Halfheroes

by Ian W. Sainsbury

  Shuck pressed pause again. He evidently had no sense of drama.

  "No one else is calling them Protectors."

  He held up the tablet. There was a stream of comments running across the screen. Only one in twenty concerned porn or cat videos, the rest were reactions to what had happened in Geneva that afternoon.

  "You're using social media?" When she had left him that morning, Abos had only hoped he might get to grips with the basics of written vocabulary and grammar.

  "Yes."

  She read the comment he was pointing at, which had been shared over six million times already.

  Can't call them 'Protectors'. Makes them sound like a condom. How about titans?

  "That's what they're calling them. Titans."

  Abos had started as Powerman, but the world had preferred The Deterrent. She had been Amy for over thirty years. Now she had grown fond of being named after her dormant state as an Amorphous Blob Of Slime. Names were important.

  Shuck pressed play again, and the Chinese bodyguard made his decision, lifting his weapon and firing two rapid shots into the towering figure in front of him. One to the heart, one to the head.

  The suited man didn't flinch, but a ricochet from the body shot hit a young woman at the table, and she screamed. The bodyguard barely hesitated after the failure of his initial attack. A knife appeared in his hand, and he plunged it into the titan's stomach. At least, he tried to. The blade stopped dead after piercing the crisp white shirt, and the shock waves sent back up the bodyguard's arm made him drop it.

  No one doubted the bravery of the man, but most questioned his sanity when he launched into a weaponless martial arts attack, his hands a blur as he punched and chopped at the side, neck, and face of his opponent.

  In response, the titan put a huge hand on the chest of his assailant, balled up a fistful of jacket and shirt, and lifted him off his feet, holding him over his head as if he were a toy.

  At the rear of the room was a casual sitting area with sofas and armchairs. The titan drew back his arm and threw the bodyguard towards it. He sailed across a hundred and thirty feet, narrowly missing a chandelier as he passed above the heads of the world's richest business people, before landing in a large armchair. His momentum caused the chair to continue for another ten feet before it hit the rear wall. The bounce after the impact threw the bodyguard forward, and he landed on the parquet floor, groaned once and was still.

  Titus Gorman allowed his audience a few moments to recover. Everyone must know now what they were dealing with. Earth may not have seen a superhuman for over three decades, but a superhuman was not something you easily forgot.

  "They will not attack, but they will retaliate if they, or I, am threatened. I named them Protectors for a reason. Please, place the rest of your weapons in the bag."

  The rest of the security guards did as instructed, placing guns and knives into the laundry bag. Meanwhile, the hotel doctor had been called and was attending the injured girl.

  Abos turned to Shuck.

  "They have been manipulated. They are half-aware, their minds clouded by drugs and the suggestions of those controlling them."

  Shuck looked at her.

  "It happened to you." It was a statement rather than a question.

  "I cannot let it happen again."

  Shuck corrected her.

  "We cannot. But we must wait for her." He looked towards the laboratory outside where Susan was growing.

  "No. It could be many weeks."

  "It won't be. Because we are here. You know this."

  Abos looked at him. She knew he was right, but she did not know how she knew.

  "Yes," she said. "How long?"

  "A week. Perhaps less. We must wait."

  Abos was used to the human way of making decisions She and Daniel would discuss before deciding. This was different. No discussion. And yet she felt a sense of consensus. She added it to the list of mysteries surrounding Shuck.

  Gorman was speaking again.

  "The Protectors were not created to protect me. They were created to protect ordinary people from those who will fight the Utopia Algorithm. And, yes, the superhumans alongside me are brothers of the being we knew as The Deterrent. I want you, and the rest of the world, to remember the power of The Deterrent. You see six such beings in this room today, all with equal power. When we leave here, we will be joined by other Protectors. Do not waste time, or risk lives, trying to prevent the inevitable."

