Overwhelming 2.2
How about a Top Gear Clarkson-style intro?
Tonight:
James jumps
Omega gets sticky
And Alpha destroys some wood. This one has been scrapped in favor of next chapter.
11. Overwhelming 2.2
When seeking to determine the military conditions, let them be made the basis of a comparison, in this wise: ...With whom lie the advantages derived from Heaven and Earth? - Sun Tzu, The Art of War
James jumped higher and higher, the springs creaking a little more with each landing, extending as the cloth surface depressed. When his jumps were nearing the ceiling, James allowed himself to rotate onto his back as he ascended.
James kicked his left foot up - but his right foot didn't follow suit, and he was left flailing, trying to regain stability in midair as he came crashing back down onto the surface of the trampoline. His bounce was much shorter this time, and his limbs were still in a tangle - meaning he landed awkwardly, again, and had to wait until his bounce was stopped before he could straighten all of his body parts out.
Michael snickered at him, but Alan was looking on observantly. "You know," he said, "it's funny how small your bounce is if you're not actively working on going higher and higher. It's kinda like swings on a playground - unless you're pushing every swing, you stop pretty fast."
Guzman nodded at this, both of the men watching James right himself. "Yeah, I would've never assumed the physics for springs and pendulums had anything in common." The men's first physics class had been interesting, to say the least. Davis' superiors gave the OSF carte blanche - to an extent, though they had never discovered what that might be - and so it had been trivial for Davis to get authorization to hire a physics tutor. The tutor was an LACCD professor who had jumped at the chance to make some more money on the side.
The first lesson, while fascinating, had ultimtaely been somewhat mediocre, Guzman had to admit. The tutor had come in, prepared to lecture in typical collegiate fashion, throwing up practice problems on the board. After the lesson was over, Guzman had approached the man and talked with him for a while.
The gist of the conversation was thus: the men of OSF were going up against strange threats that normal soldiers were used to meeting in combat. In combat, they relied on physical fitness and instincts, both trained from hours of grueling physical and mental conditioning. Much of this conditioning needed to be performed daily so that the men could be in the best possible mental and physical state to survive on any given day against any threat. The OSF had so far fought two Parahumans in one encounter. Their training was what had carried them through unforseen circumstances.
"But what if we're called to a combat we haven't had any time to prepare for at all," Guzman had asked the man. There were PRT agents and Protectorate heroes(1) who would be called to deal with a rampaging Parahuman villain - but if they were otherwise engaged, or if the OPCU gained intel that their window for moving on a villain was immediate...
The teacher had shook his head, shrugging. "I don't know. You hope your training is enough."
"Yes, we hope so," Guzman agreed. "And the amount of time we spend daily training makes us optimistic. But we could be fighting an unknown." Guzman had gone on to explain that the men spent hours training every day because it was insurance against their lives. "And we are giving up that training, right now, to sit in these physics lessons, even for me to have this discussion with you."
The tutor became visibly uncomfortable, swallowing. "You think my lesson is a waste of time?"
Guzman shook his head. "No. I think your lessons are good, exactly what your job demands. Today we spent time learning how to vectorize forces and motions, to draw diagrams, to consider all forces, and the beginning of the relationships between forces and motion. These are all valuable things to anyone wanting a physics education, wanting to solve physical problems. But they are not valuable to me, Professor."
The man shook his head, visibly confused. "I don't understand, then."
Guzman considered it for a second. "You are teaching us how to find answers to physics problems. I can't even begin to quantify the givens. You are teaching a student how to compute the impact energy of a bullet, or its puncture depth, based on its mass and velocity, or its time spent coming to a stop in the target. But I can't tell you the time it spends coming to a stop in a target. I can't tell you how much air friction has played a role in its deceleration as it travels."
The professor nodded, beginning to understand. "And even if you could, you could not spend time calculating the answer on the battlefield."
Guzman smiled. "Exactly."
"What do you find most valuable, then? What do you want to get out of this? What..." he trailed off for a second. "What is your objective? To have knowledge that may help you intuit how a Parahuman's power works while combating them? So that you might disable it?"
It was Guzman who shook his head this time. "I think that information is valuable, don't get me wrong. I think maybe, ultimately, knowing how a Parahuman's power interfaces with physics - and where it completely throws them aside - is greatly valuable to the OPCU, especially when working on containment measures. But it doesn't matter to me when they're lobbing balls of molten metal at me, and I'm shooting bullets that evaporate at them."
The physics teacher agreed. "Right, okay. In computer programming, we sometimes don't know how a program written by somebody else works. So you treat is as a black box - you just look at the outputs, and don't bother yourself with how the internals are implemented. If it always generates numbers, then I can make decisions based on that fact - I don't need to really care how it chooses those numbers."
