by Lucas Flint
“Oh, not much,” I said. “Life here in New York has been pretty good, all things considered. How's Silvers?”
“Okay,” said Malcolm. “Not much is going on. Robert's been more aggressive than usual lately, though, probably because you aren't around anymore. He hasn't bullied me or Tara, but he keeps looking at us like he's wondering if he can bully us without you knowing.”
“Good to hear,” I said. “If Robert ever comes after you, you know where to call me.”
“Yeah,” said Malcolm. He still didn't sound happy. “Listen, man, can we talk later? I'm in the middle of something and don't have much time to talk.”
“Oh, sure, sure,” I said. “I'll call you again later, all right?”
“Okay,” said Malcolm again. “Bye.”
Another click and Malcolm's voice was silent. I stared at the screen again, feeling strange. Malcolm hadn't been hostile toward me, but neither had he seemed really eager to talk to me. And saying that he was too busy to talk … that was an obvious excuse to avoid talking with me.
But what was I supposed to do? I had expected this, but that didn't make it any easier to take. I doubted this was the end of our friendship, but it did make me think that our friendship wasn't going to be exactly the same from here on out. I wasn't sure what it would be like, though. I just knew I wasn't going to like it.
To take my mind off that call, I pulled up Tara's number and called her. Unlike Malcolm, her phone rang only once before she picked up and said, “Hi, Kevin! It's been a while since we last talked. How are you?”
What? Why did Tara suddenly sound so happy to see me? I knew we were friends, but she was usually pretty disinterested in everything. Maybe she was in a good mood today or something.
“I'm doing fine,” I said. “How about you?”
“Great,” said Tara. “I've just been accepted into the university I applied for. So I'm going to college this fall to study neurology and neogenetics, which is the branch of science that deals with neohero genetics.”
“Really?” I said. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks!” said Tara. “I can't wait. I've always been interested in the human brain and I cannot wait to get a chance to study it in-depth and learn how to fix people suffering from mental illness.”
“Huh,” I said. “I didn't know you were so interested in neurology, Tara. Where did this interest come from?”
“Oh, it's just something I've been learning about for a while,” said Tara. “But part of it came because I want to help superhumans.”
“Help?” I said. “What do you mean? I thought you hated them.”
“Yeah, I don't like them much, but I'm starting to think that maybe I've been too dismissive of them,” said Tara. “They may be attention-seeking idiots who never take responsibility for their actions or pay for the damage caused by their fights with other superhumans, but I'm starting to think that there might be a way to cure that.”
I froze. “Cure? What do you mean?”
“Well, the dominant theory about the origin of superhuman powers at the moment is that they are genetic,” said Tara. “Currently, most scientists believe there is something in the brain that activates these powers. No one has been able to pinpoint what part of the brain actually causes these powers or whether it is a combination of different parts of the brain acting together or whatever, but a lot of recent tests and studies seem to point in that direction. Like Barnabas Sagan, who lost his mind powers when his assistant shot him through the brain.”
I looked down at my hands. “So you think that you might be able to cure them somehow?”
“Yeah,” said Tara. “I've noticed that a lot of superhumans tend to have pretty bad lives and tend to be pretty unhappy even if they're saving the world. There are a lot who just want to be normal. If I could figure out what causes the powers to manifest, we might be able to remove that part or at least turn it off.”
“Is that even possible?” I said.
“Not right now, but there are a lot of things that we have nowadays that science deemed impossible even a decade ago,” said Tara. “I could be the Einstein of neogenetics.”
Tara sounded genuinely excited about this, which was pretty much completely unlike her, because I had never known her to be excited about anything. It was better than her being her usual rude and dismissive self, but this entire subject made me feel uncomfortable anyway.
“I guess anything is possible,” I said, “but are you sure this is the right thing to do?”
“What do you mean?” said Tara.
“I mean, a lot of superhumans like their powers,” I said. “What if they don't want to give them up?”
“I would never force anyone to give up their powers, assuming I discover what causes them,” said Tara. “It would just be a choice open to those who do want it. Just like other some people can get plastic surgery but no one is forced to.”
“What if that knowledge falls into the wrong hands?” I said. “I could see the government wanting to get their hands on that information.”
“The government wouldn't be able to put it to use because they wouldn't be able to force anyone to do it,” said Tara. “Do you honestly think anyone in this country, which is pretty pro-neohero, would ever support a superhuman eugenics program?”
“Well—”
“Even if there are people who want it, does that mean that we should ignore science?” said Tara. “I want to find the truth, even if that means poking into areas that might make us uncomfortable or have negative consequences. The truth is more important than anything else to me.”
“Well, yeah, I agree, but sometimes you have to be careful about what truth you find,” I said. “Knowledge can be dangerous, after all, especially in the wrong hands.”
“Thanks for the concern, Kevin, but you really are worrying about nothing,” said Tara. “Why do you even care, anyway? You're just a normal person. You don't have any superpowers of your own.”
