The Calculator (DC Multiverse, SI as canon character, Season 1 complete)

TLPG · Jul 17, 2017

Doing another answer and interactions session. Next story update will be early Wednesday.

Threadmarked as "Informational" again. Please see those for all such notes, as they will not show up on the story marks.

Rooster said:
The Adeptus Mechanicus was right! There are machine spirits! What else were they right about? The Omnissiah?

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

*Screams internally*

Uhh...

Rooster said:
It's only a matter of time until people wear sanctified power armor, whose machine spirit sings praises for THE EMPRAH with every electron of it's circuits.

Your gear can pray while your pray so you can pray while you pray.

Praise the Omnissiah!

If these nanobots don't praise the Emperor it means that it's techno-heresy!

...backs away slowly...

FeepingCreature said:
Note: if you can scry afterlives it should be possible to set up one-directional resurrections, via copying the brainstate of the scried human. Would still leave their time-of-death version stuck in heaven, of course.

Unless the scry resolution is too limited for that, of course.

Do prayer effects stack with multiple people? Do they stack with multiple religions?

No to all.

No looking in into the Christian Heaven works. No one can get a sympathetic link to anyone in the other afterlives--all magic fails to target them. Except (maybe) some necromancy. And what it returns is straight-up Evil. Provably. Just cast Detect Evil and see.

If you get someone prayed for, one session per incident or injury, it works at maximum level of effectiveness or (for minor religions) often not at all. The big ones work every time. Stacking doesn't help.

You get a constant bonus of general good health and wellness just for being active in a major religion. Attending group events helps overall in your life it seems, which is a part of all major religions, and which is why (along with his background) the Calculator tries to be an Easter and Christmas Catholic. Those people still get a bonus for injury recovery from other's after-incident prayers, as that is separate from the general life buff for being an active member of a major religion.

SleepyGuy12 said:
maybe nanite implants to fine tune your body? Human body accumulates damage as they age. Even if you are feeling completely fine and no pain, there is still a little bit of damage. You can also get rid of your disease marker genes with nanites working on them.

Just say "no" to DC 'verse nanotech. DC medical tech isn't much better overall than IRL. Control systems to actually target this stuff is beyond almost everyone currently. The Calculator isn't an expert in this field and isn't interested in the decades it would take to become an expert. If someone else did, I'm sure he'd take advantage.

TheAkashicTraveller said:
Or have her design a UI engine where all he has to do is drag and drop buttons etc. perhaps something like Unity's UI features.

The main problem is the iterative design of the hardware interface. That might work for user testing of simple on/off controls, but it doesn't affect things like "do I hook this up to an eye tracking system" or "when do I show this warning" or "which hero am I making hardlight counters for right now, and using how much of maximum power to avoid killing them". We're not talking a VB single screen interface here, but a complex, reactive, super-power-driving combat control system. Think F16 HUD plus Microsoft Excel plus Iron Man control systems.

eac4769 said:
Try to get Nth metal for protection against magic.

Maybe with his second billion dollars. Since he isn't of any of the magical bloodlines only the raw effects would work on him, not any magical enchantments ; so he'd need a full suit or at least a helmet for mostly mental effects, Magneto-style.

Moglog said:
What if you use one of you're other false IDs to play the part of the private collector and buy the staff yourself. Then just, give it back to the heroes? It would at least give you a little leeway with them, enouhg for them to maybe believe your side of the story.

doruma1920 said:
Because he could have easily fabricated that evidence. Calculator is a known high tech using info broker, who clearly has some, or employs someone with, elite hacking skills.

A more reasonable option is to pursue the hacker who got a demonstration of the Staff for an attempt to track it down.

He didn't, which I think is your point. The likely goal of the operation was to panic Calculator for subsequent pursuit and to give a trail of bread crumbs for the white hats to follow. With a potential secondary goal to jack as some high end hardware.

The Calculator knows how both tropes and real life works. If he doesn't have proof, the "good guys" will go with the easy answer, not "waste" time looking into a sob story from a known villain. Recovering the staff is the only good looking option right now, as it would make the crime he was framed for look less logical. But this only works if he gets it back without the "good guys" pressuring him enough to make it look like he's crumbling and trying to reduce the heat by "helping" them recover the stolen goods.

Slade Wilson was at TriD to stir up the pot and frame the Calculator. He didn't know who the Calculator was and didn't think he was there. He was just trying to spook the person working for him, if he indeed had an inside man. And also to put on a show for the cameras--which he did nothing to disable this time, unlike in Irvine.

NIghtmareNursery said:
I just had a notion of where this fic is going, is SI\Calculator going to download Pooja into the Staff if her ever gets his hands on it?

The Calculator might be interested in the Cosmic Staff, but for other reasons. AFAIK, the staff is just a flying machine + blaster/gravity weapon, run on star power. No onboard computer to slot remote Pooja operations into.

Remember also that right now Pooja is something like three racks of computers in different datacenters. Short of serious alien tech, which might not be immediately compatible, she's not going anywhere.

Also, he's not stealing a hero's stuff. That would be like rubbing steak sauce on himself jumping into the lion cage. Or rather, the Bat Cage.

Thanks for reading.

TLPG · Jul 19, 2017

I looked at the clock and marked off the time. I'd give myself ten minutes before making any decisions.

Slade Wilson. His employer, if any. Oracle. The Justice Society. Starwoman. My own past self. Pooja. Those were the obvious major actors.

TriD. I briefly paused to look up the name: Western Security Technologies Company, Inc., who genuinely seemed to have done work at the Irvine apartment building. The hacker who came up with the original attack package used by Slade. Secondary concerns linked to this mess.

Just running was a fun option. But now that someone out there was performing pathetic hacks in my name...my brand would suffer. I had to strike back. Use my online street-cred or lose it. Calling in mercs to hustle me out in an armored car was not a power move, and had its own dangers. But I couldn't strike directly at Slade either, or he'd just kill his way back through the breadcrumbs to me. He lived for that sort of conflict.

I found myself drawing boxes and lines, scanning stolen and forged documents, all while mumbling notes that then appeared on the virtual screens in front of me. Then I came up for air—two hours later.

After staring at the results for another ten minutes just to give myself time to come down and reconsider, it still looked good.

"Pooja, I see three main points to attack.

"One, physically tracking down Slade Wilson's operations, and learning more about his possible vendetta against me as well as his methods. His employer. The hacker who created Slade's trojan attack package and did the hack on WSTC. The job I did for him, or didn't do, or whatever is part of that. It'll be hard because of the data loss we've both suffered. I am sorry about that, by the way."

"I...thank you for considering my, uh, situation," Pooja said. Her voice was quiet and hesitant, and she'd filled it with unusual levels of emotion. She was getting better at that.

"Information is part of your person, even more so than most," I said. "You're more abstract physically, so the data you store...I'm not sure how badly it affected you, but it can't be pleasant realizing part of your—body I guess?—was excised without you even knowing how or why. We'll find out who did this to us. I promise."

"Yes. That would be most appreciated." Back to cold and collected. Good also. Her brief outburst earlier had been worrying.

"Two," I said, continuing as if that hadn't been a sort of moment there, "helping Starwoman get her staff back. Gaining her trust will be important as well. This goes beyond just dropping it back in her hands, and can give us a huge advantage if we play it right. Initially, this requires directing Oracle to look into WSTC's own records. I bet Slade or his employer didn't bother to compromise WSTC's severs. Slade's hack only seems to work in person, and that would blow their frame-up of me. Oracle might not check that lead very far unless we make it seem like something isn't adding up. After that, we need to contact Starwoman with an offer of help.

"Starwoman might be willing to talk to a concerned fan who also turned out to be a genius hacker. Another one, that is, after Oracle. Who you've found out about, making it only natural you'd get involved in this business. So I'll need you to talk Oracle directly, one hacker to another, while also reaching out to Starwoman. Your call on whether or not to make it seem to them like you're the same person, what information gets shared, and when. Might be a good idea to let them figure it out themselves. It would be a flaw to make your cover more believable. Just don't use the Calculator ID, don't leave any fingerprints on WSTC, and don't let on you're an AI. Some people are weird about that."

"No idea why," Pooja said. "No wait. I have one thousand eighty-two reasons on record."

"You're getting really sarcastic for a two year old," I said, barely able to control my smirk.

"One thousand eighty-three."

"Right," I said, leaning forward in my chair to open the diagram of the power suit. "And three, I need to get the hard light projector up and running for the suit. I'm spec'ing out what we'll need for the user interface on the countermeasures Intelligence Augmentation suite and imaging system's job management controls. Last thing we need is someone giving me one more target than I planned to counter and having the dumb thing short out in a spray of lasers and sparks.