  Titus nodded at the five titans still on stage. The sixth titan walked into the middle of the ballroom, holding the bulging laundry bag. He swung it once over his head then, on the next pass, released it, sending it soaring towards the ceiling. As it reached the apex of its flight, the five titans on the stage raised their hands.

  The bag ripped open, sending pistols, semi-automatic weapons, knives, machetes and knuckle dusters in all directions. As the weapons flew outwards from the bag, they twisted and spun, pulling themselves apart. Every component part of every gun separated itself from its neighbour, bullets spinning out and away from the chambers that housed them. Knife hilts opened, releasing the blades. Objects designed to hurt, maim, or kill, were broken down to their individual parts, spinning and dancing in the thousand lights of the chandeliers.

  The audience watched it all open-mouthed. It was more spectacular than any cabaret performance.

  The titans lowered their arms, and the weapons fell towards the watching audience.

  The spell was broken, and the second and a half it took for the weapons to fall was full of shouts and screams as the people below covered their heads.

  Then silence. A gradual peeking out from behind trembling fingers, a slow, synchronised exhalation.

  The weapons hung above them, ten feet from the floor. They slowly revolved, allowing everyone to see the time, effort, and craftsmanship that had gone into the production of these terrible objects.

  Then, as if obeying a call, the weapons floated towards the stage. A telescopic baton was first, coming to rest above Titus's head. A knife blade was next, sticking to the baton with the click of metal on metal. Faster and faster the weapons came, one on top of the other, clinging as if magnetised, but with such great force that items were bending as they stuck to each other, compressing towards the centre.

  A ball of metal, wood, and plastic formed. The bullets were last. Thousands of them. They had waited, hovering above the tables. When called, they flew from their places as if fired, hitting the ball, deforming on impact and sticking there. Each bullet followed its predecessor after a gap of perhaps a hundred milliseconds. The result was an impossibly fast, regular metallic snare roll.

  When every weapon and piece of ammunition was accounted for, a shining sphere spun above the stage like a piece of modern art.

  With no telltale build up of energy, the spinning globe shot upwards at such speed it seemed to disappear. Less than a minute later, it burned up in Earth's atmosphere.

  Titus smiled at his audience, and at the cameras focussed on his face.

  "I'm not here to moralise. The Utopia algorithm came about through the application of logic. The world is a wonderful place if you're not dirt poor. The problem is, most people are. They are unhealthy, their life expectancy is low, and infant mortality is high. If you're poor, you'll spend more of your life ill, some of your kids will die and you won't be around long enough to meet your grandchildren. The rich escape that fate. Life is a lottery. We can do better than that.

  "I used to believe humanity's progress, or lack of it, was due to fear and greed. If you have more than the next guy, you fear someone might take it from you. If you don't have as much as the next guy, you get greedy. But that's not quite true. The world runs on fear and need. If you can't get a job that pays enough to feed your family, if your child will die because you can't afford the treatment that a profit-making pharmaceutical company has developed, that's not greed. It's need."

  Members of the audience exchanged uneasy glances as they list
ened. Whatever else they had thought about him, they'd assumed Titus was one of them. No one became the richest person in the world through philanthropy and hand-wringing.

  "I'm putting my money where my mouth is. Ted?"

  A shocked-looking man in his sixties raised a hand at a table near the stage.

  "As of today, I own Ralion-Baxter."

  The man cleared his throat and laughed good-naturedly.

  "I don't think so, Titus. Now stop trying to scare us with your new toys. You're in danger of making some powerful enemies today."

  It was Titus's turn to laugh.

  "Oh, you guys are the least of my worries. Enjoy your retirement, Ted. I've been buying your stock for months. Passed the point of no return this morning. I'm taking Ralion-Baxter back into private ownership. Two reasons. Want to hear them?"

  Ted's mouth was hanging open. His wife, looking at her mobile phone, whispered something, and he glared at the stage.