I had almost forgotten that Tara didn't know my secret identity as Bolt, so I quickly said, “Oh, right, but just because it doesn't affect me directly doesn't mean I should support it. I think that neoheroes play an important role in defending our society and I don't think we should even give them a choice to get rid of those powers. It would be too dangerous.”
“I forgot,” said Tara in annoyance. “You and Malcolm are big supporters of neoheroes. Maybe I shouldn't have brought this up.”
“No, no, it's fine,” I said. “I'm glad that you got accepted to the college that you want to go to. I just wanted to make sure you were thinking about the implications of what you want to do.”
“I know what the implications are,” said Tara. “I know that I will help a lot of people with this research, if I find out what I'm looking for. And that's worth whatever other consequences that might result from my research.”
Tara spoke very passionately about this, far more passionately than she ever spoke about anything else I had ever talked with her about. I wondered if there was something more personal behind this, but I hesitated to ask about it now, because it might bring back memories that Tara didn't want to deal with or focus on.
So I said, “All right, Tara. I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree on this.”
“Sure,” said Tara. “We're still friends, right?”
“Of course,” I said.
“Good,” said Tara. “Well, I have to go now, Kevin, because my mother is taking me out to my favorite restaurant to celebrate my acceptance. We can talk some more later, okay?”
“Okay,” I said. “Bye.”
“Bye,” said Tara.
One click later and Tara's voice was silent. But I didn't take my eyes off my suit-up watch. I just stared at its blank screen, thinking about what Tara had told me.
Assuming Tara or someone else ever did figure out a way to 'turn off' a superhuman's powers, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I would never agree to do it. I liked my powers too much to even consider doing away with t
hem. They sometimes caused me problems, but overall I liked them and would never give them up no matter what.
But what about other neoheroes? Based on my (admittedly limited) experience with the rest of the community, most neoheroes seemed to like their powers well enough. Even those who complained about their powers still liked them. They just had a different way of expressing it than others.
On the other hand, Blizzard seemed depressed by her inability to control her powers. I wondered how she would react if I told her about this. Maybe she would be eager to support that kind of research. After all, if she didn't have her powers, then she would never have to worry about losing control over them again.
How many other neoheroes shared Blizzard's opinion on this matter? I didn't know. I suspected it wasn't very high, but maybe that was just because the idea of using science to 'fix' neoheroes wasn't very far or advanced or well-known yet. If Tara or someone else succeeded in figuring out how to bring that process to market, how many superhumans would line up to take it?
I had no idea. Nor did I want to think about it. I just laid down on my bed, deciding that I was going to take a nap for now. When I got up, I'd probably start to work on the homework my tutor had laid out for me, even though I wasn't looking forward to it. I was too tired to do it right away, however, which is why I was going to take a nap.
Chapter Fourteen
The next few days were pretty peaceful all around. Mecha Knight had no supervillains or crimes for us to stop, so for the first time in a while we had some time to do what we wanted. Mecha Knight told us that he wanted us to rest up so that we would be ready for the Summit, which was next week. It was important that we get ready for the Summit because neoheroes from all over the world were going to be there and we needed to make sure that the House and Hero Island were ready.
But we didn't really get to rest, at least not as much as we liked. Mecha Knight split up the team into three teams of two, giving us each specific tasks we were supposed to do to prepare Hero Island for the arrival of so many other superhumans from around the world. I suspected that the real reason that Mecha Knight didn't send us to fight any supervillains had less to do with a lack of them and more to do with the fact that the NHA was in desperate need of some last minute help before the Summit.
Regardless, we had to go along with it. Blizzard and I were paired together and given the task of cleaning the roof of the Neohero Alliance Museum, which was located on the south end of the island near the port where visitors and tourists arrived to go on tours around the Island.
It seemed like a fairly simple task, so simple that I wondered why they didn't just hire more janitors to do it. I knew that the NHA had an entire army of janitors and cleaning people whose entire job was to go around Hero Island's various buildings and facilities making sure that everything was clean and in working order. I guessed that with the Summit coming up, the Council wanted Hero Island to look absolutely spotless and so were getting everyone to help. I even saw a few of the older NHA members, such as Black Blur, helping around the Island, despite this not being part of their responsibilities.
And I guessed that another reason why they were having me and Blizzard do some work was to keep an eye on Blizzard. No one had said that Blizzard couldn't leave Hero Island or go on a mission to fight supervillains, but it seemed to me like the Council was trying to keep her where they could easily keep an eye on her. That made sense, seeing as Blizzard still didn't have very good control over her powers. It would be better for her to lose control of her powers here, where there weren't many people, than for her to lose control in the middle of a place like New York City or some other large city where she could potentially kill hundreds if not thousands of people.
So we were given some mops, brooms, buckets of water, and other cleaning tools and told to sweep up and clean the dirt on the roof, as well as get rid of any bird nests, water puddles, and anything else that dirtied the Museum's roof. It seemed strange to me that we were having to clean the Museum's roof, because few people who didn't work at the Museum rarely went up here, but Mecha Knight had made it very clean that everything needed to be perfect for the Summit.
