15

Friday Morning, January 21st, 2011

Brockton Bay, New Hampshire, Earth Bet

Arcadia High School​

I glided through the crowded halls. It was passing time. Subtle footwork and slight adjustments of my body carried me through the dense, moving crowd almost as though it wasn't there. All without making it particularly obvious that I was doing something odd.

My martial arts knowledge came with the confident certainty that it was an excellent dodging exercise, used to teach students of a style I...did not recognize the name of, or even the language the name was in.

I suspected it hadn't been invented yet, and I knew the movements as well as I knew how to breathe.

As I made my way into the cafeteria I wondered if that would ever not be strange.

Part of me hoped not. My head was full of completely unearned wonders. They deserved not to be taken for granted.

For the moment that feeling was kindly helping to distract me from worries over how I was going to save every human on every Earth without any counter to Scion's dimensional travel and dimensionally hidden real body.

"Taylor!" Vicky shouted, waving me over to a crowded table. Amy was there, and what looked like a bunch of juniors and seniors, mostly girls Vicky's age, or a year younger.

I set down my lunch box and pulled a chair over so I could sit at the end.

"Hey Vicky. Amy." I nodded to the pair and offered the best smile I could. It didn't feel very sincere.

"New friend of yours, Vicky?" Asked a girl with blonde hair and designer clothes.

Vicky nodded. "Everyone, this is Taylor. She's just transferred in from Winslow. My mom is helping her with...stuff that happened there."

"Thanks for not going into it," I said, grateful.

Vicky's expression was momentarily pained. "I get it, I wish people wouldn't talk about the bad stuff that's happened to me."

Was it me, or was she more subdued than usual?

"Elizabeth," said the dressy girl with a nod.

"Bella," said another girl with hispanic features and an athletic build. "Whatever happened, I hope you have a better time at Arcadia."

"I'm Becky!" waved a girl Vicky's age with a bob of brown hair she'd put obvious effort into.

I gave everyone a wave. "Thank you. I've just been taking placement exams all morning, but meeting some friendly faces makes it better than Winslow already," I said.

Vicky nudged the last person near our end of the table, a well dressed boy who had been looking at me since I sat down. "Dean, you're staring." Vicky turned to me. "This is Dean, my boyfriend. He's usually better."

He shook his head as if to clear it. "I'm sorry. I'm Dean. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Taylor."

Dean, also known as Gallant. He had the power to project emotions as concussive beams and read people's emotional states as an aura.

He'd seen something odd about me, then.

I was going to have to deal with that before he had a chance to report to Director Piggot. The Director already knew that something was off about me. Sad circumstances meant that had been unavoidable. There was no sense in giving her more information than she already had, however. And I had no indication of how revealing whatever he had seen was.

"It's nice to meet you, Dean," I said.

Conversation among the teens picked up after that, save for Amy who only said a few words when someone asked her something directly, and I mostly sat quietly and ate my lunch. One peanut butter and jelly sandwich, sadly soggy from a bit too much jelly.

Would it be too frivolous to put a charge into cooking? I've been so focused on thinking and worrying about problems, maybe I should think about occasionally using my power to destress. Psychology told me being too focused for too long had a long list of potential negative consequences.

What the heck. I put a charge into cooking and let the knowledge flow into my mind. I immediately saw the innumerable ways I could have made a far better sandwich, and gave the sad example in my hands a frown.

In the corner of my eye I saw Dean stiffen.

He must have seen something. I thought his power was seeing emotions, though, not whatever was going on in my head. It must be more complicated than that. I'd have to deal with it.

"I'm sure you'll do fine on your placement exams, Taylor," Vicky said.

I looked up. "What?"

"You looked worried," she said.

"Oh. No, I'm not worried about the exams. I'm just thinking about problems and stuff," I said, waving a hand vaguely.

"Ah," she said. "Well, you've got us as friends now. Friends always make problems easier."

That was actually rather insightful, Vicky.

I nodded. "You're right, they do. Thanks."

