Alright folks, this is a relatively short chapter by my standards, but it will be continuing shortly with a POV switch. I'm still editing that part, but I expect it to be done shortly. This is going to be mostly worldbuilding and internal monologue. Until then, enjoy...
2.2 Effective Altruism
Amy had managed to secure me a doctor's lab coat in my size, as well as a surplus tiny white mask, which the hospital carried for wounded capes who needed to be moved without threat to their identity. I also carried in the inner pockets of my coat, secure in two surplus sterile test tubes that Amy had procured from somewhere in the hospital, the results of our cooperation.
Working with Panacea - with Amy - was a pleasure. She had a natural insight, but also a very sharp mind, too often ignored and underutilized. She also had a very dry wit, which appealed to my deadpan snarker sense of humor. While the collaboration started off fairly awkwardly, with me proposing a certain pathway or protein chain, or suggesting a specific modification or course of action, Amy quickly warmed up to the exercise, and soon we were rapidly discussing back and forth, excitedly comparing ideas and solving slight issues, accounting for hundreds of eventualities and possibilities.
My own body was the laboratory. I sectioned off an area in my left foot, arguing that if something went horribly wrong we could always just amputate and regrow it, and we thoroughly tested our creations as much as possible without using a whole human body. Though we did create an almost complete and isolated circulatory and lymphatic…
I shake my head for a moment to clear the fugue. Alright, Tinker brain remains a frustrating form of OCD, suffice to say, we tested and retested until we were as sure of our creations as we could be. Aside from all of the paperwork, they were as ready as anything that passed Phase 3 FDA trials.
And we did it in an afternoon instead of 10 years. The benefit of superpowers, an inherent understanding of human biology, and a complete disregard for established testing procedure.
Amy and I had a discussion about the Kyushu Accords. Apparently after Leviathan sunk Kyushu, the Guild and Protectorate spearheaded an international initiative to codify the rules for Parahuman healers. Japan before Leviathan had some fairly draconian rules which governed using powers to heal, mostly supported by the very established and traditional medical community which existed at the time. As a result, many Parahuman healers - a rare category even at the best of times - had either left Japan before Leviathan struck, or else were not properly registered and known as they were in hiding for violating some rule or regulation, and were unavailable in the aftermath.
Use of Protectorate Thinker think tanks and later research indicated that this led, directly and indirectly, to between half a million and a million more deaths than would otherwise have occurred if the healers had been available and properly protected.
So, the Kyushu Accords were formed. Parahuman healers who submitted to testing by a registered Hero group and were found to have a power falling under the criteria in the Accords were granted amnesty from previous non-capital crimes, an honorary medical degree in all signatory nations, and a variety of other protections.
Some healers who did not have an instinctive knowledge of biology were required to participate in additional training, but overall the system functionally turned parahuman healers into legally qualified medical personnel in any of the signatory nations.
I'm sure that I never read about anything like this in canon. It seems too… sensible and practical to fit into this crapsack world. I suppose we can't see everything in a mere million words.
As a result of this fact, Amy as my parahuman doctor and a registered medical practitioner was subject to doctor-patient confidentiality. She would be required to keep information she learned about me in the process of treating me private, the same way any normal doctor would be, without my explicit waiver of those rights.
This protection would include exactly the information the PRT would inquire about. My records would be sealed without a court order requiring them to be disclosed.
Of course, if I was to join the Protectorate, all those records would be unsealed and I would automatically waive any rights to privacy over them as towards the Protectorate itself. This was logical for a quasi-military organization, and I had pretty much expected it.
Which meant I couldn't join the Protectorate. Not now, not in my current state. I would not be able to accomplish what I needed to in the amount of time I had while hamstrung by that level of bureaucracy.
On a more personal level I had a moral objection with the way the Protectorate was run, and not just because it was Cauldron's shell game.
Somehow, the same people who created the Kyushu Accords, and who saw the results when an established community used fear to justify restricting parahuman rights in a given field don't see an issue with the world's foremost hero group requiring their commanding officers to be baseline humans. This led to people like James Tagg being given power over parahumans and the ability to make decisions on policies which affected them.
There are few bigger condemnations of a system than that fact.
So, normally not being in the Protectorate would mean I would need some kind of alternate method of acquiring capital. The one benefit to Protectorate membership, especially as a Tinker, was the deep pockets which came with any government office. I'd managed to crump together some basic technology, but so many of the things in my mental library required a much larger resource base and specialized tools. I still needed to build the machines that would build the machines,
ad infinitum.
Normally this would be an issue. I also briefly considered what I know had been tried several times in Fanfiction which I had read: capturing Coil's assets. Often it's glossed over, as if a few minutes of hacking would be sufficient to wrest control over a full properly paranoid set of shell companies and accounts. In reality, it would likely be the work of weeks at a minimum to unravel that web without the aid of Dragon, who I couldn't really call upon yet without tipping off Saint, who was another target on my to-do list.
