A/N: This was originally going to be only the first scene of a longer chapter, but that chapter got out of hand so I decided to cut this piece out, polish it up a bit, and then post it as it's own thing.
Nuclear Fire 80
"Who has the sonic cutter? I need the sonic cutter!"
"Kid Win was the last one using it!"
"I don't have it anymore. I gave it to Ely!"
"I'm almost done with it! Just five more minutes!"
"Armsmaster, are you done yet?"
"No. I'm missing Dragon's microchips."
"My printers are almost-- there! They are finished. Here, take them."
"There's some static interference! The coils of the generator need to be calibrated again!"
"I'm on it!"
There's electricity in the air.
And not just from the leaking plasma reactors in each corner of the room, which Dragon is currently fixing.
Energy permeates this place, of movement and creation, of creativity and progress, as five pairs of hands (human and mechanical alike) work together to shatter the rules of reality and bring nature into submission.
The welding points. The typing of keyboards. The whistling of the drones' rotors. The squirming of rats that are being experimented on.
I appreciate this rhythm.
It's fast, precise, and devoid of breaks or doubts.
There's a clear objective, and we work towards it without letting the mind wander into useless places.
Kid Win is coding, his power over modularity seemingly having found a niche writing robust software. The computer he's working on is so powerful that the sole purpose of one of the generators is to feed it, and it produces so much heat that it could keep a small building warm during the winter.
Armsmaster is at his side, using his nano-forges to connect circuitry that you'd need a microscope to see. His workstation is under the effect of zero-G as he needs to finish his circuitry matrix before subjecting it to Earth's gravity if he doesn't want it to collapse under its own weight.
Valerie is across the room, seated next to two cages. Every few minutes she reaches into one of those cages, pulls out a lab rat, and implants it with our machinery. Each rat is then injected with a serum that keeps them fed, before tossing them into the second cage which Dragon provided. Time flows faster inside of it, and that allows us to theorize the effects of long-term exposure to the nullification field. After their purpose is fulfilled, the rats are humanely euthanized before being tossed down a tube that ends in an incinerator. A harsh but needed task as we don't want the patients to become balloons of tumors by accident.
Dragon is at the same time everywhere and nowhere. Her consciousness may only exist in the digital realm, but she's the one commanding all the heavy machinery. Not only does she make sure to keep everything running, but whenever we finish a part of the project, she analyzes it, making sure that all the parts bond together properly.
And for my part, I'm working to refine the Hood.
The previous iteration worked by fully blocking all interdimensional signals. A valid approach if we want to defend against masters, but not so much if we want to attack them. Or if we want to heal their victims, as is the case.
In that regard -even if it's distasteful to say it- we got lucky to collect so many 'samples'.
That's the silver lining of the mess that was New York.
By studying Mama Mathers' victims we managed to identify two important things:
The first one is that each parahuman has a specific 'interdimensional frequency' that they are attuned to and that no normal human has. The best brains of the Protectorate are probably scratching their heads trying to understand what it is, but I already know: that's the connection to their shards.
The frequency of each parahuman is different, as each one attunes to a different shard. I'm unsure what we'd get if we investigated a Cauldron cape, but by studying the victims we found that they all share a second frequency that's unique to them.
I believe that's Mama Mather's shard! The connection through which she contaminates their senses and twists them into submission!
Of course I didn't tell anyone that as I don't want to explain how I know this much about the origin of powers, but telling them 'my power told me this is possible' was justification enough.
With that information, I improved my previous work. This Hood 2.0 will automatically analyze the corona, preserve the original frequency of each parahuman, and block everything else. Like a firewall that allows access to the internet while stopping viruses and hackers from creeping in.
This system may not work against the likes of Jack Slash who can influence the Shards directly -cheating bastard- but should work against most other Masters.
"I'm about to test the nullification field!" I announce. "Get ready!"
Everyone immediately stops working. The field should be perfectly safe for us, but it pays to be prepared. Removing the power of a tinker mid-tinkering sounds like one of the most foolish things one can do.
I trigger it, count to five, and then think about building-- I don't know, maybe Frieza's chair?
An armored case with an anti-gravity device and a propulsion system-- everything's in there.
There's no static either, or buzzing in my ears, and none of my human partners are bleeding from the nose. So far so good.
"I'm fine," I inform them. "What about you?"
"I'm fine too."