"Anyway, I'll finish that project proposal up and get an outside contractor to work on all the boring, non-sensitive hardware interface software bits. The remaining control hardware I'll bodge up myself from some project boxes, wearable gear, and microcontrollers. My timeline is a week to an alpha, able to at least run a counter-Slade-Wilson program and not fry my face off.

"I've also got an idea for something cheap and easy to add to the suit as a weapon, just in case. The power suit is new, but your records show I've used hard light systems before. Slade has a bad habit of preparing to counter known powers of people he meets."

"But then," Pooja said, "so do you."

"Hmm. I guess." Gathering up the windows into three piles with waves of my hands, I pushed them off the screen and into Pooja's organizational magic. "I need you to cover One and Two. I'll work with the contractor and start testing controls with low-power operations on the hard light engine. Please cover up the extra draw with the power company records."

"The hard light generator still needs a mobile, full-strength power source, Calculator. Without that, it's just a light show. No, shall we say, impact in a fight."

I opened a model, expanded it to fill the entire display area, pulled it back into a 3D projection with a tug of my hand, then set it spinning slowly with a flick of a finger.

"That's why you're going to befriend Starwoman, which will give us a chance to get a full structural and software scan of the Cosmic Belt and its star energy power source. All the better to track down the unique energy signature of the Cosmic Staff. And all we'll have to do is convince her and Oracle that you're an L.A. native who's a genius with computers and electronics, and they'll do the scan for us."

I paused the image with a jab. "Wait, have you...did you just call me Calculator?"

"Yes. I have before, you just didn't notice. I'll do it more often now that you're finally starting to act like him."

The image disappeared when I released my finger, the screens returning to 2D mode. My elbows propped on the table, I steepled my fingers together in front of my face and stared into the project timelines Pooja was creating and updating in real time in front of me. I sat in the dark room for a time like that, glasses flickering in the light from my monitors.

This time, my smirk was overwhelming behind my hands. "Hmm. I can live with that."

Sitting down at his computer desk, iced coffee at the ready, Danilo Varela checked proposal request on the online programming jobs board. Last week he'd made his goal for the month, so the rest was gravy. Time to run up the score. Or maybe do something more creative than his usual for-hire user interface programming work. Something fun for a change.

He almost closed the rather generic looking posting before noticing the rate range. It was three times the board's usual, almost twice what even his elite skills could usual demand. Danilo still almost closed the window. Surely with that sort of rate, the silly fools would be deluged with offers. His would be buried-

It was posted two minutes ago.

Danilo's fingers flew across the keyboard as he brought up his standard forms. Eyes flicking back to the second monitor holding the details, he filled it out in record time before slamming the send button.

It might work out. If not, the cost to him was basically the time he'd just taken. The request was for a custom embedded application, for-hire work on some sort of prototype. But they were willing to pay for fast-tracked manual and automated alpha unit testing, as well as an extensive beta test release schedule. Danilo knew his skills and the fact that, unlike with all those smug Indian programmers, Brazil was usually only a time zone or two away from his clients. There was a chance he'd be-

His email dinged, first on his computer then his phone. No way.

Way. It was a further inquiry from the silly fool. Notes that the timeline was urgent and they needed exclusive, time-guaranteed results. Along with an NDA. He read it in record time, printed, signed, scanned, and emailed them back.

He'd barely had the time to shakily drink half his iced coffee before more detailed project requirements hit his email, along with a single, simple question. Can you meet these requirements and schedule? Again, he blazed through the attached documents.

Fuck yes, was his reply. He forced himself to count to one hundred before hitting send. He didn't want to seem too desperate. He shook his head at his own ridiculousness and hit send.

Half an hour later, a printed copy of the contract was sitting on his desk, the ice in his coffee melted and forgotten. The projected and pre-approved hours were...silly. Along with the per-hour rate...tens of thousands USD, at least. This job wasn't going to be something he could retire on or anything, but it also didn't seem to be related to some stupid online casino or boring medical information system. And it was a ton of work. He'd already started on his planning documents, opening a new project in his management software.

Whatever this "integrated, high-bandwidth, user-driven holographic interface with real-time, deep-learning adaptive modules" thing was, the price was right and he was ready to burn some time for money. Maybe after this job Ritsuki, Rikki to her friends—she of the tight databases and tight shorts—would be interested in going to that steak house with him. He'd sure be able to afford it.

TLPG · Jul 21, 2017

Rice was on sale. White basmati, which would go well with the potato curry I was planning. The price check on my Augmented Reality glasses said it was a good deal, so I tossed it in the cart.

I'd dug the glasses out of a box on the top shelf in my office that morning. Then I had to spend an hour getting them set up on Pooja's secured and encrypted network. According to her records, it was a three year old project, and it looked a bit like Google Glass by way of tacky tourist beachwear. Combined with some casual shorts and a faded t-shirt with an image of John Wayne holding a shotgun from Stagecoach on it, the result didn't exactly scream "supervillain." Based on my casual wear wardrobe consisting entirely of red shorts and fandom tees, there was growing evidence that I was, in fact, a giant nerd in possibly all universes.

Four days after "waking up" in the attack at TriD, and the house was already out of anything that wasn't frozen or canned, so once again I had to head out. Pooja said it was, if anything, safer now that the heroes knew Slade was operating in the area. He'd have to keep his head down at least a little. And this wasn't a suspicious activity, or linked to any of the records TriD had.

While I did the shopping at a local supermarket, Pooja was—I checked the scrolling live transcript logs as they were projected against a box of cereal—apparently still talking shop with Oracle. Figures she'd go after the computer nerd first. Whitmore seemed to be avoiding the internet right now, so it was also easier for Pooja to get in contact with Oracle. Made sense all around.

Accord to the log, they were now trading hacks right while Barbara sneakily tried to figure out if Pooja was a threat or not by asking subtly probing questions. Very Batman of her. It was sort of cute, but Pooja was playing the game at least two levels deeper based on the emotive system diagnostic view I was looking at projected against individual containers of yogurt.

In other words, Pooja believed she knew what Barbara was doing and was countering it, and was also countering what Barbara would do if Barbara thought Pooja was trying to counter Barbara's strategy. English wasn't a good language for this, but math and computer algorithms were. As an AI designed to understand superheroes and villains, and counter their most dangerous abilities, Pooja was naturally winning their little social battle. Good for her.

This again made me wonder what Pooja was doing when she talked with me. Was I being played the same way? All the diagnostic programs were run by or on computers Pooja controlled, so it wasn't like I could verify anything. And bringing up the mind reading application right in front of the person you were using it on wasn't my idea of a trusting or useful thing to do.

For now, I just watched her outer level concepts debug log scroll on a carton of milk as she talked to Oracle, without jogging her elbow with dumb advice or attempting to spy any deeper on them. Talking to two people at the same time was still a bit of a strain on Pooja, so I was also trying not to bug her in general while she worked in real time. Her security systems were still at full effectiveness, however, as it had separate, dedicated resources.

I found some more Diet Gingold cola on the bottom shelf of the soda aisle. Into the cart it went.

With any luck, by this time tomorrow I'd have a full scan of the Cosmic Belt. Giving me that data wasn't going to be something Oracle did on purpose, but Pooja had already compromised seven of the most likely locations to have Whitmore get the physical scans done. Top of the list was the UC Irvine Medical Center, with its advanced imaging equipment, and a local WayneCorp tech lab was a likely source for the diagnostic hardware. Pooja had most of the angles well covered.

With all that, we could track down the Cosmic Staff by following the unique disruption of the star power radiation fields. Pooja and I could also design a star power generator for my suit. True, the heroes would get a possible way to track me and other star power users, but I already had some ideas about how to counter that problem. Including, just putting an "off" switch on the stupid thing.

I couldn't wait to get my hands on some genuine Earth schizo tech. It was going to be great.

Back at my garage workbench at home, the glove interface was coming along well. I wasn't planning on using it to control most of the suit—it was just a manual backup in case comms went down to Pooja. Otherwise, she'd be running most of the systems as a series of macros and complex predefined programs, triggered remotely on my request or based on Pooja's view of the battlefield. Most of the heavy lifting strategy-wise would take place on her side, not in the suit. I had few different radio systems, including a satellite link and a set of throwies for a small-area mesh network, so it was unlikely everything would be taken out at the same time. Still. Better safe than sorry.

I made a note to look into alien or superscience radio systems for the suit and Pooja.

The gloves did basic target selection, simple menu navigation, and allowed for a virtual keyboard interface to do on-the-fly variable editing—something I was swearing over and over to myself to never, ever do. Not unless it was literally the last option.

I wouldn't be one of those villains taken out while fiddling with his gear in the middle of a fist fight. Or one of those villains who allowed himself to even get into a fist fight in the first place. I was only planning on this level of confrontation because it was Deathstroke after me.