Guzman nodded. "I think in this case, we care a little bit more about how the numbers are generated, because they may let the bad guys do something problematic, like evaporate bullets. That was the problem we ran into with Sear -" The professor's eyebrow quirked up, "- the Parahuman who could heat metal. We didn't know the field of his power's reach extended to a little bit around his skin, and that effectively made him bulletproof. No rounds could touch him, but it was only the sniper rounds that could even exert measurable force on him. I figured that was partially because of their mass, but after today, I see it had a lot more to do with their velocity."
The professor smiled as Guzman said this.
Guzman continued. "So I don't think a total black-box approach is what we're looking for, but I can see how it would be important against a Parahuman whose powers we know nothing about. Maybe you could talk a little bit about that type of reasoning in your next session?"
The professor shrugged, making a note. "Sure. I mean, a computer programmer - or even better, a statistician - might be better suited to deliver that kind of lesson, but I'm happy to discuss it to the extent I can."
Guzman resumed the thread of conversation. "But what we really need, Professor, is an intuitive understanding. Parahumans pose a danger to us partially because we may not know the full extent of their powers but also because they have powers . When a guy is launching molten metal at me, I need to understand why that's dangerous. The heat, obviously - but how does the heat compare to things I'm used to? How can I make intuitive guesses about the order of magnitude of danger I'm in? If molten metal hits me, how does its heat compare to burning myself on the wall of the oven when pulling out a roast? If a Parahuman's power is to move really fast, what will them hitting me do? Will it knock me over, or will it break bones at the point of impact because the force is so significant it snaps my bones before my skeleton can distribute the impact?"
The professor nodded. "Like your physical training, you need your brain to understand what forces -" he laughed a little, at the accidental pun. "- are at work, so that you know what to do about them. So you can reason about strategies and the correct course of action."
They had come full circle. "Each hour of my training exists to prepare me, so that when the battlefield is hectic and decisions need to be made in moments, my brain and my body fall back on what they know. We are giving up an hour of that time each week, Professor, for these lessons. So I need these lessons to meet two criteria. First, I need them to be at least as valuable as the hour I would spend otherwise training. Second, I need them to fill the same role. I need them to help me understand , so that when I get on the battlefield, I have this type of knowledge as intuition under my belt. I want this classroom time to generate the same habits and impulses as time spent drilling tactics with my squad."
They were scheduled for one hour of lessons a week, on Monday afternoons. It was Wednesday morning. Guzman was eager to see what next Monday's class would bring. Part of the reason they had gotten a community college teacher to come and deliver the tutoring sessions was a question of time and dedication. Jon Davis had attended both community college and university, and firmly believed that university professors were - in general - more concerned with their research and publications, while community college teachers were more interested in the quality of education their students received. They simply weren't being paid enough to take the position for any reason other than passion. Guzman was confident he would take the week between lessons to improve for next week, and had said as much to Davis.
In front of Guzman and West, James Wilson was still flailing around on the trampoline.
"You good?" Alan asked Guzman, grinning. Guzman grunted; he was known for zoning out to think in the middle of conversations and battles. One, he suspected, was more problematic than the other.
"Oi! You three!"
Guzman spun on his heels. Michael Williams was at the doorway, gesturing them over. "Omega has some new toy they want us to see!"
"C'mon, Wilson," Guzman shouted without turning around. "Not like you're getting anything out of this anyway."
He heard a muffled curse behind him.
"What's this stuff?" Jack Lewis asked, gesturing his hand.
"Yeah, Thomas" Guzman agreed. "What is this stuff?"
An OPCU technician in the corner spoke up. "It's an aerosolized molecular bonding compound that can be used as a substrate for other reactions."
"So...it's glue that can do other stuff," Dorian Thomas replied.
"That you spray," the technician said.
Wilson grinned at the OSF Omega leader. "What stuff?"
"Well..." Dorian Thomas replied. "That's kinda why we've brought you all here," he said while gesturing around at the men. "Basically, we're pretty sure we can get this stuff to stick to our Parahuman opponents, regardless of their power...for the most part. So if you could, uh, debuff your opponents with an effect of your choosing, what would those effects be? We can customize them per Parahuman opponent."
"So Slipstream works by reducing friction, right?" Wilson asked the assembled men.
Davis nodded.
Wilson thought about it for a second. "Let's stick something really unwieldy and" he paused for a second, considering the words to use. Realizing that he couldn't figure out any, he forged ahead: "friction-inducing? on it."
Guzman grinned. "Right, let's start countering powers."
1. Alexandria did not move to head the LA protectorate until after Hero's death (9/15/2000). Alexandria, Hero, Eidolon, and Legend were sworn in on 1/18/1993, shortly after the 12/13/1992 appearance of Behemoth. Leviathan first appeared in Oslo on 6/9/1996. These details date this story sometime in 1993-1996.
