Retroactivity

by Edwards, Micah

  Mat attempted to puzzle out his reasoning, but frustratingly, there wasn’t any. Government was the best option, was all. It was a math problem without a proof, no work shown.

  Mat sighed. He had always been a meticulous strategist, a keen planner. It rubbed him the wrong way to go all in on what felt like a hunch. On the other hand, if his snap judgments were right, then devoting more effort to choosing the right answer would just be a waste of time; he’d only end up going with what he’d already decided. Then again….

  This was the same circular, unresolvable argument Mat had been having with himself all week. Making a deliberate choice, he forced the debate from his mind and pulled up an application for the Department of Augment Affairs, a relatively new and rapidly expanding agency that was tasked both with protecting Augments, and protecting people from them as well. A large part of their job was public relations, keeping any sort of societal rift or class distinction from forming between Augs and norms. Mat could see himself in a PR role if that was how the chips fell, but he felt that he’d be better behind the scenes, directing the projects. All major countries had teams of superheroes working for them, doing everything from disaster relief to political dissident control—in the more totalitarian regimes, at least. Officially, the US had no black ops Augments, but then, black ops were often far from official in any case.

  Weeks passed as Mat waited for a response to his application, and at last he arrived home from school one day to find a packet in the mail. It seemed thin, but still too thick to be a rejection letter, so Mat tore it open with only mild trepidation. He got no further than the front page before snapping a photo and posting it to social media, captioning it: “Scholastic internship with DAA! First step to the future!”

  Amidst the torrent of congratulatory remarks and general cheers was one from Alyssa reading simply, “Copycat. ;)”. Attached was a nearly identical picture of her acceptance letter. Mat grinned to himself. This program was going to be even better now that he knew he wouldn’t be going into it totally surrounded by strangers.

  School ended, and the summer went as summers tend to go: too fast and too slow at the same time. Mat was swept up in a whirlwind of farewell parties and “last summer of freedom” activities, and yet the days until it was time for him to report to his first day at the DAA seemed to crawl by.

  He’d read all he could about the program, but still felt woefully uninformed about it. The basic idea was that he and the other interns would go to work for the DAA in a part-time capacity, and also enroll in school at the same time. They would be free to choose their courses at first, but as specific places were found for them in the department, their fields of study would narrow to focus on their particular roles. At the end of two to three years, they’d have some manner of a degree and a job above entry level.

  Mat was hoping for something on a management path, but nothing he could find specifically said whether that was even an option. It was entirely possible that the agency wasn’t interested in putting teenagers on the fast track to management. Government workers tended to settle into their jobs for life, and even for the comparatively young department he was joining, that still meant that some people had been in it for over twenty years. Longer than he’d been alive, in other words. Were they going to take kindly to being placed under a freshly graduated kid, especially if they’d been in positions of power over him while he was interning?

  This debate wasn’t likely to come up for at least half a year into the program, if at all. The most reasonable thing to do was to table the question for now and address it if and when it arose. Mat told himself this countless times, and yet he constantly found his mind circling back to it, worrying at it. Over and over he conducted mock arguments in his head, arguing his case against phantom opponents.

  He messaged Alyssa about this, and received a two-word response: “Control freak.”

  “Oh, so you’ll just be happy with wherever they decide to put you?” he challenged her.

  “Sure, ‘cause they’re only putting me one place: tactician. No question, no stress.”

  Mat admired her easy assurance. His future still seemed full of more questions than answers.

  Hey augment, aren’t you supposed to be good for this sort of thing? he asked himself. No response was forthcoming, so he answered himself with the mental equivalent of a shrug.

  Finally summer ended and orientation day at the DAA arrived. Dressed in a suit and with all of his possessions boxed up in his car, Mat arrived at the agency’s head office in Washington, DC. He was directed to a conference room where several other interns were already waiting, introducing themselves and making small talk while they waited for the business of the day to get started. Mat took a cup of coffee, pulled up a chair at the table and watched the flow of people, getting a sense for how everyone operated.

  When Alyssa arrived, he pulled out the chair next to him and waved her over. She plopped into the seat and cast an appraising eye over the crowd.

  “So, how’s our competition look?”

  Mat laughed. “They’re classmates, not competition. Besides, you’re the would-be tactician. You tell me.”

  “Everybody’s competition,” Alyssa said. “Sometimes it’s friendly, sometimes it’s not, but it’s all competition.”

  “I’ll never understand how you can view the world like that and still keep a positive outlook.”

  “And I’ll never understand how you think it operates any other way.” Alyssa pointed. “There’s your second-in-command.”

  The man she indicated was swarthy, dark-haired and bearded. He had a grin on his face that looked like it belonged there, and was currently telling some story to several of the other interns that involved large gestures with his coffee cup. He appeared to be in complete control, both of the conversation and of the liquid in his cup.

  “Oh? He’s going to work for me?” Mat asked, smiling.

  “Eventually. Right now he thinks you’re going to work for him, though.”

  “And why is he wrong?”

