by Logan Jacobs
“Might as well,” I responded with a shrug.
Optimo was surrounded by a crowd of mostly young civilian women, so I figured it was as good a time as any to question him about some kind of petty supervillain mobster. If he’d ever had some kind of run-in with The Chief, then he’d want to brag about it to impress the girls. If he had been surrounded by other superheroes, I wouldn’t have said anything though, because from what I understood, superheroes often tended to get kind of territorial with each other and not want to share prey. Unless, of course, they had struck a deal to form some kind of temporary coalition of fan favorites, which some of them did periodically.
Once I cut my way through the gaggle of admirers to reach Optimo and extended my hand, he grabbed it and shook it before I could even say a word. Then he clapped his arm around my shoulders, leaned in toward me, and grinned vapidly at the air an arm’s length in front of us as if he expected a phone camera to materialize there.
“Er, I… wasn’t planning on taking a photo,” I said.
“Oh, okay, Citizen. That’s cool, that’s cool,” he said, and patted me on the back as he released me.
“Hi, my name is Miles Nelson,” I said as I tried not to roll my eyes.
“Well, I’m Chad Bellamy, but you can call me Optimo,” he replied with a wink.
At that point Norma managed to make her way through to us.
“This is Norma,” I said.
“Oh, nice, is she your wife?” Optimo asked. He leaned in and whispered in my ear, “You guys looking for a third or something?”
“What-- no, I’m here to talk business,” I said as I started to get impatient.
Optimo laughed at the expression on my face. “No worries, it’s cool, I got a guy the other week, random rich dude like you, didn’t even want to be involved in the action, you know what I mean? He just wanted to watch me fuck his wife. Some dudes are into that, I guess. It’s whatever floats your boat, I get requests like that all the time, and if the wife is hot, I don’t have a problem giving her some of the ‘Optimo Cream,’ know what I mean?”
“Unfortunately, I believe I do--” I started to say, but he just kept talking.
“But his wife wasn’t that hot, I mean he shoulda been able to afford a hotter chick with his net worth, you know what I mean? So I just politely declined, and the guy starts trying to offer me money and everything. That got kinda awkward, but I was just like uhhh… how ‘bout you go talk to my people?” He broke into laughter again and clapped me on the back like we were sharing an inside joke.
“I suppose that’s an occupational hazard,” I said, but he just nodded his head as if he hadn’t even heard my words.
“So, you sure you don’t want me to fuck your girl? I guess she’s okay, so I’d--”
“Can we talk a different type of business?”
“Oh?” he asked, as he blinked. “Maybe you are looking for a sponsorship deal? What is it that you said you do? You really should talk to my--”
“You know I’m Miles Nelson, right?” I sighed.
“Ohhh, yeah,” he said as his eyes narrowed, and I realized that he had absolutely no idea who I was.
“Some guys broke into my house last night,” I began. “It was just a handful of petty thugs, but they had powers. Possibly unregistered, I don’t know.”
“Ahhh, you want to hire my security services then?” Optimo asked. “You want me to make you feel safe in your home again?”
A paparazzo screamed “Optimo!!!” while pumping his fist in the air, and the superhero obligingly flexed and kissed his bicep for the camera.
“No,” I snapped. “They told me they were sent by someone called The Chief. I just wanted to know if you’d heard the name before.”
Suddenly, Optimo’s impossibly blue eyes narrowed as he turned toward me and actually looked me fully in the face for the first time. “Hmm,” he said finally. “Nah. I can’t say I have. I mean I think there’s a football team that uses a little Indian dude with the headdress and tomahawk and everything for their mascot, if that’s the kind of chief you mean.”
One of the girls near us looked at me and exclaimed, “Miles Nelson? Oh my god, can we get a photo with both of you?”
Her friend hopped up and down and squealed a little.
“Him?” Optimo looked at me in confusion as the girls flung their arms around us and squeezed us both into the frame of their selfie.