"Everything is normal on my end."
"Same here."
Kid Win, Armsmaster, and Dragon replied in an instant, but Val is taking some time.
She's there at her seat, perfectly still as if she had been caught mid-work while the lab rat in her grip squirms trying to escape.
"What about you, Ely?" I wait a moment but she doesn't answer. "Ely?"
I'm getting worried over here. And I'm not the only one because the others are also throwing her looks of concern.
Is-- is she even blinking?
"I'm fine!" She suddenly bursts out. "I'm sorry about that. I suddenly got the inspiration for something and couldn't get it out of my head."
Ah, a fugue. That's a relief.
I turn the field off and continue working.
"Armsmaster," Renick's voice rings from the speakers around the room. "What progress has been made?"
I'd argue that he should be asking me, as I'm technically the head of this operation, but I understand why he'd only trust the adult in the room. Also, I have no interest in getting involved with the PRT chain of command so I'm fine standing on the sidelines.
"We're progressing at an acceptable pace. We should be finishing--" A green light suddenly flashes across Armsmaster's screen accompanied by a sonorous 'ping'. "I have the circuitry!"
Kid Win perks up next to him. "I have the software!"
Well, I'm not staying behind. "I have the emitter!"
"We're only missing you, Electro-Nun." Why does Armsmaster have to use her full name? It's mortifying! What happened with all the efficiency?
"And I--!" She proclaims as she feeds yet another cyborg-rat to the incinerator. "Have made sure that no one will die when we turn this on!"
I wouldn't say that we can be 100% certain of that, she has only been experimenting on rats after all, but it's the best we can do on such short notice.
Dragon's drones then swoop in, pick our modules, and assemble them with the help of her nano-forges.
And by our powers combined--
No, I'm not doing that.
While Dragon works, all four of us stand around her workbench. I flinch when a dozen pincers disassemble our creations, but I remind myself that Dragon knows what she's doing.
The seconds pass, to my side Val starts bouncing up and down, but we can't take our eyes out of the project. Any problem that Dragon may find, we must be ready to resolve or risk having our atoms spread from here to Uranus.
That's a danger that working alongside professional heroes has made me aware of.
I miss when I worked alone and could just ignore stuff like that.
Thankfully it doesn't take Dragon long to finish, and once she's done the pincers gently deposit the finished product on the workbench. "It's ready," she announces.
The next generation of the hood doesn't look like a hood at all, more like a laurel wreath. The Roman one that crowned successful commanders during a triumph.
At least when active.
When in standby mode, as it is now, it looks like just a normal headband.
Armsmaster reaches underneath the workbench for a briefcase that he sets next to the-- ugh, we haven't given it a name yet.
Anti magic-I mean master, circlet?
I'm sure we'll come up with a better name later.
In any case, the briefcase is full of foam that molds to the shape of the headband, and once it's safely in place Armsmaster locks it up.
"Director Renick," he calls. "We're finished here."
"Roger that, Armsmaster. Dragon, you have clearance to use one of your crafts to bring the team to site 7."
I offered to take us through a portal but the PRT refused. Something about a breach of security that they didn't want to deal with.
Their loss.
All four of us head towards the exit, and when the armored door opens Valerie and Kid Win flinch as they're hit straight in the face by the bright light of the afternoon-- wait, wasn't this site facing the East? Oh, that's not the afternoon sun but the morning one. We spent the entire night working on this, and just now I realize that I did remember Armsmaster sharing some energy bars with us.
Time flies when one's having fun. Next time I'll teach Val and Kid how to build anti-reflective visors.
The four of us exit the bunker we have been working in and walk into the main courtyard, a patch of land in the middle of a forest surrounded by a tall fence. Between the fence and the forest, there's a security detachment of PRT officers, and it's slightly concerning that, while half of their weapons are aimed at the outside, the other half are aimed at us.
That's just the standard procedure, though. At least, from what I've been told.
Ever since the Three Blasphemies were unleashed in Europe, the PRT became very jumpy whenever tinkers worked together, and that led to a full revamp of their security protocols.
Whenever a single tinker works on a personal project, they do as I saw in Kid Win's lab: walls layered in lead, enough reinforcement to sustain a small bomb, and a camera system aimed at every corner of the room.
At two they alert the base's personnel that things may get a bit weird, and warn a senior Protectorate Tinker that intervention may be necessary.
