Retroactivity

by Edwards, Micah

  Up ahead, Mat recognized the sprawling grounds of Gammalock’s estate, and the strangely alien house he lived in. The pod was no longer heading for the nearby transport deck, but now aimed directly at the house itself.

  From the back seat, Keystone and Asclepius were shouting incoherently. Golden leapt forward from the middle seat to grapple with Foresight, who released Mat’s hand to fend her off. Mat reached for the keypad, hoping to undo whatever Foresight had done, but as he did he saw several red lights gleam from the roof of Gammalock’s mansion.

  A microsecond later, the pod disintegrated into fiery dust.

  Mat made small talk as they traveled, and was met with easy banter from most of the team in return. Golden still seemed ill at ease, a marked departure from her commanding bearing earlier in the day. Foresight, on the other hand, was as calm as ever.

  “Relax, Golden,” Foresight said, twisting around in his seat. “Despite what you think, you’re prepared for this situation.”

  “He’s not intimidating,” added Mat. Then he pictured the seven-foot-tall robotic suit, its metal a shimmering grey-blue color. He remembered the fluid grace and power of Gammalock’s bearing. And most of all, he thought of the man’s frightening level of intelligence, his complete awareness of everything that went on around him.

  Mat amended his statement. “Well, he is intimidating. But he doesn’t use that as a weapon. He is who he is and he makes no apologies for that, but he’ll approach you with respect.”

  Foresight nodded, and a message popped up in Golden’s vision.

  I’m not just being reassuring. You are prepared for this situation.

  The message was signed with Foresight’s unblinking eye, the golden symbol from the back of his jacket. Golden took a deep breath for what felt like the first time since they’d gotten the news that they were going to meet Gammalock, and let it out slowly. Behind her mask, her breath was loud in her ears.

  She didn’t like new situations. She liked ones where she’d trained and practiced so that she would be able to direct what happened. But if Foresight had seen the future and said she’d done fine, then there was nothing to worry about. In fact, considered a certain way, this wasn’t even exactly a new situation at all.

  Golden felt her body untense in a dozen minor places, the easy relaxation of a chess master who’s just seen the board settle into a familiar pattern where the next dozen moves toward victory are all mapped out.

  Mat saw the subtle change in her posture and smiled. “We’re almost there,” he announced. “He’s a good guy. Legitimately a good person, I mean. You’ll all be fine.”

  Alyssa spoke up in his ear. “Almost there means I’m signing off, boss. You know how Moloch feels about being broadcast without permission. We’ll talk tonight? I’ve got some ideas to organize.”

  Thanks for listening in, Mat waved her. A notif for an 8 PM dinner invitation appeared, and he accepted it and pushed it aside as the pod docked smoothly on the transport deck.

  Once the group exited the pod, Mat led them along the short walk to Gammalock’s main residence. There they went through the standard rigmarole of signing in with the soldier with the clipboard and receiving their blank photo square badges. Keystone did not appear particularly reassured by the soldier’s assurance that this was simply a legal precaution, but she clipped hers on without comment all the same.

  Then it was along the hall to the elevator, a short trip downward, and the doors opened onto the cavernous expanse of Gammalock’s lab. And rising from his control chair to greet them was Gammalock, looking as always like a piece of his own machinery come to life. Which in many ways, he was, Mat reflected.

  “Welcome again, Mathias,” he said, smoothly closing the distance between them and gripping Mat’s hand in his own warm metal one.

  “Hello, Moloch. Everything well?”

  “Yes, I am again ensconced in my walls. And so my government is happy.”

  “Right, you were down in Florida! Everything good?”

  Gammalock sighed. “Seed will not accept my help to assimilate. And so I serve as his jailor, and the cycle of life continues.”

  He shook his head regretfully and Mat paused, unsure of what to say. Obviously Seed couldn’t be allowed free rein to expand his work. But equally obviously, Gammalock felt a certain kinship to him, or at least a similarity to their situations. They were each trapped by their own power, bound into specific roles and lives whether they wanted them or not. Not for the first time, Mat considered the irony that Gammalock’s world-altering augment had condemned him to a life of servitude. One which he did not seem to mind, fortunately, but nevertheless one which he could not leave.

