“Ha! Ha! I get it, the Society for Mad Scientists. You're all crazy, right?”
“I hadn't thought of that,” said Max. “No, it’s because it contains the first recorded use of the word, fractal, in its lyrics.”
“Fractal?”
“We have some mathematicians in the club too,” said Max.
Although it was an unbearably dorky thing to say, Terri had this overwhelming sense of empathy for her new geeky friend. He was so un-smooth and quirky. He was real. A real unpolished but yet seemingly good natured person. She was filled with bonhomie, so she held out her hand and Max grabbed it with both of his. Max's face started to crack into a real smile.
***
Wednesday, January 23, 2123
Conrad's water-powered-powered car came to an abrupt halt. It felt more like a jet powered car with its fast acceleration and braking. Once it came to a stop, all you could hear was the water sloshing around in the fuel tank.
“Wow,” I said. “That's amazables! And you drove it yourself?”
“Indeed. All the auto-autos avoid me. I just have to watch out for cyclists,” smiled Conrad.
“How come I haven't heard about this?” I enthused.
“This is secret technology. Not patented and outside of the control of the corporations. Execpt for one component.”
“One?”
“Yes. My greatest triumph over the Ms-Bell corporation,” said Conrad proudly. “I was able to make Ms-Bell relinquish a patent on the gas compression pump. I was able to cite prior-art.”
“You was able to win a patent case against Ms-Bell? That must be a first!” I said, impressed due to my own experience as a freelance technical researcher. “But water as a fuel, surely this must be the answer to our energy problems?”
“This is the third or fourth time its been invented. The corporations have a history of suppressing the technology. Ms-Bell in particular has a lot to lose if water-power becomes the norm.”
“Does Ms-Bell know about your car?”
“No way!” said Conrad emphatically.
“But how do you keep it a secret? You're driving around the streets in it.”
“It's untracked. We use a special government identity code to avoid detection. We drive at night so pedestrians rarely see it and no-one sees anything from auto-taxis and auto-autos. We hide in plain sight.”
“What about collision detection?”
“We're pinged but not dinged. By that I mean we are linked into Traffic Net to avoid collisions. But our government identity code is obfuscated which means we are not identified by the corporations.”
“Gzoinks,” I exclaimed. I had the dawning realisation that Conrad was more than just a mad scientist.
***
Tuesday, September 24, 2117
“Terri, can I introduce you to a select sect of Mad-Sci-Soc. Firstly, Conrad?” said Max.
“Conrad, has anyone ever told you that you look like...” said Terri.
“Captain Kittoffery? Yes, I get that a lot. And strangely enough I'm playing as Captain Kittoffery in the game tonight, I must be typecast.” said Conrad charmingly, rising from his chair to shake Terri's hand.
“You must be a real fan,” mused Terri.
“Many people have noted that our society is perhaps just a front for a Super Hero Role Playing Game club,” said Conrad with an uncomfortable chuckle.
“As I said, Terri,” intervened Max. “We do real research but we play our board games on Tuesday nights. The aim is to manage a team of super heroes fighting bad guys and the like. Let me introduce you to our other player, Karmen.”
Karmen, unlike Conrad and Max, was dressed as her super-hero character. A holo-dress, of course. It was striking; a bronze and black metallic-looking armour outfit with a winged headpiece.
“Delighted to meet you,” came a quiet and uncertain voice in complete contrast to the mighty warrior imagery displayed by her holo-clothes.
Terri took Karmen's hand to find that her metallic glove was fabricated and not holographic. Karmen made a delicate handshake since her gloved hand could have undoubtedly crushed frail skin and bone.
“Karmen is our math and probability expert,” explained Max.
“I like the helmet,” said Terri to Karmen.
“Oh, you-know... it's to project a bit of menace,” said Karmen unconvincingly in a librarianal-type of voice.
“It works,” lied Terri.
“Only for people sitting close,” said Conrad as an aside.
Karmen pretended not to hear. “And what do you do?” she asked in her wobbly voice.
