Fid's Crusade

by David Reiss

  “That sucks,” my CIO replied succinctly, then frowned. “Did Whisper know…?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so,” I sighed. The little android had always complained when Starnyx jokingly called her a shell-script, but I knew she heard the affection in his voice. “They’d been friends.”

  “Damn. Poor kid.”

  “She’s had a rough time of it, but she’s resilient.” I smiled fondly; Whisper was focused on her swim instructor now, just another young girl learning to be comfortable in the water. It was remarkable how accepting the staff and other children were given Whisper’s unusual appearance. Aaron must have spoken to them. “Stronger than I am, I think.”

  Aaron just smiled.

  Aaron had been with A.H. Biotech since the company’s inception, one of the earliest hires. A dedicated workaholic, he made quick work of climbing the ranks and earning his current title. Many days, he was among the first to reach the office in the morning and was among the last to leave. At the time, I’d admired his dedication. That he had a daughter at all was a complete surprise.

  I’d been eating lunch and talking shop with one of our senior geneticists. Aaron had been on the other side of the breakroom, arguing with a senior sysadmin about a project to upgrade some database servers. And, in the background, a television news reporter gravely announced that Scorpius had taken the students at a Beacon Hill nursery school hostage.

  I recalled Aaron’s changing countenance with crystal clarity. At first, just a moment of recognition. For such an intelligent man, it took a surprising amount of time for him to digest the information. It was as though the images onscreen were encrypted, the words spoken in a foreign language that needed careful translation. I watched it: The sudden realization that something was precious to him, something that he’d taken for granted, something that meant everything…and that thing was in danger.

  A summer breeze carries the taste of ocean salt and fresh-cut grass. I don’t hear the explosion so much as feel it: my chest aches as though I’ve been punched. Someone screams and Bobby is so small in my arms and the nearest shelter looks so far away…

  Aaron’s expression had seemed eerily familiar.

  Titan and Aeon rescued the hostages and Scorpius was imprisoned. Also, my CIO stopped working late into the night and instead chose to spend evenings with his family. Fatherhood suited him.

  At the time, CEO Terry Markham’s public support of his CIO’s efforts to alter his work/life balance had been a low-effort means of improving company morale. It would have been pleasant to say that, even at my worst, I would not have interfered with a father seeking to improve his relationship with his own daughter. Unfortunately, the truth was uglier. At my worst, I would have used my civilian position to pour subtle hardships and difficulties upon the man, out of pure jealous rage that his child survived when Bobby had not.

  Was I still that creature, I wondered? The old Fid, the worst Fid, had acted under the influence of neurosurgical alterations and a carefully-designed pharmacological regimen that reinforced the most villainous behaviors. Absent those effects, my decisions would be very different. And yet…the choice to cut away at sanity had been my own. Surely, that darkness was inside me still.

  “You’re happier,” Aaron interjected suddenly, interrupting my reverie. “Since Whisper came into your life, I mean.”

  I wondered if he had been thinking of the same day. Of fear and fire and life-changing moments.

  “I am, generally.” The android happened to glance in our direction, grinning giddily, and I waved to her. “It’s just been a rough couple of weeks.”

  “I know the way that goes,” he sighed. “Oh, hey, as long as I've got you here...”

  I laughed. He'd picked up the phrase from his predecessor who had a tendency to manufacture excuses to talk to other executives away from the office.

  “No, seriously.” Aaron grinned self-deprecatingly. “The devs for the medical nanite project are eating through storage space. More ’n ten times our original projections.”

  “Yes,” I nodded. “I’m having Sagar keep full simulations instead of just holding onto the deltas. We’re going to need the data for certification.”

  “We’re years from human testing.”

  “It’ll pay for itself eventually,” I reassured, successfully hiding a smug smile. Any day now, a report on our initial results would pass by the Secretary of Health and Human Services’ desk. There were hints of quite promising results when dealing with the specific form of inoperable cancer that the Secretary had been secretly (Hah!) diagnosed with. It seemed likely to me that there would be a quiet push for accelerated human trials. “How long ’til we fill the Cambridge data center?”

  “Maybe a month,” Aaron sighed. “Maybe less.”

  “Any chance we could just add more racks and RAID arrays?”

  “I can check, but I’m pretty sure that facility is close to maxed out on cooling and power consumption.”

  (Corporate advancement would be simpler if Doctor Fid's resources could be utilized more openly. The quantum data-storage housed in the Doctor's deep oceanic facility could have resolved this issue for the company for years to come. That technology, however, was well known to be Fid's; if some other company were to study captured samples and successfully reverse engineer them, then A.H.B. would invest in a new data center. Until then, it was safer to maintain distance between Terry Markham's known capabilities and those exhibited by the infamous villain.)

  “All right.” I groaned softly, “Get your team leads together, see what old data we can archive and off-shore. That should earn us some time, and I'll squeeze some funding free to move up the Middletown branch opening.”

  “Ananya is going to scream bloody murder.”

  “I'll sit with her tomorrow.” I chuckled, then reached down to grab Whisper's robe. “Looks like the lesson is winding down.”