At three they prepare for a full evacuation and put a team of heroes on standby just in case something ugly pops out of the lab.
And at four or more, as is our case, they stop holding back, load all the tinkers in a truck, and drive them out to work as far away from civilization as possible.
It's a bit insulting that they are treating us like crazy bomb makers, but we're both capes and tinkers. The preconception is justified by both history, their eyes, and common sense.
The sound of a jet engine drives our attention to the sky, and we see a blocky aircraft the size of a helicopter descending to our position. It's green, there are scales painted on its sides, and the front is shaped like a dragon.
"Everyone aboard Dragon airlines!" She greets us as the back ramp descends giving us access to the cargo area.
"So excited! This is the second time I'm on a plane!" Val cheers as she darts ahead to occupy one of the empty seats. "I hope that it goes better than the last one!"
I raise an eyebrow at that. "Last time? What happened last time?"
"I threw up!"
Dragon's compact cargo plane takes us to New York, to a hospital that has been commandeered by the PRT.
On the way a couple of flying heroes join us, the Protectorate having sent them to escort us as nobody wants the technology to freaking-disable-powers to fall into villain hands.
Again, all this would have been made easier if they had allowed me to use one of our portals.
"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," I apologize to Dragon while gently rubbing Val's back, this last one unable to do so while her mouth is buried inside the paper bag.
"It's okay, not even the first time this has happened. I'll let my drones take care of it." Hopeful Dragon isn't just being polite to make us feel better. "Next time I'll remember to keep some smelling salts aboard to soothe nausea."
"Smelling salts?" Armsmaster asks in surprise. "I'd just use some antiemetics."
"Strong medicine isn't the answer for everything," Dragon argues back. "Especially when we need to administer it to a small child."
"It'd take some modification to--"
Across the cargo hold, Kid Win and I exchange a glance.
"Mom, dad, don't fight--" Val manages to say before getting back inside her bag.
What follows is an awkward moment of silence that gets suddenly interrupted by the rumble of our transport landing on the helipad atop the hospital's roof. I help Val descend by putting her arm over my shoulders, making sure to step around the puddle of vomit in the middle of the cargo area, and at the bottom of the ramp, we are greeted by Legend.
"Team, welcome back. Is everything alright?" He asks, glancing at the shivering Valerie.
"Just some motion sickness," I reply, helping her lean against a wall. "Do you have some water?"
"I'll get it to you. In the meantime, follow me."
True to his word, our first stop is at a nurse's office where Val is allowed to take a break. The rest of us continue to a guarded section of the hospital, behind a door that remains under constant watch by PRT troopers.
It's here where the victims of the fallen are waiting for us in an induced coma. That became a necessity because every time we tried waking them up they started screaming, blasted by Mama Mather's power.
As we walk down the corridors, closer to the rooms reserved for each victim, I can't completely shake the anxiety creeping up my back.
We didn't make any mistakes, did we? Did I?
Everything functioned back at the lab.
I'm sure that the trip didn't set any parts loose.
This needs to work.
I want it to work.
I want to close this event with a nice bow and move on.
Tinkering is the one field where I trust myself to do well. But this is the biggest and most important project that I have faced with other people, and I have yet to see how we will mesh together.
And what if something goes wrong? It just means that we need to work a bit more on this! We're tinkers after all. It's through a gradual progression that we achieve our objectives and shatter any barrier!
The only problem is when we take too long and people are hurt waiting for solutions that never arrive.
We enter the last room to the left. The person on the bed is a woman who seems to be in her late thirties. She's blonde and is wearing a domino mask as a token attempt to preserve her identity. Her left wrist is connected to an intravenous line, and the other is shackled to the side rails of her medical bed.
"Who's she?" I ask. I saw her during the rescue operation, but I know nothing of her.
"Merry Band," Legend replies. "A rogue with some form of telekinetic power that allowed her to control several musical instruments at the same time. We usually found her around Central Park during the weekends making some money from tourists."
A simple person, probably with a stable job, just doing her best to enjoy life while making some extra cash.
Is anyone looking for her? Is there a family taking their breakfast right now, still hoping that any moment now they'll hear the sound of their missing mother's keys opening the door? Or were they killed when the Fallen abducted her? Are we going to wake her up to the reality that no one may be waiting for her back home? If I were in that situation, I don't think I'd like to wake up at all.
