Electra
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Okay, Sharl,†Gina said, her voice as gentle as she could make it. “This is going to be hard to understand, and probably to accept, but I’m going to give it to you straight and you’ll have to handle it. You know what computers are, right? You’ve got plenty of them in Tronik. The thing is, you yourself are a computer program. Tronik is a computer program. The program has been getting very glitchy lately because the computer system running it hasn’t been rebooted for twenty years and the population has exploded far beyond what it was designed to handle. That door you found must have been someone’s backdoor access into the system, and when you went through it, your program migrated off the Tronik machine and onto our internet. Right now you’re in a secured scratch partition in one of my hard drives, because you were causing systems to crash all over the northeast. I can help you get back to where you belong, if that’s where you want to go. Do you understand?â€
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“Tronik,†Gina blurted, a note of awe in her voice. “Of course! I should’ve realized right away, but I thought that was a completely stand-alone system! But it makes perfect sense, the file size, the programming language... how did you get out?†she asked, curiosity quite overwhelming tact. “Were you trying to get onto the net, or was it some kind of accident... or kidnapping?â€
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Gina was silent for a minute, realizing that this problem could be considerably thornier than she’d expected. Putting a skin on the AI itself was trickier than putting a world around it, but she suspected now that she’d better get on it, lest the program realize that it was nothing more than a graphical placeholder and, oddly enough, a pair of fairly normal-looking hands. She wondered if that was mere artifact, or if the program itself had managed to access its skin at least that far without even realizing it. It seemed obvious at this point that the intelligence, whatever it was, was not actually self-aware. That was going to make things... complicated. Working back from the hands, she reverse-engineered the code and found the database that contained the imaging information for the program. It was actually an incredibly complex algorithm, one that included details down to the deepest layers of the computerized form, and even details for aging, injury, and emotional condition. Whatever else he was (and the information that told her that was coded in there too,) he was incredibly lifelike. Making careful backups every step of the way, she carefully interpolated the data, then fed it into her new emulator, building a boy, layer by rapid layer, over the graphical skeleton. “Nice to meet you, Sharl,†she told him as she worked, hoping to distract him. “You can call me Gina. What city are you talking about?â€
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“Not exactly.†The voice was definitely female now, and sounded almost like a normal person. The walls began to firm up, and a window appeared in one, showing a scene that was very strange, a broad expanse of short, uniform green shoots and a tree against a blue backdrop. The carpet took on pattern and texture beneath his feet, the chair gained the cushy softness that the walls had lost. “If I had to guess, you made an accidental migration off your OS and ran into some severe compatibility problems. I’m coding up some interfacing software for you as we speak, which should mitigate the problem, but if I had your doc files it would really help. Where do you come from?â€
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Gina watched the code as it fluctuated, corresponding in part with its communication, but also changing in other ways. The program was functioning like... The lightbulb went on suddenly, a solution unfolding elegantly through her incredibly insightful brain. The program wasn’t merely an AI, it was an artificial person. The interface she’d built was enough to stimulate the sensory receptors that were its ears, and now it was attempting to utilize its motor functions and sensors to triangulate on and find the “speaker.†In its native environment, the entire operating system would be set up to interface naturally with those programs, but here, the inputs would receive only fragmentary bits of data, if that, things that would parse as nonsense. Small wonder the AI was disoriented! I’m going to help you, she told the program again, rapidly sorting through program parameters that became more readable and familiar the longer she studied them. There, those were visual receptors, and a more complex auditory system than what she’d tapped so far, and what had to be tactile sensors. All of those fed into the dense tangle of data that was the central processing unit, the brain of the program. It was that mass that had caused most of the trouble, then as now desperately sucking up any data it could find, then regurgitating it in a search for meaning. When she thought she had the basics down, she programmed the partition to interface with the sensors, creating what she hoped would look like a neutral, boring, quiet room. Tell me what you see, she commanded.
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Help me? She ran the string again, just to be sure. It was dynamic, repetitive but not repeating. Someone was calling for help... the program was calling for help. Could this be some sort of alien AI? With the idea in her head, some of the programming patterns began to fall into place, though the language was still alien. Working quickly, her mind moving far faster than any programmer could’ve hoped to follow, much less match, Gina cobbled together an interface that would translate her own words into a form that the strange program could interpret. I’m going to help you, she sent to it. Can you understand me?