“He’s Miles Nelson!” one of the girls screeched as pressed her slender body against me and raised her phone. “Oh. My. God. I’m so happy I got this picture. Hey, are you busy tonight? We are having a little--”
“Ohhh!” Optimo interrupted as he turned toward me. “Hey you’re the guy. The guy who built the tech thing that they’re celebrating tonight.”
I nodded and then gave the two pretty young women a wink as I handed them a card. It was my business card, and didn’t have my cell number on it, so it was doubtful that they would ever get a hold of me, but it seemed to be the offering they wanted, and they both squealed again as they stepped away from us.
“I don’t know, man,” Optimo said. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea. I mean, eyes everywhere? The feds watching our every move?”
“I haven’t expanded it to a federal level yet, and it only links into public surveillance cameras that are already in operation,” I said. “It’s more of just a… data compiler. It analyzes trends and picks up on patterns before humans would be able to recognize them, or when humans wouldn’t be around to observe them. Besides the perps I mean. So that way--”
“Okay, but it just sketches me out a little,” Optimo interrupted. “That’s all I’m saying. No offense.”
I shrugged. “Fair enough. I’m just hoping that it will disturb criminals more.”
“It’s my job to make the criminals of Pinnacle City wet themselves, and I’m good at my job.” Optimo chuckled and then he actually flexed his biceps and kissed each one quickly.
I almost couldn’t believe this guy.
“I’m not trying to do your job, I’m just trying to make your job easier,” I said.
“I think it’s better when all the cameras reflect a more unified creative vision, you know what I mean?” Optimo asked. “Like uh… like my GoPro is really great. It really puts me in charge of the narrative. And it puts the audience right there with me like they’re seeing the action through my eyes. And then any parts that might confuse them, or any details that have to be kept confidential, you know, my editing team can take care of it. Yeah. I think that’s more the style of surveillance I like. My fans like it, too. I have more than forty-million on my Supergram account. Do you have a Supergram account? Oh wait, you aren’t a super, are you?”
“I’m not interested in portraying a hero’s story,” I said as I ignored his question. “What I want to do is--”
“Oh, you one of those guys who’s all about the villains?” Optimo asked as he elbowed me in a chummy way. “I get it. They have that whole punk rock anti-establishment vibe going on. The desk-jockey corp dudes like you always like that. Something sexy about the bad guys, even if they’re not as good-looking as me. No hard feelings, bro. I get it.”
This guy was impossible, and I was starting to resent not only the fact that the supervillains of Pinnacle City rarely got killed or maimed in the process of being arrested, but also the fact that the superheroes rarely got killed in action either. It was always pretty much the same old cast of characters cycling back and forth. The rises, the falls, the returns, the revenges, the betrayals, the redemptions. But some guys like Optimo, despite his undeniably impressive record of crime-fighting, were just too damn annoying to be immortal like that.
Also, I didn’t know if I was imagining it, or if he had just spaced out for a second, but I thought he’d reacted kind of weirdly to my mention of The Chief. Like he had something to hide. I’d have to ask Norma in private what she thought about that later.
“Look, I don’t really care which color scheme you wear
,” I said. “I don’t make the laws, and I know they’re not perfect, but I still think the majority of citizens in Pinnacle City will be better off if the laws are enforced more swiftly. In cases like the bus hostage incident last year, or that bridge that Gorgonzilla destroyed while all the cars were still on it--”
“Hey, I saved that bus,” Optimo protested as he signed a girl’s left tit with a Sharpie. The girl started squealing that she was going to get the signature tattooed, while her friend filmed the signing and informed her repeatedly that she was crazy. “You mean the one with all those schoolkids? And the hot teacher?”
“Yeah, but only after they’d already been held captive for two hours and a couple of the kids got chomped,” I said.
“Well, that heightened the suspense,” Optimo said. “It was great for ratings. I mean, I didn’t get any heads-up of the situation until then, so I don’t know what you expected me to do.”
