Retroactivity

by Edwards, Micah

  “So,” said Raul, drawing his attention back inside. “What do you think we call him?”

  “Go for ‘Kev,’” Mat suggested.

  Raul snorted. “Ayyo, Kev! Nice suit!”

  Mat was suddenly struck by an image of Gammalock in his robotic suit greeting Raul with a fistbump. He started to laugh but unfortunately was swallowing at the time, which resulted in him choking on his own spit. He ended up doubled over in the back of the car, hand to mouth, laughing and coughing at the same time while Raul thumped him on the back.

  “Breathe, man, breathe! It wasn’t that funny.”

  Mat coughed one final time and sat back up, red-faced and grinning. “Well, greeting him like that would certainly take out some of the uncertainty about how things were going to go,” he said.

  “You mean because we’d never work anywhere near him again?”

  “No, no, I think it’s a good idea.”

  “You’re probably right,” agreed Raul. “You should definitely call him Kev.”

  “I’ll call him ‘Kev’ if you call him ‘Locky,’” Mat offered.

  “No deal, man!” Raul laughed.

  By the time the pod was decelerating to land at Gammalock’s house, Mat had finally managed to relax slightly. The tension all came back immediately as he gazed upon the imposing structure, though. Even from several hundred feet in the air, Gammalock’s home was impressive, more castle than house. Extensive gardens surrounded the main building, complete with fountains, pools and topiary. The house itself was an immaculate brick mansion at its core, with strange metal towers grafted on at irregular intervals. More metal tubing cascaded from various windows, and clumps of machinery squatted at the foundation. The overall aesthetic was oddly alien, as if a spaceship had teleported into the same space as a house and the two had melded.

  The pod landed at Gammalock’s private launch deck, and the two young men clambered out and stretched their legs.

  “After you,” said Raul, gesturing to a path leading to the main house.

  “Nervous at last?” asked Mat.

  “I just don’t want to be in the line of fire when you call him Kev, is all.”

  “If I call him Kev, you’ve gotta call him Locky,” Mat reminded him.

  “I told you, no deal!”

  “Then I guess we’re both stuck being professional today.”

  “The horror,” Raul said as Mat reached the door and rang the bell. “The horror.”

  With a house this size, Mat half-expected a tuxedo-clad butler to answer the door. Instead, it opened to reveal a soldier in BDUs with a clipboard in his hand. His nametag said WILLIAMS.

  “Mr. Roche, Mr. Salucci,” he said, nodding at each of them in turn. “Step inside please and sign in.”

  Mat took the proffered clipboard. It held a guest log with two names on it and two black squares clipped to the top. While Mat signed his name in the appropriate blank on the guest log, Raul asked, “So, two guys show up at the right time and you just assume it’s us?”

  “You were scanned on your walk from the launch deck,” Williams told him. “Had you been uninvited, you’d be having a very different reception right now.”

  Raul nodded slowly. “Noted.” He signed the clipboard and returned it to Williams.

  Williams unclipped the black squares and handed one to each of them. “Film badges. Please clip these to your shirts and wear them at all times in the building.”

  “I thought Gammalock’s suit was completely sealed so that none of the radiation could escape,” Mat said.

  Williams nodded. “Your rad exposure here will be no higher than anywhere else. This is so that if you come down with cancer years later, we can pull your file and show that you didn’t get dosed here.”

  “People sue Gammalock?” Mat asked, surprised.

  “Daily.”

  Williams stashed the clipboard in a holder on the wall and gestured to Mat and Raul. “Follow me.”

  He led them down a richly appointed hallway. It was paneled in dark wood, lined with cubist paintings, and wide enough to drive a small car down. On either side, doorways led to large rooms with floor-to-ceiling windows and expensive furnishings. At the end of the hallway was, incongruously, a plain metal elevator. It opened at their approach, and Williams waved them inside.

  Mat and Raul entered, and the door eased shut behind them. There were no obvious buttons.

  “Take us to Gammalock,” said Raul jokingly, and the elevator began to descend.

