Wearing The Cape: Villains Inc. (42 page)

“Astra, Detective, Riptide, Seven,” he rumbled. Seven and Riptide answered back uncertainly; Fisher just looked amused. Dad reached into his belt and carefully pulled out a
cellphone
, handed it to me.

“Your mother wants to talk to you.”

“There are some days when I think I’m going to die from an overdose of satisfaction.”

Salvador Dali

With hardly a breeze and a nearly cloudless sky, the sun rose up like thunder and threw a column of golden light across Lake Michigan’s gentle waves. The view from the end of Navy Pier was breathtaking.

The South Side Guardians caught up with Tin Man three days after the Big Fight; wearing a heavy
mechaman
exoskeleton, he put up a spectacular fight that made the news. By that time only Blackstone had still been on medical leave, and both Rush and I had gone back to our patrols and emergency-response duties. The press conference for Watchman’s official introduction went
very
well; Blackstone had been right—the media decided that, by taking back the colors, I’d accepted Atlas’ mantle. My fan-base completely
geeked
out over the armor and my new accessory.
Malleus
:
finally
I looked dangerous. Who knew that swinging a war-hammer weighing more than I did was the secret to being taken seriously?

It’s amazing how fast a good fight can rehabilitate a reputation; every media-manufactured scandal was, well, not
forgotten
, but ignored.
Quin
was having a hard time keeping up with all my booking requests; she decided on one a week, but the first week, especially the weekend, was
mine
.

“Hey! Looking for
godzillas
?”
 
Annabeth
poked me and laughed when I jumped.

“No…” I rolled my eyes and turned around.

“Then c’mon!” She laughed, pulling me back toward the white event pavilions dotting the end of the pier.

The Foundation’s annual Spring Art Festival started at noon and ran through the next week. Normally it was centered around the Grand Ballroom; Mom had decided to make it a totally outdoor event instead of relocating, so reconstruction had stopped while people used Navy Pier again. Yeah, it was an election year and Mom had that kind of pull.

I had stolen use of the end-most pavilion to throw the Official
Danabeth
Engagement Party (until eleven, when we had to be out of the event-staff’s way). The
parentals
were there,
all
of them, along with a lot of the
UofC
soccer team, so champagne flowed alongside sparkling fruit juice for us younger people. In keeping with the Boys of Summer theme, the boys wore khakis, shorts, or cargo pants, and all the girls wore summer shorts or dresses. Jacky wasn’t
tan
, but definitely pink and the thin white line of scar-tissue circling her upper arm was nearly gone. Without her armored layer, Shell looked a blushing sixteen; if her too-perfect skin made her look airbrushed, nobody watching her would guess the fresh-faced
deb
bouncing around was a robot-body for my Best Friend Forever. (I owed Vulcan
big time
.) Jacky had attracted a court of varsity boys, quite a feat with two unattached Bees close by, and was sizing up a dark charmer as a snack.

Annabeth
dragged me to where Dane stood with his parents, and Dane pulled me into a hug with a cheek-kiss and a whispered
thank you
. He didn’t look at all stunned, and I relaxed a little more even though, officially and publically, the engagement had been Hope’s Idea—which made it my fault, in advance, if the two of them crashed and burned.

Right, like
that
was going to happen.

I said hi to the
Dorweilers
, rescued a drink from a passing server, and left the two of them to their public displays of affection.

On impulse, I pushed into Jacky’s circle and grabbed her hand.

“Hey you,” I said, pulling her away. “Less drooling, more mixing.” The poor protesting boys thought I was referring to their looks.

“But—” Jacky started.

“No! Well… make sure he drinks plenty of juice.”

“I promise. I’d planned on topping up before my flight tonight, anyway.”

I nodded, deflating a little. “It
so
goes without saying, but…”

“I told Grams you’re coming down after spring finals.”

“Now
that’s
assuming a lot.”

“That’s assuming you don’t fly south for Spring Break.”

“Yeah, I might…” I shook my head. “Things are so
weird
.
 
Did you know I got a call the other day? From a ‘friend of a friend’ of Mr.
Early’s
. He said ‘thank you.’ Can you believe it? Bad guys aren’t supposed to be grateful!”

My
cellphone
buzzed. The screen displayed a domino mask.

“
Hope?
”
Quin
said when I held it up so we could both listen. “
Dispatch got the call on a party-boat out on the lake. They had a small engine fire—it’s out but they lost power. You’re off duty, but Rush can get your suit to you if you’d like to fly out and pull them in. It’s a look-good assignment; are you up for it?
”

“And where do I change, a port-a-potty?”

“
So get behind something and Rush will whisk you back to the Dome. He can take you right back afterward if you want
.”

I gave what Mom called an Irish sigh, long and deep, but couldn’t stop the smile.

“Deal,” I said while Jacky laughed.