“Exactly!” I said as I smacked my right fist into my palm. “That’s why I designed the C.D.S., so that you and other superheroes can be notified sooner in cases like those. And in smaller incidents that don’t involve superpowers, so that the cops can be notified and take care of it with minimal casualties.”
Optimo just gave me a distinctly unfriendly stare for a few seconds. Then he shrugged and said, “Whatever.”
I kind of wanted to try pressing him further to see what kinds of things would come out of his mouth when he was in a hostile mood, since it definitely seemed to me like the rabbit’s claims about corruption hadn’t been all bullshit, but at that point, the master of ceremonies’ nervous young assistant came up to me and tapped me on the elbow with a smile.
“Mr. Nelson?” he asked. “We’re ready for you to say a few words now before dinner starts.”
“Fine,” I said. Actually, I hadn’t been aware that the hosts were expecting a speech, and I hadn’t really prepared anything, but I figured I could just toss off a few quick lines. No one really wanted to wait through an elaborate speech anyway.
I waved to Norma, who grimaced at the prospect of being left alone in the midst of Optimo’s fan club, and followed him over to the stage where I waited in the wings while the dapper silver-haired master of ceremonies got everyone’s attention. The hall quieted down and the most powerful people in the city all turned their eyes toward the raised stage.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began. “thank you all so much for coming. Tonight is a magical night not only for those of us lucky enough to score an invitation to this event, but for all of Pinnacle City, because tonight we are celebrating the upcoming official launch of an invention that will render this wonderful, thriving city that we call home safer for all of us. It’s going to give the heroes a leg up on stopping the villains even more swiftly than they already do. It’s going to tell them when and where their powers are most needed. It’s going to shine a bright light into the shady underworld of crime that lurks in even America’s finest cities. For the villains, there will be no more hiding. No more running. At the moment, my system works well at detecting crime in progress, but the ultimate goal will be to prevent crimes before they occur, when they are still in the planning stage. And for crimes that are not premeditated, we would like to have the perpetrators in handcuffs within the span of a few minutes. That may not sound plausible to you now, but the technology to accomplish it is in development, and one of the visionaries at the forefront of that movement is here with us tonight.”
He paused. I adjusted my tie.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the master of ceremonies said, “I give you… Time Magazine’s Man of the Year, the inventor who has been called the modern day Da Vinci, Mr. Miles Nelson!”
I stepped out from the side of the curtain, walked to the center of the stage, smiled, and then bowed while the audience cheered and applauded.
“Thank you,” I said after the applause had died down a bit. “It’s a great honor to be standing in front of you all here tonight.”
I scanned the crowd, the colorful assortment of folks in their police dress uniforms, folks wearing articles of clothing or jewelry that cost more than a police sergeant’s annual salary, and of course the spectacularly muscled superheroes and heroines striking poses in animal masks and thigh-high boots. Most people looked friendly, attentive, interested. Some looked bored or already too drunk for listening to speeches. But I noticed that the ones that looked unhappiest were The Wardens. Some looked stoic as usual, which didn’t mean much since some of them just had stoic personas, but others wore smiles that were even more painfully artificial than usual, or were outright grimacing or had their arms crossed in defensive postures.
“So as we all know, Pinnacle City has a crime problem,” I continued. “And it’s not about people getting their purses snatched, or people getting held up at knifepoint or gunpoint, although that happens too. But those crime stats are comparable to stats in any other major city in the country. What’s exceptional about Pinnacle City is the number of people that get zapped by lightning… that originated from someone’s fingertips. The number of people that get hit by cars… that were being moved telekinetically, not driven. The number of people that die of heart attacks… after being involuntarily subjected to intentionally induced hallucinations. These numbers are exceptional, and they are not acceptable.”
Most people were nodding along with my words, but I saw Optimo roll his eyes and the Killer Kitten smirk.
