of course, but also alcohol, gambling, sugar, shopping, sex, and really any compulsive behavior built around the kind of negative loop that could end up being pursued to a destructive level. The idea of people using Addictol as a diet drug felt strange, but it was fully capable of clearing compulsions and psychological associations to food and rebalancing the body's systems and insulin response. If anything, that probably meant it was used even more often, and that was the problem.
The treatment broke compulsive behaviors and changed emotional responses, but that's not a reset to zero. Altering the way you reacted to an experience wasn't the same as it not happening. People who were regularly going through cycles of addiction and treatment were building up layers of altered experiences, and that had to have had a serious effect on them.
Given how… 'particular' some parts of that world were, there was probably a good reason to be cautious about Addictol.
"I mean, it's simple to make." Aisha continued. "Simpler than something like that probably should be."
"Kind of a common feature for that world's technology." I said.
"Of course." She grinned for the first time since I'd begun speaking with her. "Got to fit it into video game crafting mechanics."
I groaned but didn't take the bait.
"It's probably the product of refinement over extensive mass production." I said. "Most of the medical technology is fairly mature and kind of ridiculously optimized." I mean, the stimpacks alone would have been revolutionary if I had gotten them any earlier in my career.
"Right." Aisha looked at me. "But we are going to use this?" She asked. "It's not some world changing technology that's going to sit on the shelf for a week because we can't risk fucking up thinker models."
"No, we're going to use this." I assured her.
"Yeah, but when?" She asked, glancing back at the chemistry equipment. "I get you want to, but do you have an actual date, or just the intention?"
"After the Slaughterhouse Nine." I said with certainty. "We're going to address all the damage they caused in their career. Erase the impact they had on the world to the absolute limit we are capable of. That means healing and repairing damage, but it doesn't stop there."
I pulled up some of Survey's impact assessments of the Nine's actions and shared them with Aisha. Her eyes glowed blue as she reviewed the report. Still using a personal display screen rather than the neural interface of her nanites.
"The Nine's actions hit people hard. Entire communities, even people removed from them by multiple degrees have been devastated. And some of them…" I left that hanging as Aisha read through the assessments.
Having your entire life destroyed by a wandering gang of untouchable murderers tends to have adverse knock-on effects, often involving a slow or not-so-slow descent into substance abuse. We didn't have comprehensive data on everyone who had ended up in that kind of place because of the Nine, but Survey was as comprehensive as she could be.
"So this is the start." Aisha said. "Get Addictol to these people, then push for wider distribution once people know it can fix things."
"Give them the opportunity, if they want to take it." I said. I could tell Aisha would still have preferred to distribute the treatment via crop-duster over every major city, but she at least seemed to have accepted the timeline as presented.
"We're also going to need to be careful about how this is used and distributed." I said. "It's completely optimized for countering addiction, but given the potency and the kind of pathways it's acting on, someone is probably going to try to abuse or modify the formula."
"Normally I'd say no one would be stupid enough to risk that, but it's a big world out there with a lot of stupid people." She said with a slight grin. I nodded. "So what are you thinking? Monitoring? Tracking of every dose? Have a little talk with anyone who decides they want to try to use it to play Heartbreaker light?"
That was the specific association I was the most concerned about. Given what my trigger was going to be, Addictol was aligned with it to an almost disturbing degree. I knew exactly how bad this kind of mental alteration could get and I was not taking chances with what could happen.
"For something this serious, it might actually warrant a curse." I said. Aisha's eyebrows rose at the suggestion.
"What, doom on anyone who tries to abuse or undermine your works?" She asked. I shrugged. "You can do that?"
"For this? Definitely." A curse was fundamentally an act of malice. You couldn't put energy into a curse without real conviction on the matter. For this? For a potentially life changing treatment that was one idiot away from turning into a crime against humanity? Oh yes. There was no shortage of conviction, and I had malice to spare.
"I'm glad you decided not to drug your mother." Tetra said, suddenly between me and Aisha. And reminding both of us that she had technically been here the entire time. Aisha took the 'intrusion' with good grace.
"Yeah, well, he made a good point. And I know you were all trying to make the same point, but…" She huffed. "Anyway, things are good at the other end?"
"The camp's doing well. I'm connected to the hostages and a lot of the PRT staff. There's a lot of concern, but they're really happy to have the bombs gone and like what Matrix provided for them." She explained.
"And it was okay? I mean, for you to connect like that?" Aisha asked. "I know it's different, but I mean…"
"Just being there is enough for a connection. Physical contact strengthens it, but just talking to someone is enough to be able to know everything said to them from that point on." I explained. Rather than being put off, Tetra was visibly proud of the fact that she could connect so easily.
"Uh, right." Aisha said. "And that's not too much? I mean, all those conversations, everything people are doing and saying."
"It's fine." Tetra said. "I don't process information the same way humans do. Being really connected feels normal, not overwhelming. It actually gets easier with more connections. Low numbers are distracting, but enough kind of becomes like… kind of a texture?"
Aisha blinked. "So kind of loses focus? Like looking at a Waldo book instead of a picture of two or three people?"
"Not really losing focus, but maybe? It's more general and stable when there's more connections, and better connections." She shook her head. "Not like the connections from people watching the videos from the show."
"Yeah, I can't believe you were able to get anything from those." Aisha said.
"Not much, but it's still something." Tetra said. "Probably the weakest I have, but it's still there."
Life fiber nature combined with divine craftsmanship. It was a reminder that Tetra's species was designed to simultaneously link to the population of an entire planet. That was the baseline of her abilities before my own crafting powers came into place. Given the fact that life fibers didn't seem to believe in limits, it was anyone's guess where she would end up.
The forming of connections could be seen as excessive, but literally the only way to prevent it would be to completely isolate Tetra from any interaction. The ethics around intrusive surveillance were a minefield, but that was somewhat moderated by Tetra's very inhuman perception of the world. In the hands of a normal person, or even Survey, that kind of connection would have been intrusive in the extreme, but Tetra seemed to be able to process things differently.
At least for the moment. Things were developing fast and there was no way to tell where this would go. The connections were potentially abusive, but so far had managed to stay beneath that threshold.
"Right." Aisha said, then glanced back at the chemistry equipment. She made an adjustment, then took a step back. "I guess I can mothball this for now so you don't need to worry about me running off and dosing people."
"It was good work." I said in encouragement. "But when the time comes the Matrix will be happy to make as much Addictol as we need."
"I bet they will." Aisha said. "You're not going to step up for this?"
"No." I said firmly. "My work runs away from me. Addictol is already incredibly comprehensive. I don't want to imagine what it would be like after quality increases and divine aspects are imbued to it."
"Would be interesting to see." Aisha said. "Maybe you should start chasing the libations with it. You know, head off any drinking problems you might have caused for the Olympian Gods."
"I seriously doubt I would be the CAUSE of any drinking problems on the Olympians' part. I'm pretty sure they have that covered on their own." I said with a smile.
"Fine, any drinking problems you've enabled." She snarked back, with Tetra grinning at the comment. "Though I guess I should get back to work in the Prismatic Laboratory."
I nodded reluctantly. You'd think having the principles of an alien science made available to you would provide some level of comfort or security, but so far the consequence of learning more about the nature and potential of those impossible colors had been a fresh set of concerns, with more blooming with every breakthrough.
"Do you need any help with that?" I asked.
"Yeah, you can get out of here so we can pick up the pace again." Aisha said, not quite joking. "But seriously, the duplicates have it covered. They can handle the breakdown of the principles. Plus, it's a fresh batch and they're always easier to work with before they hit overtime."
"They're that bad past their normal duration?" I asked.
"They're different, and you can tell they're uncomfortable, but they keep pushing through because they think what they're working on is important." She looked up at me with a grin. "Honestly, I didn't realize that kind of thing made it through to them. Thought the destructive overwork thing was always left with you."
"Ha." I said flatly. It didn't help that Tetra was clearly in full agreement.
From my own memories, the breakthroughs weren't just limited to the impossible colors. They extended to the burning language, the life energy of the amber samples, and even mechanics of souls. A mass amount of potential with a similarly massive amount of concerns to go with it. I was fairly certain that we could come up with some stable and moderately ethical use for what we were learning, one that might even be able to address the problem of Jack's influence, but we would also discover a plethora of monstrously unethical uses for those principles on the way there.
If Aisha and my duplicates were going to find the morally neutral needle in that haystack of crimes against God, nature, and humanity they would need as much time as I could give them.
I paused as I felt the Forge make a connection to a cluster of motes from the Personal Reality constellation, securing all of them while consuming all the reach I had accumulated. It was one small mote and two larger ones, with each building on the previous. The Workshop rumbled around us as the changes set in.
"What was that?" Aisha asked. "Something added."
"More of a service than a physical item." I explained. "We have grocery delivery for the Workshop."
"Seriously? That's a thing?" Aisha asked.
I nodded. "Three items. Basic Nutrition, A Little Less Basic, and A Lot Less. First gives a once per week delivery of groceries for everyone in the Workshop. The other two improve it."
"Everyone?" Aisha asked.
"Well, everyone who counts enough to get a house." I said. "So the Kerbals are included, but the Wishes, Skulls, and Titans are left out."
"Makes sense. But we aren't really hurting for food, so this one of those things where it's redundant before it arrives?" Aisha asked.
"Not exactly." I said, cycling through my awareness of the new power while my duplicates worked to update the rest of the team. "First level is basically nothing to us at this point. Fifty dollars of assorted basics per person."
"Fifty dollars?" She asked.
I shrugged. "More or less. It's kind of pegged to current valuation of food. The second level increases the budget to a hundred and fifty dollars a person and lets you set general preferences, mostly based on the diet of specific cultures."
"Right, so the third is another budget increase and more options?" Aisha asked.
"A lot more." I said. "That's actually what makes it stand out. You get three hundred dollars' worth of food and you can specify percentage breakdowns of different types of food for each delivery and pick any culture you want as the source." I said.
Aisha nodded. "Okay, that's not too bad. I mean, it's not going to come close to your superfoods, but I guess it's interesting." She looked at me. "Right? What am I missing here?"
"Any culture." I repeated. Aisha blinked as she processed what I meant.
"So like, food from anyone, anywhere?" She asked.
I nodded. "As long as they exist." I said with a grin.
"Any place on Earth? Any place in history?" Aisha said.
"Not that limited." I said smugly. Aisha gave me a confused look. "My duplicates have tied in the preferences from the Central Control to the workshop's network. You can pull up the list."
Aisha looked at me, then manifested a holographic screen. She looked at it, then scrolled through the options. Then scrolled some more. Then shifted to a map view. Then to a timeline.
"Shit." She said, "There's really everything here. You could do a paleo diet with food from the Paleolithic. Like, actual mammoth and stuff."
Which we might be able to clone. I mean, I had other ways of bringing back extinct megafauna, but this was still an unexpected avenue.
"So everyone can just pick from whatever they want?" Aisha asked, flicking through more options. "Even if it's the-"
"Maasai." Tetra said, making her own selection. From my awareness of the inventory of the Workshop, I registered the first delivery of groceries appearing in the shared kitchen of our residence in the 'Lofty Loft'.
"Maasai?" Aisha asked.
"Blood is part of their diet." She explained. "Mixed with milk, but I really wanted to try it since I found out."
"Well, that's good." Aisha said diplomatically. "And yeah. I mean, still not that big compared to the rest of what you've gotten from this place, but I get your point." Once again, she looked at my expression and paused. "What?"
"You might want to check the second set of options." I said.
"What set? This is the entire planet." Aisha said.
"Our planet, yes." I said.
"Oh, so Earth Aleph?" She asked, finding the option. Then paused. "Not just Earth Aleph." She looked up at me. "This is a thing?"
"Apparently." I said with a shrug. The deliveries covered every culture on Earth and every one I've encountered. Apparently, that counted options from the worlds my powers were derived from.
The grocery delivery service allowed you to select food from any of the worlds of my powers. A lot of those were just different versions of Earth, but there were some outlandish options mixed in. I was able to get energon snacks from Transformers or blue Bantha milk from Star Wars.
Well, not at the same time. You were limited to one culture per delivery and one delivery per week. You could set preferences and even request specific brands if you knew about them, but it didn't let you build a precise shopping list.
Even so, this was a cultural goldmine for Survey and to a lesser extent Garment. Since neither of them needed to eat, their decisions were definitely being geared towards options that allowed for the greatest exploration of the cultures in question. In fact, given the limited food needs of the group as a whole, most of the orders were being made out of curiosity.
Meanwhile, Tybalt had already put in requests for food from the world Felynes originated from, which arrived with an impressive array of large cuts of meat. Based on his excitement, I doubted the delivery would actually last the week. Probably a consequence of the volume being calibrated to an adult human, rather than individually tailored.
"Um, the 'weekly' thing? Is that 'weeks' in here, or 'weeks' out there?" Aisha asked. "Cause there's a pretty big difference."
"It goes off Workshop time." I explained. "However this system is built, it's not going to let you starve to death just because time acceleration was left on."
"Huh." Aisha said. "So it works out to a little more than one delivery per day." She looked at me. "Assuming somebody is willing to actually leave the house for once."
She put on such an exaggerated tone of voice with her little admonishment that I couldn't help but smile. "I'm just wrapping up, then I'll be out of your hair." Frankly, I had enough to deal with outside the workshop anyway.
"You setting your shopping list first?" Aisha asked.
I shook my head. "Survey got a plan to work through as many of the settings we aren't sure about to see if we can start filling in some of the blanks. I'm putting my orders towards that."
"Couldn't you just do that in one go with the Kerbals?" Aisha asked. "I mean, they don't eat either."
"They already put their orders in for junk food from Wasteland." Tetra said.
"Really?" Aisha asked Tetra. "Why do they want…" She paused and looked back at the chemistry setup. "Preservatives and radioactive compounds, right? They're going to make rocket fuel out of Sugar Bombs and Nuka-Cola."
"Probably." I said. "What about you? Made your choice?"
"Yeah." She said, looking down at the screen and picking an option. "I want to see what counts as a grocery run in Lothlorien."
"Elf food?" I asked.
"Yeah. Well, it was going to be that or Khazad-dûm, but dwarf stuff will probably come with beer, so…"
"Yeah, not happening." I said. "Enjoy your elf groceries." I checked through my awareness of the Workshop's inventory as the delivery arrived. "Huh. They have eight types of tea."
"Fuck yeah!" She explained, doing a little fist pump. I smiled and shook my head. Then that smile faltered. "What?" Aisha asked. "Can't be another power already."
"Call from my sister." I said as my digital awareness of the ringing phone continued in my head.
"Ah." Aisha said, exchanging a look with Tetra. "You going to tell her to fuck off?"
That got a weak smile from me. "I might. Depends on what it's about." I shook my head. "I'm going to take this in Garment's backrooms. Let you get back to accelerated time."
Because I'm sure the entire Workshop would get right back to their active projects and not sit around spectating or hypothesizing about what was happening with this call. That was the thing about Survey's level of awareness and Tetra's connections. I was exactly as subjected to it as anyone else. Probably more so, considering there was actual investment on my part.
Survey's obsessive monitoring did have some advantages. She was able to inform me that Alena was calling from work, at the end of her lunch hour. Given the situation, this was unlikely to be something conducted at the specific behest of my mother.
On a slightly more intrusive note, Survey did confirm the number of calls between Alena and my parents, both home phone and cell phones. Not as many as I would have expected, and the fact that it seemed to have dropped off after our last conversation was definitely a good sign.
It was obvious that Alena was stuck in the middle of this. I felt bad about her situation, but I was not responsible for it. It wasn't easy for her, but it wasn't easy for me either. Not easy to deal with and not easy to leave, but I didn't regret that in the slightest. I could be sympathetic to what Alena was going through, but there was no way I was going to cave on any issue.
I steadied myself in one of the back offices in the expanded rooms of Garment's studio and answered the call.
"Hello Alena."
"Jozef." She said, letting out a sigh. "At least you're alright."
"Why wouldn't I be?" I asked.