  “Looks like.” He picked up his own daughter’s robe and bent to grab her flip-flops. “Thanks. I’ll breathe easier knowing that there’s a plan in place.”

  “Glad to help. Thank you for inviting us! This was a great idea.”

  “No problem at all. Dinah likes Whisper a lot.”

  I’m sorry that I was still exhibiting echoes of sociopathic traits four years ago, I didn’t say. I’m sorry that I didn’t don my armor, fly to your daughter’s school, liquefy Scorpius, and carry Dinah directly into your arms.

  I’m sorry that I’m a monster.

  “Whisper likes Dinah, too,” I said instead. “Teatime on Thursday?”

  “Sounds good!” And then his daughter arrived, dripping and laughing, and conversation more-or-less ended.

  The drive home was filled with Whisper telling me about her lesson and about her new friends; she’d absorbed literally every text on swimming technique available on the internet, but learning with a physical body was different. Better, she insisted.

  “…and next time, I’ll be brave and will dunk my head all the way underwat-Wait.” She paused in her narration suddenly. “Put on NPR!”

  I turned on the radio.

  “-mments on our online forum evaluating the footage. Within hours, several separate threads were locked due to excessive vitriol. Several camps have emerged. One fairly significant contingent insists that the entire controversy can be dismissed; the video, they say, is a manufactured fake.” The program's host had a pleasant speaking voice, aged and strong, with an accent that hinted of time spent in the Midwest. He also sounded vaguely familiar. “So, a question to my first guest: Titan, do you believe that the video is real?”

  Generally speaking, I am a very conscientious driver. The damage that Doctor Fid causes is purposeful; allowing an automotive accident to occur when it was within my power to prevent it would be distasteful. Peripheral vision and other sensory inputs were shifted to an autopilot program before I turned my head to stare respectfully at my passenger. My own multitasking skills were significant, but Whisper's were remarkable! How many media channels, I w
ondered, was she monitoring concurrently?

  The artificial intelligence's design and the quantum cloud that housed her psyche might limit her emotional growth to the speed at which a human child might mature, but it was a pleasure to watch her intellectual capabilities flourish.

  “First, I'd like to say thank you for having me. It's always a pleasure being here.” Titan's familiar voice began. The silver-clad 'hero' always had been an annoyingly effective public speaker. “I should note that I am not personally an expert, but that we have expert contacts that have performed extensive analysis of the leaked video. The general consensus is that the footage is, in fact, real.”

  “And is that conclusion shared by other members of our panel?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes.”

  “It is, yes.”

  “It's always pleasant when our guests quickly arrive at a consensus.” The host chuckled softly. “We're all in agreement then: The video floating around the internet, depicting the famed villain Doctor Fid joining the hacktivist organization, the 'FTW', is genuine.

  “If that is, in fact, the case...we should discuss what this video might mean. Our second guest is Joanne Durand, noted sociologist and author of New York Times Best Seller Black Masks. Joanne, you've made a career studying the long-term effect that supervillains have upon society. What were your first thoughts when you saw this video?”

  “Honestly, Ted, my first thought was that the video had to be fake.” She laughed self-deprecatingly. “My second thought was that yesterday would have been an excellent time to invest in cyber-security stocks. A lot of companies breathed a sigh of relief after the FTW was beheaded in that fire, but those same organizations are looking to increase their security now.”

  “Why is that?” The host (now identified as ‘Ted’) asked.

  It was possible that the host was Dr. Theodore Nestle; he’d been a guest lecturer at MIT and his vocal timbre was, by my recollection, very similar.

  “Doctor Fid is a dangerous fighter, certainly, but he’s never been implicated in cybercrimes before,” Ted continued.

  “Even if his technological savvy doesn’t translate to being an effective hacker, Doctor Fid has gathered a significant amount of resources over the course of his long career that he could offer to the FTW’s cause,” Joanne replied.

  “A frightening thought, to be sure.” Dr. Nestle paused. “Again, our first guest is the long-time leader of the Boston Guardians, and has faced Doctor Fid in combat more than a dozen times. Titan, you look like you have something to add?”

  “I do,” Titan replied firmly. “I wanted to remind your viewers that this video changes nothing! Is it really Doctor Fid speaking? Yeah. But it’s just words from a faceless villain with a long history of violence and murder. He’s never going to be a harmless hacker.”

  “I agree.” I felt an odd, vague sense of betrayal when I recognized the speaker’s Chilango accent. If there had been any so-called hero that I would have expected to trust my word...

  “Our third guest is Titan’s second-in-command, the Red Ghost,” the program’s host explained for other listeners. “Could you expand on that comment, please?”

  “If Doctor Fid made these promises, then I am certain that he intends to honor them,” the Ghost stated, and I was mollified. “That’s the sort of man he’s proven himself to be. That having been said, the oaths he swore do not make him harmless! He vowed to avoid ‘unnecessary violence’, but his definition of ‘unnecessary’ is unlikely to be the same as yours or mine.”

  “So you don't think that he’ll change his behavior?” Theodore Nestle prompted.

  “I’m sure that he will change his behavior,” the Red Ghost replied. “I am, however, uncertain what those changes will be.”