“Media Studies,” replied Terri.
“Media Studies?” queried Karmen uncertainly.
“Twentieth Century Media Studies,” confirmed Terri.
“Oh,” Karmen said after a short pause. “How nice for you. Welcome to our science club,” She said with emphasis on science.
***
Wednesday, January 23, 2123
“I can't believe you've just got us in to see Antonio without an appointment, at night, just walking past his henchman. And without resorting to weapons of mass destruction!” I whispered to Conrad as we were escorted through Antonio's Italian Restaurant by one of his bouncers. We had arrived at the nerve centre of Antonio's gangster empire, a palatial lobby that wouldn't have looked out of place at a Las Vegas Casino. I wondered whether there has ever been a gangster with good taste in décor; say, minimalist design with classic Swedish flat-pack furniture and abstract paintings on the walls. This lobby was the opposite of that, a visual smorgasbord of red, brown and gold with columns, drapes and vulgar paintings.
“Antonio owns a portfolio of properties. The worst properties in the greatest cities in the world,” I said to Conrad as we walked along. “But this place is quite er... different,” I added. “It's been doing very well since the caffeine ban... if you tip the waiter, you know, you can get some of the good stuff, the re-caffeinated variety.”
As we went further into the interior, I babbled. “Not so much a speak easy, but a speak-quickly... Quite something, eh?” My small talk was not receiving any reaction from Conrad, so I asked him directly. “So how do you know Antonio?”
“We go back a long way,” said Conrad enigmatically keeping his eyes on the bouncer's back.
“Social? Business?” I asked.
Conrad was reluctant to talk, “Oh, We had a few business dealings.”
“You know that he's as unhinged as an open barn door in a tornado?” I whispered.
“You don't join a club like Mad-Sci-Soc to mix with average joes.”
The black-suited bouncer turned and said, “Wait here, Mr Kittoffery.”
***
Tuesday, September 24, 2117
“I don't think I'm going to be very good at this game,” mused Terri an hour into the game. Terri, Max, Conrad and Karmen were sitting in the clubhouse Imaginarium around a table with multiple holoscreen projections showing cityscapes, cars and a figure depicting Terri's new superhero character, as well as maps and calendars.
“No?” said Max with disappointment.
“I don't understand the rules. They are too complicated,” she sighed.
“Well there are no rules as such. It is whatever you can imagine,” stated Conrad.
“When I tried to blow up the Ms-Bell HQ you told me I couldn't do it,” puffed Terri.
“It's not that you can't. You just have to overcome all the obstacles,” said Conrad.
“But legal issues?” said Terri giving her best what-is-that-all-about expression.
“We sorted out the legal technicalities in the same way the corporations would,” stated Max.
“With high-powered lawyers,” added Conrad.
“And the insurance claims,” added Karmen in a near-whisper.
“But there would still be the collateral damage, lots of innocent people killed,” said Conrad returning to Terri's plan. “Superheroes are trying, not only to bring down the enemy, but also to not hurt innoce
nt people.”
“I suggested blowing it up at night when there wouldn't be any people inside,” Terri said.
“There's still security staff to worry about,” added Max.
Terri was amused, “They have human security staff?”
“It's a job creation scheme for insomniacs.”
“But this is only a game. If Ms-Bell are the bad guys, why can't I just blow up their building, we can warn the innocents somehow?” insisted Terri.
“Have you considered the preparation? How would we get the bomb in the building? We call this a game but we treat it more like a simulation of real life,” said Karmen hesitantly.
“A simulation?” said Terri wide-eyed.
“Or planning session,” Karmen continued and then fell silent when Conrad and Max stared at her with daggers.
“This isn't really a game, is it?” Terri said knowingly in the pregnant silence.
There followed another momentary pause before Max blustered, “Of course it's a game!”
“You don't use a university-owned supercomputer to download plans of buildings, identify legal problems and make applications to government departments for a game... You're doing this for real, aren't you?” said Terri.
“What do you mean, Terri?” asked Conrad.
