by Logan Jacobs
Elizabeth probably hadn’t even felt flattered by their obvious envy, just impatient. She was like that. For such a beautiful woman, she really wasn’t vain at all. Well, she knew she was beautiful, but it just wasn’t something she obsessed over. She hardly seemed to obsess over anything except being good at her job, and that was another quality that I knew made her extremely appealing to everyone else: she just didn’t give a shit about her looks. She even seemed to feel quite nonchalant about her affair with Miles. Didn’t she realize how many thousands of women would have literally killed to be in her place, which is to say waking up next to him every morning?
We walked through aisles of shoes, and Dynamo breezed by them so fast that a couple pairs of precarious stilettos toppled over. I don’t think the tall beauty even noticed that I was struggling to keep up with her. Which was probably just a metaphor for our entire relationship. She was the whirlwind. I was just a little brown leaf getting tossed around in her wake.
Then she halted in front of a pair, and I caught up with her and tried not to pant visibly. She grabbed the heels and then instead of bending to put them on her own feet, she thrust them at me.
“Here, these would look good on you,” she stated.
“They would?” I asked as I examined the strappy nude pair she’d chosen. They weren’t something I’d have picked out for myself because they were… well, awfully sexy, and I always feared looking dumb in sexy clothes that clearly weren’t meant for someone like me. Also, I usually favored bright colors because I needed all the help I could get to not blend into the background.
“Yes,” she said decisively.
So I sat down on the nearest bench, pulled off my chunky Mary Janes, and figured out how to lace the shoes on. My feet bulged out hideously through the cutouts. “My feet aren’t the right shape for these,” I told Dynamo, who was watching.
“What do you mean?” she laughed. “That’s just not the right size.”
She looked through the stack and pulled out another box, then handed it to me.
This time when I laced the same shoes on in a size up, they fit like a glove. I stood hesitantly and realized that it actually wasn’t even hard to walk in them. They had a bit of a platform so the angle from my toe to my heel wasn’t too steep. I looked down at the miniature mirror on the side of the bench to see my disembodied feet from the mid-calf down.
Inside the strappy nude heels, they looked sleek and glamorous. Like they could be attached to a supermodel. Or a superhero. The shoes made my ankles look slim and my calves look longer, too. I turned to see them from different angles. I tipped one foot coyly. I crossed one over the other.
“Perfect, right?” Dynamo asked proudly.
“Yes,” I admitted. I knew the girl on top didn’t match the elegant sexiness of the shoes, but if at least some part of me as small as my feet could look perfect that was something. “Which ones are you going to try?”
“Oh, I have a pair of heels that I packed,” she said with a shrug. “They’ll do fine.”
After we had purchased my new shoes, we went to shop for evening gowns. I browsed through some racks to search for something with ruffles voluminous enough to hide all the unwanted fat around my middle. A lot of the ones with ruffles were also sprinkled with rhinestones. That seemed like a good decorative touch, since I knew the opera was supposed to be extremely fancy and that women wore a lot of jewelry there.
Then Dynamo came up to me, took the stack of four or five dresses that I had heaped over my arm, held up each one to glance at it, and promptly hooked them back onto the nearest rack.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Those dresses are hideous,” she replied matter-of-factly.
I noticed that she was holding a few dresses over her own arm, and that the one on top had a thigh-high slit. I gulped.
“Well, I can’t wear something like that,” I protested as I pointed at the slit.
“Don’t worry, that’s for me,” she laughed. “I’m not going to force you to wear anything you don’t want to.”
A store attendant came by then and asked, “Can I get a room started for either of you ladies?”
Dynamo thanked her and handed off her pile of dresses to the attendant. Then she purposefully circled a few racks as she eyed their contents critically. Even while clothes shopping, she managed to look like some kind of magnificent predator on the hunt.
She pulled out a few to get a better look and checked their size tags too. Half of them, she ended up putting back. The other half she thrust at me. I clutched at the pile and followed after her to the dressing room.
Dynamo chose the first dress that she tried on within two minutes, and then she emerged from her stall and demanded that I model each of my options for her.
I tried a simple blue gown with a full pleated skirt that she deemed “too dowdy,” and then a yellow column dress that she said didn’t suit my complexion, and then a silk peach sheath dress that she declared perfect.
“It gives you that classic hourglass silhouette,” she said.
“It does?” I asked as I stared at myself in the mirror. The dress did seem to know exactly where to tighten up its grip on my body, and where to give me a bit of breathing room. The square cut of the neckline and the seams along the bodice all conspired to make my figure look more structured than it really was.
“Yes, you look lovely,” she said, in just as matter of fact a tone as she had informed me that my initial dress selections were hideous.
Usually I hated compliments on my appearance because people said them in a horrible tone of kindness and generosity, but either Dynamo was a very skilled liar or she was judging my looks on a very different scale than her own that somehow enabled me to qualify as “lovely.”
I wondered if that was what Miles was doing too on the very rare occasions when he complimented my appearance, since he wasn’t the kind of person who said things just to be nice. I wondered if he’d like this dress as much as he had seemed to like the green one I had worn to the C.D.S. launch gala as his date.
