by Lisa Yee
Cyborg paced the room while tapping on his forehead. It made a light metal-on-metal sound. Just as Batgirl was going to ask him to stop, he faced her and said, “I’ve got it! The HarleyGrams are going through some sort of high-tech evolution…,” he began.
“Of course!” Batgirl added. “Like what we learned in Doc Magnus’s class about computer-generated artificial intelligence. They started as holograms but are embedded with an encrypted virus capable of learning on its own. Now they’re able to morph into something more substantial, transitioning from a photographic light field into an energy matrix approximating solid matter.”
“We’re thinking the same thing,” Cyborg chimed in. “But how is this happening?”
Batgirl took a deep breath, then said, “That, I don’t know.”
“Did you fix it? Did you fix it?” Harley asked at breakfast. She was so excited she couldn’t sit. Instead, she kept circling the table with her video camera on.
Batgirl was getting dizzy. And she was exhausted. Luckily, there were no big assignments due that day.
“It was really weird,” Cyborg said. He set his tray down at Batgirl’s table. “I mean, one minute the HarleyGram was just standing on the keyboard waving, and the next it was as if you—I mean, it had gone crazy!”
Harley scowled. “Hopefully, the press hasn’t picked up on this,” she said. “It would be really bad for business.”
Batgirl nodded and bit into a piece of dry toast. She was too tired to spread her favorite blueberry jam, made from Poison Ivy’s garden. Batgirl wondered what Lois Lane and everyone who had interviewed her would think if they ever found out that the HarleyGrams weren’t perfect.
“Batgirl,” Bumblebee said, interrupting Liberty Belle’s class. “Principal Waller would like to see you in her office.”
When Batgirl reached the office, The Wall was waiting for her. There wasn’t much that could scare Batgirl, but when she saw the serious look on Amanda Waller’s face, her mouth went dry.
“We’re getting reports about the HarleyGrams,” the principal began, not even bothering to say hello.
Batgirl let out a sigh of relief and sank into the chair across from Waller’s desk. It was piled high with files and confiscated weapons. “Oh, those!” she exclaimed. “I know all about that, and they’re fixed now.”
The principal turned her computer so that it faced Batgirl. “This is what you already know about? I don’t see how you could have fixed it, because it’s happening right now.”
Batgirl stared at the screen, transfixed. What she was seeing was impossible!
The video showed a little HarleyGram—once a hologram, but now an autonomous electromagnetic figure running across the keyboard, then raising its mallet high in the air. In one swift motion, it brought the mallet down and—WHAM!—hit a random computer key, messing up the computer. But it got worse. Other videos revealed that when a Bad HarleyWham hit the shift key, it unlocked a computer virus. Soon HarleyWhams were shutting down websites, locking keyboards, wiping out emails, and more. And it wasn’t just at Super Hero High. Slowly, reports began filtering in that the virus was spreading outside the school.
“What do you think is the cause of this?” Doc Magnus asked as he entered the room, already aware of the situation. As the Robotics and Computer Science teacher, he was the most skilled faculty member when it came to complex technical issues.
“I have no clue,” Batgirl admitted. Her stomach clenched, and she felt like doubling over. She was used to fixing things, not destroying them.
“It’s not your fault,” Cyborg said as Batgirl sat in her room going over and over the computer code. He had brought her some sandwiches since she had skipped lunch. Supergirl had brought sandwiches, too, and Bumblebee, Wonder Woman, and Hawkgirl had all dropped off lunch, as well.
“This is horrible!” Harley hollered as she ran up and down the walls in the Bat-Bunker. “People are making fun of me! They’re saying it’s all my fault, when really, it’s all your fault. It can’t get any worse than this. OH NO!” Harley looked at Batgirl. “It just did get worse!”
Batgirl froze.
“Apparently, when a HarleyWham, the corrupted version of the HarleyGram, hits a certain sequence of keys, it creates a duplicate HarleyGram,” Lois Lane was reporting live on her vlog. “The once-harmless HarleyGrams are now duplicating, and it seems they are intent on taking down the Internet. Can they be stopped?” she asked, looking straight into the camera.