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I’ve got it! Satisfaction colored Cyberknife’s tone as she closed the strings that trapped the rogue program in a custom-made partition. Goddamn but it’s big. Wonder what kind of payload it’s carrying. The sort that can make a hash of any network it touches, just by trying to force in a terabyte of data in one swallow, her erstwhile colleague replied dryly. His form was invisible, here in a world of data packets and electrical impulses, but she had no trouble detecting the familiar amused/irreverant/intuitive flavor of his presence. If it had a halfway decent shield on it, half the East Coast network would be down. That is strange, she agreed. It’s obviously a sophisticated program, not some script kiddie project. Why would anyone unleash it with such a sloppy interface? I don’t think it’s compatible with a single programming language. Maybe it’s corrupt. Her tone said she was definitely going to find out. Could be. You want some help tearing it down? Nah, I’ve got it. Just stay out of trouble for a few days, would you? She sent him the equivalent of a laugh. The Man surely isn’t going to get any more pervasive if you stick to raiding in WoW for awhile. NAK, NAK, NAK, he teased. Fraid I’m losing your signal, must be some artifact from the rogue program. See ya round, sweetheart. With one last laugh, he was gone, snaking away through the morass of code that was both their real home. Cyberknife sighed, then laughed, then went to go take a look at what it was she’d just caught.
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Miss A stepped into the sleigh and worked alongside Dragonfly, her movements quick and deft as she sussed out what each piece of candy tech was designed to do. There was a method to the madness, and once she'd figured it out, it was a matter of only minutes to put some of it together into a candy-striped tube that could be easily held in one hand. It smelled very nice, like peppermint, and was absolutely packed full of licorice wiring. "That should do," she decide with satisfaction. "And I wouldn't worry about not having holidays," she added in a low voice to Dragonfly. "The ones when you're a tiny child are the most fun anyway, after that, they're really more of a chore. It's the most wonderful time of the year to have a few days off and relax at home." With a wink, she stepped out of the sleigh for last-minute plans with the others, and managed to smack right into Avenger again. That was going to become tiresome quickly.
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Miss A will whip up an invention that gives her Mind Control 10, with the area extra and the sense-dependent (hearing) flaw. A candy-cane microphone that will turn her dulcet tones into a true siren song! DC 40 Invention check: 1d20+32=47. That'll do!
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That drew a laugh from Erin as she wrapped her arms around Trevor's waist for the trip back up the mountain. No one would ever accuse Trevor of not being sure of what he was good at. And one of those things was definitely driving. It had been fun to drive herself, but he could handle the Night Cycle the way it was meant to be driven. "Open it up," she suggested, then turned her head to lay her cheek against the back of his shoulder, her body pressed snugly up against his back. It felt comfortable and made her nervy all at once, but that was a sensation she was getting used to by now.
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Miss Americana was sitting still and obviously very absorbed in her work, because it took her a moment to even acknowledge the question. She seemed to shake herself a little, blinking and twitching her fingers before glancing over at him. "Hmm? What do I like?" she repeated, sounding a little bit lost. "What do you mean? For the uniform? I think the idea we're working with now is first rate. There's still time to change it if you're not feeling it, but it's a solid concept."
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The bathroom was pristine, though oddly dusty for a room that surely saw regular use with as much time as the superscientist spent in her lab. It was in good working order, which was the most important consideration. Indeed, most of the building was like that, aside from the expansive space that was the actual lab. The lobby, a relic of this place's original function as a generic business shell, had obviously never been used and was stacked with boxes of lab supplies. The rooms whose walls hadn't been knocked down were in roughly the same condition, offices with boxes instead of desks and chairs. Behind a half wall of boxes, Harrier found a neatly rolled high-end twin-size air mattress and a little overnight bag. Someone obviously occasionally spent the night here.
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Stesha comforted the ex-hostages in her own way, with a gallon of hot tea and a few minutes of peace and quiet in her sanctuary before returning them to the secured broadcasting building and letting them contact their families. She saved a cup of tea in a ceramic travel mug for Fusion, passing it to her as they returned to Prime. "Why don't you get home to your family?" she suggested delicately. "I'm sure Midnight and Gabriel will make sure that any recorded footage is destroyed. If you like, I can get in touch with Doctor Archeville and his people and make sure."
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"Of course," Stesha agreed with mock-contrition, settling into her pose once more with her face warm with amusement. "I'll be still, I promise. But I would love to see your cathedral roof sometime. I really haven't gone to many places, considering how easy it would be these days. I need to get more culture before I'm too busy to go anywhere." She continued looking around the room, her eyes lighting on the various pieces. "Have you ever used a trompe l'oeil painting to fool a villain?" she asked.
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Stesha's eyes widened for a moment before she laughed, sounding impressed. "It's beautiful," she told him sincerely. "I'd clap, but my hand is full here. I think I see what you mean, though. The magic is there, but you express it in the way that your mind understands best, just like I do. If you can do that, you must be able to paint amazing things. The whole world must be your canvas." She looked thoughtfully at the place where the fire had been. "What's the biggest thing you've ever painted?"
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"Do you study magic formally?" Stesha asked with curiosity, her eyes moving as she scanned the room. "With spells, and a magical tradition, things like that? It seems like some magic users do, and some are more like me, who have powers that are magic, but only know how to do one sort of thing, and do it without incantations or study. I've been fascinated with the study of magic, but there are only a few people in the city who are really knowledgeable about that sort of thing."