So, I opted instead for a one-two punch which was novel and clever if I was willing to toot my own horn: I'd create the perfect product.
Something of such universal desire that quite literally every person on the planet would want to buy it. The Cellphone market was the closest thing I could think of from Earth Prime, and even that would be nothing compared to the potential profit from a truly universally desired product.
Luckily, my legal training was finally coming in useful, as with my mental workspace it was easy to draft up a quick prospectus, and the basis of a list of constating documents for a number of corporations which I would create to manufacture and sell the product. Startup capital would be fairly easy to come by - I had a plan for proving my chops, which was suggested by Panacea and which I thought was a much more palatable alternative to my original plan, which while rationally acceptable was emotionally a bit scummy even with my varied pricing plans.
So, we had made two vials. One was a gift to the world, which would also serve to prove that we knew what we were doing. The other was the real money maker.
When I left the room under my own power, clad in my new makeshift costume, there were 4 PRT agents waiting outside, just as Amy had suggested. All wore form fitting armor and complete facemasks which I noted did not serve to block my power's ability to read their biology. Whatever wave my Thinker power operated on, non-powered armor at least did nothing to block it. That should probably remain quiet, as I could probably use that to unmask any non-Changer cape who didn't wear power armor.
Of my new minders, two were male, and two were female. All carried sidearms, two carried what looked to be some variety of assault rifles, and the other two carried what must have been containment foam sprayers judging by the hoses and backpacks. As I walked into the hallway, all four turned to face me. I paused for a moment and gave a little wave, moving over to allow Amy to leave the room behind me.
She spoke briefly with one of the guards, who I assumed was the one in command of this unit. That person then moved away and began speaking into a radio - which I suppose must have had some kind of tinker-tech to allow it to penetrate the Faraday Cage. Or, the security office could simply have had a receiver which relayed out authorized communications through a hardline. That would be a single point of attack, but if the devices it could communicate with were limited to 'dumb' radio sets, I suppose it wouldn't be too limited…
Alright, seriously, slow down on the Tinker fugues. Think about how to hack things just because they are a challenge to be hacked later.
Man, I hope I'm not catching whatever Tattletale has with her desire to stir up shit just for fun. Maybe it's a Thinker thing.
Something else to watch out for. I'm going to need to start some anti-megalomania training.
… Except I
am trying to
literally save the world…
I guess we'll hold off on that.
I almost jump when the commander of my little guard pack returns and speaks. Their voice is slightly distorted by the faceplate of their body armor, but it's a strong voice.
"We've received authorization to take you to PRT HQ. The Director will see you in an hour. However, with the city in its current state, there are certain conditions - you will travel with us, in a PRT vehicle. As you are an unknown tinker, we have authorization to foam you if you produce any unknown device without first informing us of your intentions. Panacea will travel with us as well, as both your sponsor and to undergo Master/Stranger screening, as you are an unknown parahuman. Please follow me, and refrain from making any sudden moves."
I cough slightly at the last bit, Amy is acting a bit strange I suppose, but she has finally been able to let go and use her powers for once. Hell, they could be suspicious of the fact that she is smiling. I make eye contact with her, and she rolls her eyes and shrugs as if to say 'Not the first time'.
Well, I suppose she knows what's going on better than I do. I begin to follow the... lieutenant? Squad leader?
Huh. I don't think canon ever described any PRT rank other than 'Director' and 'Deputy Director', or if it did I sure don't remember it. I'm sure one of those insignia means something...
I miss the internet.
The squad forms up around us, and they lead Amy and I down a set of stairs, and into an underground garage. The leader makes for a back corner, and we stop in front of a plain black van which is so ordinary looking that it absolutely screams 'Totally a Government Vehicle', and our guard squad moves expertly to position, two in the front, two opening the back doors and allowing Panacea and I in.
All of them are keeping a close watch on me, though Amy doesn't seem to be worried. In fact, she seems uncharacteristically chipper, smiling slightly, and occasionally stopping to stare at her hands, or at the pocket of my jacket where the vials are as if she can't believe what we've managed to create in a few short hours.
I'm impressed as well, honestly.
What I'm less impressed about is the PRT van itself. Yes, it's clearly had some additions: the interior rear has a set of crash harnessed seats, it takes a moment to figure out the belts, though Amy does hers up with practiced ease only slightly slower than the PRT agents. There is a nozzle in the centre of the ceiling which I am certain is a containment foam projector, and a lit up mirror on the back wall which I'm sure is a one way mirror into the cabin.
In fact, it's so superficially competent, I'm pleasantly surprised that it appears to have no ECM whatsoever.
As it pulls out of the hospital garage, my HUD lights up with a notification that cellular and satellite service is now available. Programs immediately spin up, my integrated antenna locks on to the nearest cell phone tower and an agent program I had created for just that purpose analyzes the data traffic and generates a quick script to fake my login credentials, allowing me preferred access to the network, and just like that I'm on the internet.