Batgirl knew she was talking to her.
“It’s okay,” Supergirl said, putting an arm around her.
Batgirl walked away from her. “It’s not okay,” she said. “This is somehow my fault!”
“It’s not your fault,” Cyborg repeated.
“Something has gone wrong,” Supergirl said, trying to console her. “You didn’t do this on purpose.”
“Listen,” Batgirl told her. “I am responsible for this. I got us into this. I have to get us out of this.”
“That’s true,” Harley jumped in. “It’s all her fault.”
“Well, you wanted the HarleyGrams,” Supergirl reminded Harley.
“Stop it!” Batgirl heard herself saying. “Supergirl, please let me take responsibility for my mistakes. All of you, please—let me handle this.”
Supergirl nodded and quietly exited the room.
Batgirl was too busy scouring the Internet to notice that her best friend wasn’t in the Bat-Bunker anymore, and Harley and Cyborg were gone, too. Suddenly, something caught her attention.
Batgirl gasped. It felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. Blogs, vlogs, and news reports were starting to appear, questioning the HarleyGrams/HarleyWhams. There were several unsubstantiated theories. The most prevalent one was there was a new criminal in town, a mastermind who had created the virus.
That person’s name was Batgirl.
“Barbara?”
Her father seemed surprised to see her on a school night.
“I was in a hurry and forgot my key.” Batgirl stood on the front porch with her suitcases by her side. “May I come in?”
“Yes, of course. Of course,” Commissioner Gordon said, stepping aside.
“I suppose you know why I’m here,” she said. The house smelled faintly like onions and garlic.
“I have my suspicions,” her father said. “I was just making myself dinner. Why don’t you join me and tell me what’s going on.”
“Dad,” she began, starting to choke up, “I—I—I don’t know…”
He reached out and gave her a hug. “It’s okay, Babs,” he said. “You’re home now.”
Oh, how she had missed her dad’s hugs. It felt great.
Batgirl was mostly silent during dinner as she poked at her meat loaf. She wasn’t very hungry.
“I thought I was doing something good—or at least fun—by creating the HarleyGrams,” she confessed. “But everything has gone so wrong. It’s not just the school. The virus has spread to Metropolis and beyond. Everyone is blaming me, and the horrible thing is that it’s my fault the Internet is being corrupted.”
“Barbara,” her father began. She braced herself, waiting for a lecture. If there was ever a time she deserved one, it was now. She knew he would tell her that she should have never enrolled in Super Hero High.
“Yes?” she said meekly.
“What do you say I make some of my famous peanut butter pecan popcorn? I know it’s your favorite.”
Batgirl allowed a smile to alight on her face—the first time she’d smiled in days.
“That would be great, Dad,” Batgirl said, adding, “Would you mind if I move back home?”
It was weird but comforting not going to school. Batgirl knew that eventually she would have to return to either Super Hero High or Gotham High, but for now, she was content to stay in her pajamas all day and watch television—and let her subconscious do the work. She’d had no idea that there was an entire channel devoted to baby animals (that was Batty’s favorite) and
another one that showed nothing but reruns of a series about a wacky stay-at-home dad and his even wackier triplets, Larry, Mary, and Perry. Plus, there was a music channel that played endless videos by her favorite band, Birds of Prey.
Batgirl found herself with a lot of free time. In the beginning it made her anxious, but she could tell the freedom was allowing her mind to process her situation. The answer was deep in her noggin—somewhere. She just needed to let that answer find its way to the surface.
And in the meantime, she appreciated that her father didn’t lecture her or say I told you so. In fact, he acted like nothing had happened.
The two talked over dinner, but not about school or work. Instead, Batgirl filled him in on Mary, Larry, and Perry’s latest hijinks and what Birds of Prey videos she’d seen. And he told her about the weather. Still, it was nice to be talking to her dad again. He was the only person she spoke to. Well, him and Batty.