Tonight:
James jumps
Omega gets sticky
11. Overwhelming 2.2
When seeking to determine the military conditions, let them be made the basis of a comparison, in this wise: ...With whom lie the advantages derived from Heaven and Earth? - Sun Tzu, The Art of War
James jumped higher and higher, the springs creaking a little more with each landing, extending as the cloth surface depressed. When his jumps were nearing the ceiling, James allowed himself to rotate onto his back as he ascended.
James kicked his left foot up - but his right foot didn't follow suit, and he was left flailing, trying to regain stability in midair as he came crashing back down onto the surface of the trampoline. His bounce was much shorter this time, and his limbs were still in a tangle - meaning he landed awkwardly, again, and had to wait until his bounce was stopped before he could straighten all of his body parts out.
Michael snickered at him, but Alan was looking on observantly. "You know," he said, "it's funny how small your bounce is if you're not actively working on going higher and higher. It's kinda like swings on a playground - unless you're pushing every swing, you stop pretty fast."
Guzman nodded at this, both of the men watching James right himself. "Yeah, I would've never assumed the physics for springs and pendulums had anything in common." The men's first physics class had been interesting, to say the least. Davis' superiors gave the OSF carte blanche - to an extent, though they had never discovered what that might be - and so it had been trivial for Davis to get authorization to hire a physics tutor. The tutor was an LACCD professor who had jumped at the chance to make some more money on the side.
The first lesson, while fascinating, had ultimtaely been somewhat mediocre, Guzman had to admit. The tutor had come in, prepared to lecture in typical collegiate fashion, throwing up practice problems on the board. After the lesson was over, Guzman had approached the man and talked with him for a while.
The gist of the conversation was thus: the men of OSF were going up against strange threats that normal soldiers were used to meeting in combat. In combat, they relied on physical fitness and instincts, both trained from hours of grueling physical and mental conditioning. Much of this conditioning needed to be performed daily so that the men could be in the best possible mental and physical state to survive on any given day against any threat. The OSF had so far fought two Parahumans in one encounter. Their training was what had carried them through unforseen circumstances.
"But what if we're called to a combat we haven't had any time to prepare for at all," Guzman had asked the man. There were PRT agents and Protectorate heroes(1) who would be called to deal with a rampaging Parahuman villain - but if they were otherwise engaged, or if the OPCU gained intel that their window for moving on a villain was immediate...
The teacher had shook his head, shrugging. "I don't know. You hope your training is enough."
"Yes, we hope so," Guzman agreed. "And the amount of time we spend daily training makes us optimistic. But we could be fighting an unknown." Guzman had gone on to explain that the men spent hours training every day because it was insurance against their lives. "And we are giving up that training, right now, to sit in these physics lessons, even for me to have this discussion with you."
The tutor became visibly uncomfortable, swallowing. "You think my lesson is a waste of time?"
Guzman shook his head. "No. I think your lessons are good, exactly what your job demands. Today we spent time learning how to vectorize forces and motions, to draw diagrams, to consider all forces, and the beginning of the relationships between forces and motion. These are all valuable things to anyone wanting a physics education, wanting to solve physical problems. But they are not valuable to me, Professor."
The man shook his head, visibly confused. "I don't understand, then."
Guzman considered it for a second. "You are teaching us how to find answers to physics problems. I can't even begin to quantify the givens. You are teaching a student how to compute the impact energy of a bullet, or its puncture depth, based on its mass and velocity, or its time spent coming to a stop in the target. But I can't tell you the time it spends coming to a stop in a target. I can't tell you how much air friction has played a role in its deceleration as it travels."
The professor nodded, beginning to understand. "And even if you could, you could not spend time calculating the answer on the battlefield."
Guzman smiled. "Exactly."
"What do you find most valuable, then? What do you want to get out of this? What..." he trailed off for a second. "What is your objective? To have knowledge that may help you intuit how a Parahuman's power works while combating them? So that you might disable it?"
It was Guzman who shook his head this time. "I think that information is valuable, don't get me wrong. I think maybe, ultimately, knowing how a Parahuman's power interfaces with physics - and where it completely throws them aside - is greatly valuable to the OPCU, especially when working on containment measures. But it doesn't matter to me when they're lobbing balls of molten metal at me, and I'm shooting bullets that evaporate at them."
The physics teacher agreed. "Right, okay. In computer programming, we sometimes don't know how a program written by somebody else works. So you treat is as a black box - you just look at the outputs, and don't bother yourself with how the internals are implemented. If it always generates numbers, then I can make decisions based on that fact - I don't need to really care how it chooses those numbers."