  "It's the biggest pharmaceutical company in the world. Your research department has patented more life-saving drugs than any other in the last fifty years. Commendable. Except you have to make a profit, so most folk who need your products can't afford them."

  "Now listen, Gorman, what the hell gives you the right to—"

  "I'm not singling you out, Ted. Everyone here colludes in preserving the fiction we all live by. That this is, somehow, okay. That it's the way of the world. That it can't be changed. But that's all over now. So, like I said, two reasons. First, profit. That's over. Ralion-Baxter will now sell at cost plus enough to pay for wages, infrastructure, and research. No profit."

  Ted made a sound like an elephant seal in labour.

  "Second, the pay structure of the company will be changed. It will be the first company to do so, but not the last. I'll expect all others to follow suit after the Utopia Algorithm has taken effect. It's a simple structure. The highest paid executive can never be paid more than ten times the lowest paid worker."

  Ted made another strange noise and muttered something. Titus acknowledged him with a smile.

  "You think the higher-paid employees will leave? Maybe. But I don't think so. Give the algorithm a little time to work, then see what happens."

  Titus gestured to the titan still on the main floor to join him on stage. When all six were flanking him, he looked at the camera.

  "It will be too risky for me to make public appearances for a while. I'll leave you with a promise and a warning. I promise, from tomorrow, the world will be a fairer place. It's time we evolved. Let's not value people by the amount of money they've accumulated. And a warning for those whose fear leads them to violence: you will be stopped. I have the means and the determination to do it. Don't test me."

  He stepped backwards, and the titans moved around him. They stopped when he raised a hand.

  "One more thing," he said, then grinned, which made him look like a gawky teenager. "I've always wanted to say that. The algorithm runs tonight. Tomorrow we all wake up to a new world. A fairer world."

  He stepped backwards again, and the whole group flew upwards through the shattered dome and into the warm Swiss evening.

  Shuck turned the television off.

  "No one knows what he means by the Utopia Algorithm. There are lots of discussions online."

  Abos was still staring at the blank screen.

  "We have to help them. But Daniel is missing."

  "Look for him. I will stay here. When Susan wakes, I'll call you. Then we will find the other titans."

  "You're calling us titans too?"

  "Does the name matter?"

  "I don't like it. I know it's based on his name, but it suggests superiority."

  Shuck's expression was, as always, unreadable.

  "Are we not superior?"

  22

  At first, the picture on the screen was so familiar Daniel thought it was a live feed of his own cell. The point of view was from above and behind, showing a man dressed in a white T-shirt, sitting at a desk, holding a Globlet. Daniel jumped, looked behind him, then back at the screen. He waved a hand in the air, but the image on the screen didn't change.

  He pressed pause and looked at the spot on the wall where the camera must have been concealed. Nothing. The surface of the stone was uneven, discoloured. Either there wasn't a camera there, or the cameras used were as fine as a human hair. But cameras like that were stupidly expensive. Who would...?

  Oh. Titus Gorman. World's richest man. That'll be it, then.

  He sat down again and pressed play. After half a second, the point of view switched to show the man's face as he looked at the Globlet. A camera in the Globlet itself, then.

  The man was about Daniel's age. All halfheroes were born in the same two-year period. There was no family resemblance. Daniel had seen photographs of dozens of halfheroes and met a few face-to-face. He would never have guessed they shared the same father. It was as if Abos's genetic inheritance had little effect on the physical appearance of the children.

  The man on the video put the Globlet down, walked up to the door and stopped. He held out a hand, placing his fingertips on the metal.

  The next scene showed an empty corridor, identical to the one outside Daniel's cell. As he watched, a hand appeared through the solid door in the centre of the frame. The hand was followed by an arm, then a face and chest as the occupant of the cell walked through solid matter and freed himself.

  "Cool," said Daniel, channelling his inner nerd. He'd always liked magicians, and this guy could earn a fortune on stage.

  The magician looked both ways along the corridor, then walked out of frame.