“Luckily,” I said, “we also have the manpower, the super-manpower that is, to combat these kinds of super crimes. In the form of The Wardens. The official guardians of Pinnacle City. But the way things are now, especially with supervillains being inherently more extreme and more erratic in their behavior patterns than conventional criminals, we have heroes like Optimo here flying around trying to put out fires after they’ve already been set. And fires burn fast. That leads to a lot of casualties, a lot of property destruction that could be avoided if there was a better digital crime detection system. If we could alert someone like Optimo to come in and stomp the ember before it spread. Before it even got big enough to become a news story. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”
I was laying it on pretty thick by then, and I could see clenched jaws, gritted teeth, and furrowed brows developing among the audience in response. Some of that was from the superheroes themselves, some of whom looked downright sulky. But some of it was also from civilians, the very people whom my system was designed to protect from arbitrary spectacular deaths at the hands of supervillains. I guess that made sense. It wasn’t just the superheroes who wanted to put on a big show. Someone had to be buying the tickets to the show to make it worth their while.
“Being stronger, being more aerodynamic, being more invisible, growing bigger claws, controlling larger weather patterns, none of that is the solution,” I said. “The solution is being more tactical. The solution is exploiting modern technology.”
I got some polite clapping for that remark, but not much. I sensed that the reason was maybe a lot of people didn’t really care about solving the supervillain problem. What a lot of people wanted was, in fact, more burly superheroes, higher-flying superheroes, ones with expanded stealth capabilities, ones with bigger claws, ones who were incredibly beautiful and sexy, ones who could summon hurricanes and typhoons. And in order for those superheroes to prove themselves, they needed villains that were worthy adversaries.
The C.D.S. could save hundreds of lives. A year. If it were expanded across the country, then those hundreds of averted casualties would become thousands. The data was absolutely clear on that fact.
But humans were emotional creatures.
Maybe some people, and especially some superheroes, seemed to be okay with all the loss of innocent life involved in the ongoing public spectacle that was their epic battle between good and evil.
I decided to address another related topic, one that very much irked me personally, to see how the audience would respond.
“And there’s another ele
ment of the solution,” I said. “When we as a city, and by that I mean, when some combination of police work and superhero intervention, succeeds in defeating a supervillain, why is it that that defeat never seems permanent? What’s up with all these maximum security prison escapes? What’s up with all these paroles for good behavior for supervillains whose crimes warranted several lifetimes in prison or… better yet… the death penalty? I know that the state abolished the death penalty, but I don’t mind saying, on the record, that I believe the state was wrong to do so. I don’t mind saying that certain crimes, such as creating a sinkhole that sucks five densely populated residential blocks into the earth’s core, or running magnetic interference on the flight instruments of a commercial aircraft and causing it to crash into the hotel where your archenemy’s grandmother happens to be staying, warrant the death penalty. Particularly in regard to crimes that are classified as supervillainous, I believe that the death penalty should be reinstated for supervillains. Moreover, I believe that when apprehending supervillains, The Wardens should be authorized to use lethal force in order to be more effective at defending bystanders from the catastrophic fallout of these kinds of extended… duels and wrestling matches that are constantly playing out like neverending fireworks across our skyline.”
“Hell yeah they should!” someone yelled.
A lot of the cops in attendance and a lot of the civilians seemed enthusiastic about this new topic. It was a controversial one, but I was far from being the first one to express this opinion. The recidivism rate for convicted supervillains was virtually one hundred percent, and statistically any violent supervillain crime caused about twenty three point six deaths on average. Yet the government refused to terminate their activities permanently. Or even to surgically or pharmaceutically neutralize their superpowers when they were imprisoned, which was an intermediate proposal that had also been put forth. But there had been a public outcry. Certain political factions argued that it was “inhumane” to cut off people’s tentacles that they liked to use to climb buildings and stab people with, or remove eyeballs that they liked to use to shoot lasers at human targets out of. That it violated their civil rights or something. I was sick of Pinnacle City’s enabling attitude toward crime, so that was why I began to develop my system.