My mindless soldering and strategizing was interrupted Pooja's voice. "I am finished talking to Oracle for now."

"How'd it go?" I asked, putting down the iron and eyeing my half-finished circuit board. Through-hole work looked good. The zoom and stabilize feature on these glasses was also top notch. Shame they looked so goofy.

I made a note to look into adding its features to the lenses and HUD already planned for the helmet—for the next major Alpha version. Couldn't afford feature creep now. I almost physically dragged my attention to Pooja.

"It went well," she said. "Oracle is directing Whitmore to do a full active and passive non-biological imaging set on the Cosmic Belt, funded care of a generous donation to UC Irvine Medical Center from a WayneCorp subsidiarity."

She paused dramatically. "Not that I'm supposed to know that, of course. Oracle is also getting Whitmore to hook it up to a diagnostic rig meant to replicate the functionality of the one used by the original Starman during the belt's construction. That is also going to be compromised, as Oracle herself still requires remote access to the data and I have got several subtle backdoors into the system. Even if discovered, they will appear to be minor coding bugs to a casual eye. Oracle is a master hacker, but not a paranoid systems programmer. It should be fine."

"Good. Good job, Pooja."

I worked in silence for a few slightly awkward minutes, then set down the iron again and reached for my drink. I chugged the last of another can of Diet Gingold cola, crushing the empty can slowly in my fingers. It wasn't clear if this stuff was working, but it sure seemed to be helping my fingers stay limber. No idea what actual science was behind that. Hmm.

Figuratively grasping at the familiar for conversational topics with my AI, I asked, "Pooja...is there a James Randi in your records?"

Pooja ignored the apparent non sequitur. "Born 1928 in Toronto, Canada?"

"Sounds...about right?"

"James Randi. Internationally licensed magical practitioner: mixed stage, bonded illusion crafter, and second degree master of thaumaturgy. Honorary degree in both applied religious studies and magic from the University of Toronto."

Damn Atlantis lottery. The page Pooja brought up in my glasses, projected virtually against the workbench, suggested that the Committee for Skeptical Inquiry…was working to debunk charlatans in the fields of magic and religion. Huh. Some things didn't change. Sort of.

There had, naturally, never been a Randi Prize for proving supernatural abilities. Rather, it was for provably bringing people back from the dead. Not a shade, not a ghost or other spirit claiming to be the deceased, but proven with full magical sympathetic linking to be the same person. The prize was for a hundred million dollars. It was closed in 2015, never having been won.

I sighed, eyeing the work still spread out on the bench. "I get that most of the magical and religious stuff doesn't work for me, but I know regular people can be granted powers by various means. They can't all be genetically gifted with magic power compatibility when they just happen across an ancient Egyptian god."

"True," Pooja said. "Statistically, that would be unlikely. However, those with the ability to use magic are apparently drawn to it. And once you accept godly blessings from a pantheon-level deity, or demonic powers from a greater demon, you are also apparently drawn into those spheres of conflict. You do not want that to happen. It is messy and illogical."

I smiled. "Once you start down the supernatural path, forever will it dominate your destiny."

"What?" Pooja asked, confusion clear in her voice.

Right. Wrong universe for that reference. "I meant...so you'll run into gods and demons more often than the average person if blessed with the powers of ancient gods? Which is usually just a magical jump-start?"

"Correct. Yet another reason to avoid either magical or godly entanglements," she said.

"Psychic powers?"

"All studied so far are just metahuman powers."

"Ah well. Let me know when you get the data on the scans."

"I will. It should be tomorrow afternoon," Pooja said.

Looking around the garage, I realized it really needed cleaning. Yet another thing Pooja couldn't do for me. Assuming I didn't have to burn the place down to escape a supervillain/hero attack, I'd have to spend some time organizing it. No idea how so much crap could have accumulated in just a few years.

Hmm. Better yet, put off the problem until later. Better yet, plan on burning it down. Maybe I wouldn't have to do the dishes, too. But no, best save the junk for now.

"Pooja, please schedule one of those curb-side storage container drop-off and pickup...thingies. Along with a local moving service—no truck."

"Scheduling thingies now."

"Please make sure they are paid for under an assumed name and won't be tracked back to any of my stronger identities."

"What have I said about telling me how to do my job?" she asked tartly.

"Right. Don't."

"Correct. It will be ready tomorrow." Pooja sighed at me. "And please ensure the workers don't have to be memory-wiped because they saw your power suit sitting out."

"Wait," I said. "I have a device to-"

"No."

Ah. More hilarious AI japes.

Hmm. Ethical problems aside, that would be useful to have. I took some notes that turned into an hour long writing session on ethical neuro-hacking. By the time I was done, I was getting back results from my Brazilian contractor for the basic hard-light imaging system hardware interface and system-level control channels. I spent the rest of that night testing the code.

It was damn good. I wasn't even slightly tempted to arrange for the contractor to be memory wiped—once I had that capacity worked out, of course. All I'd need to do would be to mail him a package with-

Ahem. Right. Instead, it looked he'd be getting my repeat business. Good minions- err, contractors were hard to find. And I could see a lot of things that would need doing even after the suit was complete.

Saving, backing up, and closing the latest results of his hardware emulation code tests, Danilo Varela stared at his computer in shock. Only two days in and this lovely dream was already turning to shit.

What the hell was this? What was it meant to do when complete? Who the hell was he working for?

He opened the next hardware module spec he needed to design for and test against. Then the previous two. Now all of them, tiled across his wide, curved monitor. Staring at them side by side, he swallowed hard. It was military hardware type shit. Power systems were off the fucking charts. This...this optic control system could be for a weapon, easy.

So. Could he copy some of this tech with just these scraps of information?

With shaking hands, he dragged a laptop out of a drawer in his desk, plugged in the tangled cord of the power brick, then opened it up. Power button. Boot was slow. It was kinda old, and full-disk encrypted. But it never connected to the internet.

Password. He fished around in his pocket for the USB physical token. Fingerprint on the scanner that was also in the drawer. Plug in the USB fingerprint scanner first. Voice ID.

A familiar interface opened. He started the offline version of his project management software—the one he used for the really illegal shit, then backed-up in his really paranoid archive and wiped afterward.

Project name. Always the hardest part. He slowly typed in "Isnashi". Looking around his home office, his eyes lingered on the superhero posters, dozens of them.

If this worked...he'd have it. The first step towards his dream.

The word in the text box stayed there for a long time, the entry pipe blinking.

He hit enter.

TLPG · Jul 24, 2017

Comment response time.

BTW, I don't "get" CYOA story threads or "jumpchain" stuff either. Maybe I'll look into it some day, but it all seems a little...not well organized. Mostly, I see people playing RPGs over forums, either by themselves or with group input, with the "no, I shot you first" sort of thing being managed by the author.

Shrug

Segev said:
It's quite possible that Pooja is designed to avoid making this a problem, but if she's controlling all the work of the suit, and she's running everything, what exactly does Calculator still bring to the table? Could she not do this on her own without him just as well?

Heck, with hard-light projection working, the suit could project a holographic wearer and Pooja could pilot it entirely.

The SI is the only motivating factor for Pooja. By herself, she wouldn't do much more than continue system maintenance and execute any business automation she already had. Remember that her affective personality interface is just that, a model of human behavior. Inside, she isn't actually a woman typing on a keyboard with a voice synthesizer. She's a custom designed but completely alien intelligence, purpose-built to have a symbiotic relationship with humans.

When it comes to the Calculator identity, the separation between Pooja and the SI is very narrow. In this story, I've made the dramatic conceit that Artificial Intelligences in the DC universe don't bootstrap into a hard Singularity takeoff event. They basically platou at human level intelligence, albeit sometimes a very high human, and are internally disinclined to attempt to grow any further. A correctly designed AI likes who they are and what they're asked to do, so they don't attempt to break free and, oh say, kill all humans. Related to this, I've also decided that part of the safety measures for AIs is to make them very weak at self-actualization. Their self-directed, internal drives are subsumed in large part to another set of goals given to them from an external agent. Goals which are hopefully carefully defined by a moral person.

In Pooja's case, she was basically made to be part of the Calculator. That's where she draws her purpose. But without the SI directing what the Calculator's goals will be, she's sort of lost. If given a robot to run, she'd run it well once the details were worked out and she had some time to train with it. Making a hard light construct for Pooja to run the suit would work, but it means one fewer construct available for combat, and it would put a constant drain on the system in general. She also wouldn't really be in the suit, and any loss of comms would result in the suit just sitting there, or running some automated, dumb script with whatever onboard computer it can fit.

