by Mathy, Scott
The toaster interjected, “I was merely preparing for the inevitable conflict between the Powers and citizens of New Haven. The medical and financial information was to fund our forces. You could have had an army of state-of-the-art soldiers at your disposal if I had been allowed to-”
Ellis tapped a button on her remote, bringing up a timer on the toaster’s display, “Time out. You’re lucky I believe in the rights of artificial lifeforms or you’d be back in the coffee can of no return.” She turned her attention back to her patient, “I could not be more upset with you right now,” she stated more calmly than that declaration would suggest.
“Oh?” Dwight groaned. The light of the Doc’s headlamp burned in his sore eyes.
She started tugging at his prosthetic arm, “You left me here with two adolescent A.I.’s, a mountain of extra-dimensional data to sift through, and a stark-raving mad asshole that we pissed off actively hunting me.”
Dwight considered the circumstances of his departure, “I’m sorry.”
She ignored the apology, “And to top it all off, your ex-wife, former roommate, and last partner have been calling, dropping by, and leaving messages every day since you left. I’ve been leaving it to poor Alice to intervene, but it’s all just too much, Dwight. Then you show up threatening to infect the entire planet with the very virus we swore to lock away forever! I could have just killed you then and there!” She ran out of breath, clearly at wit’s end, “Where the fuck have you been, and why in the Goddess’s name would you risk bringing that nightmare here?”
“Because I knew you’d either fix me, or kill me. I didn’t want to become one of those things.”
She pondered his reasoning, “You knew that Bernard’s serum would kill the virus; I guess you have been paying attention. That doesn’t answer why you chose to go to that dead universe.”
Zhu stepped in, having finally settled his rattled nerves. “That’s on me. I’ve been looking for information on this Council. I needed Dwight’s biometrics to get into his other self’s secret lair.” He passed the rotten, severed limb to Alice.
The robot took the hand and forearm delicately, placing them in a plastic bag. She sealed it before affixing a biohazardous label to its exterior. “I am detecting that the nanites are still active in the specimen, and am happy to report the ones in Mr. Knolls’ body have been terminated by his serum-reinforced immune system.”
“That was insanely reckless, Dwight,” the Doc scolded him. “Did you at least learn anything while we were all convinced you weren’t coming back?”
He sat up, touching the bloody-but-healed skin of his chest. Through the tattered material of his undershirt, he felt the scars of another injury he likely shouldn’t have survived, “A few things,” he started, “First, every other version of Dwight Knolls has powers or skills way beyond me. Second, the source of the virus was that world’s StarPoint, not some random asteroid. And third, that it’s probably here already. Oh,” he added quickly, “and Council is probably one man: Wulf.”
Ellis took a moment to process the flood of new information, “That’s a lot of seriously bad coincidences to take in at once.”
“You’re not wrong,” Dwight agreed, hopping off the ruined table. He felt lighter than air with the serum again coursing through his veins. He focused the energy downward, gently lifting himself from the concrete floor. Suspended a few inches from the ground, the chemicals recharging his weary muscles, he slowed his breathing and relaxed.
“You’re not getting any more of that.” Ellis pointed out, “I’m sure getting a fix wasn’t the objective of getting yourself infected, but I’m putting my foot down. Don’t make me twelve-step you.”
For now, Dwight was riding the euphoric pleasure of the serum and its power, “Understood. I’ll burn off the stuff by hanging here, if you don’t mind. Shouldn’t be more than a few minutes.”
“Fine,” she said, reaching up and tugging Dwight’s mechanical limb from its mounting at his shoulder. Looking at the intricate internal workings of the machine, her face twisted in disgust. “You’ve been neglecting even the most basic maintenance.” She noted his lack of response. Grunting in frustration, she turned to Void, “While he sobers up, you’re going to fill me in on everything else.”