  “Look at the two of you. He went to the people, working to charm them and bring them to his side. You just sat down in the middle of everything and waited for them to come to you. It’s a power move.”

  “Anyone could have sat down!” protested Mat.

  “But no one else did. They may like him, but they defer to you.”

  “Hey! Are you saying I don’t have friends?”

  “Not at all! You can always befriend your subordinates. He’s going to have to make subordinates of his friends, which is significantly harder.”

  “So which are you?” Mat joked. “My friend or my subordinate?”

  Alyssa punched him in the shoulder. “I’m your equal, and don’t you ever forget it.”

  A few minutes later, a man in his thirties walked into the room, announcing himself with a cheery, “Hello, recruits! Seats, if you please.”

  The conversations died, and everyone who was still standing filtered their way to the remaining seats. The new arrival took his place at the head of the long table.

  “I’m Linus Akerman. Good to meet all of you! I’m the man in charge of the scholastic internship program, so you’ve all already seen my name on your acceptance letters. And I, of course, have seen all of yours.

  “Before we begin, how many of you have a clear idea of where you want to end up as a result of this program?”

  Out of the forty teens gathered there, only three hands went up. Two were from Alyssa and Mat. The third belonged to the one that Alyssa had pointed out.

  Alyssa shot a triumphant glance at Mat. “Bet you he says leadership,” she mouthed, barely vocalizing the words.

  “Raul, Alyssa and Mat. Leadership tracks for all three, am I right?” asked Akerman.

  “You know our names?” asked Mat, surprised.

  “I figured it would save time on introductions,” Akerman replied with a smile. “So. Leadership?”

  All three nodded, though Alyssa added, “More or les
s.”

  To the rest of the room, Akerman said, “Don’t worry. We’ve been running the scholastic program for five years, and as you can see by this room, the vast majority of our recruits have no real idea of where they want it to take them. We’re here to help you figure that out along the way. We’ll work with you to discover what you find interesting and fulfilling, and guide you into a position where you can do your best work.

  “We’ve got over a ninety percent retention rate, which we think speaks highly of our program. It also means that you’re looking at a lot of your new coworkers right here. Recruits: welcome to the Department of Augment Affairs!”

  V

  “Blah, blah, let’s skip ahead a bit.”

  School went well and quickly, at least for Mat. His core classes quickly shifted toward administration and ethics, where he excelled. On the internship side of things, he was assigned to Akerman’s office, which at first felt like a bit of a snub. The other recruits, Raul included, had been assigned to various other departments within the agency, where they were getting exposure to how the agency ran and seeing what established agents did on a day-to-day basis. Meanwhile, all Mat saw at work was what the raw recruits were doing.

  At the end of the first day, Mat went home and sulked about drawing the short straw. After he’d slept on it, though, he woke up with a better viewpoint: he could turn this into a great opportunity. After all, Akerman was directing the studies and work environments of all of the interns, which made this a fantastic opportunity for Mat to learn the skills and strengths of everyone who had joined up with him. With this improved attitude, he took on tasks with vigor and rapidly became an actual assistant to Akerman, instead of just a go-fer.

  It took almost a month for Mat to realize that this was actually the point of the job he’d been given. When he asked Akerman about it, his superior smiled.

  “You know, for just a minute, I worried that I’d placed you wrong. On that first day, you looked like you’d been given the garbage job, and I thought you didn’t get it. I spent some time that night thinking about where to switch you to, and who to bring over here instead. I decided to give you a week to get your act together, but I was thrilled when you showed up for work the next day having figured it out.”

  “I hadn’t really figured it out until just now,” confessed Mat. “I thought I was beating the system by finding a way to turn a trash job into treasure. No offense.”

  “None taken!” Akerman replied. “Far better to make the right move for the wrong reasons than vice versa. And in the grand scheme of things, a month to understand the reasoning behind the rules isn’t that bad.”

  “Incidentally, who would you have brought in in my place?” asked Mat. “Raul?”

  “Raul,” confirmed Akerman.

  Mat and Raul could easily have been formidable rivals. They filled the same niche in the popularity ecosystem. Each was smart, handsome, easygoing and used to effortless leadership. When they were in the same classes, they vied with each other for first place. They had similar hobbies, similar goals, similar lifestyles.

  But rather than nemeses, the two became fast friends. They led study groups together, organized group outings for the interns, hung out and ate fast food after class and on the weekends. Their competition was intense but friendly. Each strove to be the best, but never at the expense of the other. Mat thought about it like this: his best was only truly tested against Raul’s best. So if Raul was underprepared, Mat’s victory felt hollow. The success was sweeter if he’d beaten an opponent who was armed and ready for battle.

  Besides, it was nice to have someone to celebrate with in both victory and defeat. After the first semester, he barely saw Alyssa. Her schooling took her on a different track, and though they made a point of getting together at least once a month to keep in touch, it wasn’t the same as with Raul, who he saw every day.

  He mentioned this while waving with Judah one night. “It wasn’t even a year ago that we spent every day in school together, right? And now you’re off at secret academy and Alyssa’s becoming an assassin.”

