Lochlan eyed Pin in his peripherals, both of the men the last two people to exit the bus. Pin seemed to come to life as they neared each other, the man’s face no longer a completely blank expression. He attempted to issue a greeting to Lochlan, making no mention at all of the conversation with Khard. Lochlan gave no reply, pretending not to hear the man, while refusing internally to speak with Pin.
It wouldn’t have earned any points.
Some of us enjoy this part of the story very much.
Yes, yes. Just relax.
After a decade together, I’ve stopped trying to get the voices to go away. I used to get so riled up whenever they would start talking with me–for a while I’d tried to purposefully get a song stuck in my head all day. It never worked like I wanted it to. Sometimes I’d turn the music up so loud in my mind, they would simply sing along. But they really aren’t so bad, leaving me alone for the most part, and they’re pretty good about not keeping the conversation dull when we’re just chatting. I still get songs stuck in my head when they’re quiet, even on accident, but it’s almost nice to know that eventually the song will be replaced by someone to talk to. Plus, now sometimes we all sing together.
Lochlan was finishing up his work for the day, a goal he often hit before lunch. At Lochlan’s level of GH9, his day-to-day duties were far removed from being sent out in the field to recruit recently activated, powerful Chosen as Capes. His job was one hundred percent at his desk, beginning each morning with a long list of emails on his electronic notebook that he’d have to work through. Watching Lochlan go through emails is a lot like watching a river flow–if you get stuck on any one part, you can quickly find yourself far removed from what is happening right in front of you. Agents’ notebooks are linked directly into their brains, and most of Lochlan’s actions are so quick when he pilots through his inbox, each of them happening at the speed of thought, that he can seem like he’s reading two at a time. Each email contained a report of a lower-level field Agent. Lochlan’s primary function was to read the reports, and either approve them if they were satisfactory or send them back if they were lacking crucial details. As someone with a near-zero revision rate on his own reports during his time in the field, Lochlan excelled at identifying what was missing whenever he read an email.
At that point in time, Lochlan was processing his fiftieth report before lunch, four more than was required to meet his quota for the day. He had gotten especially lucky that morning, as there were two field Agents who had finally seemed to wise up to how Lochlan demanded the reports be structured. He had been able to approve both of their submissions quickly.
Lochlan looked over at the clock on the far wall and saw that it was time to pack and head to the cafeteria. He began the process of tidying his space, pressing the button that lowered his standing attachment, bringing his work monitors back to desk level before pushing in the chair he was standing next to. His jacket was hanging neatly on the back, and as he put it on he grabbed his duster and sponge that he left moist with cleaning solution. After quickly dusting the space, Lochlan dabbed his fingers on the sponge and swept them across the keys on his keyboard, removing the oil he’d left on it from typing all morning. This would keep the keyboard looking newer for longer, and ensuring the oils from his fingers didn’t remove the letters on the keys.
He began to consider whether he’d need to work with a stronger solution and realized that his sponge had started to go moldy, the mildew-filled aroma barely making its way to his nose as he closed his desk drawer. Lochlan set the security alarm on his desk and went to activate a modification he had installed to his fingerprint scanner, which would sanitize the fingers he’d dabbed the sponge with, but the unit seemed to be malfunctioning. His mood module threatened to tingle at his frustration with both the sponge and his desk, but he reminded himself that he could just as easily sanitize his hands when he entered the cafeteria. With a final glance at the clock, he saw it was close enough to lunch time that he could begin his journey to lunch and not need to rush at all.
Lochlan preferred a leisurely stroll on the days he bothered to leave his desk for lunch as it gave him time to think. In a few more years, he would begin receiving upgrades to his memory. In the event that the technology didn’t advance in the ways he hoped by then, Lochlan liked to spend his time walking to the cafeteria thinking about some of his most treasured memories. He’d heard many Agents talk being unable to recall important memories, even after seeing a video of the day. Lochlan had a handful of memories he refused to lose as he advanced his career, many of them with assigned narratives about them in his electronic notebook. That morning, he was going to think about Reed, the woman who, to that day, remained the best recruit he’d ever brought in. There were points in The Game to be earned at lower levels for Agents when their recruits gain notoriety. In spite of being in her mid-thirties at the start of her career as a Cape, Reed had earned Lochlan many, many points.
We like Reed very much, all of us.
Just relax and let me tell the story, please.
Lochlan had taken to his recruitment duties just as well as he took to his current office position, but he’d only truly had fun at the earlier stage in his career on a few occasions. When he met Reed, it had been approximately forty minutes after her Ch05En gene had activated. Unlike people born with an active Ch05En gene, Reed’s gene activated when faced with a life-or-death scenario, like mine did. Lochlan will tell you otherwise, but I sometimes think The Control’s satellites are able to determine the ranking of an active Chosen’s gene from the moment they’re born or turn on. When the satellites found Reed, I think they could see she had a ranking of Supreme, the highest ranking you can get. Lochlan was only sent to recruit Reed by chance, though he’d set himself up to be ready for a lucky break by being one of the top-performing recruiters at his paygrade.