  “Huh,” said Raul. “What do you think? Coincidental timing, or voice activation? You think he just heard me talking to an elevator?”

  Mat did not respond. His nervousness was back in full force, and he felt like he was about to throw up. He clenched his jaw, swallowed and told himself that that would be just about the best way to cause the unfavorable impression he was afraid of making.

  The doors slid open to reveal a brightly lit, cavernous space. Mat’s initial impression was of a natural cave that had been coated in polished steel. Metal columns soared to the roof, which was thirty feet high or more. Tubes and wires crawled across the ceiling and floor. Strange machines clustered in huddled groups at various points across the floor. A huge bank of screens displayed scenes from the grounds of the house, television programs, maps and more. One just had constantly scrolling text, moving by far faster than Mat could read.

  And rising from a chair to greet them was Gammalock. Almost seven feet tall in his suit, he moved with a leonine grace, the joints responding as naturally as his own body. Gammalock’s head was visible above the shoulders of the suit, but his body was otherwise completely enclosed by it. He shook Mat’s hand, and the blue-grey metal was unexpectedly warm.

  “Welcome to my laboratory,” Gammalock said, shaking Raul’s hand in turn. “Are you not impressed?”

  The question took Mat by surprise. “I…it’s very impressive, yes.”

  Gammalock laughed. “And so the public relations men are happy. I would have met you in a sitting room, where we might sit. But they wish for me to be Oz the Great and Terrible. So I meet them halfway. I show you the hall, but I pull back the curtain.”

  Raul laughed out loud. “So you’re the Wizard and Toto both?”

  “And more than a bit of Tin Man,” Gammalock replied, tapping his chest with a metallic thunk. “Perhaps the Scarecrow as well, hm?”

  “I’ll be the Lion, then,” said Raul.

  Mat scowled, seeing where this was going.

  “Yes, Dorothy?” asked Raul innocently.

  Summoning up a virtual notepad only he could see, Mat composed a quick message: “Focus. Maybe not the time for banter.” With a flick of his eyes, he waved it to Raul, receiving a simple “Acknowledged” in response.

  Gammalock cleared his throat. “Ah. An unfortunate oversight, but I must mention. I receive all waves sent in my vicinity.”

  Mat’s face flushed. “I’m sorry. I was just…I didn’t mean to be rude. I only…”

  He trailed off as Gammalock waved a lanky arm at him. “If anyone, it is I who was rude. I cannot disable it, but I could have thought to warn.”

  Raul looked fascinated. “So you can eavesdrop on the waves?”

  “A precautionary measure built into their function. I do not care for my devices to worsen my life. This allows me to know when I am being discussed, broadcast, or otherwise subtly dissected in my presence.”

  “But how?” asked Raul.

  Gammalock tapped his ear, which appeared clear of any technology. “Master unit. Special functionality.”

  “Could there be more of those?” asked Mat. He’d always assumed that waves were private and untouchable.

  “Yes, but no,” said Gammalock. “Yes, because if one can be made, just so can another. No, because I have told no one how to make one. And no, because it requires this to run.” He gestured at himself, the motion encompassing his entire suit.

  “Speaking of,” said Raul, “if you’re wearing a compact nuclear reactor in
order to bathe in its output, how is it that you can keep your face free without, you know, killing everyone you meet?”

  Mat shot Raul a glare, but Gammalock grinned. “Ah, will you see?”

  He leaned forward and gestured for Raul to touch his face. After a moment’s hesitation, Raul reached out, only for his hand to stop short inches away. He splayed out his fingers, tapping them on an invisible barrier.

  “Containment field?” guessed Mat.

  “Simpler,” said Gammalock. Suddenly, a featureless helmet made of the same blue-grey metal as his suit snapped into existence, obscuring his face. Raul jerked his hand back as if he had touched something hot.

  “You see?” asked Gammalock, his voice as unmuffled as ever. “It is an illusion only. I find that it is better to have a face than not, though. Without one, people forget that you, too are a person.” The metal facemask disappeared from view again, revealing Gammalock’s slightly sad smile.