Terri leaned back. “You really are Captain Kittoffery, aren't you, Conrad?”
***
Chapter Four Super Heroes
Wednesday, January 23, 2123
As soon as the bouncer left, I said in a loud whisper. “Mr Kittoffery? Is Kittoffery your surname, Conrad?”
Conrad was silent.
“I knew it. You are Captain Kittoffery!” I whispered.
“Or it's mistaken identity... or I could have a twin brother,” said Conrad quietly.
“Do you have a twin brother?”
Conrad admitted he did not have a twin brother before reluctantly confessing, “I was, a long time ago, for a short period, referred to as Captain Kittoffery.”
“What sort of secret identity is it when you embed your own surname into your vigilante sobriquet?” I stammered with increasing decibels.
“Shh,” soothed Conrad noticing the bouncer's return. “It's a long story.”
The bouncer said, “They're ready. I mean, the boss is ready.” He then led us into Antonio's wood-panelled office with gold gilt frames holding paintings of barely dressed ladies playing roulette. Behind the desk with a henchman either side of him was Antonio himself. He was wearing an expensive fabricated dark suit with the Guild of Gangsters traditional wide white tie. I imagined the wait-time before seeing Antonio pertained to the round-up of the two henchman. Like some wacky joss sticks, the two silent grim-faced goons provided the appropriate mafia-like ambiance in the room.
***
Tuesday, September 24, 2117.
Terri felt smug; like she had cracked a code. This was not a game. Could it be that Mad-Sci-Soc was not a science club or a role playing games society but really just a front for a league of super heroes?
“So, Karmen, are you ever going to appear in public as Princess Improbileon?”
“It is just Improbileon. There is no 'princess' in the name,” said Karmen curtly.
“Or you, Max, as Majestro?” Terri continued.
“Or, you, Terri, as Cloudera?” retorted Max defiantly stepping outside of the demeanor that was attempting to woo her.
“Well, Max. I was just playing a game. But you three seem to be planning to make your characters a reality. I should have realised as soon as I found out there was no dice, that this wasn't a real game. That, and the half hour discussion on obtaining government technology licenses,” mused Terri.
Conrad held out his hand to stop the conversation. “You're right, Terri. You've seen through our playful charade. I am Captain Kittoffery...”
“I knew it,” said Terri with glee. “So what’s happened to you? And why haven’t I heard about Max and Karmen?”
“I've had a few law suits occupying my time,” shrugged Conrad.
“But about to make a come-back,” said Karmen, shyly, with a sideways glance at him.
“Karmen and Max are still developing their super hero personas so they haven't gone out in public yet. But they will when the time is right,” Conrad explained.
Karmen nodded firmly with her arms crossed.
Terri's excited mind was flooded with questions but did not know which one to start with... the question she asked was probably not the best, “So what was with the radioactive pandas?”
“Ah that's another long story,” sighed Conrad.
“Isn't it obvious to everyone? This secret identity of yours! It is worse than Superman's disguise as Clark Kent!” spluttered Terri.
“Other people haven't seen through us quite so clearly, so top marks to you,” said Conrad. “But let's move on, shall we?”
“This is a big deal. Quite difficult to laugh this away,” said Terri.
“Maybe. What do you want to know? Besides the pandas. That’s for another day.”
“So what are we really doing here?” said Terri
“This really is still a game for us. We're working out different scenarios, playing the angles, coming up with new stratagems and tactics.”
“In particular,” ventured Max. “Seeing what technology we need to invent, build or buy. That's our only real super-power: technology.”
“But all the best patents and licenses are held by Ms-Bell. We've established that. After the self cleaning toilet, is there anything new to invent?” mused Terri regaining her composure.
“As you pointed out, Terri, Ms-Bell are the bad guys,” said Max. “Even if unwittingly so. I see the corporation as more of a deranged, psychopathic wildebeest that we have to tame rather than as something inherently evil.”
“Since psychopaths aren't evil?” said Terri sarcastically.