“Now I guess we just need to go pick out jewelry,” Dynamo said.
“You don’t already have that?” I asked her. “I mean, Miles hasn’t given you like a necklace or something?” I tried to sound as casual as possible but still regretted the question once it was out. Miles had given me lots of presents when he was just trying to woo me into becoming his employee, after all, so I was curious what kinds of romantic gifts he must have lavished upon this woman that he was kind of sort of dating. Insofar as Miles Nelson really dated anyone, that is.
Dynamo looked surprised. “What? No. Of course not.” She laughed a bit. “That doesn’t really seem like something he would do, is it? He’s not exactly sentimental like that. Not over me, anyway. All he’s ever given me is gear to fight supervillains with. Not that I mind that! But… why do you ask? Does he have a habit of giving other women jewelry?”
“No, no,” I assured her quickly as I realized that she was jealous at the thought. “I just thought maybe with you since you’re so special to him.”
“I am?” she asked. She looked me in the face thoughtfully. “Well, you’re more special to him.”
“No, I’m not!” I exclaimed. “That’s ridiculous! He can’t take his eyes off you, and I’m practically just a piece of furniture as far as he’s concerned.”
“No, it’s not,” Dynamo insisted. “I may be his latest love interest in a very long string of those, but you’re… well, you’re his right-hand man. You’re irreplaceable.”
“Actually, I’m pretty sure he’s going to automate my job soon,” I groaned only half-jokingly as I thought of Aileen.
Dynamo laughed at the allusion. “Well, did you see the way he looked at her that night when she finished building her legs while we were out of the house? Honestly he’ll probably automate my job soon, too.”
We giggled together, and I suddenly felt lighthearted. Dynamo was nothing like me, she was in a completely differen
t league, but even this flawless superhero could commiserate with me over the fact that neither of us could ever hope to exert as strong a hold on Miles as a robot of his own creation. Becoming Miles’ assistant was far and away the best thing that had ever happened to me, but it was also a special kind of torture to base my life around a man that could never love me back.
After that we went to the jewelry section. Again, Dynamo steered me away from my initial choices and toward a set that I wouldn’t have thought of choosing on my own, but once I tried on the sapphire necklace and chandelier earrings, I could understand why they worked. Then Dynamo asked me to help her choose between two necklaces for herself, which made me happy because it meant that she respected my opinion.
We stopped for a late lunch at a café.
“What was your life like before you started working for Miles?” she asked.
“Unimaginably boring,” I replied. “Trust me, you don’t want to hear about it.”
Not just boring, but depressing. My only real job had been working in shoe sales at a department store. I’d had two boyfriends ever, one in high school and one in college, neither of whom had seemed very interested in me and both of whom had eventually dumped me. I’d been devastated both times, although in retrospect, after my time with Miles, both of my exes seemed ludicrously dull to me, and I couldn’t believe how much effort I had wasted trying to impress them and keep them happy. Before that, growing up as a kid, my parents had been perfectly decent parents in most respects, but they had clearly preferred my sister. Also, my family had owned two cats, and both of them had died, one of cancer and one of coyote.
“Really?” Dynamo asked. Her life had probably always been wildly adventurous and glamorous. Nothing bad probably ever happened to her because she was just too powerful to allow that.
“Of course,” I said. “I mean, look at me. I’m the definition of ordinary.”
“Actually, you’re the most talented person who has ever lived,” she said.
“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “I’m not the best at anything. Not one single thing.”
“Neither am I,” she said earnestly. “Optimo is way stronger than I am physically. Direwolf heals a lot faster. Maquun can run circles around me. Enough circles to make me dizzy. I’m not the winner in any superpower category.”
I considered that. “But with your combination of skills, you’re extraordinary. I’ve never seen anyone that can fight like you can.”
“Exactly!” Dynamo replied. “It’s the combination that makes me, me. Just like with you. Do you know how many thousands of lifetimes an ordinary human would have to live to learn all the skills that you have?”
I’d never really thought of it that way. “But, learning. That’s a thing I can’t do. I just can’t. If I don’t already know something naturally, then it just… won’t stick in my head. Doesn’t that make me like, disabled or something?”
“Are you sure about that?” she asked as she scrunched up her face a bit.
“Well, I’ve tried… I guess.”
“You guess?” Dynamo asked as she raised an eyebrow. “How have you tried?”
“I’ve just… you know. I do something a few times, and it never seems to get better.”
“That’s how things work,” Dynamo chuckled as she gestured to her arms. “I work out every day. Sure, I’d still be strong if I didn’t work out, but increasing your abilities is a gradual progression that doesn’t just happen after a few attempts. You have to push on your limits, tear the muscle, and then get stronger when it rebuilds. When was the last time you ever pushed yourself?”
“Huhhh,” I said as I tapped on my chin. “I guess I’ve never thought of it that way. I’ve always just thought I was going to be average at everything.”
“What if your power just needs to be trained more?” Dynamo shrugged.
“I don’t even know where to begin to do that,” I said as I thought through her words.