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Enjoying the novelty of unrestricted sight even in the middle of the mist, Erin took the time to prop the mugger up against the wall before returning to the Night Cycle. She'd have called the police if this were Freedom City, but she had no idea how to contact Dakanan authorities, so the next best thing was to make sure the hapless mugger didn't get run over by a delivery truck. The victim was long gone, so she didn't worry too much about that. "Nicely done," she told Trevor with a small grin, removing the shades and tucking them away again. "And nice glasses. They worked perfectly." She climbed onto the back of the motorcycle this time, ready to let him take the driver's seat again.
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"I haven't," Miss A said tonelessly. "I thought I ought to leave that up to you and Slick to determine the most optimal means to facilitate the transfer." In truth, she wanted absolutely no part of dealing with Slick's body in any way, shape, or (lack of) form. "I would suggest some type of funnel device for minimal disruption, possibly something attached to the drain set in the floor here." If the idea of putting the disreputable shapeshifter down the drain pleased her, her expression gave no sign of it.
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Miss A chuckled. "Holding peoples' attention is one of my best things. I think Victory and I can keep eyes on us in the air, and Dragonfly and Jill can provide us with ground support. Dragonfly and I can come up with a few tricks to ensure that nobody's watching for a couple of sneaky folks coming in the back way." She looked at her fellow technician. "So, Dragonfly, any ideas on making flash-bangs out of pop rocks and candy cane shrapnel?" she asked, only half joking.
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Miss A stood back to let Dragonfly take care of the sleigh's mechanical difficulties, though she stood close to see the intricacies of the candy engine. It seemed needlessly inefficient, but she had to admire the devotion to a theme. She was even more skeptical about the candy corn antidote, but took one and ate it anyway, mostly because it would've looked strange if she hadn't. Despite her expectations, once she'd finished the candy corn, she could suddenly fly again, and shot a bright laser beam into a nearby snowbank. "Looks like we're back in business. Do you have some engineering equipment we can work with?" she asked the elf.
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"We're superheroes from Freedom City," Miss A assured the small figure with her warmest and most diplomatic smile. "We were told that there was trouble here, and that if we didn't help, the season could be ruined for many children. And of course we want to do anything we can! My name is Miss Americana," she told him, "and these are my colleagues, Jack of All Blades and Jill O'Cure, Victory, Dragonfly, and Avenger." She didn't gesture to anyone in the group specifically, merely nodding in their general direction. "It looks like you're having some trouble with that sleigh?" she hazarded. "Dragonfly and I are engineers, we might be able to help you."
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"What is that?" Miss A asked in fascination, staring at the futuristic sleigh. "I've never seen it depicted like that. Fascin-urp!" Her words were cut off as she abruptly ran face-first into Avenger, who'd been walking in front of her. She was silent for a moment, then said "Ouch!" Using her hands to brace herself against the vampire's broad form, she stepped around him, then resumed her progress towards the sleigh. "Hello!" she called to the small figure.
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"'Magic' is a shorthand term for certain types of energy that aren't yet explained by scientific principles," Miss A explained, even as she devoted most of her attention to the readings. "It's a much simpler and easier term than unquantified phenomena, and it evokes romance and mystery, which makes it very appealing. As science gains a greater understanding of various energetic phenomena, certain principles move from the realm of 'magic' and into the realm of what the average layperson considers science. It's a process that's been taking place for thousands of years, since human beings huddled around their magic campfires. Magic and science aren't opposites, they're merely terms of art." She moved from one scanner to the other, actually flipping open a panel to go to work on the guts of the thing. "Psionics and dimensional movement are in the gray area right now, where we are beginning to grasp hold of their fundamentals, but still don't have a firm handle on why and how they work. My scanners are advanced enough to detect that energy, but not to tell me very much about it. There are scanners at places like ArcheTech that are designed to detect that sort of energy, and could tell me a lot more. Were you ever tested as a child for metahuman ability?"
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Miss A picked herself up off the ground and looked around the group, looking unnerved for a moment. "That's very strange," she muttered, brushing snow off her costume.The cold still didn't seem to be bothering her, but the snow spoiled the look of her uniform. "Maybe it has something to do with the polar magnetic fields. I didn't... I've never tried hero work up so close to magnetic north." She looked around the group again, then over in the direction Dragonfly had pointed. "You're right, I see them too. Let's get going." Cautiously, she took a few steps, as though making sure she could walk before she got too confident.
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Miss A hesitated for a moment as the portal closed, looking around as though she were worried about something, then relaxed just as suddenly into her usual confident pose. "Looks like we're all here for the same party," she said with a smile. "And I forgot all my tinsel, too, more's the pity. I'd say following the thunder may be our best bet right now. Does anyone need a ride?" she asked, rising gracefully into the air.