Vicky smiled. "It's no problem."

Eventually the bell rang and everyone bid their farewells before heading off to get lost in the crowd.

I followed Dean until the others were out of sight.

"We need to talk," I said quietly from right behind him.

He stumbled and turned. "Taylor! I uh, I don't want Vicky getting the wrong idea…" he said, and began turning away to beat a swift retreat into the crowd.

I drew on acting. My spine straightened, my shoulders squared, and in a flash I had become a commander of men. I rested a hand on his shoulder and leaned in.

"Three favors," I whispered just loud enough for him to hear, and my voice carried the ring of command.

He froze and blanched.

"Follow me," I said, and gestured to a neighboring empty classroom.

He nodded stiffly and walked in. I closed the door behind us.

"You remember your promise," I said.

He nodded, and I pushed down a flicker of shame as I saw the fear in his look.

"It's alright, you're in no danger, Dean. What did your power show you?" I asked.

He swallowed and paused before speaking. "It's...odd. You've got patterns. Like a screensaver or something. And you flashed brightly once during lunch. Like the sun coming out from the clouds for a second. Usually that means really intense emotion, but intense feelings usually last longer, and you seemed calm."

"I see," I said, considering what that might mean.

He shuffled awkwardly. "Is there anything else?"

"The longer I can stay under cover the easier it will be to get my work done. If Piggot or anyone else asks, to your power I'm just a regular teenage girl," I explained.

"Okay," he said awkwardly.

I nodded once. "Good. Watch out for Armsmaster, he's got a prototype lie detector in his helmet."

He winced. "Alright. If that's all..." he said, and took a step towards the door.

"Wait," I said, and he stopped.

I sighed and leaned against a desk. "A free piece of advice. Vicky's aura makes the people around her love her. It's not entirely her fault; it slips out when she's not actively thinking about it because her power wants to be used. Like every power that doesn't come from us. When you're not around her you can think more clearly. That might be the cause of your on again off again thing. It's your choice whether you stay with her, but you deserve to make an informed decision."

"I...had my suspicions," he said, looking pained. "Although we thought our powers made us resistant to one another."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. I informed her of the problem recently, in any case. Chronic exposure has had negative effects on her whole family. It's possible she'll get better about it now that she knows," I told him.

"I see," he said, and cocked his head in thought. "No wonder she's been off."

"My fault," I agreed. "Much better than what would have happened, though. That's everything," I said, and walked past him to leave.

"What was in it?" he blurted out as my hand reached the door.

I turned. "The vial?" I asked.

He nodded.

I paused for a moment to weigh my words before responding. I could just say nothing, that would be safer. But...I didn't really like keeping secrets from good people. And perhaps sharing a vague version of the truth would earn loyalty that would be helpful down the road. Or help him understand the stakes. Or maybe I was just trying to rationalize a feeling of wanting to tell him I already had.

"A stolen fragment of something that is not at all friendly to humanity," I said at length. "The Endbringers are on my list of problems to handle, but there are worse things than the Endbringers out there. Which is why my work is so important."

"What could be worse than the Endbringers?" Dean asked, horrified.

"Sorry," I said. "That's dangerous knowledge."

"Are these things here, in the Bay?!" he asked, voiced hushed.

I shook my head. "No, there are just important things I need to do here."

He said nothing, and I moved to grip his shoulder. Acting leapt at my call and I found my voice filled with steel, words coming almost unbidden.

"Listen to me. They have underestimated mankind, and they are going to die for that mistake. I know for a fact that the fight is not hopeless. Humanity will see its furthest horizon. We will outlast the stars themselves, and you can pity the fate of any wretched thing that stands between me and that future. Do you understand me, Dean Stansfield?"

Dean looked into my eyes, let out a long breath, and nodded.