The two wandered away, leaving Dwight to float both physically and mentally. In the corners of his perception, he supervised Alice’s repairs of the Doc’s lab. The android effortlessly twisted the warped steel of the table back into position, then set about replacing the multitude of tools and papers scattered by Dwight’s arrival. Slowly revolving in the air, he felt the hours of research at the other Referee’s computer melting away.
Absentmindedly, he reached into his pocket and removed the USB stick he’d taken with him. He held it out toward Alice, who stopped sweeping to take the item.
“This is?” she asked.
Dwight shrugged, “Maybe answers, maybe more questions. I’m not sure yet. But I’d like you to make a backup.”
The android accepted the stick and inserted it into a drive built into her body’s neck. She then went back to cleaning, copying the information as an afterthought.
“Alice,” he waited for her to stop again, rotating fully upside-down as he did so. The pronounced grays in his hair hung loosely. When she looked over, he continued, “Where’s Lia?”
The colors of Alice’s synthetic eyes shifted as her systems accessed surveillance and tracking data, “Ms. Roux is currently in her residence in the next building. She has specified that she does not wish to be disturbed.”
He flipped around, having grown uncomfortable from the blood flood flow to his head, “How long ago was that?”
“Three weeks. The Doctor has asked me to check on her several times, but she has grown increasingly reclusive. I believe she is still adjusting to the removal of her limiter.”
“How about Ian and Glitch?” He lowered himself to the floor, the effects of the full dose of serum slowly wearing off.
Carefully watching her eyes, Dwight realized that the shifts in color were actually impossibly fast streams of code crossing over her eyes. “They are presently at their apartment. Ian is using the computer to access his utilities; she is looking up recipes with her phone.”
“That’s a bit too much informati- Wait, did you say ‘their’ apartment?”
Alice clarified, “Yes, your old unit was declared uninhabitable after the Guild recruits’ attack. According to Ian’s bank account, he began paying for their current accommodations two months ago.”
Dwight felt the shock sinking in the pit of his stomach, “Again, too much info. I just need an address.”
She did as he requested. The location was only a few blocks from their old apartment. “Will there be anything else you require?”
He looked down at the bare metal mounting at the base of his shoulder, “My arm?”
Ellis stomped over to them, carrying the limb, “Last I checked, I still hadn’t been paid for your previous upgrade,” she pointed to the arm in her hands, then at Alice, “This is a certified field-test for her body’s components, not a favor for a sloppy hitman who can’t keep himself in one piece.”
“I have something else for you, if that means anything.” Dwight offered.
She crossed her arms, the limb hanging loosely between them, “Everything you seem to offer has only been a pain in my ass. This had better be good.”
He fished around in his jacket’s inner pockets, a task made substantially more difficult due to his single hand. Locating the bag, he pulled it free, presenting it to the annoyed doctor.
She glanced at the bag, then back at her inept acquaintance. “I invent better drugs while making dinner. Probably safer too, judging by the decay.”
“Do your drugs amplify Power’s abilities?” he asked smugly.
She handed him the arm, taking the bag and setting it on the table behind her, “That is a new one, Mr. Knolls.”
“Be careful with that shit,” Zhu added fro
m across the lab, “I’ve had this thing for thirty-five years now and I’ve never lost control like that. It amped the anomaly up past anything I’ve ever seen it do.”
The elder scientist examined the wilted leaves through the plastic, “Interesting. I’ve wondered about the possibilities of enhanced organic material. I always assumed the necessary catalysts could only be generated by metahuman bodies.” She disappeared into her own mind.
“Don’t suppose you could lend me a ride?” Dwight asked Alice. He suddenly remembered his backpack sitting in the deceased Referee’s now-infested workshop, “Or a cell phone?” He was already dreading inevitably telling the Doc about leaving Ivan surrounded by rampaging husks.
THREE
Walking the streets of New Haven after all these months felt different. Before, he thought of the city as the center of his existence. Outside of his unremarkable childhood, a few visits to neighboring cities, and his brief stint in the military, New Haven was all he knew. Back then, everything had been so small. The east side’s docks were the home of Ellis and the various industries that sent New Haven’s goods abroad. The south produced the manufacturing jobs, the west was where the blue collars lived, the north for the white collars, and the high rises of Downtown were where the Powers looked down over them all. That was how things had always – as far as Dwight knew – been.