And hey, I wasn't complaining. The weather was nice today, or at least as nice as it could get in New York. The sun was out and the wind wasn't too cold or windy. While Blizzard mopped her part of the roof, I swept the other, but I kept an eye on Blizzard anyway just to make sure that she was okay. She actually seemed happy now, probably because mopping the Museum's roof didn't involve her powers, which meant that her risk of losing control and hurting other people was very low.
At least I thought she was happy until she said, “Bolt, have you heard anything about that woman recently?”
I stopped sweeping away some leaves and bird feathers to look at Blizzard, though she was focused on mopping the dirt off the Museum's roof. “No, have you?”
“No,” said Blizzard. “And Carl hasn't, either. It seems like she's gone, but I keep worrying that she'll strike again soon.”
“I doubt it,” I said, shaking my head. “Now that we all know she exists, I doubt she'll risk trying to get us again. If she does, I doubt she'll be able to just slip in and out of the House like she did the first time.”
“I hope you're right,” said Blizzard. “But everything has just seemed too quiet since you got back from the Cavern. I wonder what the Leadership Council is doing.”
“Probably just getting everything ready for the Summit,” I said. I resumed sweeping without looking at Blizzard. “It's not too far away, after all. And because they're in charge, they probably have to deal with all sorts of things that we don't.”
“Yeah, but I wonder if they're looking into that woman,” said Blizzard. She stopped mopping for a moment to look at me. “Or maybe into the INJ. Do you think they've found any evidence to connect her to them?”
“If they did, I'm sure they would have told us by now,” I said as I swept up a pile of dust and feathers and then dumped it into the nearest trashcan. “I say that you shouldn't worry about it. Take it easy.”
“How can I take it easy when I know there's someone out there who wants us dead?” said Blizzard.
“Just do what I do and don't think about it,” I said. “If it makes you feel better, I think you should get some more practice in with your powers. That way, if you end up fighting her, you'll be able to defend yourself.”
“I know,” said Blizzard, “but I think she's too crafty to fight me or anyone else directly. What if she sends another robot after us?”
I stopped sweeping and looked at Blizzard again, but this time with a little bit of annoyance. “We'll be fine, Blizzard. Let's just focus on getting Hero Island ready for the Summit. If we don't, Mecha Knight will probably give us a more grueling job as punishment.”
Blizzard nodded, even though she looked like she still wanted to talk about this. I understood, but I really did believe that we shouldn't focus on it at the moment. There was nothing we could do about it, so why worry? That was my philosophy and I saw no reason to question it.
Just as Blizzard was about to return to mopping, a loud scream—a woman's scream—pierced the air. We both immediately stopped what we were doing and looked around, but it took me a moment to realized that the scream was coming from near the entrance to the Museum.
“What's that?” said Blizzard. “Was someone hurt?”
“I don't know,” I said. I threw my broom to the roof. “Come on. Let's check it out and see what's going on.”
-
Blizzard and I arrived at the front of the Museum just in time to find dozens of tourists being shepherded away, back in the direction of the port where the tourist ship was located. Several of the Museum's security guards were standing on the large front steps of the Museum, talking to each other or into walkie talkies. I even saw a few of the Island's medics wheeling away some injured people, but I had no idea what was happening. But I did see a flash of light on the inside of the Museum, which told me that ther
e was probably someone or something inside that shouldn't be in there.
Blizzard and I ran up to the nearest security guard, a young guy in his late twenties whose name I didn't know, and said, “What's going on here?”
“Ah, Bolt, sir,” said the security guard. He pointed at the entrance to the Museum, which was still blocked by his fellow guards. “There's a fight going on in the Museum.”
“A fight?” I said. “Who's fighting who? Tell me from the start.”
“Okay,” said the security guard. He glanced at the Museum and then said, “A few minutes ago, one of the tour guides was leading the afternoon's tour group through the Villains exhibit and they were suddenly attacked by some kind of strange creature.”
“Strange creature?” I said. “What did it look like?”
“I don't know,” said the security guard in frustration. “It moved too fast. All I know is that it attacked the tour group and harmed several of them, though I don't think anyone died.”
“Is the creature still in there?” I said.
“Yes,” said the security guard, nodding. “And Big Muscle is trying to stop it.”
I knew who that was. Big Muscle was one of the NHA's members. I didn't know him very well, but from what I recalled, Big Muscle had powers similar to mine in that he could increase his physical strength, though I understood that he was capable of redistributing his strength to whichever part of his body he wanted, rather than evenly distributing it like I did. He was also in charge of the security for the Museum, which explained why he was fighting the creature in the Museum.
So I said, “How is Big Muscle's progress?”
“We don't know,” said the security guard. “Big Muscle told us to get all of the tourists and guests out and to close off all the exits so he could catch the creature and stop it before it destroyed anything valuable or escaped. Big Muscle is probably still alive, because the sounds of battle haven't gone down, but we don't know if he's actually winning or not.”
“Blizzard and I can help,” I insisted. “Let us go in and help Big Muscle. It will be easier to defeat the creature if he has help.”