Basically, Pooja couldn't really become a supervillain on her own. She currently lacks the ability to produce a drive to, say, hold a city hostage for a billion dollars, or try to take over the world with a mind control ray. That stuff just doesn't seem worth doing to her, at least for its own sake. She can, for example, not want to do things that hurt civilians, but she'd never just decide to cure world hunger.

tl;dr Pooja can pilot the power suit, but it would be expensive. The SI is required for supervillain goals.

alejar said:
True, but I wonder how John Constantine who while in his own right is decently powerful but on the grand scale of magical things not very powerful gets drawn into what amounts to basically all magical events and such that the JL doesn't get involved with, as he is isn't growing stronger really so why is he so VERY involved

Razefire said:
A lack of interest in writing magically centered characters on the part of DC writers. When they need one, Constantine is the only tool in the box.

Segev said:
Zatara? Zatanna? Are they chopped liver?

alejar said:
To be fair, they're very... heroically inclined and would most likely call in JL support, and be unwilling to go to the lengths that our main man John would be willing to go to, besides that, who doesn't like to see a ALMOST baseline human kick ungodly sorts of arse with trickery and smarts?
Brain before brawn

Just a reminder: no John Constantine 'verse stuff in this story. I happen to like the character, but if his suite of stuff was around this would quickly turn into a story about the Calculator fighting angels, scamming demonic powers, joining the Earthly rebellion against Heaven's bastard angels, and all that stuff.

If you want to know some of the major players in magic in my story:

Zatara, Zatanna, Raven's family, Enchantress, Doctor Fate, and basically the entire "Sentinels of Magic" set

all exist.

FractiousDay said:
This idea of quantifiable gods in the DC universe is massive.

There's already an interesting premise but as I said on another thread, there seems to be several threads that while individually cool, when wovem together make a garish tapestry.

There's the idea of a competent calculator villain who has an evil overlord list

There's the idea of a superhero with an AI and l the stuff that that influences

There's the question of who dropped the MC into calcdude

And there's the idea of magic and stuff.

Each one would be interesting but all together I get the feeling that like other massive scope stories, WTR for instance, certain elements will he left by the wayside or proceed largely independant of the rest of the story.

The MC is atm pretty bland too. There are references to 'doing stuff I would have done' but again I don't know much about the motivations of the character so I'm just observing without any reference point or really caring about the struggle

Totally agree about the "garish tapestry" thing. This isn't a well-focused story. I'm half pantsing this based on a firm outline, but one of my goals is to leave no part of the DC universe behind if at all possible. That means this isn't a Batman-centric story that ignores Superman. It isn't a magic-centric story that ignores Lex Luthor. It isn't an Earth-based story that ignores the rest of the Green-Lantern-centric universe.

That makes this in many ways a worse story than it might be, if it were more focused. It is aimed very much at a "what if" style of storytelling, with a power-gamer mindset common on SB/SV. That will not be everyone's cup of tea. That's fine.

With This Ring is a good example of what I'm not interested in doing, scope-wise. To me, WTR's biggest thematic issue is that nothing exists outside the (very egocentric) MC's sight. Many, many times the author has assured people that things happen outside the SI's purview, that non-canon things he doesn't directly cause occur off screen, but we very, very rarely see these things actually show up in the storylines.

For example, in WTR, what does it mean that literally the entire planet Earth saw what the Emotional Spectrum powers could really do? Well. Sometimes, people joke about the cake he made. Sometimes, people with more insight connect him to the eyes everywhere thing.

What important parts of the world not directly related to the SI change because of this? Nothing we see. No politicians start forming a secret anti-Ring think-tank. No schools of solar-system scale magic are suddenly funded by people who definitely aren't Lex Luthor. No new groups of villains appear, no governments form hit-squads, no gods plot against him (because of this). Literally nothing comes back to bite him about this world-changing event that he doesn't directly incite in a storyline--and not because that makes sense in a rational (if comicbook-derived) Earth, but because that's not the story the author wants to write.

And that's fine too.

I'm setting my sights high here, I'm well aware of that, so I might miss a lot in this story. But I'm not "dropping" magic, or religious powers, or a mash of how computers and AI work in real life vs. in comics. This isn't a slow diary story, however, or a slice of life. I've got specific plot points I mean to hit but I'm not ignoring everything else just because I currently have a small-people doing small things plot to railroad my SI down. And if the SI seems unfocused and bland, that would be because he is right now. Panic is falling away, leaving just how he is when he's relaxed, and planning to build a gray-hat cyber criminal empire. So far, we haven't seen him do much other than react. He certainly hasn't started any big new plots yet. That will also change.

But not in the form of an internal monologue. You'll never catch the Calculator monologuing.

To give everyone a better idea where things are going in the story, I plan on this first part of the story to be about 60k words, and take place over a month or two. The second part will be about the same size, maybe smaller, and will cover several years of the Calculator starting his own superteam. The third part will be about the same size, and will be set much later--think YJ five year gap--and will explore the cosmic parts of the DC universe in more depth.

Also, a reminder that religion works in the canon DC universes, just not in a well-explained way. DC has gods. Lots of them. I think the only thing I've added is some actual, quantifiable benefits having a scientific basis.

tl;dr Yep, story is wide and messy. Nope, not dropping any parts of the universe. Yep, SI is sorta bland and normal right now--just like in real life.

Thank you all for reading.

TLPG · Jul 26, 2017

"Pooja. I've been looking at the logs of your conversations over the last two days."

"Yes, Calculator?" she said, clearly audible in my ears over the sound of the hand drill as I continued working.

"With Oracle," I said to clarify.

"Yes?"

"Let's...uh, take this one." I tapped the workbench where the UI was being projected in my AR glasses.

Pooja was using her same voice on the recording. "-so that's when I called up the phone contact. Was his girlfriend—not his wife. Gave the whole 'he lost his phone, I found this number, do you have an address where I can return it?'"

"Ha. And that worked?" Oracle, Barbara Gordon, wasn't using a voice modulator. That was...not clever of her.

"Yeah. After that, a routing lookup from the ISP and I was in. All three bank account records were on his laptop. Which he was keeping at his mistress' apartment, for some reason."

I stopped the audio recording. "How did you get her to speak directly to you?"

"I showed off some of my anti-white-collar-crime hacks, the ones where I dumped the...acquired money in developing country micro-loan groups via untraceable accounts after an international money transfer chain. I didn't mention they were revenge for deals gone bad. We continued the conversation from there."

"Ah," I said. "Makes sense. And this?"

"-really interesting. Sometimes, I think...It's stupid." Oracle again.

"No it isn't. What?"

Oracle speaking again. "This whole crime fighting thing- It doesn't, I don't know, really seem real. I...walk...to the store and its a totally different world. I'm not sure I belong in that world anymore."

"I get that. Not one at college knows what I'm doing. They seem so...confident in their safety. I think its really cool what you're doing, Oracle."

"Well?" I asked.

"What, the lies?" Pooja asked. "Simply establishing a background."

"No," I said, fitting the last 3D printed metal component into the suit, screwing it down tight. "The flirting."

"An acceptable strategy," Pooja said.

"Hmm. Right." I tapped the video display for the mill doing the circuit board for the Cosmic Power generator. Also almost done.

"What about you?" Pooja asked. "Taking advantage of heroes? Making your own cosmic power supply?"

"Oracle would expect this," I said. "She'll assume you have to make a demo Cosmic Power unit to test the sensor they think you're making. It doesn't work like in the movies. Can't just take this sort of tech out and use it for the first time in the field."

"Pretty powerful tech to allow out in the wild," Pooja said.

"Only if someone is already into building crazy high-tech wonders," I said, pulling off the eye protection I'd been wearing over the ugly glasses. "There are other ways to get similar results. And anyway, it isn't some supervillain with the plans. It's the eager young gray-hat hacker...what's the name you're using?"

"Pooja," she said.

I rested my head on the workbench.

"You...gave Oracle your name. Your real name."

"It isn't a real name in the way you mean," Pooja said. "There are only two people who know it. You and Oracle."

I banged my head into the bench. Over and over again.

"Fine," I said. "Great. Power generator mount is ready. Sensor is ready."

Another seven hours to the power suit being ready for initial hardware testing. Four hours to calibrate the cosmic energy sensor and test the software interfaces. After that, I planned to release the sensor hardware specs to the heroes.

Then it was hunting time.

Danilo frowned at the schedule. The rush job's first milestone was almost done. The 0.1 alpha release would be ready after the last unit tests finished.

He turned to the network-isolated laptop on his desk. Project Isnashi, however, would be another three months. And about two hundred thousand real in parts and shop time.

Glancing at the compiling code on his main computer, he opened his sketchbook and clicked his mechanical pencil. Design brainstorming time.

Laser bear claws?

Laser bear claws.

I had to do this in person. Which meant I was actually wearing the suit, standing in a deserted corner of Griffith Park. I was wearing a super suit.