  Judah laughed. “Secret academy, huh? You know I can tell you anything you want to know about it.”

  “Sure, sure, so you say,” responded Mat. “And Alyssa would say she’s not becoming an assassin, either. It just feels like we all went in different directions really rapidly, yeah?”

  “Hmmm,” said Judah. A long grey beard suddenly descended from his chin, and he stroked it thoughtfully as robes sprouted from his regular clothes to enfold him. “When everything seems far away, perhaps you may find that it is you who has grown distant.”

  “What’s up with the avatar change?” asked Mat. “Some new wave feature? I don’t know how to do that.”

  Judah grinned. “No waves; that’s all me, baby. Like my new duds?” He spun, and the robes flared out around him, moving exactly as real clothes would.

  Mat was impressed. “I thought you could only alter yourself?”

  “Old news, sahib. My augment is mental, not physical, so it was just a matter of training to figure out how to extend it to my clothes as well as myself.” Judah made a face. “Extremely arduous and painful training, but still. Worth it.”

  “So can you disguise other things now, too?”

  Judah let the beard and robes disappear as he threw his hands up in mock exasperation. “One major breakthrough isn’t enough? You sound just like my instructors.”

  “Sure, but can you?”

  “Sure, look.” Judah bent down, picked something up, and held his hand out to Mat. “See this?”

  “Your hand’s empty.”

  “See? I made this book invisible!” Judah laughed, pleased with himself.

  “Uh huh, right. Then turn it back.”

  “No way. I can’t show you all of my secrets.”

  “Aha!” exclaimed Mat. “I knew it was a secret academy.”

  Mat had some idea of what Judah meant regarding his instructors, though. In addition to his schoolwork, Mat had been assigned a trainer to help him develop his augment.

  “But I’m a Null!” he’d protested when Akerman gave him the news.

  “Son, in the political world you’re entering, you’re going to need every advantage you get. Don’t throw a tool away just because you don’t know how to use it.”

  “It’s not that I don’t know how to use it. It’s that it’s useless. It’s like bringing a spoon to a swordfight.”

  “And which is worse?” Akerman asked. “Having only a spoon? Or being totally unarmed?”

  Mat grumbled but conceded the point. And so three times a week, he had two-hour sessions with a trainer who helped him to exercise and develop his power.

  His first meeting with the trainer was odd. Akerman brought him to a room in the interior of one of the DAA’s buildings and opened the door to reveal a small antechamber.

  “Go on in,” he said, gesturing to the small space, “but don’t open the other door until you’ve closed this one. Your trainer’s inside.”

  Mat hesitated. “That…seems like a weird precaution. What’s up?”

  “He prefers it this way,” said Akerman, still holding the door open.

  Mat cast one more wary glance at him and stepped inside. Akerman closed the door behind him. Mat opened the other door to reveal a room about ten feet on a side set up to look like a living room. There were comfortable chairs, a coffee table, even nice carpeting. It was not what he’d expected.

  Sitting in one of the chairs was a man in a blank white mask. The mask was featureless, with only contours to indicate where the eyes, nose and mouth should be. However, the corners of the mouth were upturned and the overall effect, though weird, was not as creepy as it might have been.

  “Come on in!” said the man, rising from his chair. His voice was made oddly robotic by the mask, but his vision appeared to be unimpaired. “I’m Edward.”

  Mat walked forward to shake his hand. “That’s my middle name! I’m Mat.”

 
“Good to meet you,” said Edward. “Shall we get down to business?”

  Mat liked Edward from the beginning. His attitude and demeanor fit perfectly with Mat’s own, and although he was a demanding taskmaster, Mat felt his confidence and ability expand rapidly under Edward’s tutelage. In keeping with the analogy he’d made to Akerman, he still had a spoon at a swordfight—but now he’d trained in spoon katas.

  Edward was a fantastic teacher, and always seemed to know the best way to explain something to have it make sense to Mat. He never revealed what his own augment was, but from the way he understood Mat’s augment, Mat assumed he was a Reader of some sort.

  He wondered about the mask, too, but Edward never offered an explanation, and Mat never asked. The Augments who wore masks were usually protecting their identities for a reason, and although Mat couldn’t figure out what Edward had to hide, it didn’t seem polite to pry.

  One day, leaving training, Mat opened the door to the outside hallway and heard a strangled noise behind him. He turned back to see that the inner door had not latched, and had swung slightly open. A curious passerby looked in from the hallway at this incongruous living room in the middle of the office building, and at the masked figure standing frozen in the center of it.

  Edward toppled to the ground, crashing into the coffee table, and Mat and the passerby both rushed in to aid him. Mat reached down to check Edward for a pulse, then stopped abruptly. The fall had knocked his mask off, and for the first time Mat saw Edward’s face.

  It was hideous and mismatched, eyes different colors, nose askew, lips twisted and uneven, but that was not what froze Mat’s blood. It was that half of the mismatched features were distinctly his own, while the other half, he confirmed with a quick glance, matched those of the man from the hallway who had run in to help.