  “The illusion of freedom,” Mat said.

  Gammalock nodded as if he had said something very wise. “Just so.”

  There was a short pause that neither Mat nor Raul knew how to fill, and then Gammalock said, “The PR men again. Do you know, they told me I must have a nickname? I told them that I had chosen this one and liked it, and they insisted I needed shorter, snappier for people to embrace.”

  “I’ve never heard you called anything but Gammalock,” said Mat. The words “Ayyo, Kev! Nice suit!” flashed into his mind, and he suppressed them viciously before they could make their way to his mouth.

  “Yes, they suggested Gamma, and The Lock among others. I denied them,” said Gammalock. “Finally, I told them that if they insisted, I would accept the last two syllables: Malock.” He put the emphasis on the first syllable.

  Raul looked blank, but Mat seized on a half-remembered trivia tidbit. “Moloch, the Canaanite god?”

  “Yes, just so. The one known for demanding sacrifices in exchange for his gifts.” Gammalock swept one arm wide to indicate the enormous laboratory. “I thought it fitting. They did not press me for a nickname again.”

  “You do have an awful lot of toys here,” said Raul, earning another glare from Mat.

  “As said: sacrifices to a dangerous god, and the illusion of freedom. They do not like it when I go out into the world, and so they give me anything I want to keep me happy here. I cannot fault them. Were things to go wrong with my suit, I could leak radiation and poison everyone in my path. And were they to go very wrong…this detonation could level a city.”

  Mat swallowed, picturing it. “But here, you’re far enough away for safety?”

  Gammalock smiled sadly again. “No. But I am far enough away for them to pretend.”

  There was another brief pause. Raul broke the silence.

  “So. Have we passed your tests?”

  Mat frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but Gammalock laughed. “Let me shortcut the approaching conversation. I will say, ‘What tests?’ You will respond,” and here his voice shifted into an uncannily good imitation of Raul’s, “‘You invited us here to discover who we were. Since there were no obvious tests, that means we have already been taking them.’ Mr. Roche will glower at your candor, and I will laugh at the accuracy of your insight. And now, in a question Mr. Roche will feel is irrelevant, you would like to know how I mimicked your voice.”

  “Actually, yes. I assume the suit has a voice modulator?”

  “It does, but not for this. Even a god must have hobbies. That was my own skill. Mr. Roche, you have reached your conclusion.”

  “You’ve simulated us,” said Mat.

  “No more than anyone simulates their friends. Would you tell me you cannot hear Mr. Salucci’s voice in your head when you think about how he will react to an idea? This is all I have done. I have taken your measure. Mene, mene, tekel, upharsin, though I have not found either of you wanting.”

  “So we pass, then,” said Raul.

  “I anticipate you both would have gone on to long careers in Augment Affairs no matter how today had gone,” Gammalock told him. “This was to find out how our interactions would go over the upcoming years. It is a simpler thing to do in person, and I thank you for indulging me.”

  Mat suddenly realized that his nervousness had vanished from the moment that Gammalock shook his hand. I think that’s about as much augment confirmation as I’m going to get in this situation, he thought to himself. It was a relief, especially since he wasn’t sure what he would have done if his augment had cautioned him against Gammalock. A Null attempting to take on an Aug-5 didn’t even bear thinking about.

  In the pod on the way home, Raul said, “So, boss, how was your first day of work?”

  “What?” asked Mat, startled out of his own thoughts. “Don’t you start this too. It’s the same job. And what’s this boss nonsense?”

  “The same job, sure. But this was our first day of work. Training just ended.”

  Mat shrugged. “Maybe. I’m still going back to the same desk in Akerman’s office.”

  “Sure, long enough to clean it out and move to your own department. This was the final exam, and we both just aced it.”

  “Yeah? That so, Cowardly Lion?” Mat joked.

  “Don’t be mad. You’re a great Dorothy. Wide-eyed and believing the best of people.”