"The cape fights?" She said in an exasperated voice. "The ones yesterday and last night? I know you don't watch the news, but you have to have heard about them."
"The ones that were broken up with everyone either driven off or captured?" I asked.
"This isn't a joke. Everyone knows the city's dangerous. Mom and Dad are worried that this is going to set everything off again." She said.
I took a breath. "Are you just calling to try to get me to move home again?" I asked.
"I'm not." She said, and actually sounded sincere. "It would make everything easier, but that's not what this is about."
There were shadows of acknowledgement of our last conversation. Clearly whatever conviction she took from that had been worn down to a degree, but at least she wasn't completely falling back into old tactics.
"Then what is this about?" I asked.
"Dad wants to see you." She said.
"Dad?" I asked. "Just Dad?"
Normally, my suspicion would have been off the chart, but I could literally see through manipulation. There was some manipulation here, but frankly, looking back at my family interaction, it would have been suspicious if it had been absent. I could tell she was at least being sincere about this, or though she was. And it probably wasn't a setup. Not because my family was better than that, but because it wasn't the kind of tactic they would employ.
"About what?" I asked directly.
"Mostly to make sure you're okay, since nobody's seen you since the start of the month." Alena said. "Since everyone knows you're angry at Mom and you won't call them, Dad wants to meet you for lunch at the Diner."
Alena sounded almost jealous, and I understood why. Time away from Mom was a rare commodity growing up. A conversation with my dad might not be pleasant, but it would be a lot less confrontational than if my mom was there.
Lunch at Diner meant the Blueway Cafe, located on the outskirts of Captain's Hill or the beginning of Brockton Bay, depending on how you mapped things out. It was a simple and uncomplicated place with good burgers and excellent milkshakes, but that was probably nostalgia talking. It was a fixture when I was growing up, particularly when it was up to my dad to choose the restaurant.
Of course, he liked it a lot more than my mom, which honestly might have been part of the appeal. It was fairly blatant nostalgia bait, a base level of manipulation that you didn't need superpowers to see through. In fairness, lunch with my dad was probably the closest thing to a peace offering that my family had.
Plus, the choice of meeting for lunch was probably out of concern that I wasn't eating properly. Well, no. In normal circumstances they'd be concerned I wasn't eating properly. Given the lack of contact and state of the city they were probably convinced I was half starved and being too stubborn to ask for help. That even if this didn't work out the way they hoped, they could at least feel good about making sure I ate a proper meal.
And I hated that those concerns were not entirely unfounded. During my first breakdown I hadn't been in the best state. That was doubly hard when you dealt with people who tended to remember your worst moments and set it as the new baseline going forward.
"Right." I said. "And what else?"
I wasn't even entertaining the idea that this was a social call entirely focused on my wellbeing.
Alena took a breath. "He also wants to talk to you about that whole thing with you working in a garage and doing remote courses to finish your degree."
The idea of remote courses was more of a possibility I had floated than a serious thing I was planning out, but unsurprisingly that was what my parents had latched onto.
"To talk me out of it?" I said, but that didn't feel right. My father wasn't the person who would be sent in to pressure me like that. Back up my mother, sure, but not take point on that.
"He thinks it's a good idea." She said, sounding almost as surprised as I was to hear it. "He said practical experience would be good, since you wanted to go into automotive if the thing with tinker stuff didn't work out."
There was a clear note of derision when she mentioned the tinker support program from Brockton University's fourth year engineering program. It wasn't unwarranted since wanting to work with the Protectorate was generally seen as about as reasonable a career goal as waiting to be an astronaut. If I had stayed in my program I absolutely would have been able to work with tinker tech in my final year, but the chances of that turning into an actual career were abysmally low. It would have been a long shot even for the top of our class, and that wasn't me. My grades were respectable, at least before everything went to hell, but not the kind of thing that got you scouted for PRT support work.
Frankly, automotive had been more of a passing comment that never really resulted in anything. Maybe it would have if I had stayed in the program, but mostly I was surprised my dad remembered that I had expressed an interest in that kind of thing.
Honestly, that probably went a long way to make the entire cover story more believable.
"Right." I said. "And Mom?"
"You know what Mom's like." Alena said. It was a franker statement than I would have expected from her. Possibly a sign that the constant in-between had worn her down. "She had this idea about using your recovery work to help get back in school for the fall."
I blinked. "What?" That was about all I could manage.
I heard her take a breath. If she wasn't making the call from work I was willing to bet things would have been louder and more confrontational, so maybe that was for the best.
"There's been a lot of attention on all the people helping with things after the attacks. Assuming you've been working with one of the actual organizations and not just doing whatever…" She paused, but I didn't dignify that with a response. Eventually she pressed on. "There have been concessions for people who were affected by the attacks and involved with the recovery, including accommodations from the University about enrollment and course schedules."
I quickly pulled up an assessment of what she was talking about. There had been concessions from the university, technically, but it was only mentioned in two articles and a vague statement of intent. Slivers of information buried in a mountain of news about the city. Meaning either my mother had stumbled upon them by chance or she was obsessively monitoring every aspect of the situation.
I think I knew which was more likely. And that's not even getting into the fact that if I hadn't gotten my powers I probably wouldn't have been close to ready to dive back into full time classes in the fall.
"She thinks that just because I helped out, the University's going to welcome me back?" The fact that I had been kicked out before the city went to hell went unsaid.
"It's probably worth a try?" I could hear how tired she was. I had the feeling she had made the same arguments I was making the last time she had spoken to my mother, and had about as much success as you would expect. "At least for now there's a big push to help out, even for normal people. It's not like you've got one of Garment's jackets or anything, but there's still a chance."
"What about Garment's jackets?" I asked.
"She handed them out to everyone who helped with the event. They're all personalized, so it's a really big deal."
"I know. I have one." I said.
"What?" Alena said. "You're serious?" A sliver of energy began leaking into her voice.
"Yeah." I said plainly.
"God, I heard some people got them for helping with the roads around the Regency Center and stuff like that… Do you know how lucky you are?" She asked. Once again, the volume would probably have been ten times as much if she wasn't at the end of her lunch hour. "Please tell me it's still in the envelope?"
"Uh, no?" I said.
"Of course." She muttered. "Do you have any idea what the unopened ones are selling for? You seriously wasted it like that?"
"Well, I kind of had to wear it." I said.
"You just had to wear it? You couldn't wait?" She shot back.
"No. Everyone was wearing them at the event." I said.
"What?" She said.
"The event. They were basically a staff uniform there." I explained.
"I know. But what does that have to do with anything? It's not like you were…" She dropped off and there was the sound of clicking. My technology sense was happy to inform me that she was navigating to the event's website, then to the volunteer list. And then to my name.
"You were there?" She said in a whispered hiss. "Technical setup? You did technical work at Garment's event?"
"Yeah?" I said. It wasn't like I could deny it when it was online.
"Why didn't you tell me? Do you know what kind of difference this would have made?" She asked.
"I've been kind of busy." I said. "It was a tight schedule."
I heard her let out a breath. "That's… fair." Well, as long as she thought so. "I guess it explains why you didn't call." Really, so magnanimous of her. "But you know what this means? How big it is?"
"I know the event was a big success. It's already made a serious difference for the city." I said.
"Not that." She said, then seemed to hear herself. "I mean, that's good, but there's a lot of prestige from something like this. Exactly like Mom said." Ouch. "There was an article about people getting financial support or job offers from their work at the event."
"Well, yeah." I said.
"What?" Alena asked. "You're saying… Someone offered you a job? You?"
"Well, contract work if they had something similar to the kind of setup that was used at the Regency Center." I explained.
"Why didn't you say anything?" She asked.
"Because I didn't take it?" I said.
"You turned them down?" She demanded.
"No, I just haven't reached out. It's not a big deal."
"It's a huge deal. In your situation, with everyone worrying about you, what possible reason could you have to turn down something like that?"
"It was from the Elite." I said.
"What?" She said, "You… You can't be serious. You expect me to believe that Uppercrust, Uppercrust just…"
"It wasn't Uppercrust." I said. "It was his head of media relations. He checked the setup work I did to make sure everything was ready for when Uppercrust got there. He said to contact him if I was interested in contract work." I explained. "It's not even going to be full time. And besides, it's the Elite."
Alena sighed. "And you're sure about this? He wasn't just being polite?"
"I have his business card. I mean, do you want me to send you a picture to prove it? I can hold up today's newspaper as well. Do the whole hostage photo thing."
"Don't be so dramatic." She scoffed. "Jozef, you should really consider that offer."
"From the Elite?" I asked. Seriously, in what world would that kind of association reduce the amount of concern my family had for my situation.
"Uppercrust isn't like any of the California branches that get coverage from fights with the Protectorate. Most of the offices on this side of the country aren't really bad. Even my company has contracts with some of them."
"Maybe." I said noncommittally.
"Maybe." She said, "You have an offer for a real job without even a college degree and you're saying 'maybe'."
"I already have an offer for a job." I reminded her. "And I have no idea what kind of work this would be. It could be out of state, or one event every three months, or completely fall through because I don't have a degree."
"It's still worth looking into." She insisted, then let out another breath. "Just, don't dismiss it, alright?"
"I promise I'll hold on to the card." I said. It wasn't a commitment, but it seemed to satisfy her.
Normally I wouldn't care about justifying myself to her, but I could at least be sympathetic. Once again, the manipulation sense was there, and it was only running for a single point. She wanted to get me to that lunch. She was also hoping to minimize the amount of in-between she had to deal with, but was mostly focused on that one objective.
"Thank you." She said, "And are you going to meet Dad for lunch?"
I let out a breath. "When?"
"Saturday, at twelve thirty." She said.
That was something that might actually be doable. Or it could fail horribly in a tremendous pileup of chaos. There were too many elements balanced on a razor's edge and I didn't know if taking out the Nine would set any of them off.
"What, are you busy?" She asked.
"You have no idea how busy I am." I said.
"I know it was probably a lot of work helping with the event, but things have to be easier for you now. Or are you caught up in something else?" She asked, with the implication that I was either being taken advantage of or intruding into a situation where I wasn't welcome.
It wasn't something that I owed her an explanation on, so I didn't give one. And honestly, it would be nice to see my dad. At least in the absence of my mom. I mean, anything 'we' decided was going to have to be argued with her all over again, which was why I was very happy to maintain my distance, but this? I could handle this.
"I'll go, but I have a condition." I said.
"You're getting a free meal with Dad and you have more demands?" She asked.
"Yes." I said, ignoring the implication and attempted guilt trip. "I want my violin."
"What?" She asked.
"My old violin? The one Mom's always threatening to donate since I stopped playing it? I want Dad to bring it for me." I said.
"Why would you want that?" She asked. "You know it's not worth anything, right? If you need money you can just ask."
"I'm not planning to sell it." I said.
"But why? You always hated… Oh." She said, "It's Boundless Music, isn't it?"
"What?" I asked.
"That music channel that works with Garment. I heard lots of people are taking up the violin because of it." She said confidently. "You're really planning on playing again?"
I knew full well what she thought of my musical talents, or lack thereof.
"I might." It wasn't like I owed her an answer. Honestly, this was more for sentimental reasons than anything else. "Is that a problem?"
There was another sigh and I had the feeling I was being humored. I didn't let it bother me.
"Fine. If Dad brings your old violin, you'll meet him for lunch? Let everyone know you're alright?" She asked.
"If he brings it." I reiterated, but she didn't seem to give much weight to my words. Oh well. In the past I might be at a disadvantage, but I had the ability to monitor the situation in advance and the capacity to walk away if they tried anything. I didn't think they would, not with my dad involved, but it was refreshing to know that I had the conviction to take a stand if I needed to.
"Thank you." She said. And almost sounded sincere. "And congratulations, on working on that event. I don't know how much of that was you, but the whole thing was really incredible."
"Thanks." I said. "And yeah, it was great to see everything come together like that."
"Right, the broadcast…" She paused. "Wait, you were AT the event? There was the sound of clicking. "It says you did setup."
"Setup ran until the event started. And I wasn't on the show floor. They had me parked next to the media room to help with anything that needed adjustments."
"But you got to see it live?" She asked. "That whole thing with the banners and tapestry?"
"Yeah, that was really impressive." I agreed.
There was another sigh. "Jozef, you have no idea how lucky you were."
Honestly, she had no idea how lucky I was, but then again she had no idea luck was a tangible force that could be accumulated.
"Look, I have to go. I'll let Mom and Dad know about Saturday, unless YOU want to…"
"I'm not calling home." I said in a calm voice.
"Of course." She sounded more tired than irritated. "I'll take care of it. Just try to stay safe, and seriously, congratulations. That whole thing was incredible and you were lucky to be a part of it."
"I know. Goodbye Alena." I said. My sister hung up, leaving me to process what I had just agreed to.
If I had actually agreed to anything. In the event that tensions boiled over or things came to a head in the city I'd either have to cancel or send a replica droid. Or one of my duplicates. No, definitely a replica droid, providing the chaos wasn't enough to warrant shutting down the entire city, which again was a real possibility.
Personally, I didn't want to deal with any family stuff, but I was at least willing to entertain my father on this. He was always easier to deal with, especially without the rest of the family around. In all likelihood he'd be coming with a list of concerns and talking points from my mother, but would at least be willing to hear my side of things. Probably not actually do anything about them, but at least not make them worse.
Yeah, even with my father, this had the potential to be extremely uncomfortable. Probably another subject for Dr. Campbell tonight. And at least the meandering delays of the Slaughterhouse Nine meant I got another session to try to work through the substantial backlog of issues that had cropped up in the last two days. And the unaddressed points from earlier. And anything that might come up from what I had to deal with during the rest of the day.
Suddenly an hour didn't seem like nearly enough time.
Speaking of my schedule for the rest of the day, I was ready to head out and meet with Flechette, and coincidentally Weld as well. The two of them were on an extended foot patrol through areas of the city that really didn't need to be patrolled. Which, considering they were Wards, was probably the point.
It was honestly kind of weird seeing Wards in Brockton Bay treated with the kind of kid gloves that were expected from other departments. Not because there was anything wrong with keeping kids safe or at least well supervised in the event of danger, but because it served to highlight just how far outside the norm the city had gotten over the years.
That calm, safe, and lengthy route was an advantage for me. Plenty of opportunities to approach and speak with her about topics that were probably going to be a bit heavy for a quiet Thursday afternoon. Considering what I was offering, I couldn't really be oblique in my explanations which meant I would need to get into topics that I would much rather keep out of public circulation.
And away from Jack Slash. Normally, approaching any parahuman with that kind of information this close to the Nine's arrival would be an unacceptable risk, but I wasn't in the same situation I had been this morning. Fleet had massively expanded his efforts in Passenger Space thanks to the insight possible from Certified Tech. While it wasn't enough to reverse the effect of Jack's power, it should be enough to block new information from reaching him.
His passenger was being closely monitored with custom built ships and stations designed specifically for all the technological insight I possessed for passenger space and its communication mechanics. Every interaction would be watched, monitored, and filtered. Survey was observing Jack with a level of fidelity that made polygraphs seem vague and unintrusive. If there was even a hint that he was being tipped off we would know and be ready to abort. Or step in, whichever was called for.
And on top of all of that, you had my duplicates, both operating in accelerated time and both with the benefits of all of my powers and knowledge. With one in the Spiritron Core and one linked to the Final Frontier they would be able to analyze any developments and respond in a fraction of a second.
This was a risk, but it was a calculated risk. It was something I needed to do, and it would be a lot more difficult to approach Flechette in the wake of taking out the Slaughterhouse Nine than it would during the calm before the storm.
I reached out to my workshop, confirming the final set of preparations. Everything was in place, as prepared as it could be. It was time to talk to Flechette.
Addendum Lily
Lily followed Weld through some of the less damaged parts of Brockton Bay. Her new cape fluttered behind her as they walked, occasionally sent into a dramatic flourish by a breeze blowing in from the bay. She was still adjusting to the cape, but honestly loved the impact it had. It was light enough to flow with her movements and stay out her way in combat, but fell into a stately shape during slower moments like this.