Guzman nodded. "I think in this case, we care a little bit more about how the numbers are generated, because they may let the bad guys do something problematic, like evaporate bullets. That was the problem we ran into with Sear -" The professor's eyebrow quirked up, "- the Parahuman who could heat metal. We didn't know the field of his power's reach extended to a little bit around his skin, and that effectively made him bulletproof. No rounds could touch him, but it was only the sniper rounds that could even exert measurable force on him. I figured that was partially because of their mass, but after today, I see it had a lot more to do with their velocity."
The professor smiled as Guzman said this.
Guzman continued. "So I don't think a total black-box approach is what we're looking for, but I can see how it would be important against a Parahuman whose powers we know nothing about. Maybe you could talk a little bit about that type of reasoning in your next session?"
The professor shrugged, making a note. "Sure. I mean, a computer programmer - or even better, a statistician - might be better suited to deliver that kind of lesson, but I'm happy to discuss it to the extent I can."
Guzman resumed the thread of conversation. "But what we really need, Professor, is an intuitive understanding. Parahumans pose a danger to us partially because we may not know the full extent of their powers but also because they have powers . When a guy is launching molten metal at me, I need to understand why that's dangerous. The heat, obviously - but how does the heat compare to things I'm used to? How can I make intuitive guesses about the order of magnitude of danger I'm in? If molten metal hits me, how does its heat compare to burning myself on the wall of the oven when pulling out a roast? If a Parahuman's power is to move really fast, what will them hitting me do? Will it knock me over, or will it break bones at the point of impact because the force is so significant it snaps my bones before my skeleton can distribute the impact?"
The professor nodded. "Like your physical training, you need your brain to understand what forces -" he laughed a little, at the accidental pun. "- are at work, so that you know what to do about them. So you can reason about strategies and the correct course of action."
They had come full circle. "Each hour of my training exists to prepare me, so that when the battlefield is hectic and decisions need to be made in moments, my brain and my body fall back on what they know. We are giving up an hour of that time each week, Professor, for these lessons. So I need these lessons to meet two criteria. First, I need them to be at least as valuable as the hour I would spend otherwise training. Second, I need them to fill the same role. I need them to help me understand , so that when I get on the battlefield, I have this type of knowledge as intuition under my belt. I want this classroom time to generate the same habits and impulses as time spent drilling tactics with my squad."
They were scheduled for one hour of lessons a week, on Monday afternoons. It was Wednesday morning. Guzman was eager to see what next Monday's class would bring. Part of the reason they had gotten a community college teacher to come and deliver the tutoring sessions was a question of time and dedication. Jon Davis had attended both community college and university, and firmly believed that university professors were - in general - more concerned with their research and publications, while community college teachers were more interested in the quality of education their students received. They simply weren't being paid enough to take the position for any reason other than passion. Guzman was confident he would take the week between lessons to improve for next week, and had said as much to Davis.
In front of Guzman and West, James Wilson was still flailing around on the trampoline.
"You good?" Alan asked Guzman, grinning. Guzman grunted; he was known for zoning out to think in the middle of conversations and battles. One, he suspected, was more problematic than the other.
"Oi! You three!"
Guzman spun on his heels. Michael Williams was at the doorway, gesturing them over. "Omega has some new toy they want us to see!"
"C'mon, Wilson," Guzman shouted without turning around. "Not like you're getting anything out of this anyway."
He heard a muffled curse behind him.
"What's this stuff?" Jack Lewis asked, gesturing his hand.
"Yeah, Thomas" Guzman agreed. "What is this stuff?"
An OPCU technician in the corner spoke up. "It's an aerosolized molecular bonding compound that can be used as a substrate for other reactions."
"So...it's glue that can do other stuff," Dorian Thomas replied.
"That you spray," the technician said.
Wilson grinned at the OSF Omega leader. "What stuff?"
"Well..." Dorian Thomas replied. "That's kinda why we've brought you all here," he said while gesturing around at the men. "Basically, we're pretty sure we can get this stuff to stick to our Parahuman opponents, regardless of their power...for the most part. So if you could, uh, debuff your opponents with an effect of your choosing, what would those effects be? We can customize them per Parahuman opponent."
"So Slipstream works by reducing friction, right?" Wilson asked the assembled men.
Davis nodded.
Wilson thought about it for a second. "Let's stick something really unwieldy and" he paused for a second, considering the words to use. Realizing that he couldn't figure out any, he forged ahead: "friction-inducing? on it."
Guzman grinned. "Right, let's start countering powers."
1. Alexandria did not move to head the LA protectorate until after Hero's death (9/15/2000). Alexandria, Hero, Eidolon, and Legend were sworn in on 1/18/1993, shortly after the 12/13/1992 appearance of Behemoth. Leviathan first appeared in Oslo on 6/9/1996. These details date this story sometime in 1993-1996.