  “Do you even know me?”

  “Better than you do apparently, boss.” Seeing Mat’s lifted eyebrow, Raul added, “You’ll see. It’ll be official within the week.”

  Back at the DAA, Mat returned to his desk and took a seat, still preoccupied. Something about the morning’s conversation with Gammalock had caused a mental twinge. He felt that if he just replayed it enough, he might be able to pinpoint exactly what it was. That would still leave the question of why it was on his mind, but at least it would be progress.

  “You passed, I see,” said Akerman.

  “Oh? Did you get a report on us?” asked Mat.

  “No, but you’re back. The failures simply…never return,” Akerman said ominously, then broke into a smile. “Kidding, obviously. They just look a lot more depressed. Gammalock has a way of showing people harsh truths when he deems it expedient. You just look…thoughtful.”

  “Yeah,” said Mat. “Something…I don’t know. Something he said, or something I said. It’s bugging me. You know like when you’re about to say something, and suddenly it’s completely gone? You talk anyway, hoping it’ll come back, but you just can’t seem to figure out your own point? That’s what this feels like. It’s there, and I know I just knew it, but I can’t find it at all.”

  Akerman shrugged. “I have faith in you. You’ll sort it out. In the meantime, your team needs organizing.”

  “My what?” asked Mat, startled.

  “Your team. Can’t have a bunch of freshly trained collegians running around here upsetting the apple cart. You need to get them structured and assigned to permanent duties. Why do you think I’ve been having you work with their files all this time?”

  “Yeah, but—I don’t know, this is just abrupt.”

  “Welcome to leadership, son. Hop to it.”

  VI

  “Some years later, another hero—a superhero—began building his own dominion.”

  Foresight lounged on the sofa, immaculate in his white suit. “Not a bad evening,” he remarked to the room, flipping idly through the TV channels.

  “For you, sure,” complained Keystone, a slightly-built young woman sitting on a stool at the kitchen island behind him. She was clad in sweatpants and a sports bra, with a large bandage taking up her right shoulder and wrapping around under her arm. “You didn’t get shot.”

  “You wouldn’t have, either, if you’d ducked when I told you to,” chided Foresight, a bantering tone in his voice.

  “You know, for someone who can see the future, your warnings leave something to be desired. You couldn’t have told me to duck a second earlier? You know, like when I would have had time to get out of the way
?” Despite the fire behind her words, Keystone did not sound truly angry, either.

  “Would you believe me if I said that the other futures were worse?”

  “No.” A pause. “Maybe.” Another pause. “I just think you like the dichotomy of us all battered and bloody, and you in your stupid pristine suit.”

  Foresight put on an offended face. “I have saved your life countless times, and this is the thanks I get? It’s not even like you’ve still got the injury.”

  Keystone put her left hand on her bandage and rotated her right arm in a wide sweep. “Yeah, I think it’s completely functional again. Schlep fixed me up pretty well.”

  A voice called out from down the hallway. “I can hear you. Don’t call me that if you expect to keep getting healed.”

  “Sorry, Asclepius,” Keystone said sarcastically, making a face in his direction.

  “We only call you Schlep because you basically carry the team!” added Foresight, grinning.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m gonna carry myself right out of here if you jerks call me Schlep in front of the news cameras again.”

  “Maybe pick something from the last thousand years, then,” Keystone muttered.

  “What was that?” came Asclepius’s voice again.

  “Nothing!”

  “You’re named after a medieval building innovation, so I don’t want to hear it!”

  Keystone scrunched her face up, mouthing Asclepius’s words with a mocking expression. Foresight threw back his head and laughed, the sound echoing off the high ceilings.

  “This is why we’re such a good team,” he said after a minute, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “The camaraderie.”

  Keystone chucked an empty glass at the back of his head. Foresight caught it without looking.

  “That’s very rude, you know,” he said, still chuckling as he set the glass on the coffee table before him.

  “Not like it could hit you,” shrugged Keystone.