At the center of the city, the glowing pillars of Justice Guild headquarters, StarPoint, and the now-finished Adams Tower loomed over the rest of the city in a triangle that controlled all of their fates.
Seated on the city bus, watching block after block pass by, he couldn’t help but stare up at the skyline. Every so often, the colorful streak of a Cape patrolling their routes would inform the citizens below that their guardians were watching. The few without flight stood sentry at their corners, stalking the streets for crimes much like the Enclave’s clockwork soldiers.
Dwight thought of Bernard, somewhere out there. As they disembarked from their return flight to New Haven, the giant wandered off alone without a word. It hadn’t felt right to go after him, but even now, Dwight wished he had a way to contact his former partner, if for nothing else than the assurance that something – someone – was still the same.
He removed the phone that Alice had given him – a loaner, Ellis made him promise – and texted his old roommate. Staring at the screen anxiously, he waited for a response. Three blocks passed with no change. He was about to put it away when the lines of a message being typed appeared under his.
The address he was already heading toward appeared, followed several seconds later by the words, “Welcome back.”
Dwight got off the bus a few blocks from his destination. Stepping into the chilly night air, he wrapped his jacket close around him and put his hands in his pockets. The crowds on the streets had departed, fleeing for the warmth of their homes. The few stragglers hurried for cover as the temperature of the city fell sharply. Looking at the glowing signs of his old neighborhood, he couldn’t help but notice that the Korean barbeque restaurant that had been a regular staple of his diet was closed for good. Its marquee still hung over the darkened interior. The thought of the “meat” caused his stomach to grumble. He realized he hadn’t eaten since breakfast the morning he went up the mountain to meditate.
Coming around the corner of their old block, Dwight looked up at the façade of their former home. The third-rate apartment was many things: unsafe, unclean, overpriced, but it was theirs. Now, the plastic sheets covering the enormous hole through what had been their living room flapped listlessly in the evening breeze. Dwight thought of the warm glow that used to fill the balcony from Ian’s endless gaming, of Molly curled up in her many beds, the mountains of takeout boxes stacked around the living room, the disused kitchen. Strange as it sounded, he missed it all.
He continued past the stairs leading up to the entrance of the condemned building. The city notice taped to the inside of the door contrasted against the darkness of the unlit lobby behind it. Thick boards covered the lower half of the doorway. He wondered about the few possessions he’d left behind in his sudden departure. It hardly mattered; the only thing of value he’d owned was the computer that Ian had given him.
Forcing himself away, he followed the sidewalk, watching as the twilight settled into bitterly cold night. He eventually found the address Alice gave him, a high-rise tower brilliantly lit against the cloudy sky. The beautiful exterior was adorned with dozens of ornate gargoyles watching over the streets below. Dwight found himself gazing up in awe at his roommate’s new home.
“Do you need directions?” A doorman asked as Dwight approached the revolving door of the lobby.
He stopped, taking a moment to determine if the question was directed at him. Finding no one else, he answered, “No, I…um, my old roommate lives here. I was going to see him.”
The doorman raised a skeptical eyebrow to his story, “Yeah, buddy? And what’s your roommate’s name?” his tone grew more sarcastically hostile by the word.
Dwight tried to comprehend the doorman’s aggression. Glancing down at his clothing, he found his answer: his jeans were stained with concrete dust and whatever fluids had come from the dismembered husk. His coat hadn’t been washed in the months since his arrival at the Enclave. His hair, usually cut short, was a disheveled mess of browns and grays. From the other man’s perspective, he looked just as he was: homeless.
“Ian Green,” Dwight said solemnly, “Please just tell him that Dwight’s here to see him.”