It was probably the only good thing about the slower moments she was caught in. The current route was taking her and Weld on a foot patrol that looped from the PRT headquarters through downtown, then in a loop along the Boardwalk and surrounding areas, working their way back to the HQ. Effectively it was an afternoon stroll masquerading as hero work.
She had done her share of slower patrols in her time, and given how the Brockton Bay Wards had been deployed in the past, she could understand the push for more restrained assignments. Still, the entire situation felt stifling.
A big part of that was the fact that she was patrolling on foot, on the ground. She missed running between buildings, setting zip lines and using her power to cheat at balance and friction. Even on relatively safe routes, that kind of pace was always exhilarating.
That was before she had been knocked out during the Ungodly Hour. Completely incapacitated by an effect they still couldn't identify. In all likelihood it was some one-off event, a bad reaction or side effect of some brief exposure to everything that was being thrown around that night, but even so, she was 'grounded' until they were sure it wouldn't happen when she was leaping between buildings.
It was frustrating, but the more sedate pace at least gave her a chance to reflect on the city. And to interact with the locals, which was probably the point of this. Something between public relations and a general reassurance. Showing that the heroes were still out there, ready to support the city. That things weren't totally out of control.
Though honestly she wasn't sure if their presence was needed, or if it was doing any good. She was still surprised by Brockton Bay. Moving to a tiny city, at least compared to New York, had been seen as something of a vacation posting. A chance to get away and take things slower.
Kind of ironic, all things considered. Instead she got hit with every insanity the city could throw at her. Everything that had been building up and everything that had come to a head. The culture of the Wards, the obvious conflicts and tension between the Protectorate, PRT, and city agencies, all the gang conflicts coming to a head, and through all that the people of the city who had endured everything and kept enduring it, no matter how bad things got.
She never thought she'd see it, but there were honestly people who have a decent claim at being harder than New Yorkers, especially after what they'd gone through over the past month.
As she smiled and exchanged greetings, shaking hands, and signing autographs, she had to wrestle with a level of guilt for the entire situation. She knew it wasn't anything that would be assigned to her, but that didn't change the fact that the instigating event of all of this was that moment when she had jumped at the offer of a transfer.
Because of that, March had followed her to Brockton Bay. There was a time when she would have thought of that as a minor annoyance, but that was when no one knew how strong March actually was. Not back when she was running around with gangs of kids that were mostly spraying graffiti or knocking over stores.
And March had arrived in the city before she did. Which meant she had gotten the information ahead of the public announcement. Probably as soon as the decision was made. She still wasn't sure where the leaks had been, but it was a major issue for the New York Protectorate. There were definitely worse leaks in the Brockton Bay PRT, but that was hardly comforting.
Of course, with March's power there are a hundred ways she could have pulled off something like that. The same coordination power that played the city like a puppet had allowed March to learn internal details from the New York branch, letting her leave the moment she found out where Flechette was heading and giving her enough time to ingratiate herself with the ABB. Enough time to amplify their opening attack.
That was on March, but Flechette couldn't help but feel responsible for bringing all this down on the city. Not just because March had followed her, but because of why she had taken the transfer in the first place.
She had jumped when they suggested it, and not for any good reasons. Things with Jenn had just fallen apart. Things were messy. Worse than messy. The word 'messy' didn't capture the disaster that was encapsulated by a bad breakup with a coworker and fellow cape.
There was a reason people caution against dating on the same Wards team. In New York, with multiple teams spread across the city, it didn't seem like it would be that bad, but that had just been wishful thinking on her part.
It also didn't help when you were still technically in the closet, at least in your public identity. When that's the only time you were consistently spending with your girlfriend, it just got worse.
She'd tried to manage things, handle them with the same determination and commitment that she applied to everything in her cape life, but that just made things worse. Too aggressive, too forceful, too controlling. And so, when things fell apart, it was all on her. Even the people who were sympathetic to how things turned out seemed to feel that way.
Her options were to spend her time jumping between New York Ward teams to try to put some distance between herself and Jenn, or take the coward's option and get out of the city at the first opportunity.
All this devastation unleashed because she had been running from a failed relationship. A failure that even her friends admitted was mostly on her. She arrived with the distant hope of starting fresh, of finding someone new, but with a small team there weren't many options.
Probably a blessing, considering Sophia's personality.
Though at least there was Garment. Even with all the guilt associated with WHY she had come to the city and everything that had followed because of that, Garment was a bright point. One of the only bright points in those first days.
Spending time with her was incredible. She was wonderful and dynamic and an absolute force of nature, but at times frustrating. Not because of anything she did, just because of the reality of interacting with her. The uncertainty that hovered around any potential relationship was even worse than things normally would be. Even text communication didn't help. Single word replied to texts, usually with substantial delays. It was the kind of thing that Lily would normally have taken as a bad sign, at least if it was anyone else but Garment. But Garment wasn't like anyone else.
She remembered the first time she had met her. The end of that first night's patrol, chasing after Sophia with the girl's behavior and personality slowly eroding her patience. And then Garment. That flare of a battle-damaged dress as she restrained a pair of muggers with precisely controlled ribbons. That presence that filled the dark alleyway, overwhelming Sophia's attempts at posturing and absolutely commanding the situation without a single word.
It was an incredible moment. The best one of what turned out to be a very bad night. An incredible new cape, and Frechette had been the one to make contact with her. She had entertained some rather simple hopes about Garment joining the Protectorate and working alongside them. About how things might have gone.
Might have. They took a different route. One that was still very Garment. She had taken control of her own life, making a place for herself independent of the Protectorate. It was admirable, particularly with how much she had accomplished. Even before the previous day's show.
That had been a lot. So much more than what Lily had been expecting. Just a few days of notice and Garment managed to throw together something incredible. Something bigger and grander than major events from New York. The only one that she could think of that even came close was the Met Gala, and that was barely comparable.
The whole thing was overwhelming. It was basically confirmation of Garment's thinker power. Her coordination-based thinker power that had been suspected since her first public appearance. That was a pile of red flags for a lot of analysts. An unknown thinker power was the kind of thing that should be concerning for Flechette as well, but honestly she could see signs of it in how Garment handled herself.
She could also recognize the places where Garment struggled and the way she embraced the things she was passionate about. All the good she was doing from her little acts to the grand event she had organized.
It didn't make Flechette worried she was falling under the influence of a powerful thinker. If anything it made her worry that she was out of her league. Things like that were different for heroes, but even so, it was clear that Garment was not the minor fashion cape that people had assumed. Just from the display of that event, she had made herself known as a major power in the city, and a player on that national level.
She was happy for Garment, but had to admit it was a little intimidating. She barely had a handle on what their relationship was, and suddenly Garment was a national figure while Flechette was still Flechette, just with a very nice cape and a medical diagnosis that kept her off the rooftop.
She didn't like the idea that she was misreading things, that she might have been from the start. Just a silly girl with aspirations beyond her who was being humored for the moment, only to be dismissed with a pat on the head as Garment moved on to bigger things.
But that wasn't Garment. Never Garment. It wasn't fair to even entertain those thoughts, but after Jenn everything had been thrown into doubt. Everything she thought she knew had been turned upside down after that disaster. She was desperate to make anything work, if just to prove that she could.
And that wasn't easy with Garment. It was frustrating, but not because of Garment, or not because of anything Garment did. Or anything she could do. Lily just couldn't connect past a certain level. It was a fundamental problem. Something Garment literally couldn't counter manage on her own, despite everything she was capable of. Expecting her to be able to just ignore her limitations or resenting her for not being able to was unreasonable. Lily wanted to be able to connect, but couldn't, or at least couldn't as consistently as some people.
Back at Garment's charity show there had been that new assistant. The frankly stunning black girl from Arcadia, the same school as most of the city's Wards. She looked to be a little younger than Lily and was somehow able to read Garment better than she could hope to.
It was hard not to be intimidated by that. Not just because of her appearance. After all, even Garment's lawyer was stunning on the level of becoming an internet meme. She hadn't seen any signs of interest from Garment to either her lawyer or assistant, but she wasn't sure she had seen interest towards her either.
Well, there was interest, just not that kind of interest. Or maybe not that kind of interest. Definitely different kinds of interest, she just wasn't sure what they were or what they meant.
"You're pensive." Weld said, startling her out of her thoughts.
"Sorry." She said, mechanically smiling at a pedestrian as they walked by.
"You've been doing the patrol on autopilot since we left headquarters." He said.
"Just have a lot on my mind." She said as they continued down the street.
"Right." Weld said. "Do you want to see if we can stop by Garment's Studio after the patrol? Get some of that off your mind?"
She let out a huff, but secretly appreciated the offer. "Probably too much of a deviation. And we should let her recover after the show."
"Garment doesn't need to recover." Weld said. She looked at him and remembered the context. The nature of his own problems with sleep and engagement. The way he could basically shut down without his music collection to help him cope.
"Sorry." She said.
"It's fine." He said. "And it's not too much of a deviation. The patrol route is clear, and the Chicago team is making progress outside that. Everything's more accessible on foot. Plus we don't have to worry about Stalker running off."
"Thank God for that." Lily muttered. She lowered her voice. "Do you know what's happening there?"
"Confined to base on account of something from her civilian life." He said.
"That gets you confined to base?" Lily asked.
"From what I heard it's an issue with a personal cell phone. Security concerns, so they need her standing by. Personally, I think that shit is finally catching up with her." Weld explained, making sure there was no one close enough to overhear.
"I'd bet she's got more than her share." Lily said. A lot of the Brockton Bay Wards played things fast and loose with conventions and regulations, but Sophia was the only one who seemed actively hostile to those guidelines. Of course, she was also actively hostile to the rest of her team, so that wasn't really that surprising.
"So we can definitely fit in a quick visit to Garment's studio." Weld said. "And now that the bribery's done, do you want to tell me what's bothering you?"
She let out a breath. "This." She said, making a vague gesture at the city. "All of this, everything that happened since I came." She lowered her voice. "Because I came."
"Because March came." Weld said, putting things together. "That's March's fault, not yours. And she's gone."
Lily nodded. "And that's a weird thought. I mean, I had to deal with her for so long, but that was like another person compared to what we saw here. Now she's gone, but I keep expecting her to be waiting for me with another team of teenage vandals when I get back to New York."
"Nobody knew what March was, or what she was capable of." Weld said. "I think it's like that with a lot of parahumans. People are starting to realize how little they actually know about what happened in cape conflicts."
Flechette began to nod, then caught something out of the corner of her eye. A figure darting out of sight, back into an alleyway. What looked like a mottled costume was actually part of the person's body. She tensed, but restrained herself. From the angle of the alley Weld had to have seen the figure, and he wasn't reacting. And from the inhuman shape…
"Weld…?" She asked without giving any more of a reaction.
"Case 53." He said. "He's been following us for a couple of blocks, staying out of sight as well as he can. Probably based on known patrol routes."
"Do you know who that was?" She asked as they continued to walk.
He gave a small nod. "Only by reputation, but yeah. Ragamuffin. Hero from Cincinnati. Or maybe former hero." He picked up on her concern and shook his head. "Not villain, just not active. Used to be in the Cincinnati Protectorate, but got drummed out. Power issues and personality conflicts. Also was one of the Case 53s with an obsessive focus. Villain named Darkoff. Few too many embarrassing losses and some conflicts with the administration and he left to 'pursue other options'."
"Did he?" Flechette asked.
"Had a stint on a couple of independent teams, but ran into the same problems as in the Protectorate. Probably here for the same reason as everyone else." He explained.
"You didn't call him?" She asked.
He shook her head. "Word has gone well beyond that." His eyes darted towards another alley mouth, probably the last one where someone could hide discreetly before the city opened up to the Boardwalk. "Word got around. A lot of Case 53s have come to the city. Of course, there's not much of a lead for any of them. They focus on me because no one has any other ideas about what to do, but it's not like I can contact Apeiron for them."
"Not even on PHO?" She asked.
He shook his head. "Not approved to reach out online anymore. At least not without an entire team of thinkers going over everything." He let out a breath that she knew he didn't actually need, meaning it was very much just for show. "When that name thing came up they had me spam his account with questions. It kind of burned-out whatever level of contact I had. Burned the bridge just in time for it to hold up every Case 53 who came to the city."
They continued past the final alley, leaving the former hero Case 53 watching them as they continued towards the Boardwalk. With Weld able to walk in the open and greet people with open arms while Ragamuffin was left behind.
"You feel guilty as well, don't you?" She asked once they had a quiet moment away from the crowds.
"Plenty of that to go around." He said. "But yeah."
He looked down at his metal hand. The dull gray finish barely shimmered in the afternoon sun. In other lighting conditions he could probably pass for an unusually pale person, rather than the solid mass of gleaming metal he had been before.
"As far as most people were concerned, I was the luckiest Case 53. The one who needed that treatment the least, and I got it before anyone else." He shook his head. "I'm the only one who got that treatment."
She nodded. She knew the difference it had made; the things Weld had struggled with and the kind of opportunities that were open to him now, but from an outside perspective it looked like the least affected Case 53 had been the only one lucky enough to get even more benefits.
"The fact that there aren't more treatments is on the PRT, not you." She said quietly. "People know what Apeiron can do. Other departments would have lined up for that kind of thing, not made him a public enemy."
Weld nodded tentatively. "Probably not the kind of thing we should be discussing. There's enough that the local office is going to be dealing with."
"I know." Lily said, leaning against the railing of the Boardwalk. The bay would have looked almost peaceful if not for the wreckage of the Protectorate Headquarters and the damage visible towards the north side of the city. "After everything that happened yesterday, and that story about Fleet last night…"
"Not a story." Weld said. "He faced down the Merchants, Empire, and Teeth. Apparently the Butcher nearly died to the Merchant's blaster."
"Damn." Flechette said.
Weld nodded. "No good videos of the fight. Just a few from members of the Merchants, and those are mostly out of focus or pointed in the wrong direction. Because of that they don't know exactly what happened or how bad it could have been, but it sounds like it was pretty close. Down to the wire close."
"I guess we're just lucky that Apeiron knows when he needs to make an appearance." Lily said.
"They do tend to be unusually fortuitous moments." A voice called from behind her.
Flechette spun around to see Apeiron standing in the middle of the Boardwalk. Apeiron, in his full costume with his military jacket, metal visor, and glowing lock of hair. Apeiron, who was being completely ignored by the rest of the pedestrians on the Boardwalk.
And so were they. Looking around, she could recognize it. The way they hadn't been approached for a handshake, autograph, or picture. The way people weren't even looking at them. Eyes just slid from one side to the next without even registering their presence. Two Wards and the most powerful cape in the country, and they were being completely ignored.
"Weld, Flechette." He said in greeting, his casualness at odds with the significance of his sudden appearance. "I was hoping we could have a chance to talk."
Jumpchain abilities this chapter:
Basic Nutrition (Personal Reality) 100:
This option provides a basic (if minimalist) food delivery for you and all companions (metered for a normal human dietary requirement). This delivery comes once a week and is the kind of thing you'd buy on a very strict budget; Ramen, Peanut Butter, Generic Cereal, Dry Beans, Eggs, Tofu, Fresh Common Fruits & Veggies, Canned Fruits & Veggies, Dry Pasta, Salt, Pepper, Milk, Bottled Water, Rice, Flour, Butter, Barley, etc. (Note, you cannot sell the Salt or Pepper for money.) Essentially the purchasing power of 50 dollars US a week per person.
A Little Less Basic (Personal Reality) 200:
Although not a huge improvement, this raises the basic food allotment to what can be expected for a middle-class working family's budget. You can set it to the kinds of things your home culture might buy… or simply set it to a random sampling of various cultures' food purchases. Honestly, it's fascinating seeing what people buy. Check out Hungry Planet if you can. This is effectively 150 dollars US a week per person, adjusted for cost of living and whatnot. You have very limited brand control.