  “But so!” Gammalock continued. “You have brought me people to meet. I have greeted you first and exchanged social niceties, showing that we are close and elevating your status in their eyes. Now, to the introductions, if you would.”

  Mat laughed. “Still pulling back the curtain?”

  Gammalock grinned. “I must observe customs. I am not required to respect them. I am allowed my idiosyncrasies.”

  He shook hands with each of them in turn, coming last to Foresight. Instead of taking the offered hand, though, Foresight lashed out, striking upward at the apparently unprotected face. His fist glanced off of an invisible barrier inches away from Gammalock’s nose, and Gammalock blinked down at him.

  “You will find no weaknesses,” he remarked, as everyone else began to shout at once.

  “Likely,” Foresight replied lightly. “But I have to check.”

  So saying, he unleashed a series of quick blows, each one a precise strike aimed at joints, seams and anything that appeared unprotected. Gammalock ducked and swayed like a snake as the blows rained down. Despite his swift movements, many of Foresight’s hits still landed, tracking Gammalock’s movements with uncanny precision. None of them seemed to have any effect, though, and it was only moments before Golden leapt into the fray, striking at Foresight’s back. Her assault took enough of Foresight’s attention that Gammalock was able to grab first one arm, then the other. With little apparent effort, he lifted Foresight into the air.

  Suspended by his arms, Foresight smiled.

  Gammalock shook hands with each of them in turn, coming last to Foresight.

  “Kind of you to invite us here,” said Foresight. “What’s the game?”

  “Ah, bluntness. I approve! I speak to many politicians. I wished to meet you. You are up and coming.”

  “That we are,” agreed Foresight. “But so are other teams. Dozens, maybe hundreds. Why us?”

  “You are novel,” said Gammalock. “You are…preactionary? Proactive, perhaps. And I believe you are in consideration for a council Director Roche has planned. So this is, if you like, a job interview.”

  “A what?” asked Asclepius in disbelief.

  Gammalock spread his arms. “Not in the sense that you would work for me. You would not. But it is a job I currently do, and I would wish to see who takes it from me. And thus, you are here. Come, sit.”

  Gammalock led them to a collection of metal chairs surrounded by a rough circle of strange machinery, but halfway there, he stopped abruptly. His head snapped around, his eyes trained on the computer banks where Foresight was typing experimentally on a keyboard.

  “Do not do that, please,” Gammalock said mildly. “There are countermeasures.”

  Foresight ignored him and continued typing. Suddenly he stiffened as electricity coursed through his body. The smell of cooking meat filled the air.

  Foresight, standing on a rubber mat, was typing experimentally on a keyboard.

  “Do not do that, please,” Gammalock said mildly. “There are countermeasures.”

  Foresight ignored him and continued typing. Without warning, blood began to drip from his nose and mouth. It was soon joined by twin streams from his eyes, then his ears. Foresight slumped to his elbows on the desk, then slid off to collapse on the floor.

  “Do not approach him,” cautio
ned Gammalock, one arm outthrust to stop anyone who might try. “The gas is quite lethal, but dissipates quickly.”

  Foresight, standing on a rubber mat, was typing experimentally on a keyboard.

  “Do not do that, please,” Gammalock said mildly. “There are countermeasures.”

  Foresight took off his jacket, wadded it up and pressed it against a nearby wall panel. Holding it in place with one hand, he continued typing with the other. Gammalock looked intrigued.

  “But if you can see the future,” he began.

  Foresight grinned, still focused on the screens before him. “I’m guessing that this doesn’t end the way I want it to this time, either.”

  Abruptly he screamed, whipping his hand away from the computer to hold it before him in shock. The fingers were dissolving before his eyes, collapsing into a fine dust that cascaded from him in a light rain. His shocked eyes met Gammalock’s.