My vision fills with data. By triangulating between three nearby towers and cribbing from an online mapping app (Google Maps exists here, but is way further behind than I remember from 2011. Man, the internet here is depressing) I manage a perfect up to date position tracker in my corner view - I have a real life minimap now - and also connect to the local government websites to quickly peruse the various forms I'm going to need to incorporate.
The van shifts very slightly, as it goes around a turn, and I briefly zoom out my map, which takes up all of my view for a moment. We are moving through what may be the only intact rotary in the city, and it looks like our ETA to the PRT HQ (with average traffic) is about 15 minutes. I can see the flat map and the blinking cursor for our location, positional and speed data on the side with the background data for average traffic times, congestion, all of the hidden information your apps never show you. I can process it all in real time.
Man, imagine if I had actual satellite uplink. Is this how Dragon sees the world?
I honestly don't know how I'd be able to live without this thing now that I have it. Any amount of pain was worth this. It's the convenience of a cell phone with the power of a fully built battlestation PC, in my head at all times, only both convenience and power are increased by several orders of magnitude. Intellectually I understand that part of the ease of use is my Tinker power, but emotionally I'm still riding the new-technology novelty high. I've always been someone who loved the new and exotic which it comes to tech.
Speaking of new and exotic, lets see if one of the side features is functional…
Execute: Schism
My vision momentarily drags forward as if I was a ship that just entered hyperspace, for a split second and then it doubles.
I'm sitting here staring across at a soldier./I'm sitting here staring across at a soldier.
I'm sitting here staring across at a soldier./I'm searching through PHO and creating an account...
I'm making small talk with Amy, discussing a bit more about the Bay, innocent topics... / I'm scanning the local news to get an update on the ABB situation…
I'm sitting back with my eyes closed... /I'm filling all of the forms required to form a set of shell corporations and registering them...
Not having to actually type pops my normally acceptable but mediocre 80 WPM typing speed to a frankly inhuman 500+. And that's before being able to mentally copy-paste.
A small timer in the corner of my vision drops to 0:00, and my dual viewpoints merge again in a flash which makes a brief tinge of pain go through my head. Not exactly Coil-level multitasking, but certainly a helpful tool for getting a lot done in a little amount of time. And this with only my most basic, partially functional interface.
Looks like I can just under 10 minutes of dual focus out of the
Schism protocol on my first set of hardware. The mental fatigue will require about an hour's cooldown before I can effectively use it again without risking actual nerve damage. Still respectable. I could possibly maintain a larger number for a shorter period, but it would be measured in seconds for anything above 4 - the damage accumulates exponentially with more viewpoints.
Still, could be a fairly good combat boost.
I named the protocol after one of my favorite Dungeons and Dragons Psionic Powers, Schism, which allows the caster to split their mind and perform multiple mental actions at once. With a computer in my head, that kind of mental split can pay dividends quickly for me. It doesn't make me any physically faster, or increase my reaction time, but the multitasking should allow me to plan much better. Hopefully it can even be used to enhance my combat-Thinker ability, but that will require testing.
As I finish and submit the documents, I make a mental note to apologize to Tattletale. While I had access to her computer, I may have cribbed access to a few of her accounts, just in case I needed money in the future.
Yeah, a bit of a dick move, but morality gets a bit slippery when you are both dealing with a supervillain and trying to save a number of lives measured in billions.
I figure a 1% interest in what will likely be the richest company in the world inside of a year should pay back the money I'm 'borrowing' to pay the quick frankly miniscule incorporation fees.
Man, Delaware really does have amazing corporate law. I knew there was a reason half of the companies in the US incorporate there.
I complete the registration just in time, as the van approaches its destination. I watch on the map from streetview (which is way lower res than I remember). The PRT HQ is an edifice, barred windows going up several stories, and a huge shield emblazoned with the words "P.R.T" on the front of the blocky structure. We move into an adjacent parking garage, and after a short pause, I assume to receive authorization, the car is pulled into park and the doors are pulled open.
Alright. Showtime.
As we exit, the guard group leads us to a large steel door. One of them swipes a keycard, and the door opens, allowing us access to a sparse white corridor lit with florescent lights with a similar door at the other end.
Standing in the middle of the corridor, about 10 feet from where we enter, is an armored figure, head to toe ensconced in blue tinted powered armor with silver highlighting, and the only skin visible is the bottom of his face which contains a neatly trimmed brown beard.
In his hand, ready but not yet pointed at me, is a 7 foot mechanical halberd.
Well, I'd guess this is Armsmaster.
I remember him being a bit of a dick, but I'm sure most of that was fanon blowing everything out of proportion.
Well better start it off simple then.
"Hello Armsmaster" I say, smiling and stepping forward with my hand extended to shake, "I'm..."
Woah! So the end of that thing is glowing now. Also that really
really looks sharp. Also pointing at me. What the...
"Do not move." Armsmaster says, his mouth set into a stern line. The PRT guards move away from me... getting out of the line of fire.
Well.
Fuck me.
can't wait to see the protectorate reaction to a new biothinker/thinker