A Lot Less (Personal Reality) 200:
This A Little Less Basic Upgrade gives you specific cultural (rural France in the 1880s, Moscow under the communists, biblical Israel, etc.) and general purchasing breakdown (X% grains, Y% junk food, Z% fresh fruits, etc.) plus raises the food budget to 300 US dollars purchasing power per person per week. Each week you can change what kind of food delivery you get and where it comes from, including any culture you've jumped into along your travels. This still does not give you direct control of what you get, just a general batch of stuff that fits your requirements. You can specify brands you'd like, however.
I stepped out of the portal back into one of the massively expanded areas of Garment's studio. The building was almost certainly the most heavily warded place on the planet, so even though it lacked the absolute protection possible from Simple Scientific Solution based privacy measures, it was secure enough to act as an intermediary point and spillover for work that couldn't be handled inside the Workshop's privacy curtain.
The Matrix was inordinately pleased with themself and had been since completing their collaborative work with the Boston PRT. The introduction of Simple Scientific principles into the design of the G.E.C.K. had required assistance from my duplicates, but manufacture had been handled entirely by the Matrix.
Unlike a lot of my powers, the elements of Simple Scientific Solution weren't some mysterious force that could only be brought into existence by my direct intervention. They were actual scientific principles that could be introduced into any piece of technology, as long as it was devoted to addressing household needs. The designs could be distributed and even mass produced, though that still didn't bring me any closer to understanding how they worked.
Frankly, I was just lucky to be able to understand what the technology was doing to accomplish its usually mundane objectives. That 'what' was consistently disproportional complicated operations that worked through the very fabric of reality, all to the purpose of addressing mundane irritations. And composed of parts that could often be sourced from a local electronics store.
Frankly, it made me feel like a caveman who had somehow figured out a way to beat rocks into cutting edge microprocessors. You'd think that would have gotten less bad as my skill and understanding improved, but that just expanded what I could accomplish with Simple Scientific Solution and further increased the complexity of the underlying mechanics.
Still, the integration of that technology had ensured better operation of the issued G.E.C.K. as well as a guarantee that it would be impossible to reverse engineer and could not be used for anything other than household purposes. Renovations and landscaping, taken care of through a wide range nuclear terraformer.
Which should at least make things a little less unpleasant for the people stuck in that camp.
"I'm sure the people there will be alright." Tetra said as she was suddenly beside me. Or visibly beside me, since she was effectively present through all her connections and just selectively expressed it. "They really like the new rooms and having privacy."
"I'm sure they do." I said, and the Matrix stood a little taller. "After what they've gone through, they deserve all the rest and relaxation they can get."
Though hopefully not for much longer. Focus had definitely shifted from tracking Bakuda's signal to fully addressing the Nine, but it shouldn't take more than a few days to drive that home. Frankly, I would have preferred to deal with Bakuda before the Nine, but I doubt Jack Slash has ever been particularly accommodating of other people's schedules and I certainly wasn't interested in delaying them any more than their own divergences already had.
"It is good that the hostages have substantially improved accommodations and facilities. Their previous conditions were intolerable and inexcusable in the face of the resources available to those responsible for their care." The Matrix said as the Forge missed a connection to the Magitech constellation, finally having cleared the stall from my power.
"No argument from me." I said. "The Brockton Bay PRT will have a lot to answer for." In the face of the scale of their fuckups, it was doubtful that borderline negligent treatment of Bakuda's hostages would even register.
Well, not unless they decided to make a public case about it. Then again, there were probably people lining up to sue the PRT.
"I also enjoyed working with the Boston PRT to address the issue and facilitate their engagement with the resolution of supply and logistical matters." They continued.
I nodded. That had been interesting. Not exactly expected, but it made sense, and was actually particularly important.
It is hard to recover spirit energy in a vacuum. Not everyone thrives from social engagement, but there is generally some level of connection involved in actions that nourish the soul. I mean, I don't exactly spend my time at the Gym socializing and sharing gossip, but even working alongside other people is enough to help me recover. It's meaningful in a way that isolated work isn't.
The Matrix is a unique entity, even among the rest of the team. A nanotech gestalt hivemind composed of the combined processing power of their individual nanites working together to build greater complexity and linked through arcane forces and divine entanglements. Even with the spiritual complexity of their creation, I never expected them to be able to use spirit energy. And once they were able to, it was reasonable to assume that they wouldn't recover it in the same manner as I did.
Not exactly the same, but there were definitely shades of that 'work alongside' aspect that I enjoyed from the gym. The Matrix wasn't particularly interested in social aspects of interactions, but being able to assist with the kind of creation, improvement, and refinement that they were so passionate about, not just performing the work themselves but being able to facilitate and cultivate engagement from other people, that was what allowed them to recover their own spiritual reserves.
It was kind of funny. First I had a gray goo swarm that wouldn't self-replicate because of quality concerns, and then I had a manufacturing A.I. that was invested in engaging other people in the construction process. The nuance of allowing people to address their own problems and accounting for individual tastes and preferences wasn't the kind of thing you usually saw when this kind of A.I. was depicted in fiction.
Regardless, the consequence of the trip and the Matrix's engagement with it was complete restoration of the spiritual energy they had expended in assisting me with the construction of the medical nanites.
And also releasing every hostage from Bakuda's control that didn't explicitly refuse tinker-based treatment. I was confident that Armstrong would be able to address the final surgeries himself, which must have been much less daunting than the hundreds of people he was preparing to treat.
Hundreds of people who were still isolated, cut off from friends and family and often any news of what had actually happened. When they had been forced into ABB service, then thrown into combat, then transported to the camp, there wasn't much time to be updated on events, or to address any specific concerns.
That had been a big part of why people had wanted to meet with me personally. I had a feeling that a lot more of them would have liked the chance, but they also wanted those bombs out of their head. Honestly, I couldn't blame them for taking the faster option.
Of the people I had met, some had just wanted to thank me, which ranged from polite to devastating, like in the case of Mrs. Won. Some had been angry, mostly just venting about an impossible situation at the only person connected to those events who was willing to listen to them. A few had questions about the effect of Hallowed Earth, and I had done as much as I could to discourage that kind of thing. But mostly they were worried about things back in the city.
In short, things had been a mess with the ABB, but without it nobody knew what was going to happen. Just the fact that Lung had managed to create a pan-Asian gang was insane and probably only possible for someone with his power and reputation. The ABB had effectively forced extremely disparate communities to work together. No one was sure what was going to happen in the aftermath of the gang's collapse.
And those were just the long-term concerns. There were much more immediate fears concerning the Empire, the Merchants, and various shades of misinformation on the other gangs that were now active in the city. On a number of occasions it had fallen to me to explain that the Teeth hadn't taken over ABB territory, that Blasto wasn't setting up operations in the city, and that they weren't looking at an invasion from the Elite.
My personal assurances for the safety of civilians during the recovery process had gone a long way, and that was something I was holding to adamantly. It didn't eliminate concern for friends and family members, but it helped.
"Survey checked on the people that you were asked about." Tetra said. It was an odd quirk. Mental Fortress made me immune to mind reading or other mental effects, but the state of my body could reveal emotional responses, which Tetra was immediately aware of. She also had full context for what I had gone through, meaning she could usually make an educated guess about what was bothering me.
"How bad is it?" I asked even as I pulled up the report myself.
"Mostly okay, but not all." Tetra said sadly.
I nodded. It would probably be better to get confirmation, but there was no good way to report fatalities. I had done everything I could to minimize damage, but I was badly underprepared for the Ungodly Hour and nearly paid the ultimate price for it.
"That's unfortunate, but I'm sure it's better to know for certain." I said.
Only a handful of losses, but even that was a tragedy. At least I would be able to get news of the status of survivors. Including a few that had been misfiled when lost in the shelter system and were still assumed missing.
Several rounds of upgrades had expanded Survey's scrying abilities to allow her to extend her focus beyond the Slaughterhouse Nine. Mostly her focus was on the other gangs in the city and occasional check-ins on major threats and criminal organizations, but she was able to spare some time to confirm the status of those I had been asked about. I contacted her to extend my thanks for the matter.
"I was pleased to be able to help." She replied from the scrying chamber with its collection of absolute masterworks of divination. The least of which made the scrying flame I had given to Director Armstrong look like a children's toy. "My capacity will greatly expand once matters with the Slaughterhouse Nine are concluded."
Unfortunately, a commitment to ensure that the Nine didn't hurt anyone on their way to Brockton Bay required fairly close observation to ensure that there was no chance that anything would be overlooked. Between Survey, Fleet, and the Matrix there was pretty much no chance of running into any actual people, but Survey's attention was a limited resource, at least when it came to directing divine scrying items, and that was heavily invested in monitoring the Nine.
It was possible that would be expanded through use of the Glove of the East's upgrade cycle, but given the unexpected effect that had on the Matrix we were holding off on any experimental procedures until the Nine were dealt with.
"How are things looking on that front?" I asked through the link.
"The Nine are in transit, but not directing themselves towards the city. While their current location could reach Brockton Bay by early evening, based on traffic predictions, they are instead taking steps they believe will ensure compliance from local authorities when they reach the city and preparing what they believe to be countermeasures." She explained with clear derision in her voice.
As I reviewed their activities I had to say that I was right there with her. Having the Nine under constant surveillance stripped away a lot of the mystique and grandeur associated with the group. Honestly, it was kind of embarrassing how basic their tactics are once you took Jack's thinker power out of the equation. Without being able to pull a perfect counter out of nowhere, something prepared weeks ahead to address a problem they couldn't possibly have seen coming, all they had was fairly basic tactics that were intended to force peoples' hands by holding the city hostage.
I mean, on a surface level it was a dangerous threat and might have worked, you know, if I didn't have significantly more biological knowledge than Bonesaw. And that was before the effect of my latest power was taken into account.
As for the Nine's buildup and strategizing, that was also fairly straightforward. The Nine historically took precautionary measures before moving into a new area. There was a limit to what they could do before they reached the city proper, but that didn't stop them from attending to any and all concerns prior to their arrival.
It was kind of insane to see. Jack Slash was operating under no sense of urgency whatsoever. There was a rapidly developing conflict between multiple gangs and various national powers unfolding in Brockton Bay and he was content to take his sweet time getting to the city. Hell, based on how his thinker power worked, he probably was waiting for things to devolve into violence and chaos before making his official appearance.
An inside look at the methodologies of the Slaughterhouse Nine wasn't illuminating, it was just frustrating. Frustrating and insulting to everyone who had suffered and died at the hands of these idiots over the years. And frustrating towards the system that had built up such a dependence on parahumans that someone like Jack could undermine it completely with a single power.
At least the extended observation was providing more information on the mechanics of Jack's passenger. Observation of how he received information, the reactions he had to various events that developed in the city, and the continued shielding of Aisha as a control example all provided valuable information, even if it meant we were probably not going to see their actual arrival until the next morning.
"Thank you for maintaining your observations." I said to Survey. "Let me know if they come up with any clever ideas we'll need to deal with."
"Based on interpersonal dynamics and prior behavior, I believe that is highly unlikely." She said, turning her attention back to a scrying mirror showing Jack studying a map while Shatterbird and Cherish argued about how long they'd had to drive the truck. "But I will remain vigilant."
I nodded and turned my attention back to the Matrix and Tetra.
"It is likely that the disruption associated with the defeat of the Slaughterhouse Nine will have an adverse impact on the stability of the communities affected by the ABB's actions and subsequent absence." The Matrix said.
"The Truce should apply while we deal with them, and afterwards too, but that's just for capes. They don't always follow it, and it won't apply to anyone else." Tetra added.
I nodded. They had both helped with the healing process and received their own insight into the situation. The Matrix with nanobots that had full technology of my healing nanites rolled into them and Tetra able to emulate the technology through subatomic scale fibers. Through that they both had a first hand view of the situation and knew how bad it could get.
"It's not something we can address directly." I said regretfully. "Responding to a gang breaking the terms we laid down in one thing, but throwing support behind a specific area or community is going to make it seem like we're claiming territory." It would also go against predictive models, and I would prefer to maintain that illusion of security for major organizations for as long as possible.
"It would be advantageous if we could act indirectly, through a third party." The Matrix said.
I nodded, but it wasn't that easy. This wasn't the kind of thing I could call in some of the debt from the Undersiders for, and it was outside their skill set anyway. It wasn't like there was anyone with a prior association that I could ask to…
You know, I should really see how Chen was doing. Preferably before any chaos associated with dealing with the Slaughterhouse Nine was unleashed on the city.
I shook my head and turned back to the workshop door. I was holding off entering until some of the projects being completed at ten times speed wrapped up. The fact that my presence slowed things so much created an incentive to minimize the amount of time I spent within the boundaries of the Workshop. Mostly just updates from my duplicates and refreshing of the potion.
I could still mentally connect with them through the open Workshop door, even if the privacy measures did make it more of a phone call than a complete mind link. Still it was enough to recognize the effects of them running beyond their stable duration, though I had already picked up on that from the other association.
I felt a chill that had nothing to do with temperature and the lights in the room flickered without any actual impact on the lighting system. Tetra immediately perked up while the Matrix bore the display with reasonably good humor.
I was just grateful she had been more subtle when I was treating Bakuda's hostages.
"There she is!" Tetra exclaimed, pointing to a form of a young girl that briefly flickered into existence.
Alma seemed to be naturally predisposed towards horror movie tropes when it came to her manifestations, though considering the rather dark roots of that kind of power it was equally likely she was just drawing from base fear impulses to direct her abilities and they happened to line up with horror cliches.
Of course, the darkness, flames, and jump scares were somewhat mitigated by the fact that she was usually wearing a poofy pink princess dress rather than a dirty red smock. And if she wasn't wearing the pink princess dress it was because it was being worn by the teddy bear she was carrying with her.
The fact that Tetra had turned the unstable manifestations of the scary psychic ghost girl into a game of hide and seek also rather clashed with the intended mood.
The flicker of manifestation was apparently all Alma could manage, even with it building for the entire time I was dealing with the hostages. She was still fairly limited in what she could interact with in a world devoid of psychic phenomenon, so usually defaulted to focus on me.
I could deal with her presence. It was usually too weak to notice and I doubt she followed most of what was happening, but a lot of Alma's form of psionics was based on emotions. Usually rather unpleasant emotions at that. And having to deal with the human impact of Bakuda's actions definitely brought out those emotions in me.
I'm pretty sure Alma didn't understand the context of what had happened with Bakuda, but she did recognize the surgically implanted bombs, and she did not like that. Any abusive medical practices were very much a hot button issue for Alma, and from the flashes of memory I'd been able to pick up, she had a good reason for that kind of conviction.
Really, I could only imagine how she'd react if she ran into Bonesaw.
There was definite anger from Alma towards Bakuda, or at least towards what Bakuda did to those people. And an intention to help resolve it, even if she couldn't quite follow the exact details of the situation.
Alma was still a very remote presence in the world and was clearly adjusting to a universe that was mostly devoid of psionic landmarks. It wasn't like she could just track down Bakuda's hiding place for us, no matter her intentions, but it was certainly keeping her engaged.
Which was probably good. At least better than her spiraling down into isolation and despair until she somehow amassed enough power to make her presence known. Given her perception of the world, it was fairly likely that if she handled things on her own a lot of people would get hurt. Alma wasn't exactly restrained when it came to her powers. I wanted to help her, but a part of that was making sure she didn't end up causing some kind of psionic disaster by accident. Or by intention.
The world flickered as Tetra vanished from my side to appear next to where Alma had first manifested, with the girl in question shifting to a position in the corner of my eye. Tetra was suddenly there as well, with Alma relocating to a dark corner that was only dark because of her powers making it so. That continued for longer than was probably appropriate when it came to supernatural hauntings and ended with Alma vanishing for a final time, taking the signs of her presence with her.
"Have a fun game of tag?" I asked Tetra.
"It's not really tag, but I had fun." She said with a wide smile. "I don't think Alma knows what I am. She's worried about the kind of connection I already have with her. It would probably be better if we could talk, but I don't think she's ready for that."