  “I would not think so, no,” said Gammalock, looking regretful as the disintegration worked its way up Foresight’s arm.

  Gammalock led them to a collection of metal chairs surrounded by a rough circle of strange machinery. As the group was seated, the chairs conformed subtly beneath them, changing size and shape to fit the user. Foresight’s and Golden’s chairs remained straight-backed, while the ones that Mimic, Keystone and Asclepius chose softened and deepened slightly, forming surprisingly soft cushions.

  When Gammalock sat, the change was less subtle. It expanded to something resembling a throne, nearly doubling in size to accommodate his weight and bulk. He smiled and asked, “What do you think of my living room?”

  “Not bad!” said Asclepius, prodding the arm of his chair experimentally.

  “They have potential, I think,” nodded Gammalock. “But the cost is currently prohibitive.”

  “What, are these million-dollar chairs?” joked Asclepius.

  “Perhaps fifty million apiece,” said Gammalock. Asclepius stared at him, wide-eyed.

  Gammalock gestured at the ring of machines surrounding them. “However, much of that comes from the control machinery, which can control all of the chairs at once. So while any one of these chairs would be about fifty million, all ten cost probably not more than one hundred million dollars.”

  “It pays to buy in bulk,” Mat said dryly.

  Foresight crossed his legs at the ankle and leaned back, putting his hands behind his head. “Do you have questions for this interview process?”

  “Nothing so much a script,” said Gammalock. “We will talk! And then I will know how you are.”

  “Will you indeed,” said Foresight, smiling cryptically.

  “That is the hope, yes,” Gammalock replied. “So, perhaps we begin with the obvious. Why do you do this?”

  Foresight gestured broadly to the group. “Obviously, I can’t speak for everyone here, but I’ll talk as leader of the group. If anyone disagrees or has anything to add, please chime in.

  “Society has problems. It always has, and it always will. Some people are malcontents, unwilling to fit into any socially acceptable role they’re offered. Others are simply unable, for various reasons. And, of course, many people are unhappy with the role they’re expected to fill. Despite our many technological advances”—here his gaze swept around the room—“we still have a deeply stratified society, and that will naturally lead to unrest and volatility.

  “I have a rare, possibly unique ability. I can see what’s going to happen. There is no question or chance of error in my understanding of the future. This removes all guesswork for me. I do not have to wonder what someone’s about to do. I can see it. And thus I can act without hesitation or concern regarding the rightness of my actions. I am unfettered in a way that no one else is.

  “With that augment, how could I not use it to improve society? I can stop people being beaten, robbed, killed. I can be in the right place at the right time, and I can do it at no cost to myself.”

  Gammalock was sitting forward, hands on his knees. He looked interested. “And the team? Did your augment tell you to choose them?”

  “Common sense told me to choose them. I can see the future, but if I am one man walking in to confront six armed bank robbers, there may be no futures where I exit that building unscathed, or without causing significant collateral damage. People will swiftly figure this out, simply by observing. If I only tackle crimes with one or two people involved, the criminals will shortly adjust their tactics and begin bringing more men. I have then made the situation worse, not better.

  “But with a team to support me, my paths to success grow far greater. This would be true even if I simply added bodies for the sheer numbers, but it is even more so with my hand-picked team. They are designed to maximize effectiveness, the subtlety of their augments causing confusion for us to take advantage of.

  “Consider: transparent barriers. Damage inflicted without contact. A perfect chameleon. The ability to heal rapidly from even grevious wounds. And I am there to help them know when best to use their abilities, to remove all uncertainty and fear.

  “We are able to finish fights without our opponents even understanding what happened. Few people even know that Mimic is a member of the team. This allows us to grow our mystique, which is greatly beneficial. We begin to be seen as unbeatable, and so crime around us slows and stops of its own accord, afraid of our intervention.”

  Mimic shot a look at Mat, and a text wave appeared in his vision: See?

  Mat replied briefly, conscious that Gammalock could see their conversation: Sounds pretty good, yeah.