Batgirl had made a conscious effort to avoid all media, including computers, phones, and even her com bracelet, the one she had made and shared with Supergirl so they would never have to be apart.
“Barbara,” her father said one morning. She had been at home for three days. “I’ll probably have to work late tonight, so you’ll be on your own for dinner. There’s a cyber-crime crisis that seems to be getting big— Never mind.”
Batgirl looked up from the television. She had watched all the shows she could find—documentaries, talk-show interviews, bits of gossip about the Birds of Prey and was now rewatching them.
“Cyber crime?” Batgirl asked.
“Forget I even said anything,” he told her, waving his hand in the air as if it would erase his words. “There are leftover meatballs in the fridge, and there’s peppermint cookie crunch ice cream in the freezer. And, Barbara,” he added, “if you need anything, anything at all, just call me.”
She nodded and then turned her attention back to the television.
A few moments later, she heard a knock and was surprised to see Supergirl floating at the window. There was a second knock, this one coming from the front door.
“Katana?” Batgirl asked when she opened the door.
Katana didn’t look happy. Supergirl appeared behind her.
“You’re not answering my phone calls,” Katana said, stepping into the house.
“You’re not even answering our com bracelets,” Supergirl said. “Hey, is that pecan popcorn?”
“Yeah, we’ve been making it a lot the last few days. What are you doing here?” Batgirl asked. She was secretly glad to see her friends.
“What aren’t YOU doing here?” Katana asked. “There’s a world to save!”
“Have you been keeping up with what’s going on?” Supergirl said.
“Well, noooo,” Batgirl admitted.
Katana picked up the TV remote and changed the channel. Batgirl could not believe what she saw unfolding before her.
“International businesses, governments, the national economy, the space program, vending machines, automated parking meters, even animatronic mice at kids’ party restaurants have all been affected,” the serious-looking newscaster was saying. He lowered his glasses. “All this because of the viruses caused by the HarleyWhams. We now have this exclusive interview with Harley Quinn. Harley, what do you have to say for yourself?”
Batgirl sat down, disbelieving, as Harley’s familiar face showed up on-screen.
“I am innocent!” Harley proclaimed. “The HarleyGrams weren’t my idea.”
“Then whose idea were they?” the newscaster asked, looking into the camera and frowning.
“They were Batgirl’s idea. All her idea,” Harley said. “She created them, and now that they’re HarleyWhams, well, I had nothing to do with that, either!”
“Do you know where Batgirl is and if she’s addressing this situation?” the newscaster asked. On the screen behind him, a photo of Batgirl and Noah Kuttler at the TechTalkTV show appeared. The camera slowly zoomed in on Batgirl’s face so that it filled the screen.
“I have no idea where she is,” Harley said. She looked directly into the camera. “Where are you, Batgirl?” Harley held up her own camera and pushed it right into the screen.
Batgirl couldn’t ignore Katana’s and Supergirl’s stares any longer.
“Well?” Katana asked as Batgirl took note of her samurai warrior costume. She always looked sleek and put-together. “Are you going to just let this happen?”
“Batgirl, the world is becoming a jumble,” Supergirl said. “Lives are in danger! We’re doing all we can to help, but it keeps getting worse.”
Batgirl changed the channel back to the Birds of Prey concert she’d been watching.
“Batgirl!” Supergirl shouted. “Only you can stop this virus!”
“All the Supers have fanned out and are directing traffic, rescuing people and thwarting crime caused by the computer malfunctions,” Katana said above the Birds of Prey, who were now singing their hit “Frequent Flyers.” She took the remote from Batgirl and turned to another channel. “Look!”
Batgirl watched, expressionless. The Flash was running around a broken dam, fixing several leaks in the process. Wonder Woman put a rocket back on course. Hawkgirl was calming a mob of unruly senior citizens, who were complaining that their computers had frozen and they couldn’t play video bingo.
“Batgirl,” Supergirl implored. “You’re the only one who can reverse the HarleyWhams!”