"It is unlikely that Alma anticipated a scenario in which she would need to address unknown elements of an interaction. Impressions suggest she is accustomed to being regarded as the most significant outlier in any given scenario." The Matrix suggested.
I nodded. Unfortunately, 'Psychic ghost girl from another universe' didn't even crack the top five when it came to the weirdness of my team. Alma was clearly being thrown off balance by the dynamics involved and was not used to that kind of thing.
Well, Alma might be an intrusive presence, but at least it felt like we were making progress. The other psychic ghost girl was another story. An alert that the Workshop was ready for our arrival allowed me to check in on that matter.
The Omni-spheres allowed direct connection to my duplicate's experiences through our Whispered ability and the Tau Wave. It also allowed a level of awareness of the presence that was trapped within the Tau Wave, and unlike Alma, that person wasn't able to arbitrarily manifest her presence at a moment's notice.
It was fairly difficult to discern even basic information about what was happening. The Tau Wave existed outside of time, a factor that facilitated both the granted scientific knowledge and technical abilities associated with my Whispered power. It meant that there wasn't the same perception of time passing, which either meant that there was no rush to address the situation, or it was already beyond the point where expedience would make any difference. After all, infinity minus one was still infinity.
At the very least, that presence seemed less distressed than Alma. Not exactly happy about their situation, but not a font of murderous rage that was only being restrained through the distractions my presence was able to provide.
It was also a situation that I unfortunately couldn't accelerate. Spiritron emulation of Whispered powers didn't include that external presence. In order to deal with this situation I needed to put in actual time, time passing at the same rate as the outside world. And that time wasn't something I had an abundance of.
I at least tried to convey my apologies for the situation as I was linking with my duplicates, but I'm not sure if they were received. If anything, there was a kind of tired resignation, as if they hadn't expected anything to begin with so weren't disappointed by my actions. That actually stung more than any level of anger or frustration could have.
The link provided me with a full update on all of my duplicate's accelerated actions within the workshop. Unsurprisingly, a significant amount of that was based around the most recent power I had acquired. It was connected to a world I had only seen shadows of before through the items that came with my Scraper power, though now I had the full context of what that collection of equipment represented.
Certified Tech was the kind of major power that dropped an entire lifetime of experiences into my brain. Unfortunately, they were experiences of living in the aftermath of a nuclear apocalypse as warring factions fought over the remnants of the United States and the technological treasures that had survived the nuclear war.
That had been my specialty. As was typical for my powers, I didn't get a full lifetime of experience, merely what was deemed necessary for whatever the power in question was trying to convey. In this case it was complete knowledge of pre-war science and the experience of being one of the brightest minds of the 23rd Century.
Also potentially the sanest, given what I could recall of the other 'bright minds' of that universe.
Thankfully, I wasn't fully immersed in the horror of needing to survive in a brutal post-nuclear wasteland, but the knowledge provided by my power included more than enough context to realize just how terrible things were in that world. Raiders, cannibals, mutants, rogue machines, and factions springing up from the old world and the new, all brutally fighting for control, or even just for their own survival.
It was a mess. The cultural insight I gained from Touched by the Protoculture let me understand exactly how much of a mess it was. I could see all the pieces that had built up leading to the collapse and the horrible way things had come together in the aftermath.
Because war never changes. That common thread of humanity extended through all the insanity and horror. Even in extraordinary circumstances, even with improbably advanced technology widely distributed, even with society completely upturned around them, people were still people, for good and ill. The same drives that caused conflict throughout history happily continued into the insanity of the wasteland, with people struggling to rise above or sinking to new lows, exactly as they always had.
The cultural side of things wasn't exactly the point, but you could see how it influenced the technology of that world. That technology was improbably advanced for the time period and resources that were available to the society that created it, even if it wasn't that noteworthy by my own standards. At least not beyond a few standouts.
No, the impressive thing about the technology of that world was the robustness, durability, and ease of production. Advanced technology had been widely distributed before the war, to the point where the shattered and broken remnants that had endured through the apocalypse were more than you saw in some advanced societies I had personal experience with through my power.
And, of course, because this was MY power, all that insanity that I had personally experienced, all the insight into culture and threads of humanity, was entirely drawn from a video game series. Survey had managed to track it down and like with a lot of my powers it wasn't a perfect match, but was close enough that the association was unmistakable.
I didn't pick up on the reference, but I didn't really follow gaming from Aleph. The Wasteland series went back to the late eighties, and the first installment was apparently fairly close to what we got on Earth Bet. Of course on Bet rights issues caused the developers to have to develop a new game that was sufficiently legally distinct from Wasteland and was mostly focused on cape factions fighting each in a ruined version of Earth. Over the course of the series RPG elements were stripped out and the story was simplified until you ended up with the current run of cosmetics focused multiplayer team shooters.
Understandably, I hadn't associated that with my own memories of that world, but on Aleph the series had continued under the original developers, taking a form that was not an exact one-to-one of what I remembered, but close enough for there to be no doubt about the connection.
Of course, having media that was slightly off from a version of a world I remembered was basically par for the course for me. Even worlds that seemed to be basically unchanged didn't account for my presence in them. However the multidimensional aspects of my powers worked, they were clearly not pulling from specific fictional worlds so much as general versions of them.
The fact that the technology and insights of this power came from a video game series didn't change their impact or significance. It wasn't that it was advanced technology, at least by our standards, it was that it was robust and easy to produce with no exotic materials or advanced techniques. While that wasn't exactly an obstacle for our team, having a more advanced base level of technology to work from and develop allowed improvements to my entire technology base.
And then there was the tech that actually did stand out. Technology that wasn't precisely matched by anything else available to me, or at least not without considerable effort and complexity. Advanced biotech and genetic engineering, nano technologies, teleporters and replicators, complex holographic applications, new types of A.I. and computing systems, psionic induction, and enhancement, and of course an ungodly amount of nuclear technology.
And some tech that was clearly alien. Given how quickly that society had advanced, that kind of influence wasn't surprising, but it was a little unexpected given my own memories of that world.
From the memories shared by my duplicates, the team was already engaged with various aspects of the technology and information I had received.
Garment was, of course, focused on what information regarding fashion and culture my duplicates had been able to provide. There was an interesting case of runaway nationalism creating cultural stagnation that extended from the 1950s to the start of the Great War more than a hundred years later. While that meant a lack of innovation and stifled creativity, you also had the refinement of a specific aesthetic as the designs of a single decade became ubiquitous across the country. Garment was fascinated by the idea, though saw it as something between a horror story and a cautionary tale.
Post-war fashion was… limited, and least from what I could remember. Salvaged materials and utilitarian clothing, with identifiable aesthetics being limited to factions with the resources who could afford them. Or raider gangs, who all seemed to decide to follow the same spikey design decisions for some unknown reason. Garment's interest in THAT particular aesthetic wasn't something I found particularly encouraging.
Survey was assisting Garment's cultural analysis, mostly as a side effect of her documentation of every scrap of data my duplicates had been able to provide from the memories associated with the power. Specific details were contrasted with confirmed and theorized lore from the game series, with an additional assessment of possible references to the Earth Bet games.
The Matrix was quite focused on the nanotech options available, as well as replication and manufacturing technology. Given what was possible with even a standard G.E.C.K., that was a fertile field of study and one they had already made good use of.
Tybalt wanted drugs. Specifically, Tybalt was intensely interested in the range of combat enhancement drugs that had been disturbingly common in that society. Stuff that made Pervitin look like Tums was freely available and even encouraged. It helped that the biotech industry was advanced enough to address most of the problems associated with their own products, but it was still a rather shocking element to deal with.
That is, to deal with theoretically. Dealing with it practically was another matter and Tybalt had to once again be talked down from seeing how much Jet it was possible to take before you started to warp the fabric of space time around you. Given his ability to ignore negative effects of combat stims and his inherently divine nature, that wasn't an unreasonable concern.
Fleet wasn't particularly focused on the technology or history, but was working with the benefit of another aspect of the power. In addition to granting me knowledge of pre-war technologies, the power greatly enhanced my ability to reverse-engineer existing technology to learn how it works. While I had other powers that could accomplish similar things, none of them were on this level.
With Certified Tech, as long as I could learn the basics of a science, even a truly alien science, it would allow me to master it. The mechanics of passenger space were advanced, horribly advanced, and undeniably alien, but that didn't matter when it came to Certified Tech. In fact, it was exactly what the power seemed to have been built for.
It was already providing new insights into the operation of passenger space and the mechanics of parahuman abilities, insights that Fleet was quick to take advantage of. In terms of the serious challenge related to addressing the impact of Jack's passenger, it had taken a task that was borderline impossible without the use of the most extreme options available to me and turned it into something that was merely a serious challenge.
Not that those extreme options were off the table. Certified Tech was able to handle 'truly alien science', and there were few things more truly alien than the contents of the Prismatic Laboratory. I'm not saying that option was in any way ready or something I was at all comfortable with, but it was a good deal more of an option than it had been before my latest power.
Despite the power facilitating incredible breakthroughs in the use of the laboratory's impossible colors, that wasn't what Aisha had latched on to. As soon as the full scope of what was available was released to the rest of the team, there was only one item she was interested in, and there had already been conflicts about how to handle that particular element.
My duplicates were already low on patience due to the time dilation pushing them beyond their expected duration, so they had decided to leave that particular issue to me. I took a breath and apparated directly from the Omni-sphere chamber to the largest of the workshop's chemistry labs.
Aisha was in the soft suit she wore under her armor and focused on monitoring the chemical process she had set up. She didn't look up when she heard me apparate into the room.
"You going to try to talk me out of this as well?" She asked, staying focused on her work.
"I don't think it's the best idea." I admitted. She let out a huff and stayed focused on her work. "Particularly with what we're dealing with here."
"I know what we're dealing with." She assured me. "I was in the Spiritron Computer when the data came in. The Matrix worked out the manufacturing requirements. Survey's run the simulations. I read her report on it." She turned towards me. "The whole thing, not just the summaries and result page."
"I know this is big." I said. She let out another huff. I guess she was the only one focused specifically on how big this particular discovery was. "But we can't just start dosing people en masse."
"Why not?" She asked. "It's a cure for addiction. Total cure, physical and psychological. Why shouldn't we just gas the Merchant's territory with it?"
"Aisha, this isn't a magic cure. It's causing serious alterations to a person's body and mind. It's altering behavior patterns and emotional associations. It is literally mind control in a can." I shook my head. "It can help, it can help a lot, but we don't get to make that choice for people."
"You think there's a choice involved in this? Do you know what addiction does to people? I mean, beyond theoretical stuff?" She asked.
I shook my head again. "No. I've never had to deal with that."
"Well, I have. People choose to quit, then fall right back as soon as they have a bad day or get an opportunity. They promise everything, then go right back to what they were doing." She shook her head. "You end up dealing with a different person. A worse person, who gets worse every time they fuck up until they just stop trying."
This was the most emotional I'd seen her in a long time, but given how close to home this had hit, it was more than understandable.
"I know this is important." She looked up at me. "I know. Trust me. Trust everything I've learned and all the experience I have. I know what this means. And we are going to use it."
"Really?" She sounded skeptical. "Even though it's 'mind control in a can'?"
I shrugged. "You said it yourself. Some people can't beat these things on their own. If you can't make your own willpower and support structures, store bought is fine."
That actually got a short laugh from her and she let out a breath. "Fuck. I kind of ran off on this one."
"Kind of." I agreed. "Were you really going to gas half the city on your own?" I asked.
"No." She said, "And not just because I couldn't figure out the dose balance with mass aerosolization." She turned back to the lab table. "I at least wanted to make enough for my mom. Get it to her using my power if I had to."
I shook my head. "Addictol breaks associations, but it doesn't induce avoidance. You can clear all the mental and physical effects of addiction, but if someone doesn't change their environment or behavior they're probably going to backslide eventually."
"Eventually." Aisha said. "It would be at least a little while without…" She let out a breath. "Fuck."
I smiled. "I'm surprised you needed the lab."
She looked at the worktable and shook her head. "Don't trust myself with chemistry this complicated. Not with my alchemy."
That was fair. Addictol was a monstrously complex compound. Actually a cluster of related drugs to allow blanket removal of every aspect even associated with addiction. It was insanely comprehensive on a level that was difficult to believe. Just accomplishing a single aspect of the drug reliably would be a monstrous undertaking, even for me. Frankly, to pull off something like this I'd probably have needed to cheat with magic or divine aspects.
Instead it could all be done with a single inhaled dose. One treatment to completely purge the negative effects of any addiction. It was a miracle, a technical accomplishment on par with any of the most advanced technologies I had received from that power.
And it had yielded a similar impact. As much as we were working to keep Tybalt away from the combat drugs, those weren't the extent of drug culture from that world. Without needing to worry about withdrawal or addiction a whole host of enhancement drugs had been freely available on the market.
Use would have been commonplace, with products like Mentats probably explaining at least some of the improbable advancements in technology that were accomplished. But common use of addictive drugs meant common use of Addictol. And while the treatment was amazing, that didn't change the fact that you were drastically altering your mind with every dose.
Furthermore, it broke every kind of addiction. That was a consequence of how powerful Addictol was. It covered narcotics, of course, but also alcohol, gambling, sugar, shopping, sex, and really any compulsive behavior built around the kind of negative loop that could end up being pursued to a destructive level. The idea of people using Addictol as a diet drug felt strange, but it was fully capable of clearing compulsions and psychological associations to food and rebalancing the body's systems and insulin response. If anything, that probably meant it was used even more often, and that was the problem.
The treatment broke compulsive behaviors and changed emotional responses, but that's not a reset to zero. Altering the way you reacted to an experience wasn't the same as it not happening. People who were regularly going through cycles of addiction and treatment were building up layers of altered experiences, and that had to have had a serious effect on them.
Given how… 'particular' some parts of that world were, there was probably a good reason to be cautious about Addictol.
"I mean, it's simple to make." Aisha continued. "Simpler than something like that probably should be."
"Kind of a common feature for that world's technology." I said.
"Of course." She grinned for the first time since I'd begun speaking with her. "Got to fit it into video game crafting mechanics."
I groaned but didn't take the bait.
"It's probably the product of refinement over extensive mass production." I said. "Most of the medical technology is fairly mature and kind of ridiculously optimized." I mean, the stimpacks alone would have been revolutionary if I had gotten them any earlier in my career.
"Right." Aisha looked at me. "But we are going to use this?" She asked. "It's not some world changing technology that's going to sit on the shelf for a week because we can't risk fucking up thinker models."
"No, we're going to use this." I assured her.
"Yeah, but when?" She asked, glancing back at the chemistry equipment. "I get you want to, but do you have an actual date, or just the intention?"
"After the Slaughterhouse Nine." I said with certainty. "We're going to address all the damage they caused in their career. Erase the impact they had on the world to the absolute limit we are capable of. That means healing and repairing damage, but it doesn't stop there."
I pulled up some of Survey's impact assessments of the Nine's actions and shared them with Aisha. Her eyes glowed blue as she reviewed the report. Still using a personal display screen rather than the neural interface of her nanites.
"The Nine's actions hit people hard. Entire communities, even people removed from them by multiple degrees have been devastated. And some of them…" I left that hanging as Aisha read through the assessments.
Having your entire life destroyed by a wandering gang of untouchable murderers tends to have adverse knock-on effects, often involving a slow or not-so-slow descent into substance abuse. We didn't have comprehensive data on everyone who had ended up in that kind of place because of the Nine, but Survey was as comprehensive as she could be.
"So this is the start." Aisha said. "Get Addictol to these people, then push for wider distribution once people know it can fix things."
"Give them the opportunity, if they want to take it." I said. I could tell Aisha would still have preferred to distribute the treatment via crop-duster over every major city, but she at least seemed to have accepted the timeline as presented.
"We're also going to need to be careful about how this is used and distributed." I said. "It's completely optimized for countering addiction, but given the potency and the kind of pathways it's acting on, someone is probably going to try to abuse or modify the formula."