“Go.” She pushed me towards a mobile construction office, closed until work resumed. I waved to Julie and Megan, held my fist to my face with thumb and pinky out in a
call me
gesture, and scampered, wondering just how fast I could pull a party boat.

by Dr. Jonathan Beth

Before the Event, we were fairly certain we understood the observable world. Centuries of observation, experimentation, and deduction, had yielded many universal truths: for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction; in any closed system, entropy will increase over time; the shortest distance between two points is a straight line; etc. The Event has overturned all the observations of science; or, to be more precise, made them conditional.

What does this mean for science? Fortunately, it doesn’t mean we have to start over; none of the big theories have been disproved. Instead, a qualification must be added—for example “In the absence of breakthrough effects, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.” This does, of course, place an added burden on the scientist; he must make certain that any observations he makes are general and representative. Since most experimental results are peer-reviewed and independently tested, this is not a great burden and the physicist, biochemist, and nuclear engineer can continue to poke away at the universe in relative peace, confident, through a few extra steps, that his experimental results represent reality.

However, what of those of us who dare venture into the field of breakthrough science, where there are no physical laws that are unconditional, no natural processes that can be referred to with any confidence?

Here we are striking out into an undiscovered country, and so far universal truths have proven few and far between. The heart of the problem lies in our inability to describe our observations in any causal way. This is not apparent to the general public; they accept labels as explanations and go about their day. To a scientist, these observations are less than helpful.

The classic example is the broad category of “
psionic
powers.” Even before the Event,
psionic
powers were widely hypothesized and minutely described: telekinesis, levitation,
pyrokinesis
, precognition, telepathy, empathy, astral projection, teleportation, the list is long. So naturally, these breakthrough powers have been categorized as psi-powers, powers of the mind, as opposed to powers of the body.

But a label is not an explanation, and “mind waves” have yet to be discovered (except by breakthrough-inventors, whose
unduplicatable
instruments can detect and measure things mundane instruments cannot). The mind is a construct of the brain, and acts on the world through the body of which it is part—yet it has been suggested that psi-power is an adequate label because it conforms to a pre-Event conception of what a mysterious and unverified phenomena would be like.

The danger of these kinds of observational labels lies in their tendency to predispose observers to mistake them for explanations and treat them as real types. Doing so has led to the illusion of certainty, where the reality is that so far science has nothing to say towards the cause of breakthrough effects.

This can easily be seen by looking at two classic breakthrough archetypes: Atlas-types and “speedsters.”

The Atlas-type
powerset
is diverse; Atlas-types can fly without the assistance of wings, jets, or other physical mechanisms of flight, they are superhumanly strong and durable, and they possess an enhanced sense of sight and hearing. What can a scientist say about these abilities? The power of unassisted flight can be labeled “levitation,” a psi-power; certainly Atlas-types fly because they will it so. The rest appear to be powers of the body: an Atlas-type isn’t damage-resistant by an act of will. Yet the most thorough examination of the body of an Atlas-type will not yield a single clue to the source of his abilities. An Atlas-type’s cells are indistinguishable from a normal person’s cells: the rods and cones in his eyes are no different than a normal person’s; when removed and tested individually, his cells possess no greater tensile strength than does the rest of humanity’s. The Atlas-type’s physical abilities have as little physical explanation as do the supposed powers of the mind.

The speedster type presents a different problem. Speedsters appear to be breakthroughs with the ability to accelerate their own personal time in relation to the time experienced by the rest of the universe. This ability is subject to an apparent speed-limit of ten experiential seconds per second of “Real Time.” Beyond this, some speedsters can step into a world of frozen time, in which the only “time” is what they have brought with them. Speedsters in
Hypertime
can move through this time-frozen world, but not affect it. They can run (or ride) across town but not open doors; they can dodge bullets, but not take the gun from the shooter’s hand (or strike the shooter with any effect). And so
Hypertime
has been described as a parallel reality lacking the dimension of time.

But this cannot be so. The sense of sight depends on photons striking the photo-receptor cells of the eyes—but light photons cannot move where there is no time for them to move in. Nor is there any reason for a speedster to be able to affect the air-molecules around him (as he does whenever he moves) any more than he can affect a door. The apparent explanation, that the speedster brings an envelope of time with him, and that this time-field extends beyond his body to interact with the environment around him, fails on observation; speedsters in
Hypertime
can stand in one place while breathing indefinitely, which they could not do if their field of Real Time affected only the air molecules near them, and they can continue to see without needing to continually move so that their field finds fresh light photons to give motion to.

In other words,
Hypertime
only appears to be time-frozen; the reality is far more complex, and we can find no explanation for why large-scale objects (doors) are frozen where small-scale objects (oxygen atoms and light photons) are not. To add to our frustration, laser beams, electrical discharges, and other forms of energy projection attacks—which are more organized patterns of small-scale objects—do, in fact, freeze in
Hypertime
. The rules make no sense.