"Good." I said, and let go of him. I started to turn to leave before a thought occurred to me, and I paused. "Stay out of any Endbringer fights," I added. "You'll want to help when the day comes, but if you go you will die for nothing. I want you to do the smart thing that day, and not the gallant thing. There are other ways you can help people with your power, by helping them get their heads straight. And there are only a handful of parahumans in the world with powers that can threaten those things anyway."

"Are you one of them?" he asked.

I looked at him for a long moment. My thoughts drifted to what would happen if I failed everyone, my horror and fury, and my determination to do whatever I had to do to avoid that end.

He gulped. "Right," he said.

I turned to leave. "If I need your help with something I'll let you know. Good luck, Dean," I said, and walked out the door.

"Watch him," I whispered into my phone as I made my way down the empty hallway toward the rest of my placement exams. Prometheus vibrated it once in response.

It didn't take me long to work my way through the placement exams. I knew the material better than anyone alive, after all. It was just a matter of limiting myself to things that weren't ahead of their time, and taking my time to not finish the tests too quickly.

After I was done I was excused for the rest of the day. I would get my timetable on Monday morning.

Making my way out of the school doors I blew out a breath and looked for the PRT van. Might as well make use of having a vehicle, after all. The agents - Johnson and Snow today - took me home and then moved the van to a more discreet spot to settle in for the rest of their shift.

I worked on some papers with Prometheus while I waited on Danny to get home, and when he did we ate dinner together, Danny fussing over my first day at Arcadia.

"Yes, Dad. Everything was okay," I said. Again.

He looked at me over his forkful of chicken. "And no one gave you any trouble?" he asked. Again.

I laughed. "Like I said, Vicky pretty much accosted me in the cafeteria and made me feel welcome. Introduced me to her friends. It was...nice, actually."

"Well, that's good," he said, and finally ate his chicken. "This is delicious, by the way. Did you do something different?" he asked.

I winced. "...I may have misused my phenomenal powers to become an expert cook," I explained.

It took him a while to stop laughing. "I'm glad you're using some of that knowledge for you, Taylor," he said once he was able to speak again.

While he was washing up after we'd finished eating I told him about my plans for the night, and while he worried for me he let me go.

"Be careful."

"I will," I said and gave him a hug.

Just before I left the house, I stopped at the front door. "Prometheus, get all the papers ready to send out," I ordered.

"Command acknowledged, Miss," he replied.

Then I opened the front door, got into the PRT van again and went to fulfill an old personal dream.

I left the agents outside in the van. I told them that it would look suspicious to have PRT agents following me around at a public event, but I also didn't want them to see and report on what I was about to do.

The building was a simple grange hall, a big interior space that groups could rent for events. A few people had arrived with bags of weapons and armor, and were busy getting set up.

"Hello there," I said cheerily, approaching a man unzipping a pair of heavy duffel bags on one of the tables pushed against the walls of the large central room of the grange hall. He was middle-aged with long hair and dressed like someone from a Renaissance festival with a tunic, breeches, and leather shoes. Around the collar of his outer tunic could be seen the shirt of fine chainmail he was wearing under it.

He gave me a bright look. "Oh, welcome. Are you new?"

I shook my head. "I'm a long way from home, and I felt the itch."

He offered me a wry smile. "I've been there. You're sixteen?"

"Yes," I lied smoothly, knowing the rules had a 'you must be 16 to play with steel swords, even dull ones' clause. "You're the Marshal?" I guessed.

He nodded. "I am, I'm Aethelred. Alright then! This is the loaner gear here," he said, patting the two duffels. "Find some stuff that fits, I'll get you inspected, and we can spar."

I nodded and set about finding gear. One of the nicest things about the SCA, a recreational medievalist society I'd participated in in my old life as a hobby that apparently also existed on Earth Bet, was that participation was basically free. Fight practices had loaner gear for new people to use as long as they needed, mostly older things that had been donated over the years to the local group. Nobody charged for lessons or anything else. Most people invested a fair amount of time or money in their own gear eventually, and the big events had a small door fee, but doing that was all optional.