Batgirl’s lips pursed. She wished Katana and Supergirl would leave her alone—just for a little while. That thing that was stirring in her subconscious was getting close to the surface now.
Batgirl turned the television to mute. Silence filled the room.
“Please go away,” she said. Her voice was flat.
“Batgirl,” Supergirl implored. “We need you. The world needs you!”
“Come on, Supergirl,” Katana said, heading to the door. “I thought she was one of us, but apparently I was wrong.”
Batgirl stood alone in the living room. The television was still on mute, but she could see the scenes of carnage unfolding. Suddenly, the itch in the back of her brain got a lot stronger, and now she was going to scratch it.
“This is all my fault,” Batgirl told Batty later. “But what am I supposed to do? How can I fix what I don’t know how to fix?”
The little bat flew around the bedroom before hiding under a blanket.
“I wish my life were as simple as yours,” Batgirl said, her thoughts actually starting to move faster. “You’re never in a hurry. But I went too fast. I was in such a rush to deliver something spectacular, something the world had never seen before. Instead of trusting myself and my testing methods, I reached out to Noah to help me create the code. I should have slowed down. Beta-tested, double-tested, triple-, quadruple-tested, but instead…”
Batgirl stopped. “I reached out to Noah Kuttler,” she repeated softly. “Noah. Of course! He helped me with the code. The code we started creating when we were the tech teens on TechTalkTV. That code is the key to all this!”
Batgirl rooted around in her desk drawer, finally finding what she was looking for. “Supergirl,” she called into her com bracelet. “Come back!”
Before she could repeat herself, Supergirl was standing in her room. Katana came running in a few moments later.
“I know what happened,” she said in a rush. “It’s Noah Kuttler!”
“That nerdy kid?” Katana asked.
“That tech genius,” Batgirl told her. “My partner from the TV show. The destructive code from the HarleyWhams must have been programmed and embedded in the HarleyGrams from the outset. I didn’t have the full code created, so I met with Noah at Capes and Cowls Café and he helped me with it! When I asked if we should test it, he assured me it would work. ‘Why wait?’ he said.”
Katana was already heading toward the door. “Come on, Supergirl,” she called. “Let’s alert the others and take this criminal down!”
“No!” B
atgirl said. “Don’t tell anyone just yet. Let me handle this!”
“Are you sure?” Supergirl asked.
“I’m sure,” Batgirl said. “You two help the other Supers keep the damage to a minimum while I figure out how to handle Noah. I don’t want him to know we’re on to him.”
Katana shook her head. “I don’t agree with you, Batgirl,” she said. “But I trust that you know what you’re doing.”
For the first time in days, Batgirl turned on her computer. It didn’t take her long to find Noah. His name and address were in the AboutFace database. With Batty watching, she contacted him, and was shocked by what she saw.
“Well, hello, Batgirl,” Noah said. “What took you so long?”
Batgirl did a double-take. Gone was the nerdy kid she had known. In his place was a confident teenage boy wearing a deep purple turtleneck with even purpler jeans and a black jacket that had computer circuitry woven into it. Computer keys and sophisticated inputs of various kinds ran up and down each sleeve. And to top off his sinister look, he had tamed his unruly hair into an elegant coiffure. He wore an evil sneer and wire-rim tech glasses on his face. It was a makeover to best all makeovers.
“Hello, Noah,” Batgirl said evenly. Staying calm is your best weapon, her father always said.
His jaw tightened as he turned up the collar of his jacket so that it framed his head. “I’m not Noah. Noah doesn’t live here anymore. I’m the Calculator!”
He let out a long, evil laugh. It sounded practiced.
“No, you’re Noah Kuttler,” Batgirl corrected him.
“Right,” he spit back. “And you’re Barbara Gordon.”
Batgirl winced.
“How do you know who I am?” she asked.
“There’s not much about you that I don’t know,” he said mysteriously.
The two tech teens stared at each other from their respective computer screens. This would be a test, Batgirl knew. Of a potential super hero and a potential super-villain.