  A succession of camera shots followed, showing his progress. When he had passed through the door at the end his corridor, he was in a large, circular, room with microwaves, large storage cupboards, and a line of food trolleys. There were lots of identical exits leading out of the room, one of which was a double door. The man stuck his head through three of the solid doors in turn, then left via the double doors. Another series of cameras tracked him in a longer corridor, which led to a lift. He pressed buttons on a keypad, but nothing happened. The camera inside the empty lift shaft showed a head appear, looking up. The camera was too far away to pick up any facial expression, but Daniel saw the man shake his head in frustration before withdrawing.

  To the right of the lift was another corridor, which opened into a wide, high tunnel, big enough to accommodate a truck. After walking for about twenty yards, the magician stopped. He looked at something on the ceiling, but the angle of the shot prevented Daniel seeing what it was. Then he stripped off his T-shirt, balled it up and threw it, underarm, in front of him. A series of flashes followed. It took the camera a few seconds to adjust and re-focus. When it did, it showed smoke rising from the tattered remains of the T-shirt.

  "No good going that way, then," muttered Daniel.

  According to the time stamp at the top right of the video, nothing much happened for the next ten minutes as the magician walked the corridor, looking for an alternative exit. A series of cuts in the footage showed him facing a wall. Daniel watched the man look at the solid rock for thirty-three seconds, his face and body relaxing.

  The magician was preparing himself. He must have watched Gorman's welcome video and decided three years in prison wasn't for him. He didn't know how thick the rock walls were, or what lay on the other side, but Daniel guessed the man's ability to pass through solid matter would fail him soon if he didn't get more calories into his body.

  The point of view shifted to somewhere outside. Daniel leaned forward, looking for clues as to their location. It was a sheer rock face, the colour of which—as far as he could tell from the footage—was a pale grey similar to that of the walls of his cell. For a couple of seconds, he thought he was looking at a still photograph, then something moved in the upper right corner.

  Daniel wished he could zoom in, get a better look at the movement. It looked like some strange bird was stirring on its nest and preparing to
fly.

  It wasn't a bird, and it couldn't fly. Daniel was glad he couldn't zoom in now. He wanted to look away as the tiny figure, unmistakably human, arms and legs wheeling in empty space, fell thousands of feet to his death.

  There was no sound, but Daniel couldn't stop himself imagining the man's screams.

  After the video faded to black, words appeared on the screen:

  Escape is impossible. Please accept it. You will be freed when it is safe to do so. I am sorry that Howell had to lose his life to make this clear. Titus.

  Daniel looked into the camera he knew was in the Globlet.

  "Let me make something clear, Gorman. We're not on first name terms, you prick. You're responsible for that man's death, and you will pay the penalty for that."

  He turned the Globlet face-down on the desk, despite knowing there were at least two other cameras watching him. Kneeling at the door, he called Sara's name.

  "You've seen it." It wasn't a question.

  "Yes."

  Sara was one of the most intelligent people he had ever met. If anyone could find a way out of this place, it was her.

  Sara sighed.

  "I know what you're thinking, Daniel."

  "And?"

  "And I'm working on it. But it doesn't look good."

  "We have to get out." Daniel thought of Abos. Would she be looking for him? He knew the answer to that, but he doubted even someone as powerful as Abos could find him here. Wherever here was. Not many clues from the footage he had just watched. The rock face hadn't looked like anywhere he recognised. Geography had never been his strong point.

  He half-wished he had told Sara and Gabe about Abos. And about the other beings Abos was searching for. Of all the halfheroes locked up in this place, he was the only one who knew what had happened to The Deterrent, their father. Most of them believed he was dead. He had planned on talking to Abos about it, arranging a meeting with the IGLU team. It was time they trusted someone else. Too late now. And anything he said to Sara would be overheard by TripleDee.

  "Any idea where we are?"

  It wasn't Sara who answered.