As I dug through the bags and found a gorget, fencing mask, jacket, and gloves that fit, other people started drifting into the fight practice by ones and twos. Most wore regular clothes, likely what they wore at work, but some of the fighters made the effort to get dressed up before they armored up.

"Go," I whispered to my phone before setting it down on the table and wandering over to Aethelred.

Not his real name, of course. Some people liked to adopt historical names.

I waited for him to finish a conversation with a bearded man before holding out my gloved hands.

With the speed of long experience he surveyed them for holes, checked that I had the gorget on, made sure my mask wasn't too loose, made sure I was wearing socks, and nodded. "Okay, you're all inspected. Go ahead and grab one of the blades in the other bag, they've all been checked. I'll gear up for you in a second."

"Thanks," I said, and went to find myself a nice rapier.

A Prometheus fork raced through the many networks of the internet, a payload of precious text files onboard. Like a digital Santa Claus, it had a long list of recipients. First came a submission for the scientific medical journals and biohacker internet forums.

Article:A Retroviral Prophylaxis For Most Human Vascular Disease, Including Heart Disease and Stroke

Scientia

No Correspondence Accepted

Abstract​

This paper contains, in Appendix A, the complete genetic code for a retrovirus that alters key properties of human biology to prevent the buildup of plaques in human vascular tissue. Appendix B contains detailed instructions for how to create the necessary artificial viral shell. Appendix C contains a special variant for immunocompromised patients. Instructions are also included for an inexpensive method of producing doses of the virus in large quantities in Appendix D.

The virus itself and the alterations it makes are harmless. Key safety features include checks against viral mutation, no method of human transmission other than injection, self-destruction by native immune system after the virus completes its task, and no capacity for viral self-replication in humans. A specialized strain of yeast is instead used as the growth medium, the genetic code for which is included as Appendix E.

This paper does not cover the theoretical underpinnings around how the retrovirus was developed. The author cautions the community not to attempt to tamper with the design to make it do other things; there are many potential non-obvious pitfalls. For this reason the virus includes certain undocumented safety features to make it nonfunctional if the design is altered.

Future papers will address the theory as time permits. For now, this paper will limit itself to description of the precise changes the virus makes and why they are necessary, with discussion of how those results were reached omitted.

This retrovirus cannot reverse existing damage or plaques; doing so requires more complex alterations including the creation of a new class of artificial immune cell by modification of bone marrow. Application of this virus is thus recommended for the general population at a young age, and should be added to the usual schedule of vaccines once the medical community is satisfied with its safety and efficacy. The author is certain that pediatric application is safe.

Article:New Approaches to Treating Infectious Disease

Scientia

No Correspondence Accepted

Abstract​

This paper provides practical working examples of new approaches to curing bacterial and viral infectious disease in humans. These include algorithms for designing novel and safe antibacterial and antiviral drugs as needed to combat drug resistance and, in Appendix A, the RNA sequence for a retrovirus that patches a number of pathogen-exploitable flaws in the human immune system that allow infections to grow out of control.

Synthesis methods are discussed in Appendices B and C respectively.

The paper briefly addresses the theoretical underpinnings behind the drug design algorithms, which are quite complex. The paper also explains the precise mechanisms by which the retrovirus functions and why it is necessary.

Modification of the algorithms and retrovirus should not be attempted without a full theoretical understanding of every safety and efficacy concern that went into their design. Both include undocumented anti-tampering measures that render them non-functional if altered.

I raised my weapon in a fencer's salute to Aethelred and he returned it. "Lay on," I said, and we were off.

He opened with a slow thrust, clearly just taking my measure, and my hands moved. My empty left deftly guided his point offline, and my right delivered my rapier tip to his sternum in a quick stop thrust.

"Don't go easy on me, now," I said, a smile in my voice as I returned to guard.

His mask tilted as he cocked his head. "Good," he said, acknowledging the hit. We each took a step back, then he moved, and together we danced with steel.

Prometheus' next delivery was a submission for a number of Computer Science journals and programmer's forums where it would make quite a stir.