“Well, I’m sure you can get better, so think about how to do it,” Dynamo said with a shrug, as if that were no big deal, rather than the tragedy of my life. Well, one of the tragedies. “If I were you, what I’d do is focus on thinking of creative ways to use my skills. Or ways that I could combine them. Either using multiple skills at once, or teaming up with other people who had complementary skills. Right?”
“What do you mean by combine them?” I asked curiously.
“Well, like language, for instance,” she said. “You can speak any language averagely. You can also speak in the typical accent of any dialect. So, you could make your linguistic skills look even more impressive depending on what accent you used. Like if you spoke Japanese in a Swahili accent or Quechua in a Bulgarian accent? You could invent some pretty interesting origin stories, right? That’s just an example though. Or what about doing two things at once? You’re always average at juggling and average at riding a unicycle no matter what, right?”
“Huh,” I said. “I’ve never thought about it that way.”
“So does that mean that if you rode a unicycle while juggling you would still be average at both activities?” Dynamo continued. “Or does it mean that you would be average at the overall activity of riding a unicycle while juggling? Are there even enough people who do that for a statistically meaningful average to exist?”
I laughed. “Now you sound like Aileen.”
Dynamo clapped her hand over her mouth in mock horror. “I bet Aileen knows when we make fun of her. She’s always watching and always listening.”
“Lucky she doesn’t have any feelings to get hurt, then,” I said.
“True,” Dynamo said. “You know, you’re really good at adapting to strange circumstances like that. Like a robot overseeing every move you make, I mean. And not letting it faze you. I don’t think most ‘normal’ people could do that. You’re not really normal at all, you know.”
“Thanks…” I said and shrugged my shoulders.
“You’re welcome,” Dynamo said as she dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “Now, let’s go remind Miles of the value of human interaction, before Aileen has time to complete her takeover of the man we both love.”
“Hey,” I gasped as I felt my stomach drop. “I don’t--”
“Don’t worry,” Dynamo snickered. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“Okay,” I sighed. “I just hope Miles doesn’t really--”
“You are average at hiding your emotions,” Dynamo interrupted, and then we both laughed.
Chapter Nine
The next day, which was the twelfth of October, Dynamo took Norma along on a crime patrol with her while Aileen and I finalized the weapons modifications. I was glad to see that the two women really did seem to be bonding a little, and they both giggled a few times when they prepped for their adventure, as if they had shared a joke that I didn’t know. That was okay. I’d let them keep their secrets. It was important that my team felt like they have some autonomy.
“Hey Aileen,” I asked as I worked, “so what’s this opera about anyway? The Demon’s Delight? What does that mean?”
“If you wish me to spoil the plot of the opera, please confirm before I proceed,” Aileen said.
“Okay, okay, don’t tell me,” I replied to the android. “So, you won’t be able to use these weapons for now. I need to give you fingerprints in order for that to work, but my engraving machine is home in The Cellar.”
“I possess inbuilt weapons,” Aileen said as she swiveled her muzzle-shaped nipples to remind me.
I laughed. “Damn, I didn’t know that was a kink I had.”
“If you wish to utilize me for--”
“I know, I know,” I said. “Modifications needed. Eventually, you will possess an entire fleet of bodies for various purposes. Some will be metal. Others will have no metal components and be able to pass through metal detectors, such as will be present at the entrance of the opera house tonight. I’ll make you waterproof. I’ll make you fireproof. I’ll make you big as an armored tank, an
d as small as a spy bug.”
“And some you will make so that I can pleasure your body?” she asked as her eyebrow raised.
“Yep,” I agreed.
“I look forward to the increased versatility that the possession of multiple bodies will afford me,” Aileen replied as she slowly smiled.
Maybe, I thought, one day I’d even create a body she could control that would look exactly like me and could substitute for me at any event that I did not care to attend in person. My decoy self could also be used to lure supervillains and flush out traps. Maybe I could even upload a duplicate of my actual consciousness to it to integrate with Aileen’s and create a sort of child between us that was also kind of my enhanced clone. The possibilities were endless.
For now, I had to plan for the short term, though, and the opera would be in two hours. “Would you go iron my suit? Whichever one you think best from whatever’s in my luggage.”
Aileen nodded and walked off to complete the task.
When the girls returned soon after that, they were full of excited energy. Part of that might have been the anticipation for the opera and our impending confrontation with Mayhem, but part of it was also because of the adventures they’d apparently just had tangling with the thugs of Grayville’s streets.
When I first saw Norma, I flinched with surprise a little due to the swollen black eye she was sporting.
“You should see the other guy,” she said proudly when she noticed me staring.
“Er, does the other guy have a formal event to attend in an hour?” I reminded her. Making my assistant feel even more self-conscious than usual was the last thing I wanted to do, but it was a bit inconvenient that tonight of all nights was now going to be the night when her face attracted everyone’s attention. “Dynamo, do you think you can help her do something with makeup?”
“To conceal that entirely would require a facial prosthetic,” remarked the ever objective Aileen.
“Well, I’ll try,” Dynamo sighed. “I wish Helena were here right now, makeup artistry is practically one of her superpowers.”