"Normally I'd say no one would be stupid enough to risk that, but it's a big world out there with a lot of stupid people." She said with a slight grin. I nodded. "So what are you thinking? Monitoring? Tracking of every dose? Have a little talk with anyone who decides they want to try to use it to play Heartbreaker light?"
That was the specific association I was the most concerned about. Given what my trigger was going to be, Addictol was aligned with it to an almost disturbing degree. I knew exactly how bad this kind of mental alteration could get and I was not taking chances with what could happen.
"For something this serious, it might actually warrant a curse." I said. Aisha's eyebrows rose at the suggestion.
"What, doom on anyone who tries to abuse or undermine your works?" She asked. I shrugged. "You can do that?"
"For this? Definitely." A curse was fundamentally an act of malice. You couldn't put energy into a curse without real conviction on the matter. For this? For a potentially life changing treatment that was one idiot away from turning into a crime against humanity? Oh yes. There was no shortage of conviction, and I had malice to spare.
"I'm glad you decided not to drug your mother." Tetra said, suddenly between me and Aisha. And reminding both of us that she had technically been here the entire time. Aisha took the 'intrusion' with good grace.
"Yeah, well, he made a good point. And I know you were all trying to make the same point, but…" She huffed. "Anyway, things are good at the other end?"
"The camp's doing well. I'm connected to the hostages and a lot of the PRT staff. There's a lot of concern, but they're really happy to have the bombs gone and like what Matrix provided for them." She explained.
"And it was okay? I mean, for you to connect like that?" Aisha asked. "I know it's different, but I mean…"
"Just being there is enough for a connection. Physical contact strengthens it, but just talking to someone is enough to be able to know everything said to them from that point on." I explained. Rather than being put off, Tetra was visibly proud of the fact that she could connect so easily.
"Uh, right." Aisha said. "And that's not too much? I mean, all those conversations, everything people are doing and saying."
"It's fine." Tetra said. "I don't process information the same way humans do. Being really connected feels normal, not overwhelming. It actually gets easier with more connections. Low numbers are distracting, but enough kind of becomes like… kind of a texture?"
Aisha blinked. "So kind of loses focus? Like looking at a Waldo book instead of a picture of two or three people?"
"Not really losing focus, but maybe? It's more general and stable when there's more connections, and better connections." She shook her head. "Not like the connections from people watching the videos from the show."
"Yeah, I can't believe you were able to get anything from those." Aisha said.
"Not much, but it's still something." Tetra said. "Probably the weakest I have, but it's still there."
Life fiber nature combined with divine craftsmanship. It was a reminder that Tetra's species was designed to simultaneously link to the population of an entire planet. That was the baseline of her abilities before my own crafting powers came into place. Given the fact that life fibers didn't seem to believe in limits, it was anyone's guess where she would end up.
The forming of connections could be seen as excessive, but literally the only way to prevent it would be to completely isolate Tetra from any interaction. The ethics around intrusive surveillance were a minefield, but that was somewhat moderated by Tetra's very inhuman perception of the world. In the hands of a normal person, or even Survey, that kind of connection would have been intrusive in the extreme, but Tetra seemed to be able to process things differently.
At least for the moment. Things were developing fast and there was no way to tell where this would go. The connections were potentially abusive, but so far had managed to stay beneath that threshold.
"Right." Aisha said, then glanced back at the chemistry equipment. She made an adjustment, then took a step back. "I guess I can mothball this for now so you don't need to worry about me running off and dosing people."
"It was good work." I said in encouragement. "But when the time comes the Matrix will be happy to make as much Addictol as we need."
"I bet they will." Aisha said. "You're not going to step up for this?"
"No." I said firmly. "My work runs away from me. Addictol is already incredibly comprehensive. I don't want to imagine what it would be like after quality increases and divine aspects are imbued to it."
"Would be interesting to see." Aisha said. "Maybe you should start chasing the libations with it. You know, head off any drinking problems you might have caused for the Olympian Gods."
"I seriously doubt I would be the CAUSE of any drinking problems on the Olympians' part. I'm pretty sure they have that covered on their own." I said with a smile.
"Fine, any drinking problems you've enabled." She snarked back, with Tetra grinning at the comment. "Though I guess I should get back to work in the Prismatic Laboratory."
I nodded reluctantly. You'd think having the principles of an alien science made available to you would provide some level of comfort or security, but so far the consequence of learning more about the nature and potential of those impossible colors had been a fresh set of concerns, with more blooming with every breakthrough.
"Do you need any help with that?" I asked.
"Yeah, you can get out of here so we can pick up the pace again." Aisha said, not quite joking. "But seriously, the duplicates have it covered. They can handle the breakdown of the principles. Plus, it's a fresh batch and they're always easier to work with before they hit overtime."
"They're that bad past their normal duration?" I asked.
"They're different, and you can tell they're uncomfortable, but they keep pushing through because they think what they're working on is important." She looked up at me with a grin. "Honestly, I didn't realize that kind of thing made it through to them. Thought the destructive overwork thing was always left with you."
"Ha." I said flatly. It didn't help that Tetra was clearly in full agreement.
From my own memories, the breakthroughs weren't just limited to the impossible colors. They extended to the burning language, the life energy of the amber samples, and even mechanics of souls. A mass amount of potential with a similarly massive amount of concerns to go with it. I was fairly certain that we could come up with some stable and moderately ethical use for what we were learning, one that might even be able to address the problem of Jack's influence, but we would also discover a plethora of monstrously unethical uses for those principles on the way there.
If Aisha and my duplicates were going to find the morally neutral needle in that haystack of crimes against God, nature, and humanity they would need as much time as I could give them.
I paused as I felt the Forge make a connection to a cluster of motes from the Personal Reality constellation, securing all of them while consuming all the reach I had accumulated. It was one small mote and two larger ones, with each building on the previous. The Workshop rumbled around us as the changes set in.
"What was that?" Aisha asked. "Something added."
"More of a service than a physical item." I explained. "We have grocery delivery for the Workshop."
"Seriously? That's a thing?" Aisha asked.
I nodded. "Three items. Basic Nutrition, A Little Less Basic, and A Lot Less. First gives a once per week delivery of groceries for everyone in the Workshop. The other two improve it."
"Everyone?" Aisha asked.
"Well, everyone who counts enough to get a house." I said. "So the Kerbals are included, but the Wishes, Skulls, and Titans are left out."
"Makes sense. But we aren't really hurting for food, so this one of those things where it's redundant before it arrives?" Aisha asked.
"Not exactly." I said, cycling through my awareness of the new power while my duplicates worked to update the rest of the team. "First level is basically nothing to us at this point. Fifty dollars of assorted basics per person."
"Fifty dollars?" She asked.
I shrugged. "More or less. It's kind of pegged to current valuation of food. The second level increases the budget to a hundred and fifty dollars a person and lets you set general preferences, mostly based on the diet of specific cultures."
"Right, so the third is another budget increase and more options?" Aisha asked.
"A lot more." I said. "That's actually what makes it stand out. You get three hundred dollars' worth of food and you can specify percentage breakdowns of different types of food for each delivery and pick any culture you want as the source." I said.
Aisha nodded. "Okay, that's not too bad. I mean, it's not going to come close to your superfoods, but I guess it's interesting." She looked at me. "Right? What am I missing here?"
"Any culture." I repeated. Aisha blinked as she processed what I meant.
"So like, food from anyone, anywhere?" She asked.
I nodded. "As long as they exist." I said with a grin.
"Any place on Earth? Any place in history?" Aisha said.
"Not that limited." I said smugly. Aisha gave me a confused look. "My duplicates have tied in the preferences from the Central Control to the workshop's network. You can pull up the list."
Aisha looked at me, then manifested a holographic screen. She looked at it, then scrolled through the options. Then scrolled some more. Then shifted to a map view. Then to a timeline.
"Shit." She said, "There's really everything here. You could do a paleo diet with food from the Paleolithic. Like, actual mammoth and stuff."
Which we might be able to clone. I mean, I had other ways of bringing back extinct megafauna, but this was still an unexpected avenue.
"So everyone can just pick from whatever they want?" Aisha asked, flicking through more options. "Even if it's the-"
"Maasai." Tetra said, making her own selection. From my awareness of the inventory of the Workshop, I registered the first delivery of groceries appearing in the shared kitchen of our residence in the 'Lofty Loft'.
"Maasai?" Aisha asked.
"Blood is part of their diet." She explained. "Mixed with milk, but I really wanted to try it since I found out."
"Well, that's good." Aisha said diplomatically. "And yeah. I mean, still not that big compared to the rest of what you've gotten from this place, but I get your point." Once again, she looked at my expression and paused. "What?"
"You might want to check the second set of options." I said.
"What set? This is the entire planet." Aisha said.
"Our planet, yes." I said.
"Oh, so Earth Aleph?" She asked, finding the option. Then paused. "Not just Earth Aleph." She looked up at me. "This is a thing?"
"Apparently." I said with a shrug. The deliveries covered every culture on Earth and every one I've encountered. Apparently, that counted options from the worlds my powers were derived from.
The grocery delivery service allowed you to select food from any of the worlds of my powers. A lot of those were just different versions of Earth, but there were some outlandish options mixed in. I was able to get energon snacks from Transformers or blue Bantha milk from Star Wars.
Well, not at the same time. You were limited to one culture per delivery and one delivery per week. You could set preferences and even request specific brands if you knew about them, but it didn't let you build a precise shopping list.
Even so, this was a cultural goldmine for Survey and to a lesser extent Garment. Since neither of them needed to eat, their decisions were definitely being geared towards options that allowed for the greatest exploration of the cultures in question. In fact, given the limited food needs of the group as a whole, most of the orders were being made out of curiosity.
Meanwhile, Tybalt had already put in requests for food from the world Felynes originated from, which arrived with an impressive array of large cuts of meat. Based on his excitement, I doubted the delivery would actually last the week. Probably a consequence of the volume being calibrated to an adult human, rather than individually tailored.
"Um, the 'weekly' thing? Is that 'weeks' in here, or 'weeks' out there?" Aisha asked. "Cause there's a pretty big difference."
"It goes off Workshop time." I explained. "However this system is built, it's not going to let you starve to death just because time acceleration was left on."
"Huh." Aisha said. "So it works out to a little more than one delivery per day." She looked at me. "Assuming somebody is willing to actually leave the house for once."
She put on such an exaggerated tone of voice with her little admonishment that I couldn't help but smile. "I'm just wrapping up, then I'll be out of your hair." Frankly, I had enough to deal with outside the workshop anyway.
"You setting your shopping list first?" Aisha asked.
I shook my head. "Survey got a plan to work through as many of the settings we aren't sure about to see if we can start filling in some of the blanks. I'm putting my orders towards that."
"Couldn't you just do that in one go with the Kerbals?" Aisha asked. "I mean, they don't eat either."
"They already put their orders in for junk food from Wasteland." Tetra said.
"Really?" Aisha asked Tetra. "Why do they want…" She paused and looked back at the chemistry setup. "Preservatives and radioactive compounds, right? They're going to make rocket fuel out of Sugar Bombs and Nuka-Cola."
"Probably." I said. "What about you? Made your choice?"
"Yeah." She said, looking down at the screen and picking an option. "I want to see what counts as a grocery run in Lothlorien."
"Elf food?" I asked.
"Yeah. Well, it was going to be that or Khazad-dûm, but dwarf stuff will probably come with beer, so…"
"Yeah, not happening." I said. "Enjoy your elf groceries." I checked through my awareness of the Workshop's inventory as the delivery arrived. "Huh. They have eight types of tea."
"Fuck yeah!" She explained, doing a little fist pump. I smiled and shook my head. Then that smile faltered. "What?" Aisha asked. "Can't be another power already."
"Call from my sister." I said as my digital awareness of the ringing phone continued in my head.
"Ah." Aisha said, exchanging a look with Tetra. "You going to tell her to fuck off?"
That got a weak smile from me. "I might. Depends on what it's about." I shook my head. "I'm going to take this in Garment's backrooms. Let you get back to accelerated time."
Because I'm sure the entire Workshop would get right back to their active projects and not sit around spectating or hypothesizing about what was happening with this call. That was the thing about Survey's level of awareness and Tetra's connections. I was exactly as subjected to it as anyone else. Probably more so, considering there was actual investment on my part.
Survey's obsessive monitoring did have some advantages. She was able to inform me that Alena was calling from work, at the end of her lunch hour. Given the situation, this was unlikely to be something conducted at the specific behest of my mother.
On a slightly more intrusive note, Survey did confirm the number of calls between Alena and my parents, both home phone and cell phones. Not as many as I would have expected, and the fact that it seemed to have dropped off after our last conversation was definitely a good sign.
It was obvious that Alena was stuck in the middle of this. I felt bad about her situation, but I was not responsible for it. It wasn't easy for her, but it wasn't easy for me either. Not easy to deal with and not easy to leave, but I didn't regret that in the slightest. I could be sympathetic to what Alena was going through, but there was no way I was going to cave on any issue.
I steadied myself in one of the back offices in the expanded rooms of Garment's studio and answered the call.
"Hello Alena."
"Jozef." She said, letting out a sigh. "At least you're alright."
"Why wouldn't I be?" I asked.
"The cape fights?" She said in an exasperated voice. "The ones yesterday and last night? I know you don't watch the news, but you have to have heard about them."
"The ones that were broken up with everyone either driven off or captured?" I asked.
"This isn't a joke. Everyone knows the city's dangerous. Mom and Dad are worried that this is going to set everything off again." She said.
I took a breath. "Are you just calling to try to get me to move home again?" I asked.
"I'm not." She said, and actually sounded sincere. "It would make everything easier, but that's not what this is about."
There were shadows of acknowledgement of our last conversation. Clearly whatever conviction she took from that had been worn down to a degree, but at least she wasn't completely falling back into old tactics.
"Then what is this about?" I asked.
"Dad wants to see you." She said.
"Dad?" I asked. "Just Dad?"
Normally, my suspicion would have been off the chart, but I could literally see through manipulation. There was some manipulation here, but frankly, looking back at my family interaction, it would have been suspicious if it had been absent. I could tell she was at least being sincere about this, or though she was. And it probably wasn't a setup. Not because my family was better than that, but because it wasn't the kind of tactic they would employ.
"About what?" I asked directly.
"Mostly to make sure you're okay, since nobody's seen you since the start of the month." Alena said. "Since everyone knows you're angry at Mom and you won't call them, Dad wants to meet you for lunch at the Diner."
Alena sounded almost jealous, and I understood why. Time away from Mom was a rare commodity growing up. A conversation with my dad might not be pleasant, but it would be a lot less confrontational than if my mom was there.
Lunch at Diner meant the Blueway Cafe, located on the outskirts of Captain's Hill or the beginning of Brockton Bay, depending on how you mapped things out. It was a simple and uncomplicated place with good burgers and excellent milkshakes, but that was probably nostalgia talking. It was a fixture when I was growing up, particularly when it was up to my dad to choose the restaurant.
Of course, he liked it a lot more than my mom, which honestly might have been part of the appeal. It was fairly blatant nostalgia bait, a base level of manipulation that you didn't need superpowers to see through. In fairness, lunch with my dad was probably the closest thing to a peace offering that my family had.
Plus, the choice of meeting for lunch was probably out of concern that I wasn't eating properly. Well, no. In normal circumstances they'd be concerned I wasn't eating properly. Given the lack of contact and state of the city they were probably convinced I was half starved and being too stubborn to ask for help. That even if this didn't work out the way they hoped, they could at least feel good about making sure I ate a proper meal.
And I hated that those concerns were not entirely unfounded. During my first breakdown I hadn't been in the best state. That was doubly hard when you dealt with people who tended to remember your worst moments and set it as the new baseline going forward.
"Right." I said. "And what else?"
I wasn't even entertaining the idea that this was a social call entirely focused on my wellbeing.
Alena took a breath. "He also wants to talk to you about that whole thing with you working in a garage and doing remote courses to finish your degree."