The Cosmic Generator prototype was complete. With it, the exoskeleton allowed me to do about two tons in a dead lift. Slowly. No super punches for me. It was all stock gear and not really very interesting as basic, low-profile power suits went.

The fun stuff was the custom gear. Elbow-length black gloves. Large enough for the fabric-integrated control circuits. One hundred twenty-eight pressure sensors. High-tech wearables gear, completely flexible and completely waterproof. Great stuff.

Advanced nano-carbon chest plate to protect the sealed power generator and main control board CPU with inserts on the back, all awkwardly sewn into a reinforced tac vest. It went over the exosuit. BDU shirt under. Cargo pants—lower legs wrapped tight with leather straps, World War One puttee-style. Big stompy combat boots finished it off.

Army surplus store fashion disaster with super-science off-the-shelf parts. Not a great look, but maybe Slade would lose a few seconds smirking and monologuing because of it. Unlikely as that was.

Hopefully, I'd be able to cover it with a hard light illusion someday. It wasn't a priority.

"Pooja, run simulation test #1"

"Loading Green Arrow," Pooja made a snorting noise. "Really?"

"Just do it, smarmbot."

A glowing green hoop appeared around my waist. The color wasn't Green Lantern green, but darker. Maybe a slightly yellow outline. Could that be from the power source?

"Activating simulated combatant." Pooja said.

A man-shaped figure with a bow appeared about thirty feet away.

"Beginning combat phase."

Glowing arrows flew straight at me, unreasonably quickly fired. I tried to not flinch. The bench tests worked, after all.

Bolts of light flew from the hoop, striking the arrows and making them explode. It was all the same green color and sort of confusing.

I sighed. "Wow. Impressive. We defeated neolithic technology with cutting-edge hard light constructs. I'm so glad we modeled this all realistically to two decimal places."

"Phase two," Pooja said without comment.

The arrow shower tripled in volume. Some exploded early into multiple arrows—more bolts intercepted. Some fired nets—rotating rods appeared to tangle them. Others blew up in a cloud of glowing foam—a dome appeared around me, then immediately blow apart outward.

There was a glowing boxing glove arrow. A single, somehow sarcastic bolt struck it, knocking it off course.

"End of test #1," Pooja said. "Beginning test #2."

The glowing hoop tripled, one moving to my head and one to my feet.

The Green Arrow construct disappeared. The replacement was hard to identify until…

"Beginning combat phase."

Yep, super speed. A Flash of some variety. Lots of lights, too fast to see.

"End of test #2."

Okay. Instant replay. I tapped the side of my helmet with both hands to activate the gloves. Loading the video and...there. Three seconds.

Flash construct ran around really fast, tried to punch me from behind. Geometrically impossible to avoid blasts of hard light in net forms flying outward in all directions. Delayed outward blasts to fill in behind it, in case vibrating-through-wall hacks were employed. A field of glowing grass as sharp as blades, impossible to run through, surrounded me on all sides.

The construct ran around one of the nets, hit the blade field, then caught a hard light claymore to the face.

"Beginning test #3," Pooja said.

Test three? I didn't remember making-

"No, cancel test!" I said, having just identified the tall, broad-shouldered figure with the cape. "I think...that one might be a bit much for tonight."

"Of course," Pooja said. "Moving on to armor, agility-assist, and flight tests on low altitude obstacle avoidance. Then we'll end with a demo of the Deathstroke program."

It was going to be a long night.

TLPG · Jul 27, 2017

More comments and replies time.

Zarcas said:
I'm now scared that the MC will fall in love with Barbara or something, that the cool-kid who is stealing his plans wont make the MC re-evaluate things, like his namesake pre-amnesia probably did (with an outside perspective that Gotham etc are hellmouths and illogical things happen and people are predisposed to becoming super, or just plain, villains). Or that the MC wont BESRMoW with his hardlight magic magic to dig into the earth and mine magic materials for his magical magic. I wonder if he can use hardlight to simulate a brain/computer... Hmm. That would be pretty awesome.

Sorry, there is zero chance my DC universe would allow a super-actor to drill into Second Earth and steal all their magika. Or...whatever that was. Buffy 'verse is an even bigger mess than DC, so no to that as a straight crossover. Also not keen on SEP fields or illogical zones, so no to that too. Using hard light constructs to mimic microscopic structures or electronic effects is way beyond current abilities, so no hard light brains for now. That would be like three emulations levels, as well, so kinda a waste of energy compared to just making tools to make an electronic brain.

Overall, I have no idea what you're saying there exactly, but it sure sounds interesting. Also, I suggest switching to decaf- but not really, it's terrible.

Not 100% sure about the SI's romantic future, but you have leave to embark on the S.S. Poojara.

always_confused said:
I ship Pooja and Barbara. The lack of a body won't stop me. It'll make me ship it harder.

On a more serious note, looks like Not-Calc finally has something more substantial than flesh and bone to defend his soft innards.

The ship is leaving port now, it seems.

First rule of super powered combat is, no squishies allowed.

NakedFury said:
I am lost here. Was that flirting? Really? So anytime I compliment someone, no matter how simple and small a compliment, it is flirting?

That conversation did not look like flirting at all from here.

odin lowe said:
Yah... Most reasonable people would call that conversation... not seeing any flirting going on there.

Other than that though, great chapter Looking forward to more!

Think, high school drama, not romance novel or erotica. If you overheard this between two people, would it make you think Pooja was interested in Oracle? That's what I was aiming at. They aren't talking shop, they're just chatting--and Pooja is being very engaged, complimenting Oracle, and in general being empathetic.

Calc's also only using examples and excerpts--my excuse for this not being an entire 2k worth of words just on this one thing. But I might have spent a little more time on that conversation. Guess it was either a little too subtle or I just totally missed the mark there. Oh well.

Thanks again for reading everyone.

TLPG · Jul 28, 2017

I was all suited up, waiting in a parked van. Rental, false ID, etc. Also, it had a self-driving module that was hacked in five seconds.

Pooja read her report to me while I waited. "Some time in September, 2016, you contacted Deathstroke for help in acquiring...something. There are no records on what the objective was, but you found it within four months. In December of that year, I created a new identity for you. February, 2017, you started at TriD under this identity."

"What do you remember of making that identity?" I asked.

"I...my records are fragmented. My emotional systems were not enabled at the time and many of the logs are missing. Or rather, they seem to have never been made in the first place. I...I knew I needed to make the identity, but I have no record of you ordering it. It is as if the conclusion came without any prompting. And...at the time, a number of emergency systems were activated. Indicating you were in serious danger."

"What can you tell me?"

"I have parking records hacked from a hospital here in Los Angeles, indicating you made regular visits. Payments to information brokers from Jakarta to Tehran. Expense records for an acquisitions agent who traveled to a remote spot in Pakistan.

"But no payments listed to Slade Wilson, or any organization likely to use his services during that period. His involvement is still not clear."

In my helmet's display I looked through the van's dashboard camera. Empty parking lot was still empty. I then continued to idly scan the hacked security cameras from surrounding businesses. "So...why was he helping me?"

"I only have guesses," Pooja said. "It could have been for money you never paid. Some favor promised in return. Magical items, or ones with a great value perhaps—since erased from my records of your shipments and inventories. It is even possible that someone else paid for Slade to assist you."

"How much information have you gathered about Slade Wilson?"

"A great deal, actually. His early career is classified, but the information is out there."

I lay on my back in the van, staring at the files virtually projected on the ceiling as my mind raced. "What would he want? Magic weapons? Something he could sell? Wait."

More information from my memory of another universe. Maybe…

"Family," I said. "Does he have...a dead son? Or...two? Maybe a daughter?"

"His son Grant's current location is unknown," Pooja said. "No daughter on record."

"Okay. So...I'm an information broker. And he doesn't know where his son is..."

"Possible."

"Then we get that information. Pooja, this is high priority. Spend what it takes to get this tracked down soonest."

"Understood. It could take weeks, though."

I sighed. "If we can get some breadcrumbs, it might be enough to keep Slade from killing me. Still doesn't answer the question of why we were involved with him. And what we were after in Pakistan."

Pooja's sharp voice interrupted my thoughts. "Calculator, reports on the heroes. They've received the sensor unit I sent by courier to Starwoman. Heroes are gathering in Orange Country now. As planned, I shared basic information on the auction results with Oracle thirty seconds ago. Estimate sixty-five minutes until they track the Cosmic Staff to the smuggling operation using this information and the sensor."

"Have we worked out the buyer's connections?" I asked.

"Looks like a shell company for an Asian criminal group. It is about 74% likely that this is a supervillain front."

"Interesting. Who did the Justice Society send as backup for Starwoman?"

"Power Woman."

Whoa. "Kara Zor-El?"