Maybe just long enough to take vengeance on those who hurt me.
When I receive an alert that my nails are digging into my palms I almost stop clenching my fists but then reconsider it. This is an easy -if extremely slow- way to steadily increase my strength and durability.
And besides, feeling a sensation that I can put a name on never fails to calm my nerves.
"Shouldn't we be testing this on the villain first?" I wonder.
This is new technology after all, and we do have an available candidate in the next room. Better to test this on a villain first and risk a life that isn't as valuable, but Legend shakes his head.
"We're unsure how Frazzle will react once he wakes up, so we're going to start with someone who we're reasonably sure will be more cooperative."
That makes sense. It'd be embarrassing for us to do all this only for the patient to freak out and break out. We could adapt the circlet to also block his powers, but not only would that defeat the purpose of creating something specifically against Mama Mathers, but would also introduce an extra variable that unnecessarily complicates things.
A group of nurses approaches us and Armsmaster gives them the briefcase. None of us are trained medical personnel, so they are the ones who attach the circlet to the patient's head to ensure no accidental injury.
We do keep a close eye, though, just to make sure that they don't damage our equipment either, and once it's safely around Merry Band's head, we activate it.
"The signal's stable and the anomalous frequency is gone," Armsmaster says, looking into a screen attached to his arm. Something that Kid and I confirm.
"Alright, everyone back away!" Legend ushers us out, and the room is left empty except for a single nurse.
Either a brave man or a fool if he volunteered for this, or a very unlucky person if he didn't, he's the one who removes the anesthetics that keep Merry Band in her coma. He rushes out after that, and as the door closes at his back a team of PRT troopers armed with containment foam get ready outside the room.
We see all that through the monitors located in the control room at the end of the hallways.
"How long does it take for a person to wake up from an induced coma?" I ask with my eyes firmly on the image of the sleeping woman.
"It depends," Armsmaster replies. "Traumatic brain injuries, strokes, or seizures lasting longer than 5 minutes will need different procedures, and differences in biology will result in the waking period taking from minutes to hours, to maybe even an entire day."
I'm honestly surprised that he knows this much about the topic.
And almost as if reading my mind (or just to brag) he adds: "I did extensive research on the topic while building my anti-Lung anesthetic."
That would explain it.
The seconds pass.
There's a clock hanging from the wall, and its ticking is like a maul hammering into my brain. I don't know when I started following its rhythm with the tapping of a finger against my arm.
Kid Win is the first one to lose his patience and start walking back and forth around the room. I'm tempted to join him, but the image of Armsmaster and Legend holds me back.
They may as well be statues next to us.
"I see movement," one of the medics informs us, bringing Kid and me back to attention.
Indeed, Merry Band's eyelids are flickering, her whole body shifting in place as she slowly wakes up from the long dream.
Or nightmare, as it may be.
It takes her just a few more moments to open her eyes, and when she does it's like an electric shock runs down her back.
She springs into a seated position, and the restraints around her wrist are the only thing keeping her from falling off the bed.
Without a word, she looks down at her hands, at the IV drop, and then around the room as if waiting for someone to jump at her with a knife in their hands. Her chest then starts raising up and down with a spasmodic rhythm.
I don't need any fancy tinkertech to know that she's on the brink of a panic attack.
Having someone else in the room with her may have been better to ease her into wakefulness, but that would have been too risky with a Master victim involved.
"Merry Band," Legend speaks softly but firmly into a microphone, his voice bringing the woman to a sudden stop. "Can you hear me?"
She doesn't reply, doesn't even blink as she remains perfectly still seated on the bed.
Glancing past Legend I see the officers reading their containment foam dispensers waiting for the order to burst in and restrain the victim.
"Do you recognize my voice?" Legend insists. "Do you recognize who you're talking to?"
Merry Band's lower lip trembles as she fights to form a response. "Legend." Her voice is raspy, her throat dry.
"That's correct, I'm Legend. You're currently in the Saint Matthew hospital. You're safe."
She looks at the ceiling, maybe searching where the voice comes from. "Safe?"
"Yes. Tell me, what's the last thing you remember?"
That may not be the best thing to ask because her breathing turns chaotic once again, and there's the sound of thorn fabric when she clenches her fingers, digging into the mattress. "The floor was cold. It was dark. I wondered--" She chuckled. "I wondered if my cat had been fed. I live alone in an apartment, and he'd have water, but he wouldn't have food, and I hoped that someone would hear him if he started crying for food--"
She starts sobbing, and we patiently wait for her to continue.