  But he wondered about the longer-range effects. If Foresight’s predictions came true, there were those who would regard him as a threat, or as a place to prove themselves. A dangerous Augment looking to test his skills against Foresight could bring far greater problems than cleaning up low-level crime would solve.

  Gammalock was clearly thinking along similar lines. “And what of those who will hear of this and see only a challenge?”

  Foresight smiled. “Fortunately, we actually are unbeatable. I can find a path to victory in every situation.”

  “Someone of great strength,” pressed Gammalock. “Seed, perhaps. He has come to find you, to turn your city into his malign world. What do you do?”

  “I can’t say for certain,” said Foresight. “My talent extends only a day ahead, and I am pleased to say that this event is not in the futures I can see. But I would find his weaknesses and exploit them at the moment of his greatest vulnerability. I have an infinity of possibilities laid out in front of me. It is not a question of whether I would triumph, only how.”

  “And me?” Gammalock asked. “Were I to attack you here, now? With an ‘infinity of possibilities,’ that must be among them. So what would you do?”

  “Run,” said Foresight simply.

  Asclepius laughed, and Gammalock sat slightly back in his chair, smiling. “Just so.”

  “Here, in your home, in your lair? The path to victory is to escape, regroup and respond later on my own terms. I can escape with everyone besides the Golden Ruler, including Director Roche.”

  Golden startled slightly in her seat. Foresight turned an apologetic glance toward her. “You insist on staying back to hold Gammalock off. If it helps, in any situation where you don’t do that, no more than three of us escape. Only two if I’m one of them.”

  “It is fortunate that I have no plans to attack, then,” said Gammalock.

  “Very much so,” said Foresight. He was still reclining in his chair, looking comfortable. Gammalock also appeared at ease. Golden had relaxed into her battle lounging posture, a relaxation that could explode into action at any moment. The rest of the room was stiff and uncertain, on edge.

  “So, Sight, I know that you see our violent deaths on a regular basis,” said Keystone. “But if you could not casually discuss them in front of us, I for one would really appreciate that.”

  “Seconded,” said Asclepius. “Though as long as it’s come up, I am curious how I
die here.”

  Keystone smacked him in the arm.

  “What?” he protested. “It’s a reasonable question.”

  “Grey goo nanomachinery,” said Foresight. “Total dissolution of your body.”

  “Ah. That’d do it.”

  “Seriously, Sight,” said Keystone. “For all the times you shortcut conversations by reading them in the future, this one you’re making me say? I don’t want to think about being murdered any more right now.”

  Gammalock inclined his head. “I seek forgiveness for bringing it up.”

  Keystone continued to glare at Foresight. “Not your fault. Every possible conversational path, and he chose this one.”

  “It was the best,” said Foresight.

  “You always say that!”

  “And I am always right.”

  Gammalock laughed, a surprisingly hearty sound. “One final question: why so young?”

  Foresight shrugged. “I see no reason to wait until I’m older to begin implementing a plan I can start now. I doubt the situation will improve if I wait until I reach some arbitrary number of birthdays.”

  He cast a glance at the other members of the team, inviting them to answer. Asclepius spoke up first.

  “Same as Sight, I think. Besides, I’ve got the typical teenage belief in my own invulnerability going for me, so I might as well take advantage of that.”

  “Helps when you are functionally invulnerable,” muttered Keystone. Louder, she said, “If I wasn’t with Sight, I’d be doing this with another team somewhere. This augment’s not really good for anything else, and I wouldn’t do well on my own. He asked, I joined.”

  “I want to make a difference,” Golden said simply. A brief silence followed as everyone waited for her to elaborate, but she let the sentence stand alone.

  “And I, of course, am not young,” said Mimic, flitting into the image of a wrinkled old man. “But to answer the deeper question: I trained with the government to join one of the Augment teams. I even worked on the team for a year. It was definitely not for me. It’s bureaucratic, rigid and unsatisfying. Sorry, Mat. This team is fluid and free-form. It fits my personality much better. And I feel like we’re doing more good.”