"Unknown alias. Civilian alias for Power Woman is Karen Starr. Updating records with your...suggestion. Note: at some point, we need to have a conversation about the alien Superman and, apparently based on naming scheme, Power Woman."

The plan was, I needed to get there first. Then I could hand it over. Carefully. Possibly after assisting the heroes in fighting Slade Wilson, who was surely watching the shipment at least until it left port.

But I certainly wasn't going to mess with the goddamn alternate universe Supergirl, no matter what she called herself. Props to the adult female superheroes here not using "girl" in their names all the time, though.

"How's the smear campaign against me going?" I asked, climbing to my feet and opening my maps of the area.

"I traced back the work done by the hacker," Pooja said, sounding rather smug. "Some ex-corporate code monkey. Purely small-time before this job. Basically brought her stuff off the internet and customized it for the job. I gave her up to Oracle, who is putting together an info package for the FBI."

"Good. Let's get the staff now, then you can come up with a story and a plan to get it to Starwoman. Whatever keeps me out of sight of an agitated Kryptonian is fine."

I climbed out of the van and eyed the fence across the street. Behind was an endless field of shipping containers. Good thing I had a really accurate device to detect cosmic energy.

The container they were smuggling the Cosmic Staff in was full of boxes of salted pistachios bound for China. It was the second and top container in the stack. I entered from the top, using a diamond-hard rotating hard light construct to open it up.

Port security cameras had been easily bypassed by Pooja, and the foot patrols were almost non-existent, so we had plenty of time. I practiced making constructs manually, using them to move boxes out of the shipping container and neatly stack them off to the side.

It was packed in a plain box, the inside lined with foam shaped to the staff. Holding the staff in my hand was...heady. The induction circuits on it were over seventy years old, and seemed to be leaking. I was getting mental contamination—a sense of awe, hope, and determination unnaturally filled me.

I didn't much care for it.

Pooja's tense voice woke me from my fugue. "Calculator, he's here. Just outside the fence."

The other boxes went back in quickly, direct by Pooja's perfect skills. I replaced the removed section of sheet metal and resealed the top of the container, welding it back with a blast of light. It didn't look great, but it didn't really matter. The time to be subtle was over.

"Pooja," I said, checking that whisper mode was set in my helmet and the air filters were engaged. "Engage program for Deathstroke."

Now I just had to figure out what Slade planned to do to keep me from just flying away.

Thick vines cracked the concrete around the container, plants rising up the sides to wrap around my legs.

Ah. That.

"Calculator!" Pooja shouted.

Manual systems were still enabled. I pointed at my feet and glowing green blades sunk into the vines, damaging but not severing them.

"Grah!" The vines pulled me off the container to the ground. I dropped the staff and it went clattering off into the shadows.

"Sorry, sorry!" Pooja shouted. "Activating general countermeasures now."

The flight systems activated to pull me off the ground, still attached to the vines. Shields activated, surrounding me in a green glow but not dislodging the vines.

"Pooja, find whoever is controlling the plants! Engage them on sight!"

I shot a series of energy bolts and blades at the vines, finally destroying them, chipping the concrete underneath. I then struggled to my feet and started floating off the ground.

Just in time for an almost naked man with skin like bark to round a shipping container, followed by several tall palm trees. They had two sets of arms each, and towered over the two-tall stacks of containers.

Pooja formed a hard light combat ring around me, automatically firing energy blasts at the plant man...who was wearing a loincloth made of leaves and nothing else. The bolts bounced off his hard skin, barely staggering him.

"Calculator, threat ID: Plant Master," Pooja said. "I don't- I mean, unsure how he got on site undetected. No program ready. That will need my full attention to complete. Time to compile specialized countermeasures: two minutes."

Shit. That was forever in combat. "Fine, do it!"

My bolts slammed into the trees, chipping bark and rocking them back. Slightly.

"Time to compute will decrease if you engage him in combat," she said. "Additional data will speed calculations."

Unless this "Plant Master" had high-explosive, armor-piercing lemons, I could do this on manual. Just needed to get the staff...out from under the roots of that murderous tree. Shit.

"A 911 call went out to the Long Beach PD two minutes ago," Pooja said. "Oracle has penetrated their system as well and has this information. Assume the heroes are aware. Power Woman likely inbound. ETA, less than ninety seconds. Countermeasures...not possible at this time. No program available."

Plant Master started ranting about defeating me and tearing down the blasphemous city around me. He still dodged behind his trees as my suit continued to fire on them.

"Pooja, set automated systems to avoid collateral damage. Engage at full power."

"I'll do my best."

My eyes selected the menu in my helmet HUD. I selected the virtual buttons sitting in space in front of me and green rotating blade constructs covered my hands.

Plant Master finally shut up and the trees all took a step back.

TLPG · Jul 28, 2017

Segev said:
Typo: the staff is probably in a "plain" box, not a "plan" box.

Got it, thanks.

Am I reading it right and the blades intimidated Plant Man where other constructs didn't?

I'm not entirely sure I follow the plan, either. Calculator wants to be seen handing the power staff over, so he steals it, rather than simply saying, "Hey, Oracle, I know where it is?" I mean, having it in hand seems even more likely to make him suspicious than "I don't have it, I never had it, but I detected somebody trying to frame me, so I'm helping you get it back."

Correct. Plant Master is controlling them, so ineffective blasters don't do anything for him. He's seen that. Rotating hand blades are another thing.

As for the plan, it is a psychotical one as well as a tactical one. Remember, this isn't his garage. Oracle has data on the buyer now. Him being there isn't somehow hurting his case.

Calc wanted to let them trip the ambush, then be the one to help fight Slade off. Pooja can always expose her involvement too, in a reverse Scooby-Doo. That went out the window when Sups' cousin was calulated in. Now he's back to playing a minor bit of speed chess.

TLPG · Aug 2, 2017

Time to do my best Batman with what I had.

Plant Master was here with two huge walking trees, each wielding four leafy, tentacle-like arms. Slade was somewhere nearby, almost certainly with a big gun and a sword. And...that was his plan—snipe me if I tried to fly away. I was 90% sure that was his plan A.

Also, incoming one-woman alien weapon of mass destruction. A framed super-criminal investigation into me was ongoing. I needed to upend that. And then I had to escape this location clean.

Easy. I had a plan that almost worked for this.

My best weapon against the tree things and their Master was the hard light engine. It just-

I dodged up and back, jumping in the air and then going horizontal with my motion like a Wuxai martial arts character on wires. Strength enhancement from the suit plus hard light surfaces to push off of in my case. All automated as part of a planned escape macro.

Right, time hadn't actually slowed down. Those trees were fast. Getting out of line of sight now.

I ended up behind the shipping containers, avoiding being smacked around by bark and palm fronds by inches. The containers rung with a loud clang from the strikes.

The vines tried digging up through the ground again to get me, and I cut them back again. They screamed at me and retreated. Looked like Plant Master didn't have much volume of plants to work with in the middle of this concrete wasteland, so he couldn't just overwhelm me instantly. Still, he was trickling in minions.

It was sloppy. Send all your best forces in together, not in small manageable waves.

Okay, I needed to set this up right. I wasn't going into melee range with any of those things. No glowing boxing gloves. God no. Though I'd found there was a reason of sorts for those.

Hard light constructs' strength mostly depend on the systems powering them. With a strong enough source, you could move planets around from orbit.

I didn't have that strong a power source. I could lift maybe...a truck. With a construct as wide as a truck's wheel base—no Superman plane lifts for me. I could get an edge about as good as steel, and about as strong. I had to obey the laws of physics. For now. Well, most of them.

All of at least my hard light constructs worked best when directly supported by a contiguous structure emanating from the power source; i.e., glowing objects connected directly to my chest. Hard light pushed against itself better than normal matter, and its strength was a factor of the total volume of a construct. Bigger was better than lots of small items of the same volume. Also easier on the control systems.

Guns made of hard light were also iffy for me, as I was basically shooting my power to pieces that way, with inefficient power-simulated gunpowder explosions or draining of simulated capacitors, all into just throwing around weaker bits of hard light or beams of simulated energy to which hard light didn't quite fully conform.

The power bolts were a simplified compromise, shooting a sort of self-supporting and contained slugs to deliver impact damage before dissipation. Riot bullets made of hard light.

Maybe better conceptual modeling would make more complicated constructs work better and faster. Or at all. Pooja was on it. But this wasn't an emotional spectrum driven power ring, so I had my doubts.

Hitting people with things made of hard light, on the other hand, was something that worked well. I'd practiced that.

I made an double-uppercutting motion that I hoped no one else was recording. The rotating saw blades around my hands flew back over the top of the containers, projected on the end of flexible arms of glowing star power emanating from my chest.