Reed’s gene had activated while she was rock climbing in Colorado with a group of people who were much less experienced. She was meant to be their guide up the mountain but, as she would later tell Lochlan, she’d ended up becoming more of a babysitter. The way Lochlan had understood it, Reed’s party had been too busy making jokes and laughing to realize they weren’t properly securing their equipment into the stone. They’d managed to wear on Reed’s last nerve by the third pitch, and Reed had realized if she didn’t concentrate more on what she was doing at the head of the group, it could be dangerous for everyone. Unfortunately, she’d already made a mistake. To ensure she was protected when she fell on previous climbs, Reed had always made sure she had a solid belayer with her–the person meant to keep the climber at the top safe from falls. But that day, her belayer was a novice, with about as much weight to him as a sack of air.
Her experience unable to properly guide her, Reed had made a bad call and ended up falling free from the rock face. Lochlan will say he remembers laughing-he could still laugh with that model of mood module-when Reed had told him that if you aren’t falling as a rock climber, you “aren’t trying hard enough.” He found something about her delivery of that line very endearing and always made sure to think of the way she said it when he thought of her. When he tried hard enough, he could still make out the shape her mouth took, her teeth poking out just a little when she got expressive.
Reed had told Lochlan that everything around her, that time itself, slowed down in the moment she came free of the mountain. She managed to take everything in just before gravity began to really pull: the place she’d meant to grab onto on the rock face, the better spot she should have kept her feet on, and the utter lack of attention from the person who was meant to help her. She knew her tie-in knot was good, but it wouldn’t be enough. In another half moment, Reed was going to fall and would likely take the whole party with her. They were going to tumble until they got back to equipment that had been secured properly. But even then, it might not save them, and they’d have bounced all over the mountain on the way. Reed could think of better ways to die, even if she was about to go out doing som
ething she loved.
Something inside of Reed was equally accepting and raging against her impending death. She had told Lochlan it was like her soul was being pulled in two completely different directions, explaining to him something similar to what everyone seemed to feel when their gene activated. There was a warmth that rose up from her stomach, extending outwards to all of her limbs, and her vision took on a hue of purple, a coat of lavender paint on everything she saw. She instinctually reached back towards the mountain and, to her surprise, her arms and legs extended across the distance. Each of her appendages had moved beyond their standard length, and with little effort otherwise, she had managed to save herself.
When luck brought Lochlan the call that day and he arrived at the top of the mountain via helicopter, he waited patiently for Reed and her group to finish the rest of their climb. A second helicopter had come to ferry Reed’s group back to the bottom of the mountain while she and Lochlan took the hour-long ride to the closest recruitment hub, where fresh recruits were shipped to the GHS academy to be trained as Capes.
They hadn’t talked about much at first, though Reed remained the only recruit to ask Lochlan why he’d joined The Control. Lochlan often cites his answer to her question as the primary reason he didn’t want to let his memory of meeting Reed fade. For a long time, Lochlan had forced himself to be professional even in his own mind, as it was the only way he could be sure he’d continue enjoying his meteoric rise through the ranks. Whenever he thought about Reed, he made sure he recalled the reasoning he gave to her.
“My story isn’t too far off from Richter’s, actually,” Lochlan had said, referencing the leader of The Control. “I had a pretty standard middle-class upbringing. My mother and father both do technical writing for a living. I was homeschooled until I was seventeen like a lot of the other kids in my neighborhood, and got into plenty of trouble with all of the free time I had to run around with them. We had a good little group until we hit high school. I don’t know if it’s familiar to you, but I went to Chrome High, out in Westchester. There was a really bad shooting my first year there, and one of my friends got caught in the crossfire. The event actually still gets talked about on the news from time to time–it was the first school shooting where the kids were firing the bullets telekinetically. And, so, my friend’s gene activated while everything was going down with the shooters, and we all thought he’d go on to be some big Cape in some other city. But…”
“But that wasn’t what happened?” Reed asked.
“No. On his way to the recruitment hub, he decided he’d rather be a Freelancer. I don’t want to give away too many details, because we’re not really supposed to talk about having known him, but he was that guy who could do the crazy stuff with glass.”
“Particle? Or… wait, you mean- “
“Maybe. So, after all of that went down, some of the other kids and I were giving our statements, and I had a chance to talk with the Agent who had come to recruit my friend. He informed me, statistically, that at the end of the day there isn’t much that can be done. Some people with powers simply aren’t going to become Capes, and whatever makes them tick is going to tell them that they’d rather be a Freelancer or, worse, decide they’d like to go on to become recognized as a Supervillain. And, I don’t know, maybe it was the way that he said it… but I didn’t agree. To me, at least at that age, it just seemed like there was more we could do to reduce the number of people who use their powers for personal gain. I took the entrance exam to The Control as soon as I could after college.”