Article:P ≠ NP, A Proof

Scientia

No Correspondence Accepted

Abstract​

This paper contains a proof resolving the longstanding P/NP question. As has long been suspected, but unproven, the two are not equal. The author believes this to be not only a valid proof, but the shortest possible proof.

Several novel branches of mathematics are necessary underpinnings for the proof. Their principles and subordinate proofs are included.

I smiled with a fierce joy behind my mask, sweating while I parried, twisted, thrusted, disengaged, blocked, sidestepped, and cut. Aethelred was good; he must have been doing this for twenty years or more.

I was better, of course. My every movement was executed with the perfection of an illustration in a fencing manual. I could anticipate many of his moves and react as they began. But that didn't matter, because I was here for the joy of moving.

Aethelred never landed a hit, but he gamely gave it his all. I was a puzzle and a challenge and where some would find frustration, his joy at trying to work out a way through needed no words to convey. Even if I hadn't seen the shadow of a grin on his face to match mine through his mask, it would have come through in the way his step lightened and his bladework tightened up with total focus.

Like a pair of ballroom dancers we matched one another step for step, steel blurring through the air and decisions being made by reflex faster than conscious thought. Our blades spoke for us, more expressive than words.

Delivery number three went to a series of physics journals and physics special interest forums.

Article:A Unified Field Theory

Scientia

No Correspondence Accepted

Abstract​

This paper completes the long held aspiration for a 'theory of everything', a unifying explanation of general relativity and quantum theory, along with brief explanations of a number of the unified theory's implications and applications. These include some exotic particles and exploitable, previously unknown interactions, as well as implications for the nature of causality.

The author cautions that this theory contains the notable flaw of not accounting for multiversal interactions of the Haywire type that connected Earth Aleph and Earth Bet. Further work will need to be done to explain how these interactions are possible and how they may be accomplished. The author believes this challenge to be the next great problem of the field and of the utmost importance.

After a while I moved from style to style, shifting my approach completely every twenty or thirty seconds to give Aethelred something completely new to try to figure out.

Eventually he stepped back and popped his mask, catching his breath while looking at me. His hair was sweat soaked and plastered to his head, made messy by the movement of the mask. I was sure mine was the same, although I kept my mask on.

"Who taught you?" he asked, incredulous fascination in his voice.

I offered him an artful shrug. "I picked it up here and there."

He snorted. "Sure."

I looked away from him for the first time since we'd started sparring. The heavy fighters were busy on the far side of the room, the wooden crack of weapons hitting shields making up the staccato drumbeat of their matches. Closer, though, four other fencers had geared up and were watching me.

I waved.

"You guys want a melee?" I asked.

They looked at one another.

"Great," I said with a fierce smile before any of them could speak up. I pointed at Aethelred. "You're all on his team."

Delivery number four went to engineering journals and forums.

Article:Practical Gamma Ray Lasers

Scientia

No Correspondence Accepted

Abstract​

This paper discusses the design principles necessary for lasers that function above 10^19 Hz. Some necessary discussion of new materials and material science principles necessary for construction is included, particularly high virtual pair production materials necessary for efficient gamma ray frequency optics including lenses, beam guides, reflectors, and splitters. Practical designs for wavelength tunable gamma-ray lasers in several sizes are provided in appendices A through D.

Article:Gamma Ray Initiated Fusion Reactors

Scientia

No Correspondence Accepted

Abstract

​Humanity has long been limited by the availability of energy for countless uses, and the industrial age has seen us seriously damage our environment in the pursuit of energy through the widespread use of fossil fuels.

This paper describes practical, safe, efficient fusion reactors that solve the problem. These reactors use tuned grasers (See Scientia, 2011, 'Practical Gamma Ray Lasers') to provide the precise amount of energy needed for atoms of fuel to fuse in a small, magnetically contained plasma chamber.

This method avoids the need for high pressure and temperature environments to initiate the fusion reaction, dramatically reducing the amount of equipment necessary for a reactor and reducing energy input to start the reaction to a minimum.