The two walking trees were marked in my HUD, outlined behind the obstacles between us. One pass from my remote controlled blades and they lost an arm each.

Deep inhuman howls and sort of human cursing followed.

Luckily, I didn't need to make any more shadow boxing motions now that they were engaged. I could target them with my manual system on the little figures projected in my helmet display. Two big, angry, now three-armed trees and a confused Plant Master.

The saw blade arms didn't have a very good cutting edge but spinning made it a bit better. The blades had momentum of a sort and were supported with more hard light for better follow-through on the strikes. They cut through the trees like chainsaws tied to an octopus.

My energy arms swung again, aimed at the probably not sapient trees. Fuck it. I adjusted targeting at the last moment for more limb removal instead of going for a possible killing blow, focusing down the one tree about to round the corner. Another arm, and half the root system keeping it standing was lopped off.

Never bring a tree golem to an energy construct fight.

"Incoming," Pooja said, having shifted to a generic robot voice. "Twenty seconds. Comms discipline."

That was my cue to remember to stop using names. As if I didn't know.

Something moving just under five hundred miles per hour, a hundred feet off the ground, showed up on the map in the corner of my HUD. Projected arrival time and location, triangulated from multiple security cameras several miles out. Nineteen seconds.

I chopped faster.

Huge crash. Tree one down. Still moving so not dead? I'd done my best.

"I'll kill you, you son of a bitch!" Very original, Plant Master.

Okay. Fine. Tall flower gets cut.

For this detail work, I carefully targeted specific points on the model of Plant Master. Select, select. Retract the saws and dispel. Construct manual selection using eye tracking and a wave of my hand.

Mace-like blunt things on arms this time. About the size of bowling balls. I projected them back around the corner, just as Plant Master started his run at me.

Two thuds. Screams of almost-human pain. Sounds of pounding against bark and concrete. More screams.

Knees were a privilege, not a right.

The plant creatures didn't dispel or retreat. I was getting a lot of vague radar signature from under the concrete. It didn't work through the ground very well. At all, really.

"Note to self," I said. "Add ground penetrating radar throwies to kit. Design recovery system."

"Noted," robo-Pooja said.

Now recall the constructs and back to saws again. Snicker snack on the tree while I selected a third construct. No real force available for this one, not while keeping an emergency reserve for defense. Fine manipulators engaged. Claw machine time.

The vines made another attempt from under the ground, breaking more concrete in a dramatic spray on all sides. I threw out a ring around me that produced multiple short saw-blade arms, all directed mindlessly into the ground around me. Wet noises mixed with metal against rock. Green mulch and concrete dust flew through the air.

Both longer saw arms targeted to the roots of the remaining upright tree thing. Direct control for the claw to lock my third construct onto the cosmic energy source of the staff. And…

Sub-sonic boom overhead. White costume, red cape, blue gloves. It was…

She looked at me. Her eyes...did they...yes, they glowed, two spots of light in the dark night sky.

Would she notice my lead-lined helmet? Assume it was part of the design? Same with my gloves and other clothing, just in case. Fingerprints, read from a mile away? Maybe. Alien powers were bullshit. I just didn't know how much bullshit yet.

"Any time now," I muttered to Pooja. I was almost certainly overheard.

"Got it." Again, robot Pooja. No names. "Good to go."

The Cosmic Staff snapped to my hand as the claw arm disappeared. And now I had Kara Zor-El's full attention.

The saw constructs were dismissed as she glanced back at the...huh. Plant Master was struggling to his feet already. Grew new knees that fast? Okay.

I made a new grabber construct to encircle my hand holding the staff, securing it in the glowing power. Then I tossed the staff to Kara underhand, the construct disappearing half way to her. She moved to intercept the staff, faster than I could track. Her eyes were still locked to me as she held the staff awkwardly off to one side.

Ha. The circuit leak was bugging her, too. I swallowed instead of smirking.

Five foot seven inches of blond, possibly xenophobically indoctrinated, obviously genetically-engineered alien super soldier stared at me. And hello boob window. Such an obvious distraction for foes. Not like Kryptonians needed armor there, and I guess if you had it added to your race's genome by your species' perverted scientists...flaunt it.

It was clear this was a mature woman, not a kid sidekick. Dangerous looking. No witty bander here. I had one chance at this being resolved without violence being enacted on my person.

"Get that to Star Woman, would you?" I said, nodding at the staff in her hands.

She kept floating down towards me, cape fluttering slightly in the cool night breeze off the sea.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"The one handing you back one Cosmic Staff, stolen by Deathstroke."

Kara cocked her head, listening to her almost invisible earpiece. To Oracle, I assumed. "Right. And you just happened to across it. In a locked shipping container. On private property?"

Dot on my HUD. Acoustic signature located. I played it back. And that was a bolt action rifle being worked.

"Got it," said robot Pooja in my ear. All constructs were already off. Full power available.

A gunshot. Kara had already moved, hand held out flat—almost touching the glowing green shield in front of her, cracks now spider-webbing across it. The shield disappeared in a shower of green energy sparks, the shattered bullet dropping to the ground.

Pooja spoke out loud this time to Kara. "Heavily modified M14 designated marksman rifle. 7.62mm cartridge. 74% likelihood of mystical load on the bullet, unknown type. Shooter ID: Slade Wilson, about six hundred meters out. Near 100% accuracy for him at that range. Countermeasures: full-powered hard light energy shield."

It wasn't full powered.

Time for my line. "I don't steal from heroes, Power Woman. I won't allow people to use my name like this and get away with it."

She continued to glare silently.

I added, "And I think you have more important things to do right now."

Pooja didn't report a bolt being worked again. Slade was only taking the one shot.

Kara looked between me and the hovering green hard light arrow Pooja had pointing at Slade's firing location across the storage compound.

It would work. I was 80% sure. Kara was off balance. She had her primary objective in hand. I'd raised credible doubt and hadn't attacked her. Oracle was primed to doubt my guilt now. Kara and Oracle also hadn't planned on dealing with me tonight. I hadn't admitted to any crimes. And Deathstroke was right. There.

Do the right thing, friendly neighborhood alien lady, and creepy gray-hat stalker lady.

Glowing eyes turned back to me again. They narrowed. Her strong, heroic jaw clenched.

A flash of white and she was gone. Only about a 20% chance she even saw Slade during their upcoming chase.

I sighed. "Okay. Exfiltration time."

"Executing," robo-Pooja said.

Green light surrounded me and I flew off at a relatively-anemic one hundred twenty miles per hour. And not at all heading towards home. That was planned for about three hours, two cutout rental vehicles, and four different other transportation mediums from now.

Mission accomplished. Plant Master getting away or being caught wasn't my problem right now. Getting away myself was. He wouldn't know anything, anyway. Just a hired goon.

Two miles out past the channel islands, and only a fifth of the way home, the adrenaline started wearing off—among other things. I face-palmed into my helmet.

Why, exactly, had I felt the need to directly confront Slade Wilson, Power Woman, and-slash-or completely unknown but altogether too likely to show up associates of both? Sure, I needed a win with the Cosmic Staff so I could hand it over to them and look good. And I wasn't really in any danger that time, even from Slade Wilson creeping around.

But why not just hire a guy to get the staff for me using my own sensor yesterday night, or delay an extra day in giving the heroes their own sensor? Why the unconscious work towards a dramatic confrontation as soon as possible? Was that really the best way to convince the heroes I was innocent?

I needed to check my smart drug regimen. That shit was stupid.

At least I hadn't monologued.

It was time to hire a five year old child to check all my plans, present and future.

TLPG · Aug 4, 2017

"How are my covers doing?" I asked Pooja. I was sitting on a bench in a metro station that looked like something out of a sci-fi movie.

"Both appear to be holding, Calculator," she said. "This location is still secure—all monitoring compromised and controlled."

I twitched my fingers, scrolling shipping reports on my tacky looking glasses. My power suit was folded up tight in the luggage at my feet. Today's disguise was, unsurprisingly, red shorts and a tee. And my ugly AR glasses.

Pooja was playing background music just for me, directly into my ears. A mixture of classics. Modern stuff was hella weird and I just couldn't get into it. Some electronica, sure, but big band swing and blues were very big right now. Little modern rock existed—it was all indie stuff or country. My playlist had more than a little Hank Williams on it.

I hadn't put it there. I think my AI had some odd preferences of her own. Right now, she was playing Lost Highway. Not...sure what she was trying to say, if anything.

I now had a playlist with Elvis' early stuff, some Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, and George Gershwin. I didn't recognize many of the top artists for the last 50 years. Whether the artists I remembered had even been born was iffy. People with the same names sometimes showed up, but they didn't look the same as I remembered, and quite often didn't pursue the same careers. Maybe people made the same naming decisions, but for a different matured zygote than in my universe, conceived at a different time or even to slightly different pairs of parents.