The idea of remote courses was more of a possibility I had floated than a serious thing I was planning out, but unsurprisingly that was what my parents had latched onto.
"To talk me out of it?" I said, but that didn't feel right. My father wasn't the person who would be sent in to pressure me like that. Back up my mother, sure, but not take point on that.
"He thinks it's a good idea." She said, sounding almost as surprised as I was to hear it. "He said practical experience would be good, since you wanted to go into automotive if the thing with tinker stuff didn't work out."
There was a clear note of derision when she mentioned the tinker support program from Brockton University's fourth year engineering program. It wasn't unwarranted since wanting to work with the Protectorate was generally seen as about as reasonable a career goal as waiting to be an astronaut. If I had stayed in my program I absolutely would have been able to work with tinker tech in my final year, but the chances of that turning into an actual career were abysmally low. It would have been a long shot even for the top of our class, and that wasn't me. My grades were respectable, at least before everything went to hell, but not the kind of thing that got you scouted for PRT support work.
Frankly, automotive had been more of a passing comment that never really resulted in anything. Maybe it would have if I had stayed in the program, but mostly I was surprised my dad remembered that I had expressed an interest in that kind of thing.
Honestly, that probably went a long way to make the entire cover story more believable.
"Right." I said. "And Mom?"
"You know what Mom's like." Alena said. It was a franker statement than I would have expected from her. Possibly a sign that the constant in-between had worn her down. "She had this idea about using your recovery work to help get back in school for the fall."
I blinked. "What?" That was about all I could manage.
I heard her take a breath. If she wasn't making the call from work I was willing to bet things would have been louder and more confrontational, so maybe that was for the best.
"There's been a lot of attention on all the people helping with things after the attacks. Assuming you've been working with one of the actual organizations and not just doing whatever…" She paused, but I didn't dignify that with a response. Eventually she pressed on. "There have been concessions for people who were affected by the attacks and involved with the recovery, including accommodations from the University about enrollment and course schedules."
I quickly pulled up an assessment of what she was talking about. There had been concessions from the university, technically, but it was only mentioned in two articles and a vague statement of intent. Slivers of information buried in a mountain of news about the city. Meaning either my mother had stumbled upon them by chance or she was obsessively monitoring every aspect of the situation.
I think I knew which was more likely. And that's not even getting into the fact that if I hadn't gotten my powers I probably wouldn't have been close to ready to dive back into full time classes in the fall.
"She thinks that just because I helped out, the University's going to welcome me back?" The fact that I had been kicked out before the city went to hell went unsaid.
"It's probably worth a try?" I could hear how tired she was. I had the feeling she had made the same arguments I was making the last time she had spoken to my mother, and had about as much success as you would expect. "At least for now there's a big push to help out, even for normal people. It's not like you've got one of Garment's jackets or anything, but there's still a chance."
"What about Garment's jackets?" I asked.
"She handed them out to everyone who helped with the event. They're all personalized, so it's a really big deal."
"I know. I have one." I said.
"What?" Alena said. "You're serious?" A sliver of energy began leaking into her voice.
"Yeah." I said plainly.
"God, I heard some people got them for helping with the roads around the Regency Center and stuff like that… Do you know how lucky you are?" She asked. Once again, the volume would probably have been ten times as much if she wasn't at the end of her lunch hour. "Please tell me it's still in the envelope?"
"Uh, no?" I said.
"Of course." She muttered. "Do you have any idea what the unopened ones are selling for? You seriously wasted it like that?"
"Well, I kind of had to wear it." I said.
"You just had to wear it? You couldn't wait?" She shot back.
"No. Everyone was wearing them at the event." I said.
"What?" She said.
"The event. They were basically a staff uniform there." I explained.
"I know. But what does that have to do with anything? It's not like you were…" She dropped off and there was the sound of clicking. My technology sense was happy to inform me that she was navigating to the event's website, then to the volunteer list. And then to my name.
"You were there?" She said in a whispered hiss. "Technical setup? You did technical work at Garment's event?"
"Yeah?" I said. It wasn't like I could deny it when it was online.
"Why didn't you tell me? Do you know what kind of difference this would have made?" She asked.
"I've been kind of busy." I said. "It was a tight schedule."
I heard her let out a breath. "That's… fair." Well, as long as she thought so. "I guess it explains why you didn't call." Really, so magnanimous of her. "But you know what this means? How big it is?"
"I know the event was a big success. It's already made a serious difference for the city." I said.
"Not that." She said, then seemed to hear herself. "I mean, that's good, but there's a lot of prestige from something like this. Exactly like Mom said." Ouch. "There was an article about people getting financial support or job offers from their work at the event."
"Well, yeah." I said.
"What?" Alena asked. "You're saying… Someone offered you a job? You?"
"Well, contract work if they had something similar to the kind of setup that was used at the Regency Center." I explained.
"Why didn't you say anything?" She asked.
"Because I didn't take it?" I said.
"You turned them down?" She demanded.
"No, I just haven't reached out. It's not a big deal."
"It's a huge deal. In your situation, with everyone worrying about you, what possible reason could you have to turn down something like that?"
"It was from the Elite." I said.
"What?" She said, "You… You can't be serious. You expect me to believe that Uppercrust, Uppercrust just…"
"It wasn't Uppercrust." I said. "It was his head of media relations. He checked the setup work I did to make sure everything was ready for when Uppercrust got there. He said to contact him if I was interested in contract work." I explained. "It's not even going to be full time. And besides, it's the Elite."
Alena sighed. "And you're sure about this? He wasn't just being polite?"
"I have his business card. I mean, do you want me to send you a picture to prove it? I can hold up today's newspaper as well. Do the whole hostage photo thing."
"Don't be so dramatic." She scoffed. "Jozef, you should really consider that offer."
"From the Elite?" I asked. Seriously, in what world would that kind of association reduce the amount of concern my family had for my situation.
"Uppercrust isn't like any of the California branches that get coverage from fights with the Protectorate. Most of the offices on this side of the country aren't really bad. Even my company has contracts with some of them."
"Maybe." I said noncommittally.
"Maybe." She said, "You have an offer for a real job without even a college degree and you're saying 'maybe'."
"I already have an offer for a job." I reminded her. "And I have no idea what kind of work this would be. It could be out of state, or one event every three months, or completely fall through because I don't have a degree."
"It's still worth looking into." She insisted, then let out another breath. "Just, don't dismiss it, alright?"
"I promise I'll hold on to the card." I said. It wasn't a commitment, but it seemed to satisfy her.
Normally I wouldn't care about justifying myself to her, but I could at least be sympathetic. Once again, the manipulation sense was there, and it was only running for a single point. She wanted to get me to that lunch. She was also hoping to minimize the amount of in-between she had to deal with, but was mostly focused on that one objective.
"Thank you." She said, "And are you going to meet Dad for lunch?"
I let out a breath. "When?"
"Saturday, at twelve thirty." She said.
That was something that might actually be doable. Or it could fail horribly in a tremendous pileup of chaos. There were too many elements balanced on a razor's edge and I didn't know if taking out the Nine would set any of them off.
"What, are you busy?" She asked.
"You have no idea how busy I am." I said.
"I know it was probably a lot of work helping with the event, but things have to be easier for you now. Or are you caught up in something else?" She asked, with the implication that I was either being taken advantage of or intruding into a situation where I wasn't welcome.
It wasn't something that I owed her an explanation on, so I didn't give one. And honestly, it would be nice to see my dad. At least in the absence of my mom. I mean, anything 'we' decided was going to have to be argued with her all over again, which was why I was very happy to maintain my distance, but this? I could handle this.
"I'll go, but I have a condition." I said.
"You're getting a free meal with Dad and you have more demands?" She asked.
"Yes." I said, ignoring the implication and attempted guilt trip. "I want my violin."
"What?" She asked.
"My old violin? The one Mom's always threatening to donate since I stopped playing it? I want Dad to bring it for me." I said.
"Why would you want that?" She asked. "You know it's not worth anything, right? If you need money you can just ask."
"I'm not planning to sell it." I said.
"But why? You always hated… Oh." She said, "It's Boundless Music, isn't it?"
"What?" I asked.
"That music channel that works with Garment. I heard lots of people are taking up the violin because of it." She said confidently. "You're really planning on playing again?"
I knew full well what she thought of my musical talents, or lack thereof.
"I might." It wasn't like I owed her an answer. Honestly, this was more for sentimental reasons than anything else. "Is that a problem?"
There was another sigh and I had the feeling I was being humored. I didn't let it bother me.
"Fine. If Dad brings your old violin, you'll meet him for lunch? Let everyone know you're alright?" She asked.
"If he brings it." I reiterated, but she didn't seem to give much weight to my words. Oh well. In the past I might be at a disadvantage, but I had the ability to monitor the situation in advance and the capacity to walk away if they tried anything. I didn't think they would, not with my dad involved, but it was refreshing to know that I had the conviction to take a stand if I needed to.
"Thank you." She said. And almost sounded sincere. "And congratulations, on working on that event. I don't know how much of that was you, but the whole thing was really incredible."
"Thanks." I said. "And yeah, it was great to see everything come together like that."
"Right, the broadcast…" She paused. "Wait, you were AT the event? There was the sound of clicking. "It says you did setup."
"Setup ran until the event started. And I wasn't on the show floor. They had me parked next to the media room to help with anything that needed adjustments."
"But you got to see it live?" She asked. "That whole thing with the banners and tapestry?"
"Yeah, that was really impressive." I agreed.
There was another sigh. "Jozef, you have no idea how lucky you were."
Honestly, she had no idea how lucky I was, but then again she had no idea luck was a tangible force that could be accumulated.
"Look, I have to go. I'll let Mom and Dad know about Saturday, unless YOU want to…"
"I'm not calling home." I said in a calm voice.
"Of course." She sounded more tired than irritated. "I'll take care of it. Just try to stay safe, and seriously, congratulations. That whole thing was incredible and you were lucky to be a part of it."
"I know. Goodbye Alena." I said. My sister hung up, leaving me to process what I had just agreed to.
If I had actually agreed to anything. In the event that tensions boiled over or things came to a head in the city I'd either have to cancel or send a replica droid. Or one of my duplicates. No, definitely a replica droid, providing the chaos wasn't enough to warrant shutting down the entire city, which again was a real possibility.
Personally, I didn't want to deal with any family stuff, but I was at least willing to entertain my father on this. He was always easier to deal with, especially without the rest of the family around. In all likelihood he'd be coming with a list of concerns and talking points from my mother, but would at least be willing to hear my side of things. Probably not actually do anything about them, but at least not make them worse.
Yeah, even with my father, this had the potential to be extremely uncomfortable. Probably another subject for Dr. Campbell tonight. And at least the meandering delays of the Slaughterhouse Nine meant I got another session to try to work through the substantial backlog of issues that had cropped up in the last two days. And the unaddressed points from earlier. And anything that might come up from what I had to deal with during the rest of the day.
Suddenly an hour didn't seem like nearly enough time.
Speaking of my schedule for the rest of the day, I was ready to head out and meet with Flechette, and coincidentally Weld as well. The two of them were on an extended foot patrol through areas of the city that really didn't need to be patrolled. Which, considering they were Wards, was probably the point.
It was honestly kind of weird seeing Wards in Brockton Bay treated with the kind of kid gloves that were expected from other departments. Not because there was anything wrong with keeping kids safe or at least well supervised in the event of danger, but because it served to highlight just how far outside the norm the city had gotten over the years.
That calm, safe, and lengthy route was an advantage for me. Plenty of opportunities to approach and speak with her about topics that were probably going to be a bit heavy for a quiet Thursday afternoon. Considering what I was offering, I couldn't really be oblique in my explanations which meant I would need to get into topics that I would much rather keep out of public circulation.
And away from Jack Slash. Normally, approaching any parahuman with that kind of information this close to the Nine's arrival would be an unacceptable risk, but I wasn't in the same situation I had been this morning. Fleet had massively expanded his efforts in Passenger Space thanks to the insight possible from Certified Tech. While it wasn't enough to reverse the effect of Jack's power, it should be enough to block new information from reaching him.
His passenger was being closely monitored with custom built ships and stations designed specifically for all the technological insight I possessed for passenger space and its communication mechanics. Every interaction would be watched, monitored, and filtered. Survey was observing Jack with a level of fidelity that made polygraphs seem vague and unintrusive. If there was even a hint that he was being tipped off we would know and be ready to abort. Or step in, whichever was called for.
And on top of all of that, you had my duplicates, both operating in accelerated time and both with the benefits of all of my powers and knowledge. With one in the Spiritron Core and one linked to the Final Frontier they would be able to analyze any developments and respond in a fraction of a second.
This was a risk, but it was a calculated risk. It was something I needed to do, and it would be a lot more difficult to approach Flechette in the wake of taking out the Slaughterhouse Nine than it would during the calm before the storm.
I reached out to my workshop, confirming the final set of preparations. Everything was in place, as prepared as it could be. It was time to talk to Flechette.
Addendum Lily
Lily followed Weld through some of the less damaged parts of Brockton Bay. Her new cape fluttered behind her as they walked, occasionally sent into a dramatic flourish by a breeze blowing in from the bay. She was still adjusting to the cape, but honestly loved the impact it had. It was light enough to flow with her movements and stay out her way in combat, but fell into a stately shape during slower moments like this.
It was probably the only good thing about the slower moments she was caught in. The current route was taking her and Weld on a foot patrol that looped from the PRT headquarters through downtown, then in a loop along the Boardwalk and surrounding areas, working their way back to the HQ. Effectively it was an afternoon stroll masquerading as hero work.
She had done her share of slower patrols in her time, and given how the Brockton Bay Wards had been deployed in the past, she could understand the push for more restrained assignments. Still, the entire situation felt stifling.
A big part of that was the fact that she was patrolling on foot, on the ground. She missed running between buildings, setting zip lines and using her power to cheat at balance and friction. Even on relatively safe routes, that kind of pace was always exhilarating.
That was before she had been knocked out during the Ungodly Hour. Completely incapacitated by an effect they still couldn't identify. In all likelihood it was some one-off event, a bad reaction or side effect of some brief exposure to everything that was being thrown around that night, but even so, she was 'grounded' until they were sure it wouldn't happen when she was leaping between buildings.
It was frustrating, but the more sedate pace at least gave her a chance to reflect on the city. And to interact with the locals, which was probably the point of this. Something between public relations and a general reassurance. Showing that the heroes were still out there, ready to support the city. That things weren't totally out of control.
Though honestly she wasn't sure if their presence was needed, or if it was doing any good. She was still surprised by Brockton Bay. Moving to a tiny city, at least compared to New York, had been seen as something of a vacation posting. A chance to get away and take things slower.
Kind of ironic, all things considered. Instead she got hit with every insanity the city could throw at her. Everything that had been building up and everything that had come to a head. The culture of the Wards, the obvious conflicts and tension between the Protectorate, PRT, and city agencies, all the gang conflicts coming to a head, and through all that the people of the city who had endured everything and kept enduring it, no matter how bad things got.
She never thought she'd see it, but there were honestly people who have a decent claim at being harder than New Yorkers, especially after what they'd gone through over the past month.
As she smiled and exchanged greetings, shaking hands, and signing autographs, she had to wrestle with a level of guilt for the entire situation. She knew it wasn't anything that would be assigned to her, but that didn't change the fact that the instigating event of all of this was that moment when she had jumped at the offer of a transfer.
Because of that, March had followed her to Brockton Bay. There was a time when she would have thought of that as a minor annoyance, but that was when no one knew how strong March actually was. Not back when she was running around with gangs of kids that were mostly spraying graffiti or knocking over stores.
And March had arrived in the city before she did. Which meant she had gotten the information ahead of the public announcement. Probably as soon as the decision was made. She still wasn't sure where the leaks had been, but it was a major issue for the New York Protectorate. There were definitely worse leaks in the Brockton Bay PRT, but that was hardly comforting.