"Then there was noise. People started shouting but I didn't understand why. Then my hands started moving. I tried to stop them but I couldn't. They moved on their own. There was this piece of sharpened metal at my feet. The boy had told me to use it-- he told me to-- to--"
She's describing Valefor and her suicide under his influence.
"Merry Band--"
"Mathilda!" She yells. "My name's Mathilda. Please use it."
Legend nods even when she can't see him. "Very well. Mathilda, listen. A team of heroes broke into the place where you were being held and rescued you alongside the rest of the hostages. You're safe," he insists. "But I need to ask you a question. One that may not be pleasant. Is that okay with you, Mathilda?"
We wait a moment for her reply, a single nod.
"Mathilda, as I told you, you're in a hospital room and currently you're alone. The only person talking to you right now is me. Do you see or hear anything or anyone that shouldn't be in that room?"
Her back straightens up and she darts her eyes around. "I-- no--" Her voice sounds as if she didn't believe her own words. "She-- she's not here! I'm not hearing her!" Her lips curl into a faint smile. "Mama's gone!"
With her free hand, she clutches the side of her head, pulling her hair as she descends into what sounds like a maddened cry mixed with laughter.
Damn, I hope that she doesn't break the circlet.
Legend tries to catch her attention again but gives up after a couple of tries.
"We better let her rest before continuing with our questions." He looks at one of the medics. "She's under your care, now. Make sure that she doesn't take the headband off, understood? You have my permission to sedate her again if she tries to."
Legend takes us to the lobby outside, where we can catch our bearings away from that madness.
I-- I feel light. I feel content. I try to keep my lips steady but they curl into a smile.
We did it.
Oh, goddammit, we fucking did it!
Take that, Mama Mathers, you fuck! We took what you did, and we fixed it! We won!
"It worked," I mutter.
"I wouldn't declare victory just yet," Legend objects. Well, fuck you too. "This may be the master trying to trick us, and there are still risks of a relapse." Okay, fine, his concerns are valid. "Now we need to wait for the verdict of our thinkers and the psychologist's team. We'll keep Merry Band under observation for some days and if we confirm that all hostile influence has been removed we'll proceed with the other victims."
Fine, that sounds reasonable. We may have won this one battle but our enemy won't remain idle.
At least we now have a case study to follow. One who sounds eager to cooperate with us. Any failure will be contained and quickly repaired.
But I don't know how big my role in all that will be. Dragon will likely be the one to take over this and reproduce the circlet when it's needed.
"And team, before you go," Legend calls us one last time. "I want to thank you again for what you accomplished here today. Do you realize how monumental your discovery is?"
I understand it. Better than he does even. I'm the one with out-of-context knowledge here.
Before I can open my mouth to reply, though, Armsmaster does it for me. "The Simurgh remains a threat that we won't be able to defeat the same way we defeated Leviathan. Even if we can bypass her precognition and telekinesis, not only can she take control of any technology around her but also master parahumans. If we can block her song we're removing one of her strongest weapons."
Of course, Armsmaster's main concern would be about the Endbringers. Hasn't he given up on soloing one of those yet? We don't even know if this system would work against her!
Still, nothing that he just said is wrong, the Simurgh is a heavy name in that long, long list of things that I need to solve if we want to survive to the end of the year. Not even mentioning the end of the decade. This is a good first step towards taking her down safely, but I think that Armsmaster's laser-focused precision is working against him here. He's thinking too small.
"Masters remain one of the most difficult enemies that the Protectorate needs to face," I offer. "That's why you have so many protocols in place to ensure none of your employees are under the control of someone else. A relatively easy and sure way to tell if someone's mastered would drastically save resources and tighten security. The Simurgh is a problem, yes, but she still attacks only twice every year. Calamitous attacks that almost guarantee that the city where she shows up will be lost, but we still need to survive all the other months when she isn't being a problem. A drastic reduction of expenses all around the board will free many resources that can be refocused towards preparing against her."
Armsmaster stares at me with a thumb under his chin, faintly nodding as if approving of the point I'm making. Maybe because I just tempted him with the idea of getting more materials for his tinkering.