“Not since we've discovered the link with post-toddler bed wetting and criminal brain chemistry. That is why we can't just blow up all those diligent Ms-Bell corporate executive types. And there are still plenty of things to invent and lots of stuff not locked down by patents and licensing laws. Mad-Sci-Soc's mission is to find and exploit technology that is out-of-patent or open-source. For the good of everyone not just the corporations. We just need to find the technology or come up with the ideas! That's why we like new members, like you, to come along with fresh ideas.”
“And you're saying no-one has ever noticed that you're playing this superhero game for real?” said Terri.
Conrad said dismissively, “Terri, you're not the first, but you were one of the quickest.”
Max said earnestly, “So actually becoming Cloudera… does that interest you? You could finish your degree, find a job marketing sugared water? Or do you want something else? To change the world? Do you want to be a superhero, Terri? A real superhero?”
***
Wednesday, January 23, 2123.
We exited Antonio's and stepped into Conrad's car. He turned and said to me, “So do you want to change the world, Aaron? Do you want to be a superhero?”
It was surreal. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Ten minutes before getting into the car, Conrad was negotiating with Antonio in his office; chatting together with Conrad treating Antonio like he was a normal human being! He outlined our requirements concerning the location of the debris cleared up from my old apartment, while I sat with my buttocks clenched trying not to do anything but smile vacuously and merge with the flock wallpaper.
“What can I say? We're in da disposal business, hash tag. The debris could be anywhere. It could be swimming with da fishes or wearing concrete overshoes by now?” Antonio liked to keep his gangster image going even when dealing with something as straight forward as... actual rubbish disposal.
“So you don't have any records?”
“Our business don't like records, capische? We don't like-a to record what-a we pick up or where-a we put it.” said Antonio leaning back with hi
s unfashionable electronic cigar.
“How do you direct your staff to a particular site?” asked Conrad pleasantly.
“We get on da blower...” breezed Antonio.
“And you get that information from?”
“Someone else on da blower!”
“And how do you know which Robo-truck to send. Don't you have a record of your assets?” persisted Conrad.
“We-have-assets!” replied Antonio as if Conrad was accusing him of being poor.
“So how do you know whether your assets are available, broken, need maintenance, or are simply laying around costing you money,” asked Conrad politely.
Antonio considered this a couple seconds. “You're a smart cookie, Kitt-off. Gurt, tell Conrad here how we manage da-assets.”
Gurt, one the henchmen, muttered, “We have an app for that...”
Conrad nodded, “Can I have the data from that app, for trucks going to Aaron's apartment over the past couple of days?”
At the mention of my name, Antonio and Gurt both stared at me and I smiled a wider, toothier, smile, my face glowing.
Antonio waved to Gurt. A wave that gave the command to allow Gurt to do what? Go? Proceed? It wasn't clear to me. But it was ok. Gurt toothed the data from his wrist controls to Conrad.
We thanked Antonio and started making our excuses to leave.
Antonio stood and gave Conrad a bear hug. “Now, you've gotta send something my way, mon amigo.”
“Sure. What do you want?”
“Some more contracts, perhaps?”
“We have some big stuff coming up. You know all of our engagements make a big mess of the cityscape. You’ll be the first to know,” said Conrad.
“Thanks, big fella.” He released Conrad and came towards me, putting his arm around my shoulder.
“And you! You're that researcher guy, right?”
“Yes. That's me,” I said zealously.
“I always remember a face, hash tag,” Antonio grinned.
He had seen me only last week and about every other month for the last two years.
“And I remember your face. And I know where you live, my friend. You promised me some data, right?” said Antonio with a terrifying grin.
“Caribbean holiday locations? Yes, I've found them,” I smiled. “Just need to get the info off the legacy-net. It's not as easy since...”
“Yeah, you do that. My squeeze is chewing my ear off about da... dis dammed vacation.”
***
Wednesday, January 23, 2123 (a few minutes later).
Back at the car, (the “Kittoffery Kart”) I replied wistfully to Conrad. “I'm no superhero, Captain. I've no superpowers. Well, except for the superpower to repel attractive women.”
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