Of course, with March's power there are a hundred ways she could have pulled off something like that. The same coordination power that played the city like a puppet had allowed March to learn internal details from the New York branch, letting her leave the moment she found out where Flechette was heading and giving her enough time to ingratiate herself with the ABB. Enough time to amplify their opening attack.
That was on March, but Flechette couldn't help but feel responsible for bringing all this down on the city. Not just because March had followed her, but because of why she had taken the transfer in the first place.
She had jumped when they suggested it, and not for any good reasons. Things with Jenn had just fallen apart. Things were messy. Worse than messy. The word 'messy' didn't capture the disaster that was encapsulated by a bad breakup with a coworker and fellow cape.
There was a reason people caution against dating on the same Wards team. In New York, with multiple teams spread across the city, it didn't seem like it would be that bad, but that had just been wishful thinking on her part.
It also didn't help when you were still technically in the closet, at least in your public identity. When that's the only time you were consistently spending with your girlfriend, it just got worse.
She'd tried to manage things, handle them with the same determination and commitment that she applied to everything in her cape life, but that just made things worse. Too aggressive, too forceful, too controlling. And so, when things fell apart, it was all on her. Even the people who were sympathetic to how things turned out seemed to feel that way.
Her options were to spend her time jumping between New York Ward teams to try to put some distance between herself and Jenn, or take the coward's option and get out of the city at the first opportunity.
All this devastation unleashed because she had been running from a failed relationship. A failure that even her friends admitted was mostly on her. She arrived with the distant hope of starting fresh, of finding someone new, but with a small team there weren't many options.
Probably a blessing, considering Sophia's personality.
Though at least there was Garment. Even with all the guilt associated with WHY she had come to the city and everything that had followed because of that, Garment was a bright point. One of the only bright points in those first days.
Spending time with her was incredible. She was wonderful and dynamic and an absolute force of nature, but at times frustrating. Not because of anything she did, just because of the reality of interacting with her. The uncertainty that hovered around any potential relationship was even worse than things normally would be. Even text communication didn't help. Single word replied to texts, usually with substantial delays. It was the kind of thing that Lily would normally have taken as a bad sign, at least if it was anyone else but Garment. But Garment wasn't like anyone else.
She remembered the first time she had met her. The end of that first night's patrol, chasing after Sophia with the girl's behavior and personality slowly eroding her patience. And then Garment. That flare of a battle-damaged dress as she restrained a pair of muggers with precisely controlled ribbons. That presence that filled the dark alleyway, overwhelming Sophia's attempts at posturing and absolutely commanding the situation without a single word.
It was an incredible moment. The best one of what turned out to be a very bad night. An incredible new cape, and Frechette had been the one to make contact with her. She had entertained some rather simple hopes about Garment joining the Protectorate and working alongside them. About how things might have gone.
Might have. They took a different route. One that was still very Garment. She had taken control of her own life, making a place for herself independent of the Protectorate. It was admirable, particularly with how much she had accomplished. Even before the previous day's show.
That had been a lot. So much more than what Lily had been expecting. Just a few days of notice and Garment managed to throw together something incredible. Something bigger and grander than major events from New York. The only one that she could think of that even came close was the Met Gala, and that was barely comparable.
The whole thing was overwhelming. It was basically confirmation of Garment's thinker power. Her coordination-based thinker power that had been suspected since her first public appearance. That was a pile of red flags for a lot of analysts. An unknown thinker power was the kind of thing that should be concerning for Flechette as well, but honestly she could see signs of it in how Garment handled herself.
She could also recognize the places where Garment struggled and the way she embraced the things she was passionate about. All the good she was doing from her little acts to the grand event she had organized.
It didn't make Flechette worried she was falling under the influence of a powerful thinker. If anything it made her worry that she was out of her league. Things like that were different for heroes, but even so, it was clear that Garment was not the minor fashion cape that people had assumed. Just from the display of that event, she had made herself known as a major power in the city, and a player on that national level.
She was happy for Garment, but had to admit it was a little intimidating. She barely had a handle on what their relationship was, and suddenly Garment was a national figure while Flechette was still Flechette, just with a very nice cape and a medical diagnosis that kept her off the rooftop.
She didn't like the idea that she was misreading things, that she might have been from the start. Just a silly girl with aspirations beyond her who was being humored for the moment, only to be dismissed with a pat on the head as Garment moved on to bigger things.
But that wasn't Garment. Never Garment. It wasn't fair to even entertain those thoughts, but after Jenn everything had been thrown into doubt. Everything she thought she knew had been turned upside down after that disaster. She was desperate to make anything work, if just to prove that she could.
And that wasn't easy with Garment. It was frustrating, but not because of Garment, or not because of anything Garment did. Or anything she could do. Lily just couldn't connect past a certain level. It was a fundamental problem. Something Garment literally couldn't counter manage on her own, despite everything she was capable of. Expecting her to be able to just ignore her limitations or resenting her for not being able to was unreasonable. Lily wanted to be able to connect, but couldn't, or at least couldn't as consistently as some people.
Back at Garment's charity show there had been that new assistant. The frankly stunning black girl from Arcadia, the same school as most of the city's Wards. She looked to be a little younger than Lily and was somehow able to read Garment better than she could hope to.
It was hard not to be intimidated by that. Not just because of her appearance. After all, even Garment's lawyer was stunning on the level of becoming an internet meme. She hadn't seen any signs of interest from Garment to either her lawyer or assistant, but she wasn't sure she had seen interest towards her either.
Well, there was interest, just not that kind of interest. Or maybe not that kind of interest. Definitely different kinds of interest, she just wasn't sure what they were or what they meant.
"You're pensive." Weld said, startling her out of her thoughts.
"Sorry." She said, mechanically smiling at a pedestrian as they walked by.
"You've been doing the patrol on autopilot since we left headquarters." He said.
"Just have a lot on my mind." She said as they continued down the street.
"Right." Weld said. "Do you want to see if we can stop by Garment's Studio after the patrol? Get some of that off your mind?"
She let out a huff, but secretly appreciated the offer. "Probably too much of a deviation. And we should let her recover after the show."
"Garment doesn't need to recover." Weld said. She looked at him and remembered the context. The nature of his own problems with sleep and engagement. The way he could basically shut down without his music collection to help him cope.
"Sorry." She said.
"It's fine." He said. "And it's not too much of a deviation. The patrol route is clear, and the Chicago team is making progress outside that. Everything's more accessible on foot. Plus we don't have to worry about Stalker running off."
"Thank God for that." Lily muttered. She lowered her voice. "Do you know what's happening there?"
"Confined to base on account of something from her civilian life." He said.
"That gets you confined to base?" Lily asked.
"From what I heard it's an issue with a personal cell phone. Security concerns, so they need her standing by. Personally, I think that shit is finally catching up with her." Weld explained, making sure there was no one close enough to overhear.
"I'd bet she's got more than her share." Lily said. A lot of the Brockton Bay Wards played things fast and loose with conventions and regulations, but Sophia was the only one who seemed actively hostile to those guidelines. Of course, she was also actively hostile to the rest of her team, so that wasn't really that surprising.
"So we can definitely fit in a quick visit to Garment's studio." Weld said. "And now that the bribery's done, do you want to tell me what's bothering you?"
She let out a breath. "This." She said, making a vague gesture at the city. "All of this, everything that happened since I came." She lowered her voice. "Because I came."
"Because March came." Weld said, putting things together. "That's March's fault, not yours. And she's gone."
Lily nodded. "And that's a weird thought. I mean, I had to deal with her for so long, but that was like another person compared to what we saw here. Now she's gone, but I keep expecting her to be waiting for me with another team of teenage vandals when I get back to New York."
"Nobody knew what March was, or what she was capable of." Weld said. "I think it's like that with a lot of parahumans. People are starting to realize how little they actually know about what happened in cape conflicts."
Flechette began to nod, then caught something out of the corner of her eye. A figure darting out of sight, back into an alleyway. What looked like a mottled costume was actually part of the person's body. She tensed, but restrained herself. From the angle of the alley Weld had to have seen the figure, and he wasn't reacting. And from the inhuman shape…
"Weld…?" She asked without giving any more of a reaction.
"Case 53." He said. "He's been following us for a couple of blocks, staying out of sight as well as he can. Probably based on known patrol routes."
"Do you know who that was?" She asked as they continued to walk.
He gave a small nod. "Only by reputation, but yeah. Ragamuffin. Hero from Cincinnati. Or maybe former hero." He picked up on her concern and shook his head. "Not villain, just not active. Used to be in the Cincinnati Protectorate, but got drummed out. Power issues and personality conflicts. Also was one of the Case 53s with an obsessive focus. Villain named Darkoff. Few too many embarrassing losses and some conflicts with the administration and he left to 'pursue other options'."
"Did he?" Flechette asked.
"Had a stint on a couple of independent teams, but ran into the same problems as in the Protectorate. Probably here for the same reason as everyone else." He explained.
"You didn't call him?" She asked.
He shook her head. "Word has gone well beyond that." His eyes darted towards another alley mouth, probably the last one where someone could hide discreetly before the city opened up to the Boardwalk. "Word got around. A lot of Case 53s have come to the city. Of course, there's not much of a lead for any of them. They focus on me because no one has any other ideas about what to do, but it's not like I can contact Apeiron for them."
"Not even on PHO?" She asked.
He shook his head. "Not approved to reach out online anymore. At least not without an entire team of thinkers going over everything." He let out a breath that she knew he didn't actually need, meaning it was very much just for show. "When that name thing came up they had me spam his account with questions. It kind of burned-out whatever level of contact I had. Burned the bridge just in time for it to hold up every Case 53 who came to the city."
They continued past the final alley, leaving the former hero Case 53 watching them as they continued towards the Boardwalk. With Weld able to walk in the open and greet people with open arms while Ragamuffin was left behind.
"You feel guilty as well, don't you?" She asked once they had a quiet moment away from the crowds.
"Plenty of that to go around." He said. "But yeah."
He looked down at his metal hand. The dull gray finish barely shimmered in the afternoon sun. In other lighting conditions he could probably pass for an unusually pale person, rather than the solid mass of gleaming metal he had been before.
"As far as most people were concerned, I was the luckiest Case 53. The one who needed that treatment the least, and I got it before anyone else." He shook his head. "I'm the only one who got that treatment."
She nodded. She knew the difference it had made; the things Weld had struggled with and the kind of opportunities that were open to him now, but from an outside perspective it looked like the least affected Case 53 had been the only one lucky enough to get even more benefits.
"The fact that there aren't more treatments is on the PRT, not you." She said quietly. "People know what Apeiron can do. Other departments would have lined up for that kind of thing, not made him a public enemy."
Weld nodded tentatively. "Probably not the kind of thing we should be discussing. There's enough that the local office is going to be dealing with."
"I know." Lily said, leaning against the railing of the Boardwalk. The bay would have looked almost peaceful if not for the wreckage of the Protectorate Headquarters and the damage visible towards the north side of the city. "After everything that happened yesterday, and that story about Fleet last night…"
"Not a story." Weld said. "He faced down the Merchants, Empire, and Teeth. Apparently the Butcher nearly died to the Merchant's blaster."
"Damn." Flechette said.
Weld nodded. "No good videos of the fight. Just a few from members of the Merchants, and those are mostly out of focus or pointed in the wrong direction. Because of that they don't know exactly what happened or how bad it could have been, but it sounds like it was pretty close. Down to the wire close."
"I guess we're just lucky that Apeiron knows when he needs to make an appearance." Lily said.
"They do tend to be unusually fortuitous moments." A voice called from behind her.
Flechette spun around to see Apeiron standing in the middle of the Boardwalk. Apeiron, in his full costume with his military jacket, metal visor, and glowing lock of hair. Apeiron, who was being completely ignored by the rest of the pedestrians on the Boardwalk.
And so were they. Looking around, she could recognize it. The way they hadn't been approached for a handshake, autograph, or picture. The way people weren't even looking at them. Eyes just slid from one side to the next without even registering their presence. Two Wards and the most powerful cape in the country, and they were being completely ignored.
"Weld, Flechette." He said in greeting, his casualness at odds with the significance of his sudden appearance. "I was hoping we could have a chance to talk."
Jumpchain abilities this chapter:
Basic Nutrition (Personal Reality) 100:
This option provides a basic (if minimalist) food delivery for you and all companions (metered for a normal human dietary requirement). This delivery comes once a week and is the kind of thing you'd buy on a very strict budget; Ramen, Peanut Butter, Generic Cereal, Dry Beans, Eggs, Tofu, Fresh Common Fruits & Veggies, Canned Fruits & Veggies, Dry Pasta, Salt, Pepper, Milk, Bottled Water, Rice, Flour, Butter, Barley, etc. (Note, you cannot sell the Salt or Pepper for money.) Essentially the purchasing power of 50 dollars US a week per person.
A Little Less Basic (Personal Reality) 200:
Although not a huge improvement, this raises the basic food allotment to what can be expected for a middle-class working family's budget. You can set it to the kinds of things your home culture might buy… or simply set it to a random sampling of various cultures' food purchases. Honestly, it's fascinating seeing what people buy. Check out Hungry Planet if you can. This is effectively 150 dollars US a week per person, adjusted for cost of living and whatnot. You have very limited brand control.
A Lot Less (Personal Reality) 200:
This A Little Less Basic Upgrade gives you specific cultural (rural France in the 1880s, Moscow under the communists, biblical Israel, etc.) and general purchasing breakdown (X% grains, Y% junk food, Z% fresh fruits, etc.) plus raises the food budget to 300 US dollars purchasing power per person per week. Each week you can change what kind of food delivery you get and where it comes from, including any culture you've jumped into along your travels. This still does not give you direct control of what you get, just a general batch of stuff that fits your requirements. You can specify brands you'd like, however.
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- Location
- Miami
Ooh, food from his jumps could be very interesting from a lore perspective.
Post read edit: yup, called it. Cultural analysis through groceries. I'm so hype for the conversation next chapter, curious whose perspective we'll get it through. And the meeting with his dad! Hopefully his mom doesn't shove her way in.
Post read edit: yup, called it. Cultural analysis through groceries. I'm so hype for the conversation next chapter, curious whose perspective we'll get it through. And the meeting with his dad! Hopefully his mom doesn't shove her way in.
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- Location
- colombia
Realitu upgrades worry me,because they are repeteable and have no cap
Past a certain point it feels redudant
For example take the upsize ones
Waiting 2 months for a roll just to get "and now the systems sized plane filled with nothing,is now bigger but still unused as always" is just padding the wordcount that is not relevant to the story nor will ever be so
With 5 to 10 of the things,it will reach the point where we will have to wait a year or so to get a narrative relevant roll
I would reccomend having a "after buying repeteable home upgrade perks a X amount of times,further repeats become free and instead you re-roll" to avoid getting stuck
Past a certain point it feels redudant
For example take the upsize ones
Waiting 2 months for a roll just to get "and now the systems sized plane filled with nothing,is now bigger but still unused as always" is just padding the wordcount that is not relevant to the story nor will ever be so
With 5 to 10 of the things,it will reach the point where we will have to wait a year or so to get a narrative relevant roll
I would reccomend having a "after buying repeteable home upgrade perks a X amount of times,further repeats become free and instead you re-roll" to avoid getting stuck
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- Location
- Canada
MagnificentMind
To Live is to Suffer
What a power move from Iron Ape himself. Can't wait for the next chapter and see where this discussion is heading.
My favorite part of this story are the interactions between the main character and other characters.Especially from other characters' perspective. I am so excited to see you in this next chapter!
It's a miracle! LordRoust actually updated on time. TYFTC and excited for the next.
SiegfriedisOP
Calamity Demon King of Time
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Aw yeah! Time for Joe to round up some hardy boys and become a Post-Apocalyptic Techno-Barbarian Warlord.
KlinkerKing
Man bites dog?
- Location
- The Lion's Den
Demigod Jumpscare!
I think the most interesting bit was finally seeing the family and Jozef figure out that Dad needs to be the one to take the reins and actually talk to Joe if tbey wanna get somewhere.