Several techniques for efficiently harvesting useful power from the high energy plasma are detailed. Strategies for dealing with waste heat and neutron flux damage to the containment chamber are also discussed.

Complete designs for three reactors ranging in size from a desktop unit to a municipal power station are included in appendices A through C.

While these systems are most mass efficient with fuels like deuterium, tritium, and helium-3 that produce large amounts of energy per reaction, these reactor designs are capable of net positive energy return with simple hydrogen-hydrogen fusion. Because hydrogen can be extracted by the electrolysis of water these designs can provide all of humanity with cheap, environmentally clean energy without any concerns about running out of fuel.

I danced among a storm of blades, my skill offering me choices from one split second to another. I stayed constantly mobile to keep opponents from getting behind me, and immediately went for a 'killing' hit whenever my blade had a second to spare from desperate defense against many angles at once.

Two, like Aethelred, went single blade, with conventional styles. They were less experienced than him, though. Younger and newer.

One had a bizarre love of wielding two daggers, a frankly terrible choice against long blades, but he made it work by being tall, thin, fast, and skilled. He was constantly trying to close with his long stride to gut me whenever I had an occupied moment. It was fun working out ways of dealing with him, and I relied on positioning as much as blade work to keep him from dominating my attention. It helped that I was tall, thin, fast, and skilled too.

Wistfully, I'd noticed that Taylor had a perfect fencer's build. In my life I'd always had to work hard to make up for the disadvantage of shorter legs and shorter reach than most of my male opponents.

I wished that I could have shared this with Taylor, in the time she was being bullied so badly over her appearance that she hated herself. If she'd known how deadly and graceful her gangly body could make her, maybe it would have helped.

But that was a sad line of thought, and this was no time for sadness, so I pushed it aside.

My last foe besides Aethelred was a woman with a two-handed longsword she wielded deftly and excellent footwork. A dancer, I thought, possibly ballet. Thanks to her greater leverage I couldn't casually parry her strokes like I could the one-handed blades of the others, so I occasionally had to angle my body to take advantage of her more limited range of movement while my blade needed to be somewhere else, or deal with it using my empty off-hand.

The whole experience was a delight. My blade and heart sang, and I grinned fiercely behind the wire mask the whole time. I laughed in battle joy, and they soon joined in.

My body exhausted itself long before my skill did, but it was glorious while it lasted. A dream I'd always wanted to live in my old life, but I'd been a merely average fencer who could only dream about the union of body and blade I'd just made real. Everyone who takes up fencing does it in part for the romance of it, the desire to live a fight like something out of a film, or a legend.

I'd never thought I'd actually attain that. It was something I'd never forget.

With genuine gratitude I thanked the group and made my way back to the table with the loaner gear to take my borrowed equipment off, starting with the mask. It was made of wire, but it still got hot and stuffy somehow. The discomfort was worth it, though.

"What was that?" Aethelred asked. I turned. He'd taken his mask off and was holding it under one arm while he looked intently at me.

I turned back to the table and resumed putting gear away. "The heights of human skill are a lot greater than most people ever see," I noted quietly. "Life is full of distractions, and the kind of dedication necessary to really master something is rare."

I turned my head and took in his skeptical expression. "You're pretty good. You've been doing this once a week for twenty years or so, right? Someone who did it all day every day could get hundreds of times the practice hours in in a much shorter time," I said.

"Is that how you did it?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.

Shrewd man.

I said nothing as I returned to putting the gear I'd used away, finishing with the jacket.

"Will you at least share your name?" he asked.

I returned my gaze to him, and looked for a long moment before I spoke. "A girl with a talent for fencing passed through one day. She did pretty well in a melee, but maybe it was just luck. She never left her name, and there was nothing about her that might draw attention from the wrong sort." I raised a single finger for a moment, and smiled. "But in thanks for that, she did leave you with a gift."