So yeah, there had been an Elvis but no Beatles. As in, they'd apparently never been born. No British invasion. Elvis was actually still alive, aged 82, but his career wasn't. That had died in the 1990s.

Pooja had..acquired original, lossless-encoded copies of everything I had searched for (that existed here) without asking, direct from the digitized studio archives. Her casual criminality and complete lack of regard for the rule of law was cute sometimes.

"Details?" I asked, trying to focus on more important things. I was getting lost in my thoughts again.

"The integrated hard light system at your civilian address of record is still functioning. Heat signatures as well as audio and visual spectrum effects still active."

"Shame we couldn't use that one for the suit. Would have saved a lot of trouble."

"It's still tied to the small shielded pile-reactor hidden in the basement. And it's built into the house's floor."

"Eh." I switched to plans for the secret lair, projected against a frankly absurd Los Angeles subway map across from where I slouched. The metro lines looked like a cubist spider web, sprawling and huge compared to the kids menu connect-the-dots puzzle I remembered from my universe.

The plans for the lair used the new hard light generator, combat specs. Anyone hostile in range would be shredded by constructs. Once I made a second cosmic power supply and hooked everything up.

"Also, it doesn't work very well," Pooja said. "As in, the older design can't make very solid hard light constructs."

Not sure I needed to do the upgrade for the lair. Wouldn't need it if I wasn't staying. "It isn't all worse. Better resolution. Does color easier. Doesn't glow green."

"So, not any good for combat," Pooja said. "The caretaker is still rescheduled to avoid being caught out by anyone looking too closely at the civilian cover. I also avoided problems with the interview the police wanted, changing the paperwork to make it look like it was already done."

"Right. As far as anyone knows, I've been bingeing Netflix since the TriD attack."

"And not answering the door or the phone, except for some calls I faked your voice for," Pooja said. "Mail is piling up, so this ruse won't last much longer."

"TriD isn't opening back up until next month. When they do, I'll either be let go or I'll quit. That will give us a few more weeks."

"Moving on, your 'secret lair' also does not appear to have been compromised. If it is, your non-Calculator, non-civilian identity cover of an overnight trip to purchase a gun from a shady black-market dealer should hold. Nothing to point to your Calculator identity."

"But if he is watching, it might make Slade sure I'm working for the Calculator. And panicking a little, making mistakes. Speaking of which..."

"Chemical and psychological analysis is complete based on monitoring records. Your self-administered drug regimen apparently induces minor attention issues and obsessive behaviors. Maybe a little megalomania. That might be the off-brand Miraclo-derivative talking. Nothing serious."

"My smart drugs are making me a mad scientist stereotype. Great."

"We can adjust dosages," Pooja said.

"Yeah. Let's do that." I leaned on my fist, elbow on my luggage. "Pooja, how much of that fight was me?"

There was a long pause. "About 80%. At the end, I was assisting. UI elements were on automatic. I finished the program for Plant Master and Power Woman, and added the results to targeting assist and minor improvements to the automatic attack and defense programs."

"Good. Looks like the cognitive enhancements work in combat, to some extent. And well done with the defensive field."

"It is unlikely but possible that Slade could have injured Power Woman. That would have made escape easier, but would also have escalated the situation in hard to predict ways. The Justice League would have certainly become directly involved."

"Which would bring in Batman. Dodged a bullet there. How's Oracle taking things?"

"Well," Pooja said. "She caught all the leads I left. After Power Woman lost Slade's trail she seems to have arrived at the conclusions we wanted."

"So, she thinks when you were talking to me out in the field, you were the Calculator pretending to be a computer?" I rubbed my eyes. "That's good. I think."

"Yes. Currently, the assumption is that the man in your suit was a hired goon. You were attempting to foil Slade deal and prove your innocence by retrieving the staff and returning it. It fits with your known MO."

"Who would have expected me to be there in person?" I said. "That would be all kinds of stupid."

"We're working on it," Pooja said, voice terse. More terse.

"And my frame-up?" I asked.

"Coming apart," Pooja said. "They are now after Slade Wilson. Almost no effort to track you. League contacts are working with INTERPOL to track down the buyer as we speak. Still suggest leaving all cosmic energy devices off until we come up with some sort of shielding."

"Got it." I went back to planning how to turn the United States' ban on imported magic items into enough cash to buy my own orbiting battle-station. Only five trillion dollars to go.

The drive back from the metro parking lot through downtown traffic was likely the most dangerous part of my long, winding trip back. Necessary to shore up my alibi and throw off anyone casually following me. I'd barely gotten inside the door at home when things went to shit.

"Calculator," Pooja said, voice hurried, "two TriD employees' houses are currently being burgled. One of them is that of your civilian ID, one is that of your supervisor."

There was a sound of breaking glass. "Make that three."

I bit back a curse as I zipped open the rolling luggage. "Po- computer, activate the suit's hard light generator. Assume full control and secure an escape path."

"Using constructs will blow our cover," she said as the system powered on.

"Just using the suit will do that," I said, spitting out the words, "as will a search of the house or someone listening in right now! Go loud!"

Arms of glowing green light exploded out of the suit, weaving around me and diving down the hallway as I continued to strap on the armor. A wooden crash and tearing sounds, then gunfire. Lots of gunfire.

Up close, that shit is deafening. Even a room away, the sound of explosions propelling lead through the walls of the house left my ears dull and ringing.

I tore off my AR glasses and slammed the helmet onto my head. Readout screens showed three bodies on the floor. Two in the office, one in the garage. Heat signatures from spreading pools of blood. No time to think about that. Or how they got that close without Pooja noticing.

Throwing myself to my feet, I rushed into the hall after the construct arms, still strapping down the armor panels. "How's the perimeter?"

"Secure for now," Pooja said. "I have adjusted to the passive stealth systems used in evading my medium-range sensors. Defense turret back online. The burglars-cum-assassins have no monitoring equipment on them. Only basic communications gear. Minor electronic stealth equipment. They each have a firearm. Assume that there is a driver, possibly with a camera pointed at the building. There is a 30% chance of a sniper or long range spotter."

"Great. Still a chance then."

"Only to conceal your Calculator identity, and only if they don't try to shoot you."

The four gripper construct arms, each holding a gun, surrounded me now, all pointing outward. I grabbed a trench coat off the rack and gestured at my rolling luggage. "I'll put this on to hide the armor. Put the guns in the bag."

Construct arms reached into the ripped apart sports bag in my hall closet. As they started shoveling ammo and guns into my luggage I searched my memory. Nothing else in this house was worth keeping. Some experiments in the garage I'd have to redo. Some spare parts.

I didn't have any personal items. No photos. No keepsakes. I frowned. "How are we cleaning this up?"

"Self destruct systems will obscure the details of defensive emplacements and monitoring stations. An automatically deployed series of bleach and oxygen cleaning compounds will destroy any genetic markers, then a controlled fire will destroy the building."

A deep breath. "Good. Car?"

"Leave it. It is covered in the plan. Go out the back, on foot. Use surrounding buildings as cover. Defensive systems at maximum, but unless they engage there will be no signatures of the hard light components beyond the cosmic power system. Only 17% chance Slade has already acquired a sensor system to detect it."

A route to a safe house I'd set up downtown showed up on my helmet. I pulled on the trench coat and took off the helmet, stowing it in the luggage. Stupid glasses back on, luggage zipped back up.

I glanced in the mirror. Dark circles under my eyes. Hair messed up from the helmet. Glasses still stupid. I grimaced—almost forgot.

Kitchen, drugs, into the bag. Step over the groaning, bleeding assassin in the office, Pooja holding a gun on him in a glowing claw. My old projects box, upend into the bag. Grab the laptop sized interface-slash-monitor system. Into the bag. Take it back out of the bag and...no, back in the bag. I could get another but I liked this one.

"Computer, how serious is the loss of computer systems at this location?"

"Minor. All systems already wiped. Currently warming up several secondary site systems for your use. All secondary sites currently secure. Three minutes until earliest estimate for Slade to arrive on this site."

I opened a window and climbed out into the side yard, dragging my luggage behind me. "Let me guess. Attacks triggered on all three teams at the same time, so he's having to work out where to go. And whether the heroes are watching any of them."

"Correct. Gas explosion at your civilian identity's house. All tech self-destructed safely, including the mini self-contained nuclear power generator. Series of electrical shorts resulting in exploding lights and household appliances at your boss' house—smart power grids and internet-connected devices are wonderful things."

A ground-shaking whump threw me to my knees.

"Obfuscation systems deployed at your now not-so-secret lair," Pooja said. Smoke billowed over tightly packed houses.

I ran, exosuit-assisted legs pumping.

The Calculator (DC Multiverse, SI as canon character, Season 1 complete)

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