The doorman produced a radio and a thin notepad from his heavy jacket. Flipping several pages, he punched a few numbers on its touchpad and waited. Finally, the thing chirped. “Mr. Green, there’s a ‘Dwight’ here to see you.”
The words stung. That’s all he was anymore: a Dwight – the single worst Dwight in all the multiverse.
Glitch’s voice came back through the radio, “We know. Send him up.”
Returning the radio to his expansive overcoat, the doorman glared as Dwight stepped around him into the revolving doors. By the time he was three paces into the pristine lobby, Dwight realized he was being followed. The elevators were a dozen feet from the door, manned by an additional worker and bank after bank of security monitors. It felt like the place had better security than StarPoint, though these guards probably had first names.
Finding his old roommate’s name on the directory, he tapped the button for Ian’s floor and stopped, listening to the footsteps echoing off the marble flooring. “I don’t need an escort. I know where I’m going,” Dwight pointed out as the security guard placed himself behind the waiting hitman.
The lights on the elevator showed the progress of its descent. “Just keeping everyone safe,” the man clarified, “Mr. Green pays quite a bit for his peace. Wouldn’t be doing our jobs if we let anyone up to see him.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Dwight huffed in frustration, “I lived with the man for two years. I’m practically his best friend. Can’t you just leave me to my damned misery?”
The suited guard spent the rest of the wait mutely judging the unhinged vagabond. When the elevator finally arrived, both men stepped in. The smooth ride to the thirty-ninth floor was silent apart from the phantom Bernard cackling to himself. Dwight resisted the urge to attack the specter; his escort was already on edge.
The elevator slowed and its doors slid open, revealing a hallway that already outclassed their previous living space. The place was on par with Wulf’s personal level at StarPoint, attention paid to every detail of the lavish decor. The guard led Dwight through the corridor, conspicuously watching that he didn’t take any of the furnishings. The annoyed hitman only twice feinted at precariously seated vases, threatening to topple them over.
By the time they reached the apartment door, the guard was fed up with Dwight’s presence. He knocked sternly on the white oak, his enormous knuckles echoing over its sculpted surface. A moment later, weighty footsteps dashed for the door. It opened suddenly, Glitch
’s disproportionately small frame leaning into the gap. Upon seeing the guard, she grinned widely. Her usual tracksuit was missing, replaced instead with a white tank top bearing the Guild’s crest and a pair of black yoga pants. The bright lines of her body’s power systems shone between the plates that made up her skin.
“George!” she exclaimed, “So nice of you to show our friend up. I can handle it from here.”
The guard stammered, “Ms. Park, I just wanted to make sure you knew this person before I left.” He seemed unwilling to leave Dwight alone with them, despite Glitch’s status with the Guild.
She laughed, “You worry too much, George. I promise you, our friend is quite harmless.”
It was another direct hit to Dwight’s already-frail ego. The guard left, purposefully knocking into Dwight as he pushed past. The hitman stood still for a moment, entertaining violent impulses in his mind.
Glitch waved her hand in front of his face, bringing his attention back to the present, “Hello?” she asked.
Dwight shook his head, “Sorry, yeah, I’m here. Just thinking about rocket launchers.”
She eyed him suspiciously, “Alright, well, come on in. Ian’s been excited ever since you texted.” She waved him through the door.
Closing it behind him, Glitch swung her arms around, leading him through the enormous apartment. “This is home now. A few steps better than that rat’s nest, if I do say so.”
“A few steps” didn’t begin to describe their home. This went beyond even the penthouse he’d shared with Linda back when everything was easy. The living room alone was twice the size of the unit Dwight and Ian had shared for two years.
Seated in the center of a plush white sofa, Ian paused his game to greet their guest, “Dwight!” he shouted. His standard t-shirt and jeans were instead a turtleneck and slacks; the look struck Dwight as more of a tech mogul than a loser freelance programmer. On the screen, a frozen avatar of Bernard in his dated Goliath uniform was halfway through delivering a devastating haymaker. Dwight had to admit, from his casual glance, the realism was impressive.