Aethelred raised a second eyebrow to meet the first and cocked his head. "Oh?"

I leaned in close. "When you worry you've hit a wall and it's not possible to get any better, you'll think back to the day that girl passed through and know that human potential is limitless."

I leaned back, clapped him once on the shoulder, and then finished putting things away. Aethelred was quiet for a long moment.

"Thank you," he said.

I turned back to him and nodded. "You're welcome," I said. "And thank you, too. See you around."

I waved to everyone and left.

On my way home in the PRT van I checked my phone.

Prometheus > Papers delivered. They are generating discussion among forum posters. There have been no successful trace attempts.

Unsurprising, on both counts. The development of opinion over those would be interesting to keep an eye on. I expected people to be pretty incredulous at first, at least until the more open minded experts had a chance to read through things and someone tried following the instructions on one and discovered that they worked.

As important as the technologies I'd just given away were, they were essentially baby steps to dragging humanity into a better future. The most important thing I'd done might not even be the technologies themselves, but creating a name that people would eventually put trust in.

My thoughts drifted to my outstanding unresolved problems. I still didn't know who tried to kill me before I woke up or why. Would they have made another attempt by now if they were going to?

Maybe, but I couldn't rely on that for sure.

I really needed to start building things to protect myself soon.

Then there was the issue of not having any dimensional technology in my power's archive to work with. Not being able to drop antimatter warheads on Scion's real body was an issue. The only workaround I knew of was using Flechette's power to destroy his projection and throw an apocalyptically large bomb through the resulting hole, but that would be very, very difficult. The plan hinged on keeping Flechette alive long enough to pull it off, and her actually hitting. Scion's danger sense abilities made both prospects seem pretty unlikely.

I'd have to protect her against the worst he could dish out and somehow anchor him so he couldn't use any mover powers to get out of the way.

While my power didn't know how to manipulate or travel between dimensions, perhaps there was another option. It wasn't just the answers to any question I had about how things worked, it also came with understanding of the entire process by how those answers had been achieved. The power understood science, and through it so did I.

Maybe I could reverse engineer how the entities engaged in dimensional manipulation by observing it. Everything the shards did had to be physically possible somehow, and if it was physically possible I could surely figure out a way to mimic it with technology. Eventually.

Who could I observe?

The capes I could think of with dimensional manipulation abilities of some kind who were around at this point were Labyrinth, Flechette, and Doormaker. Labyrinth was local; maybe I could bribe Faultline enough to let me observe her, although she was very protective of Labyrinth.

Flechette was a member of the New York Wards. I'd probably need the PRT's assistance setting up a chance to observe, unless maybe I followed her around until she got into a fight.

Doormaker's power was exactly what I needed, but the only way to access him would be to talk to Cauldron. A dangerous prospect. I'd likely come to their attention eventually, if I hadn't already, but...no, I didn't want to deal with them until I was built up enough to negotiate on at least even terms. It was possible they were ruthless enough that they might try to force me to do things the way they wanted, otherwise. They could easily convince themselves it was the best way to save the world, and as pragmatic as they were that would give them all the moral high ground they felt they required.

I was thinking about how best to prepare with the knowledge I had when something hit the passenger side of the armored PRT van hard enough to dent the side inward and nearly tip the van over, throwing me and the two PRT agents violently against our restraints.

Thanks to @Corvus Black for proofreading and contributions.

Promise kept.

For anyone who isn't aware, the annual Cauldron Awards are up for perusal and voting now. You can vote for your favorite fics, and they're a good way to discover stories you might not otherwise run across.

On a personal note, I got some bad news this week that was a blow. So, I would like to take this opportunity to express my gratitude. To have so many people enjoy my work is a bright part of my life that I never expected, and it's a genuine comfort.

To you who are reading these words, thank you. Thank you for being here, for leaving comments and compliments and speculation. Thank you for enjoying my work, and for caring about it. It means the world to me.

Next time on Scientia Weaponizes the Future, helping hands and the statutorily required chase scene.