  “I agree as well,” Ms. Durand added. “The FTW has always been an organization bound by a shared ideology. Doctor Fid, on the other hand, has never made any attempts to advance any political or social agenda in the past. Violence has always been his raison d'etre, his overriding purpose. No matter what, I think we can be positive that the Doctor won't end up being a prototypical FTW member.”

  “If Doctor Fid is unlikely to change significantly, then why was this video created at all?”

  “A tribute,” a husky female voice declared, and my hands clamped painfully tight on the steering wheel. “According to several sources, the leader of the FTW, Starnyx, had been a close friend to Doctor Fid.”

  A quick remote search through the NPR’s servers confirmed that this program was being broadcast live. Reflexively, I calculated the amount of time required to divert the car, don Doctor Fid's armor and fly to the studio to make a personal appearance. Surely, I thought wistfully, an appropriate level of enthusiastic preemptive self-defense would be deemed an acceptable lapse among my new compatriots...

  “For our listeners at home, our fourth guest is the long-time leader of the New York Shield and has had extensive experience facing the powered members of the FTW organization. Sphinx, to confirm...you've never fought Doctor Fid directly?”

  “I have not,” she confirmed, then chuckled. “Although if he’s joined the FTW, then I suppose that it is inevitable that we’ll eventually cross paths.”

  That did seem very likely, yes.

  Whisper stretched to rest her small hand on top of mine, warm and comforting, and my fingers unclenched from the steering wheel.

  “The FTW is an international organization,” the host began, “so why is it that the New York Shield seems to face them so often?”

  “First, Ted, I think that we need to be clearer about what we're discussing: The FTW is a large, mostly anonymous online organization of hackers and activists that promote nonviolent protest and an anti-corporate agenda. That portion of the group is suspected of cybercrimes worldwide. The Shield is generally not involved in those investigations.” She paused. “Well, not directly. One member of my team, Cuboid, is often called upon to assist the FBI’s Cyber Crime division.”

  “I see.”

  “Only a very small percentage of the FTW’s members are powered individuals, and it’s this smaller group that are behind the viral videos posted to the Internet, and it’s only that sub-group which the Shield is called upon to confront.”

  “Even though the organization is international,” she continued, “it seems likely that most of the superpowered members are local to the New York area. In addition, Wall Street corporations and the New York banking organizations are favored targets.”

  “The so-called ‘hackers and activists’ that you’re defending are still aiding and abetting supervillains!” Titan objected.

  “I don't believe that label is accurate,” Red Ghost countered. “They aren't really villains. Criminals, certainly, but in their misguided way they truly are trying to make the world a better place.”

  “They accepted an armor-plated faceless thug as their newest member,” Titan spat.

  “And that is certainly worrying,” Joanne Durand replied. “But we don't yet fully understand what Doctor Fid’s role will be within the organization. It’s not rational to tar them all with the same brush.”

  “You’ve never faced the FTW in the field,” the Red Ghost interjected, obviously addressing his team leader. “You don’t know them. Did I ever tell you how their second-in-command was captured?”

  “...Yes.”

  “Well, I haven’t heard this story,” the show’s host commented curiously. “Please share?”

  “It is a long tale and I’m afraid that some of the story is personal,” Red Ghost demurred, “but the end result is that Beazd, a lifelong pacifist, surrendered himself and accepted imprisonment simply because he could not see a means of escape without harming one of his captors.”

  “I hadn’t heard that, either,” Ms. Durand noted, sounding awed.

  “And that brings us to another part of this tragedy,” Sphinx said, her tone grim. “This information wasn’t meant to be public yet, but this does seem relevant to the discus
sion: A member of my team has pled guilty to involuntary manslaughter in the case of former FTW member Beazd’s death.”

  There were assorted sounds of shock. I empathized; I was in shock too.

  “Wh—what happened?” the Ghost asked shakily.

  “Peregrine had reason to believe that Beazd was still in contact with known criminals—which would have been a violation of his parole. He set out to question Beazd and ended up employing excessive force.

  “I've spoken to Peregrine at length and I am convinced that this was simply a terrible accident, that he is genuinely repentant, and that he had every reason to believe that Beazd’s superhuman durability would have protected him. Nevertheless, the death occurred as a direct result of an illegal interrogation and Peregrine has been sentenced to five years of house arrest and eight hundred hours of community service.”

  “That's horrible,” Joanne murmured, and Doctor Nestle agreed.

  I slaved my arms and legs entirely to the auto-pilot program to keep from driving off the highway.

  “There’s more,” Sphinx’s voice was grave. “After the event in question, Peregrine came to me in a panic. To my great shame, I chose to protect my teammate rather than follow what I knew to be the lawful response. I have, myself, pled guilty to criminal conspiracy for my role in concealing the crime and staging an accidental death. I will be stepping down as leader of the New York Shield as soon as a replacement has been chosen, to serve my own sentence.”

  The censors failed to cut out the Red Ghost's Spanish invectives.

  “It’s very brave of you to come forward,” Ted Nestle offered uncertainly. "May I ask when this event occurred?”