“You know, there’s something I’ve always wondered,” Reed asked, “What’s the difference between a Freelancer and a Supervillain? I mean, is there a difference?”
“Honestly,” Lochlan replied, leaning in a bit, “very little. But it’s difficult to be labeled a Supervillain without a proper marketing team.”
Reed had laughed riotously at Lochlan’s comment, placing her hand on his arm as she did. Lochlan still gets a few laughs, even now, when he delivers that line about Supervillains.
It’s funny because it’s true.
Obviously.
Outside of his memory, Lochlan had finally finished tidying up, and had nearly gotten out of his work area when Pin pulled him aside. The two men hadn't talked much throughout the time they had worked together, and the times they did usually ended with Lochlan feeling some combination of bored and annoyed. Pin stood just a little taller than Lochlan, a product of some feet enhancements Pin had installed a few years into becoming an Agent. The modifications were designed to allow someone the ability to walk over nearly any surface, regardless of temperature or roughness of terrain, without losing their balance. There was some kind of special system they installed at the ankle, though I'm not totally sure how it works.
Lochlan will be the first person to tell you that people normally get the enhancements for the same reason Pin did, though-because it added an inch or two of height. Aside from the height difference, the two men appeared as if they could have been related by blood. They both had fair skin, similar upgrades, and walked like they always had somewhere to be-an aspect that was truer for one of them than the other. When Lochlan talks about the times he’s interacted with Pin, it's clear that Pin had made a game at some point of messing with him, though I don’t think Lochlan ever knew. Lochlan glanced at the clock quickly, determining he still had enough time if he stopped for whatever Pin wanted, and decided against being rude. Open rudeness could very quickly lead to points being docked from him in The Game, something Pin was well aware of.
"Hey, man, you've got to see this video that just hit my inbox." This was a common thing with Pin and many others who worked on the same floor as Lochlan. Lochlan understood the point-in spite of the mood modules they all had, Agents can still perceive humor. Lochlan didn't like the way wanting to laugh made his module tingle, but he could understand if other people did. The Control offers an entire set of manuals on ways to ensure that Agents can essentially cling to their humanity. There's this hilarious passage in chapter two that starts off something like, for times when your mechanical parts begin to feel as though they outnumber your original equipment, engage in an activity that you used to enjoy before you began the upgrade process. Popular activities may include going for a walk, sitting on a park bench, or having sex.
Poor Agents, right?
Like, oh man, I'm not feeling quite human today. I know, I'll just go have some sex! I hear the mood module suppresses the urge for the most part, though.
Pin had pulled Lochlan aside to show him the video. Lochlan's typical response would have been to politely step forward, stay quiet, and suffer through whatever Pin wanted to show him. Instead, he attempted to tell Pin that he was in a hurry, realizing that he’d had time for a quick conversation and that watching a video would be quite the gamble.
"No way, man. Come on, you have got to see this."
"Is it the video with the giraffe?" Lochlan asked. "Everyone has seen that video already, Pin. Really, I'm actually—"
"It's not the one with the giraffe, man. There’re no animals in it, but it'll still make your module tingle into next Tuesday. You have seriously just got to see it."
Unable to find a way to leave without being rude, Lochlan stepped forward so that Pin could show him the video. "How long is the clip?"
"Something like forty seconds," Pin replied. "And then I'll go with you to... uh... you're going to lunch?"
"Yes, I'm going to lunch. Please play the video now."
"Okay, cool, cool."
Pin pulled out his chair so that Lochlan could have a seat, but Lochlan gently pushed it out of his way and simply took a step closer to Pin's monitor. Like other Agents, Pin's monitor was the standard ten inches that every agent with eye upgrades had on their desk. It could be split down the middle into two five-inch screens for times when the user wanted to work with a dual-screen layout. Lochlan zoomed his eyes in as the video began to play, surprising himself as his mood module began to t
ingle. The video showing a baby sloth slowly crawl out of the arms of its handler to use the bathroom, only to pee all over the handler as its tiny bladder gave out before the journey was completed. The sloth continued trying to rush away to where it normally did its business, but the baby animal's naturally slow pace caused it to spread the urine all over its handler's shirt while it moved. At the end of the video, the sloth realized it had finished its business and no longer needed to leave to use the restroom, so then it crawled back onto its handler, where it nestled in to get comfortable. The handler giggled throughout the video with what was a truly infectious laugh as well.
Lochlan looked over at Pin to see that the man was smiling, making Lochlan wonder if anyone aside from himself even bothered to turn their mood module on. Between the animated conversation Khard had given him and the broad smile Pin was wearing, it certainly seemed to Lochlan like everyone else was just pretending.
"Very nice, Pin. You were right. I tingled quite a bit."
"See? I told you, man. I could totally hear you tingling, too. You know, you should really think about turning that thing down, actually. I've heard—"
"Yes, thank you, Pin. I'm sorry, but I'm quite famished. I absolutely must go and get some paste."
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