Between us, Kid Win shrugs awkwardly as if unsure of what to add. "What they said."
Legend takes a moment staring at each of us in the eyes.
Then he chuckles. "You're all correct. Especially you, Kid Win."
The Ward turns his head away, what little I can see of his face turning red by his leader's words.
"But look beyond heroes and villains," Legend continues. "Any battle where a master gets involved becomes a hostage situation where collateral damage is almost impossible to avoid. We saw it with the likes of Teacher, and most recently Valefor. And the reason why the likes of Heartbreaker remain at large is that we have no way to prevent his--" He makes a pause, his face twisting in disgust as he searches for the right words. "Entourage from getting harmed, or to ensure that they aren't bombs." His jaw stiffens. "We lost many good people that way, and that led to the general paranoia when masters take to the field. What you created will allow us to preserve lives."
And that's the reason why he's the face of the Protectorate. Say what you will about the guy, but he makes you believe that he cares. Being a Cauldron cape and therefore not a traumatized individual plugged into an alien parasite that loves violence probably helps a lot.
But it's not like Alexandria can use that as an excuse to not be assholes.
He finishes his speech by joining his hands together. "Well, thank you for listening to what I had to say. I assume you're already eager to get back to Brockton Bay, correct?"
Armsmaster nods. "Yes. Tech-Priest offered to take us there."
I did, didn't I?
Now that we're no longer carrying extremely sensitive material the PRT won't throw a hissy fit if I use one of my portals.
"Just let me pick up Ely and we'll be on our way."
She should still be at the nurse's office where we left her, hopefully much better now.
"Allow me," Legend says. "I should cross her on my way to the rooftop and I can tell her to come here."
"Back to patrol already?"
"Yes," he winks at me. "But first I'll stop by Merry Band's place and make sure that her cat is fine."
That takes care of two problems.
We'll soon be back home and then--
Work.
And then more work.
And then maybe some training thrown in the mix.
Because it's not over yet.
We succeeded here, yes, but when one problem closes another raises its ugly head, like a Hydra that refuses to be put down.
This is all so freaking frustrating! What the heck is wrong with this world? Every conquered inch just reminds me how much further I have yet to go, every small victory feels hollow when another problem appears around the corner.
Not for the first time I'm tempted to build a bomb big enough to blow it all to smithereens.
But I live here. I keep all my things here. And so do the people that I like. And I can't take them out of here while the Simurgh is still around.
At least I have a clear final goal.
"Hey, Tech-Priest," Kid Win's voice brings my train of thoughts to a sudden stop. "Later today-- eh-- would-- would you like to--" He fidgets with his hands, pressing the tip of his indexes together.
Goddammit, boy, stop mumbling and just say what you're thinking.
That sounds so hypocritical coming from me.
"Yes?" I gently nudge him.
That seems to do the trick and he coughs into his fist gaining a modicum of composure. "Is Heavy Gear coming to the birthday party?"
Eh?
Armsmaster straightens up as if surprised by Kid Win's question.
"What birthday party? For whom?" I ask.
"The Wards are throwing one tomorrow--" He checks his watch. "I mean, in a couple of hours, for Vista because hers got ruined by Leviathan's arrival."
Oh--
Ohhh!
Yes, yes, wasn't her birthday right after his arrival?
I can see how that mess would have ruined the mood.
Going may not be such a bad idea, if only for her sake. She was going through some stuff the last time we talked.
But there's so much to do.
So little time.
Maybe some other time.
"Look, thanks for the invitation but--"
"Did someone say party!?" Val's voice resonates through the hallways, followed by her footsteps as she dashes towards me. "Can we go? Please?"
And this is why I find emotions to be such an annoyance. If I didn't have those, Val's puppy eyes wouldn't work against me.
Well, it seems like the decision was just made. Twist my arm a little further, will you?
"Yes, we can."
She cheers, locking her arms around my neck.
Well, this may not be all that bad. At the very least I'll get some cake. Hopefully some chocolate. Unless Missy is one of those weird people who don't like chocolate.
I also hope that she has some hamburgers.
Funny, I was never a big meat lover but right now I could go for some ribs. As in, a cow cut in half and thrown on the--
Wait--
Am I getting hungry? Why am I getting hungry? I shouldn't be able to feel hunger.
Eh, I'll look into it later.
Just add it to the long list of things I need to do.
...
